Charles Villiers Stanford's Symphony No. 7 in D minor, Op. 124

Any consideration of Charles Villiers Stanford’s Seventh Symphony could do worse than begin with Charles Porte’s summary in his book about the composer’s music. Porte introduces a number of facets of this symphony which are to dominate any future discussion of the work.

He describes is as ‘a singularly bright, compact and lucid work’ but immediately qualifies this by suggesting that it has not ‘a claim to be regarded as great spiritual music’. He considers that this is not a particular problem. Porte regards it as a welcome change to have a work that ‘the storm and stress of conflicting idealism and realism’ which is a well-used ‘plot’ for many symphonies and looks to its ‘fresh and contented spirit that becomes quite lovable on acquaintance’. He concludes his introduction by stating that ‘if the symphony has no portentous claims to greatness, it must surely be given a place as a really musical work, every bar of it being fresh and natural, and free from any forced emotionalism. It is an inspired creation, but it is the inspiration of almost unruffled serenity and contentment, and full of the personal pure thought and individuality of the composer’. No better praise could be given.

Interestingly, Jeremy Dibble quotes Hubert Parry as rather facetiously describing Stanford’s Symphony as ‘mild, conventional [and] Mendelssohnic – But not as interesting as Mendelssohn’.  This is a view that is to dominate many critiques of this work down to the present time. Lewis Foreman is quoted by John Quinn (MusicWeb International) as saying that the Seventh Symphony is ‘essentially a nineteenth-century work, a summation rather than a departure’. Richard Whitehouse (Naxos liner notes) has noted the ‘Mendelssohnian lightness’ of this symphony, which was ‘decidedly out of step with an era drawn to Strauss, Debussy and even Stravinsky’.

The Seventh Symphony, Op.124 was, like Parry’s Fifth, composed as a commission from the Royal Philharmonic Society’s centenary. As the work was supposed to last about twenty minutes (both David Lloyd-Jones on Naxos and Vernon Handley on Chandos take just over 28 minutes) there was a need for a concentration of material that compressed the traditional four-movement symphonic form into three movements.   Jeremy Dibble, in his biography of the composer, has pointed out that although this symphony was ‘by no means his (Stanford’s) most virile symphonic utterance, nevertheless evidenced his most intricate organic thought, a feature which escaped commentators of the time who were beguiled by the Mozartian simplicity of its thematic material’.

The Symphony was duly premiered on 22 February 1912 at the Queen’s Hall with the composer conducting.

The critic in the Musical Times (Apr 1912) was impressed.  He suggested that the ‘in some respects the character of the Symphony was a surprise because so simple and straightforward a composition was hardly expected in these times, when a new orchestral work is so often a melancholy psychological problem’. He made the connection with the classical milieu when suggesting that ‘whilst listening to Sir Charles Stanford's music one could imagine Mozart benignly approving’. He concludes by wrongly assuming that ‘as the Symphony is practicable for ordinary resources it will no doubt be often heard’. Well, it was played a number of times in the aftermath of its premiere, but was duly forgotten until its revival in 1990 by Vernon Handley.

The reviewer in The Observer (Feb 24 1912) wrote that symphony has ‘many noteworthy features’ which include being scored for a small orchestra, lasting only half an hour, not having a slow movement, the second movement being partly a minuet, partly a scherzo and lastly the finale may be considered as a set of variations, as is the case in Tchaikovsky’s Piano Trio.  But once again the critic states that the symphony ‘deliberately refrains from dealing with the deeper or more harrowing emotions,’ however on the other hand there is nothing in the work that is ‘flippant or unworthy’. The underlying ethos of this music is ‘a smiling philosophy’. The critic considers that ‘such music is rare among British musicians of the day and this makes it the more welcome’. No doubt the reviewer was thinking about the symphonies of Elgar and (although not British!) Mahler.

The final word must go to Aaron C. Keebaugh who wrote in his thesis Victorian and Musician: Charles Villiers Stanford’s Symphonies in Context (2004) that ‘this work displays Stanford’s skill as a masterful craftsman, [and] a musical architect of the first order.’ He concludes by suggesting that Stanford appears to be ‘a Victorian musician caught within the proverbial lost world of modernism. While his contemporaries stood before the dawn of Neo-classicism, Stanford stood firmly in conventional classicism, rooted in the traditional values of balance, clarity, and formal unity’.

Charles Villiers Stanford's Symphony No. 7 in D minor, Op. 124 can be heard on YouTube

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Charles Villiers Stanford Violin Sonata No.2: First Performance 7 December 1898 –Part II

This is the second tranche of contemporary reviews generated by the first performance of Charles Villiers Stanford’s Violin Sonata No. 2 in A major. I have replicated the foot notes where appropriate to assist the reader.  The work (alongwith the remainder of Stanford’s works for violin and piano) can be heard on SHEVA SH100 played by Alberto Bologni and Christopher Howell. The post arose because it was believed that the work had not been performed until the present recording.  The sheet music for this Sonata was published in 2006 by Chiltern Music and is still available from them.

‘A new violin sonata by Dr. Villiers Stanford was played for the first time in London last night. It was very well received.’

Yorkshire Evening Post - Thursday 08 December 1898

‘...a concert given by two Australian musicians – namely, Mr Kruse [1] and Mr Fischer Sobell [2]– Mr Curtius introduced a new Sonata in A by Dr. Villiers Stanford for violin and pianoforte, a work more or less in the regular form, comprising a first allegro, a slow movement, a prestissimo which replaces the usual scherzo, and a final and bright allegretto. Although these ‘Curtius’ concerts are not open to the public, they are very interesting.’

Glasgow Herald Thursday 08 December 1898

Dr. Stanford’s New Violin Sonata

'The chief interest at the Curtius Club on Wednesday centred in the new violin Sonata in A major, Op.70, by Dr Stanford, which was played for the first time by Mr Kruse and Mr. Fischer Sobell. It is in four movements and shows us the new Stanford, the Stanford who is less complex than the old, the more direct in his utterance. He is not less intellectual, but intellect, emotion and the merely sensuous (which is, after all, an indispensable element in music) are more fairly mixed. I hear on good authority that the Sonata was composed two years ago, but that the first movement was very much changed this spring, chiefly at the suggestion of Mr Kruse. (Musical historians need not be reminded of the classical instance of violinists acting as assessors, so to speak, to composers of violin music). The first movement as it stands is the only one which bears a trace of the composer’s former, perhaps too exclusive, devotion to the Brahmsian ideal. But the Brahms element is not by any means obtrusive.

