Overtures from the British Isles Volume 3
BBC Philharmonic/Rumon Gamba
rec. 2024, MediaCityUK, Salford, Manchester
Chandos CHAN20351 [77]
The relationship between Chandos and the conductor Rumon Gamba has already produced many valuable recordings of British music, not least the complete survey of the five symphonies and other orchestral music of Ruth Gipps. There have also been several mixed programmes of pieces, many of them unfamiliar, by British composers. These include two discs devoted to British overtures. Volume 1 was recorded with the BBC National Orchestra of Wales in 2013 (review) and in 2015 Gamba and the same orchestra set down a second volume (review). Though there’s been quite a wait for this third volume, Gamba certainly hasn’t been idle in the meantime. In addition to recording his Gipps discs, he was back in Cardiff during 2016 to record Vol 1 of British Tone Poems (review) and in 2019 he recorded a follow-up collection, this time in Manchester with the BBC Philharmonic (review). Though I haven’t reviewed every one of the aforementioned discs, including the Gipps releases, I’ve heard and greatly enjoyed all of them. So, ‘Overtures from the British Isles, Volume 3’ was something I was very keen to hear.
It will be noted that, with just two exceptions, all the pieces included in this programme date from the 1940s; the two outliers are only very slightly outside that decade, dating from 1938 and 1939. I think it would be fair to say that most of them have been neglected; the offerings from Daniel Jones, Robin Orr and Alan Bush have not been recorded before. Several of these pieces were completely new to me and, to the best of my recollection, those which I have heard – the works by Brian, Bridge, Britten, Geoffrey Bush and Rawsthorne – have only been encountered on CD or on BBC Radio 3. All of these pieces are largely neglected in our concert halls and once you’ve listened to this disc you may conclude, as I did, that in most cases this neglect is rather shameful.
Let’s consider the pieces in the order in which Chandos present them on the disc. Havergal Brian’s Comedy Overture, The Tinker’s Wedding is worlds away from the severe, gruff utterances of his late symphonies but it may not surprise anyone who has heard his entertaining opera The Tigers (review). The opera, which was composed between 1917 and 1929, is a much earlier work than The Tinker’s Wedding but there’s a similar twinkle in the eye to both works. The overture is lively and good humoured. This enjoyable piece receives a sparkling performance from Gamba and the BBC Philharmonic.
They make an equally entertaining job of Geoffrey Bush’s Yorick Overture. Lewis Foreman reminds us, in his excellent notes that the Yorick of the title is the deceased jester to the King of Denmark, whose skull Hamlet finds during Act V of Shakespeare’s play. I was fascinated to learn from Foreman that Bush was commissioned to compose the overture as a tribute to the comedian Tommy Handley, who had entertained millions with his radio shows during the Second World War. This, Foreman suggests, explains the thoughtful melancholy of the overture’s middle section. The outer episodes are much bubblier. I think there’s a case to be made that Bush’s piece could be regarded as a miniature tone poem rather than an overture. It matters not; it’s a highly engaging piece which deserves to be heard much more frequently. That observation is just as true of Alan Rawsthorne’s Street Corner Overture. Apparently, the composer was seeking to suggest ‘Saturday night at the crossroads of a busy industrial town’. The music is bright, breezy and inventive; the present performance makes the best possible case for it.
I’ve got to know all thirteen of Daniel Jones’s symphonies – and some other works too – through the admirable sequence of Lyrita CDs. Generally speaking, the music I’ve previously heard has been cast in a more serious vein than this overture. In saying that, though, I am not seeking to belittle the overture in any way; quite the reverse. Lewis Foreman tells us that this piece was composed during the years (1940-46) when Jones served as a Captain in the Intelligence Corps, working at Bletchley Park. I imagine that this work must have put him under consistent pressure; probably the composition of this overture was a very welcome diversion. There’s a charming folk-like lilt to the theme which is heard at the outset; this sets the tone for a most attractive piece.
