As with another Dutton issue containing songs and orchestral miniatures by John Ireland (Dutton CDLX 7246),what looks a promising issue on paper turns out to be sadly disappointing in reality; and, alas, for the same reason - a series of polite, careful performances that completely drain the music of any vitality. Roderick Williams has an undeniably polished and seductive voice - indeed concentrating on reproducing that may well be root of the problem - and in a career showing an admirable dedication to English song has made some excellent solo recordings, most recently for Naxos. But these orchestral settings need him to raise his game and offer much more than just irreproachably exquisite small-scale performances. By way of illustration, just listen to Stephen Varcoe accompanied by Richard Hickox in "Hope the Hornblower" on a rival Chandos recording; you can practically feel the sweat on the flanks of the horse and see the turf flying in a marvelously characterised and dramatised performance that really reeks of the chase; by comparison, this performance sounds exactly what it is - a carefully rehearsed and measured studio run-through. (And there's something odd about the flat and airless recording too, which doesn't help; Hickox's orchestra flows and laps excitingly round the singer, who here seems to be in a whole different acoustic from the band, who almost sound as though they've been recorded seperately behind a partition!). Similarly, Boughtons three songs are actually rather marvellous - Boughton was a fine tunesmith and an instinctive dramatist, with a powerful orchestral sense; but a song like Kipling's "The Price of Admiralty" ("if blood be the price of admiralty, Lord God, we ha' paid in full!) is actually remarkably curdled and rancorous: Williams sings it like a particularly well-bread curate announcing todays Hymn list. Similarly Bax's over-long and wincingly bloodthirsty Song of the Dagger probably needs the boldness and vehemence of a Chaliapin if it's ever to be more than fustian melodrama - but frankly it never even gets off the ground here; far from bloodthirsty, it's completely bloodless.
Unsurprisingly, the quieter songs come off better - "Sea Fever" is almost indestructible, though I'm still not sure whether the orchestral arrangment actually helps or hinders the mood; but then again, Williams' careful and cautious rendering of "When I am Dead My Dearest" is a pale thing compared to, say, Benjamin Luxon's truly bleak (yet still stoical and restrained) recording of the piano original on Lyrita.
I'm sorry to be so negative, but much of this music needs all the help it can get if it's not to actually reinforce the popular stereotype of English music as well-bred but bland; I'm not saying every singer should be Bryn Terfel, but music on this scale really needs vastly more vehemence and vigour than it gets here...Better luck next time, and as I wrote before, maybe try a swig or two of rum (and a plunge in the cold briny?) before recording any more sea songs...?