The second is the most engaging of all, an Irish lament full of tender charm. The third movement is a bright Scherzo and the last movement is also cheerful. It seemed to me that the Finale was too much like a continuation –as far as mood and colour go- of the Scherzo to be quite satisfying. But one feels some diffidence in making such an obvious criticism of a composer like Dr. Stanford. A further hearing may show that he had some reason for his scheme.'

A K. Musical Standard- Dec 10, 1898

'The Curtius Club concerts have been very well attended. At the last concert a new Violin Sonata by Professor Villiers Stanford was heard for the first time. This proved to be a work of decided interest, the Adagio being especially worthy of praise. The Sonata received an excellent interpretation at the hands of Mr. J. Kruse and Madame Fischer-Sobell [3].  Mr. Fischer-Sobell sang a number of songs with considerable refinement.'

Morning Post - Monday 12 December 1898

Notes

[1] Johann Secundus Kruse (1859-1927), violinist, was born on 22 March 1859 at Melbourne, Australia. He died in London on 4 October 1927. He was the foremost pupil of the renowned violinist, conductor, composer and teacher Joseph Joachim (1831-1907) and later in his career he played in the Joachim Quartet.

[2] Otto Fischer-Sobell, (1864-1934) husband of ‘Violet.’ Professor of music and tenor. Born in Australia.

[3] Madame Fischer-Sobell, was an elusive character. Little seems to be known about. The ‘madame’ was always part of her professional name and her Christian name is not well-documented. However, I understand that he maiden name was Viola Agnew. 

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Charles Villiers Stanford Violin Sonata No.2 – First Performance 7 December 1898

I recently reviewed the three-CD set of Alberto Bologni and Christopher Howell playing the collected works for violin and piano by Charles Villiers Stanford (SHEVA SH100). In the liner notes Howell suggested that the Violin Sonata No. 2 in A major was unpublished and ‘so far as known, unperformed until recently’. I noted in my review that it was actually first heard on Wednesday 7^th December 1898 at the Curtius Club, meeting at the Prince’s Galleries in Piccadilly, London. The soloists were Johan Kruse and Mmm. Fischer-Sobell.  I promised to provide these reviews on my blog.  They will be presented in two posts with a very light touch commentary.

At the Curtius Club concert to-night Dr Stanford’s new violin sonata was played for the first time. It was written, I believe, about two years ago, but the first movement has been recast, and in its new shape was only finished this spring. It is in four movements. The first is brisk, and bright and somewhat Brahmslike; the second – the best of all-partakes the character of an Irish lament, the third is a scherzo, merry and ingenious, and the last movement is a manly allegretto. It is throughout in Dr. Stanford’s later vein, in which he has worked more of less consistently since the days of Shamus O’Brian [1] – that is to say, he aims more than he did at pleasing, without, however, in any way aiming less high than of yore. The work should be heard again.

Manchester Courier and Lancashire General Advertiser - Thursday 08 December 1898

More than usual artistic interest was attached to the Curtius Club concert, which took place last night at the Prince’s Galleries, [2] by the first production of a MS. sonata for violin and pianoforte in A, Op.70, by Professor Villiers Stanford. The work consists of the usual four movements, which are written on accepted lines. The first number opens in a flowing manner, but, in development of the themes, considerable passion is expressed. This is followed by an ‘adagio molto’, a tender, regretful lament, full of genuine pathos. A vivacious ‘prestissimo’ follows, which in turn gives place to an ‘allegretto’ of genial character, the finale of a work which sustains its composer’s reputation and will be heard again with pleasure. It was sympathetically interpreted by Herr Johann Kruse [3] and Madame Fischer-Sobell, [4] both of whom subsequently played several solos on their respective instruments with great taste and refinement, and closed the evening with Beethoven’s Sonata in A for pianoforte and violin dedicated to Kreutzer. The vocalist, Mr O. Fischer-Sobell, [5] included amongst his songs one entitled ‘Long After,’ by Mr. G.W.L. Marshall Hall, [6]described as a study on Tennyson’s Maud.

London Standard - Thursday 08 December 1898

Notes

[1] Shamus O’Brian, opera composed by Stanford in 1895.

[2] Royal Institute of Painters in Water Colours, Piccadilly

[3] Johann Secundus Kruse (1859-1927), violinist, was born on 22 March 1859 at Melbourne, Australia. He died in London on 4 October 1927. He was the foremost pupil of the renowned violinist, conductor, composer and teacher Joseph Joachim (1831-1907) and later in his career he played in the Joachim Quartet.

[4] Madame Fischer-Sobell, was an elusive character. Little seems to be known about. The ‘madame’ was always part of her professional name and her Christian name is not well-documented. However, I understand that he maiden name was Viola Agnew.

[5] Otto Fischer-Sobell, (1864-1934) husband of ‘Violet.’ Professor of music and tenor. Born in Australia.

[6] George William Louis Marshall-Hall (1862-1915), an English composer, conductor, poet and controversialist. He lived in Australia from 1891 until his death. Wrote a Symphony which was performed in London in 1907. 

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Sir Charles Villiers Stanford The Complete Organ Works Vol. 1

Charles Villiers STANFORD (1852-1924)

Fantasia and Toccata, Op.57 (1894) Sonata No.1 in F, Op. 149 (1917) Six Preludes, Op.88:  Minuet; Chaconne; Prelude (in the form of a Toccata); Prelude on the Easter Hymn; Pastorale; Prelude on Tallis's Canon, Op. 88 (c.1903) Sonata No. 2, Op. 151 (1917)

Daniel Cook (The Organ of Salisbury Cathedral)

Priory PRCD1095

The organ works of Charles Villiers Stanford are not a part of his output with which I am familiar. Over the years I have explored the symphonies, concertos, songs, liturgical and chamber music, however apart from a few preludes and postludes heard in church and cathedral I have not discovered the works presented on this CD.

