Sir Arnold Bax (1883-1953)
Spring Fire – Complete Music for Cello and Piano
Folk-Tale for cello and piano (1918)
Sonata for cello and piano (1923)
Sonatina for cello and piano (1933)
Legend-Sonata for cello and piano (1943)
Alexander Baillie (cello)
John Thwaites (piano)
rec. 2022/23, The Bradshaw Hall, Royal Birmingham Conservatoire, UK
SOMM Recordings SOMMCD0704 [80]

Like many commentators of a certain vintage, I was introduced to Arnold Bax’s cello and piano music on the remarkable Lyrita vinyl albums played by cellist Florence Hooton and pianist Wilfrid Parry, released in the mid-1960s. The Legend Sonata and the Sonatina were issued on RCS 6; the Folk-Tale and the Sonata appeared on RCS 7. The LPs, in monaural sound, were reissued on Lyrita (review). Over the years, several other artists have recorded all or part of this repertoire. That includes Bernard Gregor-Smith and Yolande Wrigley in 1994 on ASV (DCA 896), and Lionel Handy and Jennifer Hughes on Lyrita (review).

The SOMM disc opens with Folk-Tale for cello and piano, dedicated to Felix Salmond, who, along with the composer, gave the premiere performance at the Wigmore Hall on 27 April 1918. Bax does not give any indication as to what the “Tale” may have been about. Yet, during the latter months of the First World War, he was to leave his wife Elsita Sobrino for Harriet Cohen. He was also still disillusioned by the turn of events in his beloved Eire. I have written before that this is no “bucolic folk tale, but a tragic and melancholy reflection on Bax’s life and the world he found himself in”. Contrariwise, it is clear from listening that this Folk-Tale invokes landscapes and legends in a bizarrely oppressive manner.

Bax’s biographer Lewis Foreman is not too complimentary about the Cello Sonata. Bax incorporated material from his abandoned 1913 symphony Spring Fire into the sonata’s slow movement. That alone suggested that he was struggling with this work. He often reused older material when facing a lack of inspiration. In Foreman’s view, the piece contains uneven material and lacks the “sustained lyrical line of the Viola Sonata”.

One interpretive suggestion offered by the liner notes concerns the sonata’s debt to Spring Fire, which in turn was a musical impression of Swinburne’s verse drama Atalanta in Calydon. The author asks: “Is it too fanciful to associate Atalanta, the swift-footed virgin huntress, with the young Harriet [Cohen]?” I like to think that this is a good call.

Despite Lewis Foreman’s misgivings about the Sonata, I find it quite remarkable. For me, it is chockfull of gorgeous tunes which seem to tumble over each other. The overriding mood is one of regret, but there are moments of angst and even a touch of the demonic. Strangely, the work does not seem to reflect Bax’s love of Ireland – so much so that the critic Ernest Evans suggested that the beguiling slow movement has a touch of the South to its mood. He has suggested that it could be subtitled ‘In an Italian Garden’. An important characteristic of the sonata is the Epilogue, which would become a feature of Bax’s formal structures. This brings it to a satisfying conclusion after a dramatic opening movement, the lyrical poco lento and the forceful finale.

Beatrice Harrison commissioned the Sonata, and, along with Harriet Cohen, gave its premiere performance at the Wigmore Hall on 26 February 1924.

Bax’s Sonatina for cello and piano was dedicated to the legendary Pablo Casals, who never actually performed it. In fact, it is unlikely that the two men met. The Sonatina has three movements. It opens with a confident and insistent Allegro risoluto, rhythmically diverse with a mood of urgency. The heart of the work is the reflective Andante in Bax’s Celtic idiom. The Moderato finale pulls these moods together, and provides a calm and measured conclusion. The title Sonatina may be a little misleading. The piece, about thirteen minutes, is characterised by considerable harmonic depth and nuanced scoring for both instruments. There is nothing didactic here. The mood is certainly not charming or playful but typically presents a reflective musical narrative.

The final piece in this recital is the late Legend-Sonata for cello and piano. Critics do not usually regard it as one of Bax’s strongest essays. The Legend-Sonata is relaxed music compared to what he would have created in the first quarter of the century. Crucially, there is a suggestion that the passion inherent in the early “Celtic” compositions has evaporated, and that what is presented here is an “old man’s” unsuccessful attempt at recapturing his lost youth. I disagree. To be sure, there seems to be little sense of a “Legend” in this work, unless one ascribes an undeclared personal story in Bax’s mind. Musicologist Peter Pirie commented that it exudes “a certain rich creative contentment”, and suggested that this is the key to appreciating this work.

There is much that is quite simply gorgeous here, especially in the slow movement, Lento espressivo. There is a reference to “Fand’s song of immortal love” from the tone poem The Garden of Fand (1913–1916), as “Fand, Lady of the Ocean, seduces Cuchulain away from his earthly wife”. Yet now and then Bax introduces some sterner passages that may suggest more troubled memories. The Legend-Sonata was first performed on 10 November 1943, by Florence Hooton, its dedicatee, and Harriet Cohen.

I was impressed by the playing by cellist Alexander Baillie and pianist John Thwaites. They give a convincing and committed account of these notable works. They capture the wide variety of moods and shifting colours of the music. The disc is enhanced by an outstanding recording.

John Thwaites’s liner notes give an acceptable introduction to the repertoire. Much of the text is devoted to exploring the orchestral tone poem, Spring Fire, and tends to give less detail/analysis about the actual music here. Résumés of the performers are included.

This is a splendid addition to Bax’s discography. It will certainly become my go-to version for these remarkable works. But one must never forget the pioneering recordings which Florence Hooton and Wilfrid Parry made nearly 70 years ago…

John France

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