ARABESQUE RECORDiriGS

■^Aicxanaci Dorouin

Polovtsm,Dances (from Prince Igor) Maureen Forrester -John Cameron fr Beecham Choral Society

» (Denis Vaughan, director)

Philharmonic Orchestra

' conducted by ARABESQUE ^1 WRECORDinOS 8026 Sldel 29:20 Con tristezza (but ‘not to slow’) is the marking of the foiuih song, which visiting Igor. There is an elemental, not to say primitive, quality to them (1862-1934) / Songs of Sunset (1911) / is given to the soprano soloist; the baritone soloist taking over the next song, which has made them eternally popular. Maureen Forrester (contralto) / John Cameron (baritone) ‘By the sad waters’, which is directed to be played ‘with quiet movement’. At ♦Those who are interested in details of Prince Igor should read my arti¬ the words ‘surpasseth roses and melody’ (as Heseltine pointed out), the cle ‘Prince Igor’ in the January, 1968 issue of The American Record Side 2 12:04 violins recall the theme of Delius’s Appalachia, a work, says Heseltine, ‘in Guide. -WARDBOTSFORD Alexander Borodin (1833-1887) which the great river stands as a symbol of poignancy and parting’. The Polovtsian Dances (from Prince Igor, Act. II) chorus enters again with ‘See how the trees and the osiers’; and this is mark¬ ed ‘Freshly’. But the soloists have their contributions to make in the refrain Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and Beecham Choral Society that expresses regret for the lost Spring of the Soul. (Denis Vaughan, director) conducted by Sir , ‘I was not sorrowful’ is simg by the baritone soloist. This is followed by the Bart.,C.H. final song, ‘They are not long’, a particularly eloquent setting in which all take part; the last word, ‘dream’, being repeated in hushed voices. Frederick Delius composed Songs of Sunset In 1906-9, three years or so after and two years after A Mass of Life. The work was first per¬ Note: Some of the items featured on this record had not been approved by formed in London in 1911, at a concert of Delius’s music given by Sir Sir Thomas Beecham at the time of his death. In view of the great historical Thomas Beecham. The words consist of eight poems by Ernest Dowson value of Sir Thomas’s recordings, we are grateful to Lady Beecham for per¬ (1867-1900), all of which are concerned with the transience of life and love: mission to publish these recordings. © Harold Rutland, 1963 a theme that pervades much of Delius’s art. He originally called the work Songs of Twilight and Sadness; its climax was to have been a setting, for Alexander Porphyrlevitch Borodin is the author of what used to be a baritone and orchestra, of Dowson’s best-known poem, . However, standard text for chemists: The Sublimation of the Aldehydes. He is also realizing (as Philip Heseltine tells us in his book on Delius) that this tended the composer of that mad distillation of substances: Prince Igor. From his to ‘disturb the proportions and interrupt the mood-sequence of the whole’, youth, Borodin ptu^ued a joint interest and career in the sciences and Delius decided to omit this and to publish it as a separate piece. music, with the end result that while his experiments were usually finished, Songs of Sunset, which take a high place among Delius’s works, are his music usually was not. This includes Prince Igor, the Symphony No. 3 designed for two solo singers (soprano and baritone), mixed chorus and a in A Minor, and yet another opera. The Bogatyrs. He was, of course, a SIR THOMAS BEECHAM, Bart., C.H. large orchestra. But it is characteristic of Delius that he should treat these prominent member of the group which has become known as The forces as one. There is no pitting of the chorus against the orchestra; the Five —the Russian phrase for them was The Mighty Handful, a great No Beecham concert was ever badly attended. That voices, though they are given beautiful, and on the whole satlsf3ringly vocal truth in several ways. Besides Borodin, it included Cul, Balakirev, Rimsky- much is assured. However, it has been said that the au¬ phrases to sing, blend and coalesce with the sound of the instruments. Korsakov and Mussorgsky, all composers Interested in nationalistic music dience was often as interested to hear what Beecham Heseltine relates how, at the first performance