Stanford was involved with the ‘King of Instruments’ throughout most of his career, and was himself an organist for many years. If we assume that his composing career was from 1877 until his death in 1924, it is a fact that most of his organ works were written in the second half of this period. 

The opening ‘Fantasia and Toccata in D minor’, Op.57 is the earliest organ work in Stanford’s catalogue: it was penned in July 1894, but was not published until 1902.  This piece is very much in the ‘classical style’ with allusions to Bach’s ‘Fantasia and Fugue in G minor’ BWV 542 and the ‘Dorian’ Toccata and Fugue in D minor, BWV 538. However, this is not a parody of Bach: Stanford has created a romantic mood derived from Mendelssohn and Brahms. The Fantasia has some powerful music, but there is also a delicious middle section that exploits the softer string tones of the organ.  The Toccata, which is introduced by pedal solo, becomes a veritable ‘warhorse’ as the music moves dynamically toward its massive full-organ close. This is a substantial piece that displays the organ at Salisbury to an impressive degree.

The Six Preludes were begun in 1903 and were published over the next couple of years. According to Jeremy Dibble these were ‘conceived as six essays in distinctive style-forms which could be performed separately but could also be played as a cohesive set’.

The first is ‘in [the] Form of a Minuet’. This is a quiet, reserved piece that is really a pastoral or an idyll:  the ‘trio’ section is a little livelier with delightful rippling figurations. The second prelude is ‘in [the] Form of a Chaconne. There are ten variations with the ‘ground bass’ presented variously by each hand and the pedals.  Prelude No.3 is a short Toccata in ternary form: the boisterous outer parts are complemented by a ‘chorale like’ trio.  ‘On the Easter Hymn’ is a fine chorale-prelude on the well loved hymn ‘Jesus Christ is Risen Today.’ There are nods to Wagner’s Meistersingersin the progress of this piece. The fifth Prelude is ‘In [the] form of a Pastorale.’ This is not some English music-revival type of confection, but owes its inspiration to Handel and possibly the ‘Pastoral Symphony’ from Messiah. It is a beautiful, moving piece that is full of the magic and reverence of Christmas and the Birth of Jesus in a manger. It is surely one of the most delightful miniatures from Stanford’s pen. The final Prelude is ‘a tranquil meditation on Tallis’s Canon for the second evening hymn ‘Glory to Thee, My God, this night.’ This is ‘night music’ that is ideal for Evensong.

Each one of these ‘Six Preludes’ reveals Stanford at his best. These should be listened to at one sitting, as they are largely complementary. However any of them can be used individually for Divine Worship.

Much could, and probably should, be written about Charles Villiers Stanford’s Five Organ Sonatas. These pieces, which were written between 1917 and 1921, are little-known to organ music enthusiasts. So far, I have had the opportunity of listening to the first two which are presented on this CD: I look forward to getting to grips with the following three. My overall impression is of highly competent and characteristic writing for the instrument. This is presented in what was probably at the time of composing a slightly outdated musical language. Yet this does not really matter – it is the quality and the content that matter: not the stylistic provenance.  I am surprised that these works are not in the general repertoire as they are often as impressive as those infinitely better-known symphonies written by the Frenchmen Vierne and Widor.

Sonata No.1 in F major, Op.149 was completed in May 1917 and was dedicated to the composer’s old friend Alan Gray. Like all of the organ sonatas, this is in three movements. The liner notes suggest that this work looks back to the Basil Harwood’s C sharp minor Sonata which was in turn was influenced by Joseph Rheinberger.

The opening ‘allegro’ is in sonata form with a good contrast between the two principal subjects. The second movement opens with some delightful filigree passages. Later, the mood changes and becomes more aggressive. After a climax, the quieter music reprises. This movement is signed as ‘tempo di menuetto’ yet there are more serious things at stake here. The finale is effectively an ‘introduction and fugue’. The liner notes point out that there is a reference to the opening movement in the last pages of this Sonata.

The Second Sonata was completed in August of 1917 and was dedicated ‘to Charles Marie Widor and the great country to which he belongs.’  This is a ‘war’ sonata in its content and substance. Charles Porte has noted that it was inspired by the heroism of France in the ‘terrible and costly struggle’ against the invading German army.  The opening movement is subtitled ‘Rheims’ after the cathedral that was badly damaged in an artillery bombardment. This is music that seems to embrace both patriotism and solemnity. The second movement is a funeral march of considerable depth and thoughtfulness. The finale, ‘Verdun, 1916’ is largely heroic without being ‘triumphant’ or ‘jingoistic.’ This is immense, powerful, almost frightening music that is at one and the same time inspiring and deeply moving. Stanford orchestrated the last two movements which were later performed at an Albert Hall Sunday afternoon concert during 1918.

Daniel Cook, until recently, was Organist and Master of the Choristers at St David’s Cathedral. He had a considerable involvement in the Cathedral Festival.  In 2013 Daniel Cook was elected as an Associate of the Royal Academy of Music. In September he took up the post of Sub-organist at Westminster Abbey. He is currently artistic director of Mousai Singers. Cook has recorded a number of CDs for Priory Records, including the complete works (all on-going) of Herbert Brewer, Herbert Sumsion and the present composer. He recently released a fine recording of the organ at St Mary’s, Cullercoats in Northumberland.  

The sound quality of this present CD is impressive. It passes my ‘recorded organ music test’ of giving the impression of being in the nave of the cathedral whilst actually sitting in my chair in the music room. The liner notes are by Professor Jeremy Dibble who has contributed so much to the scholarship of Victorian and Edwardian composers. It is a considerable essay that examines each work in detail. The CD booklet includes the all-important specification for the organ at Salisbury Cathedral. This instrument was installed in 1877 by ‘Father’ Henry Willis and in spite of a series of rebuilds, cleans and restorations, this organ sounds exactly like the day it was built.  John Stainer believed that this was ‘even finer than the organ Father Willis had designed for St Paul’s in 1872.  The organ builder himself considered that it was his finest creation.

