Although this recording is billed as “Orchestral Works Volume 1”, Chandos already has several Leighton orchestral pieces in its catalog, including the Third Symphony, the Cello Concerto, and the suite Veris Gratia. Leighton is probably best known for his choral music, yet his instrumental pieces reveal the confident hand of a genuine craftsman while remaining obstinately unmemorable thanks to their uninspired thematic material. The slow movement of the early (1949) Symphony contains the most attractive ideas, and the sheer competence of the 20-year-old composer’s writing has to be acknowledged; but the rest passes by in varying states of emotional neutral.
The Concerto for Organ, Strings and Timpani obviously begs comparison with Poulenc’s popular and similarly scored piece, to Leighton’s obvious disadvantage–not just melodically, but also structurally. Poulenc’s is a tightly constructed single movement. Leighton’s three-part passcaglia, toccata, and concluding chorale with variations comes across as a patchwork, one singularly lacking (again) in emotional contrast. His tendency toward a sort of bland glumness reaches its apogee in the Concerto for Strings (1970). Some of its themes are 12-tone (sort of), but the highly chromatic language hardly seems to differ in its expressive point of view from his earlier, more obviously approachable stuff.
Certainly the fault lies with the music and not the performances. The Welsh players make some impressively rich and wholesome sounds when Leighton gives them the chance, and Richard Hickox’s conducting is consistently lively and sympathetic. The balances in the organ concerto are well-judged, and John Scott’s instrument falls gratefully on the ear. I truly wish I could be more welcoming, but I can’t help thinking that between re-recording Bax, Vaughan Williams, and Elgar, and systematically exploiting second-rate composers like Cyril Scott and Kenneth Leighton, Chandos is running out of British music. Lyrita’s more selective approach, for example, sustained its reputation for imaginative programming while creating the impression of a well-stuffed larder full of attractive repertoire waiting to be discovered. Wouldn’t it be a pity if Chandos’ systematic but inevitably less discriminating releases are remembered for demonstrating that the English musical pantry was far less abundantly stocked than we had been led to believe?