of the work, Delius desired above all. had to say as to hear what he was going to conduct. The the chorus to remain seated while singing, ‘to lend color to the illusion of im¬ After his death, Rimsky-Korsakov and Glazunov finished Prince Igor to man’s omnipotence was distinctly heard when he con¬ personal unity’; and though this idea was not carried out. It illustrates his the best of their ability, and usually the opera is listed as being orchestrated ducted Haydn, Mozart, Handel, Dehus, Debussy, Wag¬ view of the function of the chorus. In his book Frederick Delius, Sir and arranged by these two craftsmen. This is to give Rimsky-Korsakov and ner, Tchaikovsky, Chabrier, et al. To each of these com¬ Thomas Beecham laid stress on the need of a comparatively small number Galzunov both too much credit and too little credit, as a perusal of recent posers and to many more, Beecham brought a talent that of voices, fifty or sixty at the most; ‘otherwise’, he said, ‘the extremely per¬ Russian scholarly publications and most especially an examination of the sonal harmonic sequences tend to be muddled or blurred’. These sequences full score makes clear.* Without getting into details, the Choral Dances was —to use an overworked adjective correctly for or progressions are, of course, typically Delian in their fluid chromaticism No. 17, known as the Polovtsian Dances, are pure Borodin. once—unique. Unique because Beecham genuine en¬ and haunting charm. Borodin’s father was of Eastern Russian extraction, and this probably ac¬ joyed music in all its aspects. The results that others ob¬ The chorus is heard at the outset, singing quietly to a light accompani¬ counts for his son’s taste in Oriental or Near Eastern subjects. Not only tained with a whip, Beecham got with a joke. He was a ment of strings and wind. Dowson, by the way, gave this first poem the title Prince Igor but the lovely tone poem On the Steppes of Central Asia, as superb comic greatly aware of himself as a wtuoso con¬ of Moritura: Delius has omitted the third verse. The music, which rises to well as a few of his splendid, and neglected, songs bear this out. ductor and talker. We will never see his like again. two climaxes, ends very softly. The second song, marked ‘With easy move¬ Borodin was a highly original composer, next to Mussorgsky the most ment’, takes the form of a duet for the two soloists, with curving phrases in original of the Mighty Handful. Indeed, so original was he, that his music Credits: the orchestra. The poem (of which the second and fourth stanzas are omit¬ was not w’dl received in Russia until w’cll after its acceptance in the West. Songs of Sunset: ted) is a paraphrase of Propertius: Dum nos fata sinunt, oculos satiemus The daring B Minor Symphony— certainly one of the most “Russian” com¬ Producers—Victor Olof and Lawrence Colllngwood Amore. positions ever penned —was first appreciated by no less than Felix We- En^fi^r—Christopher Parker Woodwind instruments Introduce the third song, which begins in six-four ingartner in his little book. The Symphonies Sinee Beethoven. Paren¬ Polovtsian Dances: time and is marked ‘Slow’; it is sung by the chorus. As an accompaniment to thetically, it is amusing to note that Borodin comes off a lot better in this Producer—Lawrence Colllngwood the last line, ‘A little while, then, let us dream’, a solo violin weaves an ex¬ book than Brahms! Engineer—Robert Beckett Cover Art: Elaine Slnnard pressive arabesque above soft chords on divided strings. The original poem Set in the camp of one of the opera’s chief protagonists, Knochak, the set¬ Library of Congress Nmnber: 79-750653/79-750654 (of which the last verse is omitted) bears the title Autumnal. ting is as barbaric as the music. The dances are staged to entertain the An EMI Recording A song of the setting sun! Here in thy garden, through the sighing boughs. Forget to-morrow The lazy hum of the busy bees The sky in the west is red. Beyond the reach of time and chance and change. Weep nothing; only lay Murmureth through the almond trees; And the day is all but done: And bitter life and death, and broken vows. In silent sorrow The jonquil flaunteth a gay, blonde head, while yonder up overhead. That sadden and estrange. Thine head my