This is a fascinating first instalment of what promises to be a major contribution to the recorded repertoire of Charles Villiers Stanford. I guess that there will be a further two or three CDs released before this collection is complete. I, for one, cannot wait for Volume 2.

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review first appeared.

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Charles Villiers Stanford: Part Songs

Charles Villiers STANFORD (1852-1924)

Birmingham Conservatoire Chamber Choir/Paul Spicer

SOMM CD0128 Track Listings are at the end of the review.  

Three things can be said in introduction to this excellent new CD from SOMM (for the concerns I have, see below). Firstly, looking at the catalogue of Charles Villiers Stanford’s part-songs reveals that he wrote around a hundred examples of the genre. The earliest was ‘Six Part Songs’ Op.33 which I believe is still in manuscript and the last was possibly ‘Lady May’ written in 1924 for two-part women’s voices. Most of the remainder have been published.

Secondly, Stanford’s taste in literature was eclectic, although possibly not quite as wide-ranging as that of Hubert Parry. Major poets that he ‘set’ as part-songs include John Milton, Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Michael Drayton, Thomas Moore and Mary Coleridge, as well as a variety of ‘Elizabethan’ verse. If one examines his major choral works, the poets include Swinburne, Longfellow and Henry Newbolt. It could be argued that much of this literature was ‘Victorian’ however there is considerable diversity amongst the output of these authors.

And thirdly, Stanford has composed most of his part-songs in a trajectory from the secular English madrigal. Jeremy Dibble has summed up the composer’s achievement by noting that he ‘shows a sensitivity for handling voices, and an understanding of how choral texture, harmony, assonance, polyphony and vocal contour can accentuate the meaning of a text.’ These facets have been a feature of the best of English part-songs since Morley and Dowland. Traditionally ‘part-songs’ (as opposed to madrigals) were composed in a largely homophonic style. However, many of Stanford’s essays’ include a deal of polyphony that makes for variety of texture and sound. It is this increasing complexity of musical content that sets Stanford’s part-songs apart from some of the post Mendelssohnian ‘four-part harmony exercise’ type of composition which prevailed in England in the latter half of the nineteenth century.

I do not wish to explore each of the works presented here, save to make one comment. My favourite number is ‘A blue bird’. To my mind this is the most perfect fusion of words and music ever achieved by a British composer. It is given a memorable performance on this CD.

The organisation and presentation of the programme on this CD troubled me greatly. The track-listing gives only the title of each song. There is no reference to the date of composition or the source of the text. But more worrying is the fact that the opus numbers or titles of the ‘collection’ from which these part-songs are extracted are not stated.  I concede that much of this information is given in the liner notes but these are in a fairly small font and the listener has to carefully search for the required fact.

I am not sure what the principle behind selecting the songs for this CD was? Glancing at my annotations to the track-listings above shows that it was certainly not chronological or by ‘collection.’  Even the ‘Eight Part-Songs’ Op. 119, which are given in their entirety are spread out over the ‘batting list’ and are not given in the order presented in the score.

I happen to be a Stanford enthusiast. I have at my disposal various books, catalogues and articles that have allowed me to piece together exactly what is on this disc, where it came from and when it was written. Even now, I am not sure that I have got it all correct: this is a review, not a dissertation. Most listeners will not bother carry out this research.

I am guessing that Paul Spicer and/or the producer selected this programme based on contrast between songs in order to make for satisfying listening. However, this is not the way I would recommend anyone to explore this CD. Seventy-five minutes and twenty-five songs are more than enough for anyone to take at a single sitting. Most people would approach this disc by selecting their ‘favourites’ or titles that ‘appeal’. If I had been devising the programme I would have opted for a chronological selection. Where possible I would have included all the songs in each collection, unless there was a very good musical reason to omit it. I would also have maintained the published order within each collection.

This is a finely recorded CD.  The performance by the Birmingham Conservatoire Chamber Choir under their conductor Paul Spicer, has taken these twenty-five numbers extremely seriously. I guess there is always a danger of singing Victorian and Edwardian part-songs with ones’ tongue firmly in one’s cheek. This is a pitfall that has been studiously avoided.

These songs are beautifully paced, always allowing the attractive part-writing and subtle play on traditional harmony to dominate the performance. The diction of the words is perfect: I had no need to refer to the enclosed text to understand the burden of any of these settings. However, it is always nice to browse the poems ‘offline’ as it were. The breadth of this collection makes for a lovely ‘anthology’ of English poetry.

I am not sure just how many of these part-songs are currently available in score – I guess that some will be ‘anthologised’ in a number of publications’ whilst I know that ‘Heraclitus’ and ‘The blue bird’ are still in print or ‘online’. The preparation of this CD must have involved much exploration in the ‘music library’ to uncover these treasures.

I noted above that the liner notes contain the texts: there is also an excellent introductory essay by the scholar Jeremy Dibble which is well-worth reading. Included are good mini-biographies of Paul Spicer and the Choir. A French translation of the essay is also provided.  A couple of photographs of C.V.S. and the choir would have been a bonus.

Apart from my reservations about the ‘programme’ and the track details, this is a highly desirable CD. I accept that ‘part-songs’ may not be to everyone’s taste but I think that this is a genre that could regain some of its lost popularity. All Stanford enthusiasts will be delighted to purchase this CD, as it offers a chance to hear some largely forgotten music by the ‘master.’  I would love to have been able to conclude my review by stating that I am looking forward to the next volume in the near future. But I fear, is not to be. Hoping for the ‘complete’ part-songs was just hoping a little too much. Meanwhile, we should be grateful for what has been given us. It is essential listening of all lovers of Charles Villiers Stanford and of British choral music.