Rebus is the last orchestral work which Frank Bridge composed; in fact, he never heard it performed because the premiere was given a matter of weeks after Bridge’s death. Although Rebus was written under the shadow of war in 1940, it is neither as serious nor as musically challenging as works such as Oration for cello and orchestra. In the notes we read that the word rebus has two applications; one is a literary device; the other has heraldic connotations. I wonder which of these Bridge had in mind. The music of Rebus is inventive, colourful and extrovert – though it also includes some thoughtful passages. It’s a shame we don’t hear this piece more often.
If Rebus is neglected, that’s even more true of Robin Orr’s The Prospect of Whitby, which was completely new to me; this is its first recording. I have a vague, perhaps incorrect, recollection that when I was growing up in the Yorkshire town of Halifax, the town boasted a fish and chip shop named The Prospect of Whitby; surely, I thought, no one would have been inspired to write a piece of music about a chip shop? In fact, it turns out that the work is named after a riverside pub in Wapping, London. This establishment has been refreshing the dockside community for over 500 years and I see from the internet that it claims to be London’s oldest pub. Lewis Foreman tells us that this part of London’s East End was notable for its execution dock; here, the notorious pirate, Captain Kidd was executed in 1701 There’s a good deal of lively, bustling music, all of which is most enjoyable. The most remarkable feature, though, is a slow central section (2:12-5:29) which Foreman rightly describes as “spectral”. He speculates that this may have been inspired by the fate of Captain Kidd. Orr’s piece is most interesting and far removed from a “conventional” overture; like the Geoffrey Bush piece – arguably, more so – The Prospect of Whitby could be viewed as a mini-tone poem.
Along with several other British musicians, Richard Arnell was stranded in the USAwhen World War II broke out. He stayed there throughout the conflict and enjoyed quite a lot of success. His overtire The New Age was composed right at the start of his US sojourn, though Lewis Foreman cites some evidence that suggest the piece was at least begun in the UK before Arnell sailed for America. I’ve heard this before, thanks to Martin Yates’ 2005 Dutton recording (review). Here, Arnell’s music is purposeful and has a strong profile. I’m not sure what ‘new age’ the composer had in mind; perhaps he was inspired by the prospect of the 1939 New York World’s Fair; attending that event was the reason for his visit to the USA. Anyway, whatever the inspiration, it’s a good piece.
Another British composer who found himself on the American side of the Atlantic when war broke out in 1939 was Benjamin Britten. During the period before he returned to the UK, Britten collaborated with W H Auden on the operetta/musical Paul Bunyan, which was first performed at Columbia University in 1941. Lewis Foreman explains that, after they’d experienced it in performance, both Britten and Auden felt the work needed revision but they never got round to it. It was only in 1974 that Peter Pears persuaded Britten to sanction the performance of some excerpts at the Aldeburgh Festival. Eventually, a broadcast and then a performance of the full work were given in 1976. The overture which is played here was orchestrated by Colin Matthews in 1977, working from the piano score (there is no surviving copy of the orchestral score of the overture). Interestingly, when Philip Brunelle made a complete recording of Paul Bunyan in 1987 (EMI Classics 7243 5 85139 2) only a very brief orchestral; introduction was played at the start; the Matthews orchestration of the overture and two other numbers were recorded as an appendix – by different artists (apart from Brunelle) – in 1989. It’s a long time since I listened to the Brunelle complete recording so I’m not in a position to say to what extent the overture presents material from the operetta itself. However, what I can say is that the music has uncomplicated appeal and, of course, it’s very accomplished.
The third premiere recording on this programme is Alan Bush’s Resolution, which was originally conceived for brass band and subsequently rescored for full orchestra. Bush’s strongly left-wing political views are well known, so it’s perhaps unsurprising that the brass band original bore the title Prologue for a Workers’ Meeting, Op 16. Lewis Foreman includes a quote in which the composer says of his Op 16: ‘It is intended to suggest in musical terms the process by which a group of men and women lay the plan for some common enterprise by the method of organised discussion.’ Oh dear! Such a gathering sounds to me like an earnest, endless series of motions, amendments and composite resolutions. The music seems to me to have a rather serious, very forthright tone. There’s significant prominence for the brass in the scoring and a piano also makes its presence felt quite frequently. I’m afraid this is, by some distance, the least likeable of the pieces on Rumon Gamba’s programme. I readily acknowledge that I may have been influenced by the Bush quotation which I referenced a moment ago, but I don’t think so; I felt the music was somewhat hectoring and I failed to detect any lyrical contrast.
