Richard Strauss / Erich Korngold / Franz Schreker: Metamorphosen
Chandos

John Ireland: Orchestral Works
Chandos

Arriving rapidly on the heels of 2021's well-received English Music for Strings and releases featuring works by Dutilleux and Ravel, Sinfonia of London and conductor John Wilson return with two more in quick succession, the first focusing on works for string orchestra by German composers Richard Strauss, Erich Korngold, and Franz Schreker and the second devoted entirely to the music of John Ireland. On both discs, Wilson and company deliver exemplary performances that reward listening regardless of the composer or work in question. Each piece on the two sets is executed with authority, and the Sinfonia's engagement with the material is never less than total. Both recordings are distinguished by the lustrous sound of the Sinfonia's strings, though some arrangements on the Ireland set include woodwinds and brass instruments too.

Conceived as a musical reaction to the horrors of WWII and its tragic obliteration of precious works of art and architecture, Strauss's Metamorphosen (1945) appears first, and the Sinfonia's impassioned treatment sets the bar extremely high for Schreker's Intermezzo (1900) and Korngold's Symphonische Serenade (1947-48). As performed by twenty-three strings, Strauss's nearly half-hour masterpiece is an eloquent lament that exudes a wistful character reminiscent of Mahler's “Adagietto,” Schoenberg's Verklärte Nacht, Berg's Violin Concerto, and, of course, his own Four Last Songs. Wilson and the Sinfonia execute the material at a stately and measured pace that sees tension build gradually until multiple passages appear where strings swell dramatically. The daring changes in key and harmony so characteristic of Strauss's writing are abundant, as are the many times a soloist rises above the mass to voice a plaintive expression. The performance by Wilson and company isn't the only one that's absorbing, but there's no question theirs matches other recorded versions for impact.

True to its title, Schreker's Intermezzo (completed in 1900 but incorporated into his Romantische Suite three years later) forms a bridge between the longer works and at a brief six minutes lasts just long enough to make an impression. Though the piece predates the other two by almost a half-century, it doesn't sound at all out of place in this context when the Sinfonia's hushed strings shimmer entrancingly. Korngold wrote his Symphonische Serenade after returning to Vienna from Hollywood after WWII and dedicated its four-part score to “Luzi, my beloved wife, my dear friend.” The graceful, balletic flow of the effervescent opening movement engages immediately, especially when its neo-classical air calls Stravinsky's Apollon musagète to mind. In contrast to the twenty-three players required for Metamorphosen, Symphonische Serenade involves sixty-four (thirty-two violins, twelve violas, twelve cellos, eight basses), the result an ultra-opulent presentation. While demanding pizzicato parts distinguish the second movement (though brief bowed episodes also surface), the alternately elegiac and anguished character of the “Lento religioso” third makes Korngold's piece feel complementary to Strauss's. For the finale, the composer borrowed from his score to the 1935 film Captain Blood for one of the movement's themes, though it's possible no one would notice when the overall pace is so high-velocity. Adding to the appeal of the hour-plus release are liner notes by Gavin Plumley that provide illuminating historical context and detailed analyses.

Of the seven orchestral works by John Ireland—could there be a more perfect name for a composer?—on the other Sinfonia set, none is quite at the same level as Metamorphosen, but that's to be expected when Strauss's is so towering an achievement. There's ample pleasure to be had, however, from the sixty-seven-minute collection, and certainly anyone coming to the release unfamiliar with Ireland's work will leave it not only acquainted but enamoured too.

The Bowden, Cheshire-born Ireland (1879-1962) entered the Royal College of Music at the age of fourteen to study piano, organ, and composition and three years later was appointed assistant organist of Holy Trinity, Sloane Street. Other organist positions followed as he began to establish himself as a composer, with his first mature orchestral work, The Forgotten Rite (1913), premiered in 1917 by Sir Henry Wood at the Queen's Hall. Also composed in 1913 (on Christmas Day, in fact) was The Holy Boy, a lyrical piano prelude the composer orchestrated for string orchestra in 1941. After achieving great success with his Second Violin Sonata (1915-17) and writing the symphonic rhapsody Mai-Dun (1920-21), Ireland assumed the position of Professor of Composition at the Royal College of Music from 1923 to 1939. Whereas the 1930s witnessed the writing of A Downland Suite (1932) and A London Overture (1936), the decade after found Ireland composing the Epic March (1941-42) and his final orchestral work, the overture Satyricon (1944-46). While the preceding offers a capsule overview, the portrait of Ireland is fleshed out considerably by Andrew Burn in the release booklet for those wishing to learn more.

Eschewing chronological sequencing, the recording starts with Satyricon, a fittingly robust statement with which to get things underway. After an exuberant opening section, a second theme follows that's romantic by comparison before the high-spirited material from the opening returns. A genuine sense of adventure permeates the overture, which is also memorable for orchestration that, during at least one sequence, might be called Debussy-esque. Vigorous too is A Downland Suite, which was commissioned for the national Brass Band Championships in 1932. Ireland transcribed two of its four movements for strings in 1941, the remaining two done by his pupil Geoffrey Bush thirty-seven years later. In being a strings-only presentation, A Downland Suite feels closer in character to both English Music for Strings and Metamorphosen and as in those cases wonderfully showcases the sonorities produced by the Sinfonia's string players. They shine during the work's tender second movement and the melodically alluring minuet, but in truth all four parts are executed splendidly. For Mai-Dun, Ireland looked to the Dorset countryside for inspiration and uses a rich tonal palette and lyrical writing to vividly evoke the landscape.

Ireland described The Forgotten Rite as a ‘prelude,' a gesture that naturally calls to mind Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune, written by Debussy nineteen years earlier. That connection's even harder to ignore when Ireland's piece unfolds like a painterly tone poem replete with sensuous woodwind parts and sweeping horn and string episodes. In contrast to the countryside setting suggested by The Forgotten Rite, the BBC-commissioned A London Overture was designed to conjure the city after dark and a police officer exploring it with a lantern. The adventurousness heard in Satyricon also pervades the overture in the way it works its way through mischievous and elegiac episodes, the latter designed to memorialize Ireland's late friend Percy Bentham. Intended as a rousing WWII morale booster, the Epic March—also a BBC commission—ends the set on a suitably uplifting note.

Were I forced to choose between the two releases, Metamorphosen would be my pick for its programme, but the performances on both are unerring. Wilson has recorded with the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra, BBC Philharmonic, and his own John Wilson Orchestra, but these releases clearly show he and the Sinfonia of London have developed a very special connection.

July 2022