‘Time’ Op.142 (1914) [5:40]                                   
Four Part Songs Op.110 No.4, ‘Heraclitus’ (c.1909)
To Chloris (1873)
Six Elizabethan Pastorals Op.49 Set I, No.2, ‘Corydon, arise!’ (1892)
Eight Part-songs Op. 119 No. 6,  ‘The swallow’ (1910)]
Six Elizabethan Pastorals Op.53 Set II, No.3, ‘Praised be Diana’ (1894)
Six Elizabethan Pastorals Op.53 Set II, No.2,  ‘Like desert woods’ (1894)
Six Elizabethan Pastorals Op.49 Set, I, No.1,  ‘To his flocks’ (1892)
Six Elizabethan Pastorals Op.53 Set II, No.1, ‘On a hill there grows a flower’, (1894)
Eight Part-songs Op. 119 No. 3, ‘The blue bird’ (1910)
Six  Elizabethan Pastorals Op.67 Set III,  No.3,  ‘Shall we go dance?’ (1897)
Eight Part-songs Op.127 No.3,  ‘When Mary thro' the garden went’ (1910)
Six Elizabethan Pastorals Op.49 No.3, ‘Diaphenia’ (1892)
Eight Part-songs Op.127 No.4, The haven (1910)
Three Part-songs Op.111 No.1, ‘A lover's ditty’ (c.1908)
Choral Song Op.97 ‘God and the Universe’ (1906)
‘Peace, come away’ (1892)

Four Part-songsOp.110, ‘A dirge’ (c.1909)

Choral Songs in Honour of Her Majesty Queen Victoria , ‘Out in the windy West’ (1899) [4:50]
Eight Part Songs Op. 119, No.1, ‘The witch’] No.2, ‘Farewell, my joy!’ No.4, ‘The train’, No.5, ‘The inkbottle’ No.7, ‘Chillingham’ No.8, ‘My heart in thine’ (1910)

With thanks to MusicWeb International where this review was first published

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Charles Villiers Stanford: The Complete Works for Violin & Piano

Charles Villiers STANFORD(1852-1924)

CD1

Violin Sonata No. 1 in D major, Op. 11 (c.1877) Three Intermezzi, Op. 13 (1879) Legend (c.1893) Album Leaf (c.1899) Six Irish Dances, selected and arranged for violin and piano (c.1922/23) Five Bagatelles in valse form, Op. 183 (pub.1921)

CD2

Six Irish Fantasies, Op. 54 (1893) Five Characteristic Pieces, Op.93 (1905) Three Irish Airs, arranged for violin and piano (c.1922/23) Four Irish Dances, Op.89 Nos. 1, 3 & 4 (1917)

CD3

Six Irish Sketches, for violin and piano Op. 153 (1918) Six Irish Marches, selected and arranged for violin and piano (c.1922/23) An Ancient Melody, for violin and piano (c.1922/23) Planxty Sudley (c.1922/23) Six Sketches for violin and piano, Op.155 (pub.1918)

Violin Sonata No. 2 in A major, Op. 70 (c.1897/8)

Alberto Bologni (violin) Christopher Howell (piano)

SHEVA SH100 

If this collection had arrived on my doorstep a few weeks earlier, it would have stood a great chance of being my MusicWeb International CD of 2013 (notwithstanding my devotion to RVWs The Solent). It is not that the music on this latest release from Sheva is ground-breaking or in some way requires rewriting the history of British chamber music. It is quite simply a stunning package of extremely effective, enjoyable and well-written works that claim our attention and guarantee pleasure and enjoyment.

The works presented on these CDs resolve into three broad groups. Firstly, there are the two Violin Sonatas, secondly there are the Irish-inspired pieces and lastly a selection of miscellaneous instrumental forms which include intermezzi, bagatelles and other ‘characteristic’ pieces.  I do not intend to discuss or analyse these pieces as this is done admirably in the liner notes.

There are three important points to make about this music. Firstly, as an inveterate completest, it is good to be able to explore everything that Charles Villiers Stanford composed for violin and piano. I must admit that I have not done a detailed examination of the catalogues in Jeremy Dibble and Paul Rodmell’s biographies of the composer, nor have I ticked-off against an earlier list (work in progress) by Frederick Hudson in the February 1964 edition of The Music Review. There are two works that are not included on this release –the Op.165 ‘Sonatas’ for violin with piano accompaniment written c.1919. These were never published and unfortunately the manuscript is missing. It is understood that they were not ‘duo’ sonatas as such but were works for violin solo with a piano accompaniment rather like for a song.

Secondly, it would be easy to suggest that Stanford’s violin and piano music is simply ‘warmed up’ Brahms. It is often assumed that he was in ‘hock’ to the elder composer and simply produced a body of music that was effectively Brahms with an Irish accent and an English stiff upper lip. It is clear from the Sonatas in particular that Beethoven and Schumann were also important influences. Christopher Howell points out that by the time Stanford wrote his Second Violin Sonata, he had assimilated Brahms’ three major sonatas written between 1878 and 1888. However Stanford’s earlier example was written without this understanding and is none the worse for that.  As for the Irish-inspired works I can do no better than quote George Bernard Shaw – he considered that these ‘made excellent fiddling, and gave us at their best points a sense of the thatched roof, the clay floor, the potcheen, and the entire absence of professional spirit proper to genuine Irish violinism.’  It may be an exaggeration and miss some of the subtle ‘classical’ poise that Stanford brings to these Irish Airs, Dances, Marches and Fantasies but we get the idea.

The third point is that Stanford wrote music for violin and piano throughout his career. The earliest work was the First Sonata, Op.11 which was composed in 1877 when he was 25 years old. The characteristic pieces such as the Bagatelles and the Sketches were written in the first years of the 20^th century: these may be characterised as well-written ‘salon’ pieces.  The ‘Six Irish Dances’ and ‘Three Irish Airs’ were composed in the last few years of the Stanford’s life. There is little in the way of stylistic development in all these works, however the standard of invention, instrumentation and interest are consistently high.

The liner notes consist of a major ‘dissertation’ by Christopher Howell which includes a discussion of Stanford and the Violin. It is difficult to know what the composer’s ‘hands-on’ relationship with the violin actually was. Certainly contemporary sources suggest that he was competent, if not a virtuoso.  The second part of this considerable essay examines the composer’s relationships with violinists of his day such as Joseph Joachim and Herman Franke.  In 1904 the composer’s First Violin Concerto was played by Fritz Kreisler at the Leeds Festival.  Margaret Harrison made her debut with Stanford’s 1^st Violin Concerto at the Royal College of Music in 1918.  Lady Hallé was the soloist in a number of Stanford’s chamber works including the Six Irish Fantasies with the ‘famous’ Caoine.

