This is far and away the most coherent performance of Brian's massive 1st Symphony I have ever heard. Admittedly there haven't been too many of them - the gargantuan forces it requires have seen to that, never mind Brian's lack of popularity. Bryan Fairfax's premiere back in 1961 was blest with a fine array of soloists including Kenneth Bowen and John Shirley-Quirk, but was otherwise a fairly ramshackle affair. Boult five years later is the performance I have listened to most often over the past half-century (on a private tape from the BBC transmission) and is now available on a testament CD. Boult and his massed forces certainly have much more the measure of this huge juggernaut of a symphony, but sadly the BBC engineers never really got to grips with the aural demands of the work. Too often the extremely complex counterpoint - particularly in the choral second half - disappears in a disappointing mush of sound. The Marco Polo discs with Lenard and his Slovak forces at least made the work more readily available and it's in stereo. But that's about all that can be said for it. They are so far off the idiom of the piece that their performance becomes almost counterproductive in trying to come to terms with it.
So this much lauded performance from last year's Proms comes as something of a revelation. At last we can hear the Gothic in all its true glory. And glorious it certainly is.
At last we have the sort of sound quality this piece absolutely demands. The Albert Hall acoustic is reverberant (as it always is), but not enough to muddy the waters of the multiple strands of counterpoint that are so characteristic of the composer. Brian called his symphony The Gothic not to evoke a world of ghosts and ghouls, nor yet punkish youngsters with black hair, nails and lipstick. It is the great glories of Gothic architecture, of Chartres and Rheims, Canterbury and Salisbury cathedrals that is at the heart of his conception. And the acoustic captured by the BBC engineers is totally at one with that. It is also wonderfully rich and true to Brian's often quirky orchestration.
More to the point is the performance itself and Brabbins and his huge forces really do understand this idiom. It has always seemed to me that the key to performing Brian - from his 1st to his 32nd symphonies - is to understand his harmonic thinking. He was always at heart a tonal composer but his way of moving rapidly from key to unexpected key, often with the most abrupt or outlandish modulations is far from usual. It makes his work tonally centred but highly chromatic. To take just the opening bars of the work, the first subject group of gritty, very Brianesque motifs are firmly in D Minor. But within just some 25 odd bars we have moved to a shimmering B Flat Minor. But then that chord dissolves with a harp arpeggio into a luscious D Flat Major for the second subject, surely one of Brian's most gorgeous tunes. Brabbins has the way of making all these rapid shifts seem absolutely logical and inevitable.
And his control over his vast forces is just awe-inspiring. The density of the contrapuntal writing in Part 2 is seriously scary - 2 eight-part choirs, children's chorus and the huge orchestra in a vast panoply of canons, fugues and every other kind of counterpoint. Somehow Brabbins manages to hold it all together magisterially. It's back to Brian's view of Gothic again for it seems to me to echo those huge Renaissance choral works, written for the great Gothic spaces, like Striggio's 40-part Mass or Tallis's 40-part motet, Spem in alium. I doubt that Brian had heard these pieces back in 1917 (though Tippett and his Morley College Choir were already performing the Tallis around the end of World War II). Nevertheless, it's a sound world that is not so dissimilar and highly appropriate to his concept.
It's not all structure and harmonic perception in this performance, though. Brabbins manages to conjure some magical sounds from his orchestra, so full of exotica. The glow on the fairy-tale modulating horn fanfares in the third movement in this reverberant acoustic is perfect. The Finale's quirky A Minor processional and recessional march for 9 clarinets on their own (yes, nine: 5 B Flat clarinets, 2 Basset Clarinets and 2 Bass clarinets) has never sounded better. And the terrifying tattoo by 6 timpanists on 18 drums not long before the hushed ending will probably make the hairs on your neck stand on end. The soloists acquit themselves well. Susan Gritton is beautifully ethereal in her big solo, though Peter Auty is a little strenuous in his big sing at the beginning of the last movement.
The achievement of this performance is towering. The scale of the work precludes many performances (though its reputation seems to have given it more outings than many other of the Brian symphonies), so to experience a very special piece in a very special performance, look no further than these two triumphant CDs.