Be that as it may, this reading of the concerto is glorious. And Mr. Lovell-Jones deserves star status – even if I was perhaps unjustly critical of him as this orchestra’s “leader” (concertmaster) in a recent recording of music for strings, where I attributed the violin section’s ridiculously fast, frantic vibrato to him. (In hindsight, it’s probably exactly what Wilson was asking for.) Mercifully, there is none of that anywhere on this Walton program. And hearing him as soloist, with the freedom to be his own musician and play from the heart, Lovell-Jones proves to be a wonderfully expressive violinist. While I do hear a fast, fairly tight vibrato from him, it’s not anywhere near frantic or hectic, and there is just enough body of tone to support it. While one could never describe his sound as large or particularly rich, there is a shimmering, almost ethereal silkiness to it which is positively lovely. And the recording engineer captures his violin naturally, without a hint of spotlighting, allowing his tone to float exquisitely up into the acoustic of that big cathedral they record in.
There is no denying Lovell-Jones receives superlative support from Wilson and the Sinfonia of London. Their commanding contribution makes a dramatic and powerful impact – so much so that at times they almost overpower the soloist. But that’s not Wilson’s fault, nor is it the fault of the recording engineer. Walton himself acknowledged an imbalance with the scoring after a performance in the “lamentably echo-laden” Royal Albert Hall, and proceeded to thin out the orchestration a little. But the orchestra remains an integral part of the piece, and what we hear on this recording is realistic and believable – exactly how we’d hear it in the concert hall.
Musically, this is about as good as it gets, despite (or more likely because of) brisk tempos. After the pensive, tranquil opening section, I was afraid the very fast speed in the molto piu mosso con brio was going to be too much. And indeed, the entire first movement is over rather quickly (nearly 2 minutes faster than Tasmin Little on her recent recording for Chandos, and over a minute faster than most other rivals, except Heifetz). But the music relaxes so graciously all around it, it works. And the ensuing Presto second movement proves it can be faster still – where Lovell-Jones plays with effortless bravura, without ever sounding breathless, followed by the most sweetly singing legato double-stopped melodic passages.
The final Vivace is taken at a reasonable tempo, not at all helter-skelter, but with plenty of bravado. And I was even surprised to hear a remarkable resemblance to the finale of Prokofiev’s 3rd Piano Concerto (tinged with a bit of Shostakovich and the bustling propulsion of Walton’s own Spitfire Fugue) which I had never noticed before. We can possibly hear why Heifetz (the concerto’s dedicatee) had some reservations with this finale, but Lovell-Jones and Wilson certainly make the most compelling and musically convincing case for it.
I have never enjoyed Walton’s Violin Concerto as much as this. And the reason is easy to explain – it is far better played, both by soloist and orchestra, than on any other recording I can remember. (And spot-checking many of them just to be sure, confirms this to be absolutely true.) And with superbly dynamic SACD sound which expands magnificently into the acoustic, this is most impressive – musically and sonically. It will inspire you to absolutely love this concerto, perhaps for the first time.
I am very impressed with Charlie Lovell-Jones, not only as a violin player but as a musician. I read in the booklet he has continued his studies even while leading the violins of the Sinfonia of London – recently graduating from Oxford (in 2020) and the Royal Academy (in 2022), and with continuing studies at Yale (with Augustin Hadelich) through 2024. At just 26 years old, he demonstrates an incredibly ambitious determination and dedication. And he plays a 1777 Guadagnini violin, which surely contributes to his lovely tone.
While Wilson would certainly have opened the concert with the Overture which appears last on this disc for no logical reason, the program begins instead with the Symphonic Suite from the opera, Troilus and Cressida, as arranged by Christopher Palmer in 1987. Though quite a rarity, this is not a premiere recording. That came from Chandos back in 1989, with Bryden Thomson conducting the London Philharmonic (appropriately coupled with the 2nd Symphony). And predictably, Wilson’s tempos in all 4 movements are considerably faster than Thomson’s – remarkably so in the 3rd section, where he is nearly 3 minutes faster! But it never sounds rushed; it’s just more engaging and involving.
The opening section, “The Trojans” Prelude and Seascape, is very dramatic, unmistakably Walton, and characteristically operatic – especially in the central section where Wilson’s strings sing with fervor. While the Scherzo is mercurial – lively allegrettos alternating with lengthy lyrical (and very operatic) passages. “The Lovers” (3rd movement) then is somewhat reminiscent of Korngold, with Wilson’s forward-moving tempos encouraging rapturously soaring lines. (And he doesn’t shy away from its kindred affinity with the forthcoming 2nd Symphony.) And the central vivo really moves! It is followed by a breathtaking misterioso which is pure magic – as is the central tranquillo in the finale, surrounded on either side by dramatic passion.
I’ve never thought of Walton as an opera composer, and this suite doesn’t really change that – it works marvelously as a purely orchestral piece. Though there are tunes galore, it must be admitted this arrangement tends to sound rather more like a film score combined with symphonic elements right out of his 2nd Symphony, than an opera per se. (And truthfully, this may be more Christopher Palmer than Walton.) Nonetheless, it is glorious to hear. And John Wilson excels at this kind of music, with its endless variety of moods and styles. And this amazing orchestra responds intuitively and instantaneously to his every gesture. The rapport he has with this ensemble is really something quite wonderful.
Finally, appended at the very end of this disc for no conceivable (or musical) reason – as if just an afterthought – is an overture. I do wish someone would explain to Chandos producer, Brian Pidgeon, what an overture is. I think he thinks it’s an encore. For just as in a previous release of orchestral music by Bacewicz, where he appended an overture after the 2 major symphonies, here we have the Portsmouth Point Overture coming after the violin concerto. And Wilson, as is his wont, whips it up with as much energy and vigor as he could possibly generate. And it’s as exciting as you’d ever want to hear it, and as such, sounds ridiculously misplaced there at the end. Even the booklet writer (Mervyn Cooke) knows where it should go and writes about it first in the program notes!
Nevertheless, this is a terrific program – sensationally played and spectacularly recorded. For maximum appreciation though, I strongly recommend listening to it in a completely different order than how it’s served to us on the disc. Start with the Overture (obviously), followed by the Concerto, and end with the symphonic suite – exactly as the program notes in the booklet are organized.
Wilson and his orchestra are fabulous in Walton (just as they were in Korngold) and I sincerely hope they have plans to record the two symphonies. We’ve desperately needed truly worthy successors to the classic Previn/RCA 1st (1966), and Szell/CBS 2nd (1961). And I think Wilson and company quite possibly could be just the combination to deliver it.