A dozen pages are given to a detailed, but not overly technical discussion of each work. This makes for fascinating reading, and I suggest a great deal of research and study has gone into this. It deserves perusal before approaching the individual works. I just wish the font size was a little larger.

One point is of interest: Christopher Howell notes that the Violin Sonata No. 2 in A major was unpublished and ‘so far as known, unperformed until recently’. In actual fact it was first heard on Wednesday 7^th December 1898 at the Curtius Club, meeting at the Prince’s Galleries in Piccadilly, London. The soloists were Johan Kruse and Fischer Sobell. I will provide contemporary reviews of this work at a later date on my blog.

One of the perennial problems of any ‘complete’ works is that the playing can be uneven. Three and three quarter hours is a large musical canvas to fill and it would hardly be surprising if some pieces were not prepared and practiced quite as well as others. However, this is not the case with these three discs. I was captivated with every number, most of which I have not heard before. The playing is always balanced and nuanced. The enthusiasm is palpable in every bar. I particularly enjoyed the many Irish-inspired pieces: these are all presented with a sense of native wit and ‘Celtic’ mood that belies Alberto Bologni’s Italian birth and background. Christopher Howells contribution as pianist is impressive. He maintains a perfect balance between soloist and accompanist. I think that Stanford’s piano writing is often underestimated:  here it is revealed to fine effect.

The sound quality of these CDs is excellent. Just occasionally I felt it was a little dry. But this is nit-picking.

My approach to these three discs with their 16 individual works or groups of pieces would be to explore them slowly. My strategy whilst reviewing was to play a ‘character piece’ back to back with one of the ‘Irish’ works. I listened to the Sonatas as a pair. As I noted above, there is nothing here that is particularly challenging for the listener. Yet, every piece is attractive, full of melodic felicitousness and harmonic delight. These are works that are interesting, often quite beautiful, and sometimes deeply moving. It ought to be in every Stanfordian’s record library, but must also appeal to all enthusiasts of chamber music. These works have an importance way beyond the banks of the Liffey and Albertropolis in South Kensington. They demand and deserve our study. 

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Charles Villiers Stanford: An Appreciation by Henry Walford Davies

This is one of man tributes paid to Sir Charles Villiers Stanford shortly after his death on 29 March 1924, It need no editorial comment. 

I had but one term of close contact at College with him. The things I remember most vividly in his teaching were: that the ground-plan of each movement had to be perfect; that he ‘sensed’ it in a wonderful way if any measurement was wrong; that he did not repair the disproportion there and then except so far as the ground-plan was concerned. He would go to the piano and hammer out the necessary scheme with a more or less definite bass and a vague super-structure which left a pupil quite free to fancy for himself, but in no doubt as to the exact measurements within which his fantasy was to range.

Parry seemed to have intimate concern for and sympathy with the pupil's thought itself; Stanford's concern was to see the thought through to the hearer, whatever it was; so when the design seemed right he simply nodded and that was done with. The two men made so splendid a combination that we who had lessons from both were uniquely fortunate; and I may be pardoned here for mentioning Brahms's remark to me that ‘he hoped I taught others as well as my teachers has taught me.’

‘Make my compliments to your teachers’ was his message as we parted, with greeting to ‘Sir Grove.’ Whenever I think of him now, my mind will go back as it has dozens of times with gratitude to a trivial kindness of his. In 1889 I had sent in a half-baked exercise for the Cambridge Mus. Bac., which failed. There came a gratuitous letter from the Professor to the unknown candidate, to say that he felt justified in ‘breaking the rule of silence’ and encouraging me ‘to try again.’ It ended with the sentence: ‘Remember that a degree is the reward for excellence attained, not for excellence attainable.’ A scholarship exam at the R.C.M. followed: and this being a search for evidence of excellence attainable, gave him a further chance; and I shall never forget Stanford's kindly eager handshake with me in 1890, when he found himself able to recommend me (mostly on the rejected exercise) for a year's trial scholarship, and followed me through a packed crowd (in the passage in the old College) to say how glad he was. The professor and the composer were-for good and all-one man. His whole being, as I knew him, was as fully in that slight endearing act as in his greater vein of lovable melody. And when unborn singers revel in ‘Cuttin' rushes on the Mountain,’ they will have the same joy of personal contact with Stanford himself as I had in 1890, and as I shall hope to have countless times yet, whenever I hear or think upon a strain of his lovely music. 

Henry Walford Davies   Music & Letters July 1924 (with minor edits)

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Stanford and German in New York, 1907

I found this excellent review of Charles Villiers Stanford's Irish Symphony in Richard Aldrich, Concert Life in New York 1902–1923.  Little comment needs to be added save to point out that Walter Damrosch was born in Breslau in 1862 and died in New York in 1950. He was a composer of a wide variety of music, however it is in his capacity as conductor of the New York Symphony Orchestra that we are concerned here. Rudolph Ganz (1877-1972) was a Swiss pianist, conductor and composer. He claimed direct descent from Charlemagne. A note on Edward German's; fine Welsh Rhapsody is also included.

Nov. 18 1907 Mr. Damrosch is giving a special character to each of his Sunday afternoon programs played by the New York Symphony Orchestra in Carnegie Hall. Last week he made a Dvorak program. Yesterday he had one that was mentioned as a memorial to Grieg but might better have been called an exposition of "nationalism" in music. Grieg himself was a conspicuous exponent of that idea; his piano concerto that Mr. Rudolph Ganz played suggests the Norwegian coloring more than the Peer Gynt suite, which is devoted to other purposes, the illustration of action upon the stage. With these two compositions were consorted two others, an Irishman, Sir Charles Stanford's Irish Symphony, and a Welshman, Mr. Edward German's Welsh Rhapsody.