After being browbeaten by Comrade Bush it was a relief to turn to the vivacious charm of Clifton Parker’s Overture to The Glass Slipper. Of course, it’s unfair to compare the two pieces; the motivations of the respective composers were utterly different. However, the juxtaposition of the two on the CD makes some comparison almost unavoidable. Parker and his music were completely unknown to me but I learned from Lewis Foreman that he was particularly associated with film music. Some twenty years ago, Chandos and Rumon Gamba made a disc devoted entirely to Parker’s music for the silver screen and I see that Rob Barnett thought well of it (review). The Glass Slipper was a theatrical production, rather than a film; it was a Christmas Matinee at a London theatre, staged in 1944. The overture is a tiny piece – it plays for just 3:00 – but it’s delightful. Here, it benefits from playing of great precision by the BBC Philharmonic.
Another example of lighter fare rounds off the programme. Eric Fenby’s Overture Rossini on Ilkla Moor came about in amusing but slightly pressurised circumstances; the story is related in the booklet. Fenby took the old Yorkshire song On Ilkla Moor Baht’at and used it as the basis for a skilful and deliciously entertaining parody of a Rossini overture. I love the way the old tune is announced in stately fashion by the horns and brass, followed by a clarinet cadenza (John Bradbury). Then, we’re off on a skilful and smile-raising tour d’horizon of Rossinian overture clichés. It’s a long time since I’ve heard this piece but I loved it, not least because Gamba and his colleagues put it across with evident relish in a zestful performance. This rounds off the disc in great style.
I thoroughly enjoyed this disc. With one exception – and that’s just a matter of subjective taste – the musical contents are very entertaining and the performances are top-drawer, offering yet more proof of the skill and versatility of the BBC Philharmonic. Rumon Gamba is ideally suited to music such as this; the music fizzes. The performances have been captured in vivid, impactful sound.
You’ll have gathered from the number of times I’ve acknowledged Lewis Foreman’s booklet essay that it is a model of its kind, introducing each piece in an ideal fashion. However, the documentation has two flaws, neither of which can be laid at Mr Foreman’s door. The first is that the overtures are not discussed in the order in which they appear on the disc, which is frustrating. Lewis Foreman has written about each one in a self-standing section so it would have been perfectly possible for the booklet editor to align the essay with the running order; I can’t imagine why no one thought to do this. Secondly, Chandos have a long-standing habit of reproducing quotations which occur in essays in a miniscule font which is far smaller than the rest of the text and very difficult to read. In this case, much of the note about the Fenby overture consists of lengthy quotations from the composer, each one of which literally (in my case) requires a magnifying glass. I have no idea why Chandos persist with this policy but it’s downright inconsiderate and I wish they’d stop.
Those two minor considerations aside, this is a splendid production. If the repertoire appeals, snap up this disc.
Other review: Jonathan Woolf (January 2026)
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Contents
Havergal Brian (1876-1972) – The Tinker’s Wedding: Comedy Overture (1948)
Geoffrey Bush (1920-1998) – Yorick Overture (1949)
Alan Rawsthorne (1905-1971) – Street Corner Overture (1944)
Daniel Jones (1912-1983) – Comedy Overture (1942)
Frank Bridge (1879-1941) – Rebus (1940)
Robin Orr (1909-2008)– The Prospect of Whitby (1948)
Richard Arnell (1917-2009) – The New Age: Overture, op.2 (1939)
Benjamin Britten (1913-1976) – Overture to Paul Bunyan, op.17 (1941)
Alan Bush (1900-1995) – Resolution, op.25 (1944)
Clifton Parker (1905-1989) – Overture to The Glass Slipper (1944)
Eric Fenby (1906-1997) – Rossini on Ilkla Moor Overture (1938)