way: The primrose peeps from a mossy bed. All too soon. Let us forget to-morrow And the violets scent the lane. There rises, so cold, the cynic moon. Pale amber sunlight falls across This one day! But the flowers of the soul, the flowers of the The reddening October trees. For you and for me bloom never again. A song of a winter day! That hardly sway before a breeze The wind of the north doth blow. As soft as summer: summer’s loss By the sad waters of separation From a sky that’s chill and gray. Seems little, dear! on days like these. Where we have wandered by divers ways, I was not sorrowful, I could not weep, On fields where no crops now grow. I have but the shadow and imitation And all my memories were put to sleep. Fields long shorn Let misty autumn be our part Of the old memorial days. Of bearded barley and golden com. The twilight of the year is sweet; I watched the river grow more white and strange; A song of a faded flower; Where shadow and the darkness meet In music I have no consolation. All day till evening I watched it change. Hwas plucked in the tender bud. Our love, a twilight of the heart No roses are pale enough for me; And fair and fresh for an hour. Eludes a little time’s deceit. All day till evening I watched the rain In a lady’s hair it stood. The sound of the waters of separation Beat wearily upon the window pane. Now, ah, now. Are we not better and at home Surpasseth roses and melody. Faded it lies in the dust and low. In dreamful Autumn, we who deem No harvest joy is worth a dream? By the sad waters of separation I was not sorrowful, but only tired Cease smiling. Dear! a httle while be sad. A little while and night shall come, Dimly I hear from an hidden place Of everything that ever I desired. Here in the silence, imder the wan moon: A little while, then, let us dream. The sigh of mine ancient adoration: Sweet are thine eyes, but how can I be glad. Hardly can I remember your face. Her lips, her eyes, all day became to me Knowing they change so soon? Exceeding sorrow The shadow of a shadow utterly. Consumeth my sad heart! O could this moment be perpetuate! If you be dead, no proclamation Because to-morrow All day mine himger for her heart became Must we grow old, and leaden-eyed and gray. Sprang to me over the waste, gray sea: We must depart. Oblivion, imtil the evening came. And taste no more the wild and passionate Living, the waters of separation Now is exceeding sorrow Love sorrows of today? Sever for ever your soul from me. All my part! And left me sorrowful, inclined to weep. O red pomegranate of thy perfect mouth! With aU my memories that could not sleep. (jive over playing. My hps’ life-fruitage, might I taste and die. No man knoweth our desolation; Cast thy viol away: Here in thy garden, where the scented south Memory pales of the old delight; Merely laying Wind chastens agony; While the sad waters of separation They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, Thine head my way: Bear us on to the ultimate night. Love and desire and hate: Reap death from they live lips in one long kiss. Prithee, give over playing. I think they have no portion in us after And look my last into thine eyes and rest: Grave or gay. See how the trees and osiers hthe We pass the gate. What sweets had life to me sweeter than this Be no word spoken; Are green bedecked and the woods are blithe, Swift dying on thy breast? They are not long, the days of wine and roses: The meadows have donned their cape of flowers Weep nothing: let a pale Out of a misty dream The air is soft with the sweet May showers. Or, if that may not be, for Love’s sake. Dear! Silence, unbroken Our path emerges for a while, then closes And the birds make melody: Keep silence still, and dream that we shall lie. Silence prevail! Within a dream. Red mouth to mouth, entwined, and always hear Prithee, be no word spoken. But the spring of the soul, the spring of the soul, The south wind’s melody. Lest I fail! Cometh no more for you or for me.

Caedmon 1995 Broadway, New York, N.Y. 10023 Made in U.S.A. Fait aux Etats-Unis Demo: Side 2

IflglSglgl ARABESQUE RECORDlFiGS

Maureen Forrester, contralto John Cameron, baritone Royal Philharmonic Orchestra and Beecham Choral Socie^ (Denis Vaughan, director) conducted by