Of this music Stanford's is the most interesting and a welcome addition to program lists that are apt to become stereotyped. It still retains its freshness and spirit—not that it is very old in years, but music is the least immortal of artistic productions, and some modern symphonies have wrinkled with age in fifteen years. It is not great music nor wholly original in style, but it is charming, of sustained interest and made with much dexterity and skill in the manipulation of its material. The skill it shows would be challenged most easily, perhaps, upon the point that Sir Charles does not always quite know when to stop and that at least the first three movements are extended considerably beyond the point where his material yields him profitable results. That material consists of Irish folk-songs and themes strongly influenced by their spirit, both melodically and in the ancient "model" harmonies that are implied as their basis. Irish music affords an ample variety of mood for a composer so familiar with them as Stanford to work in, and it has been truly said that he has done more with this material in an artistic form than any one else. The tendency to prolixity is shown in his lingering fondness for the tender second theme of his first movement, which he can hardly let go, and again in the brilliant jiglike scherzo—very taking till it is prolonged to the point of monotony. The third has a rhapsodic character, as of an Irish lament; the harp of Erin is heard, there are flutings of plaintive fantasy, and the song, Lament of the sons of Usnach appears in it. In the last movement he also employs actual folk tunes, Remember the glories of Brian the Brave and Let Erin remember the days of old. These are skillfully used as real thematic material for symphonic development, not as in a potpourri of national airs, and in this the composer has shown a fine skill and a truly musical feeling. He writes skillfully, often charmingly, for orchestra.

Mr. German, who came from England to produce his new operetta, Tom Jones, conducted his Welsh Rhapsody. Mr. German also speaks with native authority when he is concerned with the Welsh national utterance. His rhapsody is a less highly organized development of national tunes than Stanford's symphony; his treatment is more obvious. He has founded the four sections of his work on five tunes, of which the last is the well-known March of the men of Harlech. There is good work in it and some stirring passages; and it is a composition well worth hearing. Mr. German conducted it with firmness and skill. Mr. Ganz's playing of Grieg's concerto was strong and virile rather than deeply poetical; it was emotionally rather self-contained. There was beauty in the slow movement and a clear incisiveness in the first. This composition does more honor to Grieg's memory than the inevitable Peer Gynt suite, which had been played from the same stage on the two preceding days by the Philharmonic Society.

Richard Aldrich, Concert Life in New York 1902–1923, ed. by Harold Johnson (Freeport, New York: Books for Libraries Press, 1941), 193–194.

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Charles Villiers Stanford: Festival Overture in B flat

I recall a well-known conductor once telling me that one of the hardest things to do is to write about music that one has never heard: and with this I totally agree, having tried it a number of times. However, what can be interesting is to read tantalising accounts of music that has disappeared from the repertoire – and because the score/manuscript has been lost, will never be heard.  The main justification for this is twofold – firstly it allows the listener to gain more contextual knowledge about the composer in question and secondly it may spur someone to look for and maybe even discover the ‘lost’ work. Who knows?

Charles Villiers Stanford’s Festival Overturewas composed around 1870 [1] and was given its first performance in the Shire Hall at the Gloucester Three Choirs Festival on 6 September 1877, conducted by Charles Hartford Lloyd.  It was subsequently performed at the Crystal Palace on 17 November of that year, conducted by August Manns.  The manuscript has been lost.  The reviewer in the Musical Standard wrote:-

“The performance of the seventh Saturday concert contained, as usual, some works which had not been previously heard at Sydenham, the novelties being C[harles] Villiers Stanford’s Festival Overture(written for the Gloucester Festival lately held [1]), the scene of Isolde’s death from Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, and the ballet music from Mose in Egitto ... [2]

Mr Stanford’s overture is rather disappointing to those who watch the career of this rising young English composer, not much on account of any lack of constructive skill, but simply because inventive power appears, to a great extent, to be wanting.  Mr. Stanford masters the technicalities of his task with ease, and his method of scoring proves him to be quite at home in all matters appertaining to the treatment of the orchestra. But the themes of his overture do not display much originality, nor are they attractive in themselves, which leaves all the commendation we can bestow upon the production for the ingenuity it undoubtedly reveals. The tone of the compositions hardly appears to warrant the fact of its being written for a festal occasion; but this, after all, is a mere matter of opinion.”

CRYSTAL PALACE CONCERTS  Standard 26 Nov. 1877

Jeremy Dibble gives some interesting information about this work in his book Charles Villiers Stanford: Man and Musician. He notes that Hubert Parry had gone to Gloucester especially to hear this work.  In his diary he [equivocally] wrote ‘’It is better than the ordinary run of such things well enough scored; with plentiful use of brass- and figures of little significance much used, rather made up I think altogether.’ CHHP Diary 6 September 1877.

Dibble also observes that the analytical notes written by George Grove suggested that ‘the spirit, rhythm, and power over the Orchestra which characterise this interesting work, augur well for Mr. Stanford’s artistic future, and encourage us to look for more orchestral works from his pen’.

Certainly this last wish was granted, and we are fortunate in having the vast majority of Stanford’s orchestral compositions available on CD or MP3.

NOTES

[1] Jeremy Dibble suggests that this work was composed c. 1870 whereas Paul Rodmell concludes that it was in 1876.

[2 Mose in Egitto (Moses in Egypt) is a three-act opera written by Gioachino Rossini to an Italian libretto by Andrea Leone Tottola, which was based on a play by Francesco Ringhieri, L'Osiride, of 1760. It premiered on 5 March 1818 at the recently reconstructed Teatro San Carlo in Naples, Italy. [Wikipedia]

[3] Other major works at this concert included Robert Schumann, Symphony No.3 in E flat ‘Rhenish’ and Beethoven’s Piano Concerto in C minor No.3.

