Vaughan Williams: A London Symphony [CD]

This must surely be one of the most important recordings of British music of the decade - if that isn't too rash a judgement to make, only 20 months into that decade. If we are to believe the publicity, this is the only recording which will ever be made of the original version of 'A London Symphony', but no-one will ever accuse Richard Hickox, the LSO and the Chandos engineers of not making the most of this one-off opportunity. The performance is immaculate, and the recording sensationally good, with a wonderful depth and detail of sound. Those who know the work well will probably find the first couple of hearings disconcerting and disorienting. The first movement is its old familiar self, and lures the listener into a false sense of security; thereafter the familiar music veers off from time to time onto strangely unfamiliar paths down which the listener finds himself reluctant to follow, wanting to stay on the old well-trodden route. Initially, I didn't like what was happening: in the slow movement, for instance, we are denied the satisfying resolution of the majestic climax, which in the original version is interrupted and curtailed. My first feelings were: "The old boy was right to revise it!" but after repeated hearings I am beginning to wonder if VW's revisions didn't in some ways reduce the imaginative scope of the work. The revised version is certainly more succinct and more symphonically tidy, but, as they become more familiar with VW's first thoughts, many listeners may begin to feel that he made huge sacrifices when he removed so much of the work. For me, the greatest sacrifice was the stately hymn-tune which this recording restores to the last movement. VW later described it as 'a bad hymn tune', but for me it is one of his most haunting melodies, and I am staggered that its creator could dismiss it so easily. Anyone remotely interested in British music should buy this disk.

'You have really done it this time!' wrote Gustav Holst to his friend Ralph Vaughan Williams, congratulating him on the first performance of the famous A London Symphony. VW was dissatisfied with it from the start, thinking it too long and episodic. He revised it several times and it did not reach its definitive form until 1936. VW did not want the original version performed but Ursula Vaughan Williams, the composer's wife, has given permission for this one-off recording. Sadly, we shall never hear it in the concert hall.

The 1913 version lasts just over an hour but what an hour! Richard Hickox and the London Symphony Orchestra give a very broad reading with fairly slow tempi. The playing is wonderful with the quietest pianissimos. The first movement is unchanged but there are restored passages elsewhere. Those in the slow movement are of breath-taking beauty. This movement is now over sixteen minutes long and as played here is an overwhelming emotional experience. All the 'new' passages are memorable and effective at the very least and often strikingly original. Was Vaughan Williams right? Give me the rest of my life with both, then I will tell you.

The lovely rhapsody 'The Banks of Green Willow' by George Butterworth receives an affectionate performance too.

This is a very important and distinguished recording indeed. It is not only historical but gives the listener a unique musical experience which may not be repeatable once it is deleted although I do not think that will be for many years. It is also a great performance in its own right and one can almost feel the dedication that has gone into its production. The notes are excellent and are written by Stephen Connock, who is Chairman of The Ralph Vaughan Williams Society, and by Michael Kennedy who was a friend of RVW and has written an excellent book on his life and works. The recording is superb.

Fabulous. A treat for any lover of Ralph Vaughan Williams' symphonies. There are some enthralling and spine-tinglingly beautiful passages which have been cut from the familiar revised version. There is hardly anything in this original version that feels so expendable. For me, the revised edition isn't just more 'coherent' - there are flavours and feels which are simply absent from it. There is more menace, mystery, atmosphere in this original version; like unexpected figures emerging from a fog, shadows shifting in the alleyways... (er, sorry guvner...) It has some abrupt changes, evocative twists and revisitations which help build up a rich sense of place: things you might feel in a real or imagined London. A feeling of "straining... to express just a little too much" which Butterworth spoke of might, paradoxically, give just the right touch. This original version surely is a "Symphony by a Londoner" more than "A London Symphony" as it was honed down to a couple of decades on.
So if you're keen on RVW's revised London Symphony, or generally passionate about his symphonic works, there's a very good chance you will love this original version.
Great applause to Ursula Vaughan Williams [permission], Richard Hickox [conducting] and the London Symphony Orchestra [playing] for this recording.
Splendid that George Butterworth's idyll "The Banks of Green Willow" is on this, given his links with RVW and with this symphony in particular. Butterworth is a notably unsung hero. The Banks of Green Willow is an evocative masterpiece which jaunts along then falls into something that becomes overwhelmingly moving - though I've yet to appreciate the version of it on this recording so much as that on "English Rhapsody", with Mark Elder conducting the Hallé (a disc which includes other orchestral material by Butterworth). There's a particular tempo difference in this Hickox/LSO version which hasn't made for something I've so far enjoyed to the same degree; but it's still exquisite and profound. For me, then, while it was love at first hearing with this version of VW's 2nd, not so with this interpretation of B's Banks (though it's certainly growing on me...)

Moral of the story? It's not just about what you're used to. And don't be afraid to question whether all the decisions of your favourite genius are necessarily for the best. How can anything really be judged or measured, especially potentials and possibilities? What, say, if Butterworth hadn't gone to the Somme, where he was shot dead in 1916? As Stephen Connock says in his sleevenotes to this recording, The Banks of Green Willow "becomes the more poignant as we recall the fate of its gifted composer." It does seem pregnant with music yet unheard. Vaughan Williams thought that with his revisions he'd cut out some "bad bits" from his Symphony No. 2. For me, though, some babies definitely went out with the bathwater - and it's wonderful to hear them on this recording.

Worth bearing in mind that both these composers were avid collectors of folksong, and their creative flow was sometimes not so much a matter of originating as of re-expressing, revitalising. Rather than mere production of form, creativity might be better understood in this context in terms of metabolism or moving of energy, of spirit - much as we might experience with others similarly drawing on a folk heritage, such [in music] as Bartok, Holst and Stravinsky, to name just a few.