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An Appreciation of Charles Villiers Stanford by Samuel Liddle

I had the privilege of three years' lessons from Stanford, at the Royal College, having been lucky enough to gain a scholarship. He seemed to know at once what treatment was good for me, and I certainly got it from him. I was ‘for it’ from the beginning, and my first year with him was not a bed of roses. There was no softness in his methods with me, and he was right. A few effective sentences of criticism, startling in their candour and absolutely unanswerable; a few enlightening sarcasms, followed by a few hints on methods of study, and he handed me back my work with his usual smile (!) and an invitation to ‘Tear it up, my boy, it's no use!’ Towards the end of my first year with him, I came to the end of my tether. I was working like a slave (too hard, in fact), and one day my disappointment at my failure to satisfy him made me entirely forget myself, and my tongue (hitherto tied) suddenly went berserk. He didn't say anything-just looked at me a moment and then went out of the room. He came back presently and said: ‘Go down to Sir George Grove.’ I went, and Sir George said to me: ‘Oh! Liddle, Dr. Stanford says you need a holiday- you've been working too hard. He says you ought to go to the sea for a week. Here's some money-off you go.’ It certainly was what I wanted, and, curiously enough, from that day the clouds lifted, and my next two years with him were a joy and I finished top of the class. But, I should never have done anything in music worth doing if I hadn't been with him. He gave me exactly what I wanted and I became absolutely devoted to him, for as time went on I experienced kindness after kindness from him, invaluable help and advice. He had been friend as well as teacher from the beginning, but it took me a year to find it out. S. LIDDLE [1]

Music & Letters July 1924 (with minor edits)

Notes

[1] Samuel Liddle (1867-1951) was born in Leeds. After experience as a church organise, he went to study with Stanford at the Royal College of Music.  As a pianist, he accompanied many great names from the early twentieth century, including Clara Butt, Ada Crossley, the cellist W.H. Squire and Plunkett Greene.  Philip Scowcroft has noted a number of Liddle’s compositions and these include an Elegy for cello and piano, possibly for Squire and a number of songs of the ballad type Scowcroft writes, ‘best-known of these were Abide With Me, often sung by Butt, How Lovely Are Thy Dwellings, The Lord is My Shepherd, Like as the Hart, Arabic Love Song, Sung by John McCormack, A Farewell and an arrangement of The Garden Where the Praties Grow’ Other of his ballad titles included A Farewell, At Last, Home Song, Lovely Kind and Kindly Loving, My Lute, The Gay Gordons and The Young Royalist; there were also slightly more upmarket compositions such as the Seven Old English Lyrics and the duet Now is the Month of Maying.’

[2] Sir Charles Grove (1820-1900) Civil Engineer, Secretary to the Society of Arts (1850), Crystal Place. He revolutionised the writing of analytical programme notes. In 1883, he became the first director of the royal College of Music. Between 1879 and 1889, he published the first editions of Grove’s Dictionary of Music and Musicians

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Stanford's Irish Symphony: A New York Performance, 1917.

Of all the symphonies by Sir Charles Villiers Stanford his Irish Symphony has just managed to retain a place in the repertoire of orchestras. Understandably, this work was heard many times towards the end of the nineteenth and the beginning of the twentieth century. It largely disappeared from the concert lists until it was rediscovered in the 1980’s. Even before the two major cycles of his symphonies on Chandos and Naxos there was a recording of the ‘Irish’ by Norman Del Mar and the Bournemouth Sinfonietta on EMI ASD 4221 dating from 1982. This symphony, which dates from Stanford’s early period, is considered to be one of the ‘most characteristic and beautiful compositions by its composer.’

I found a review in the Musical Times for the work’s performance in New York. It bears presenting here for the strong views on the works Irish inspiration.

‘It is interesting to note the opinion expressed by Mr. H. E. Krehbiel, the distinguished American critic, upon a recent performance of the Symphony under Mr. Walter Damrosch [1] in New York. He says: ‘Quite unexpectedly, even to those who had previously scanned its programme, the concert turned out to be one in which the spirit of racialism [2], if not nationalism, was celebrated from beginning to end. To start with, there was the overture Fingal's Cave [3] which is Gaelic in so far as it perpetuates the musical impression made upon the imagination of Mendelssohn by his first visit to the Hebrides, though the music was developed later in Italy.

Then came Sir Charles Villiers Stanford's Irish Symphony, of which Mr. Damrosch gave its first American hearing at a concert of the Symphony Society exactly twenty-nine years ago come next Sunday [4] We have heard it frequently since and with ever-growing admiration. In it a native Irishman who is one of the most scholarly of British musicians pays tribute to the folk-music of his native isle, and in its slow movement especially raises what we are disposed to consider the finest monument to the spirit of Celtic folk-song which artistic music has produced. The jollity of the hop-jig and the splendid pride of Irish chivalry speak out in the second and last movements, but these elements count as little compared with the pathos of the ancient lament which lies at the base of the slow movement and which so admirably expresses what Dr. Norman McLeod [5] once characterized as ‘the thoughts that lie too deep for tears-the music of an oppressed, conquered, but deeply feeling, impressible, fanciful and generous people'; the music appropriate to the harp in Tara's halls. That harp prelude is the introduction to the movement, and is heard again with its mournfully beautiful wail, toward the end. It is well that the Symphony is kept alive; it speaks a message the significance of which will be plainer to the world when the end of the present awful cataclysm permits the racial voice of music to speak out in clearer tones than it has yet done in the artistic music of the world.’

The Musical Times March 1 1917 [with minor edits]

The 'Irish Symphony' was first performed under Richter in London on June 27, 1887.

[1] Mr. Walter Damrosch (1862-1950). German born composer and conductor who latterly lived in the United States. He is perhaps best remembered as director of the New York Symphony Orchestra and conductor of the world premiere performances of George Gershwin’s Piano Concerto on F (1925) and his American in Paris (1928).

[2] Racialism does not have negative connotations here – it simply means that this work exhibits traits deemed to be appropriate to people of a Celtic descent.

[3] The Hebrides Overture, also known as Fingal’s Cave written by Felix Mendelssohn after his visit to the Western Islands of Scotland in 1829.

[4] Walter Damrosch performed Stanford’s Irish Symphony with the New York Symphony Orchestra at Carnegie Hall in November 1887.

[5] Dr. Norman McLeod was a Scottish divine and miscellaneous writer. He lived from 1812-1872.

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