Adjectives like “charming”, “elegant”, and “patrician” cling to Beecham like barnacles on an ocean liner. Because of the length of his career and the breadth of his musical interests, he’s a tough conductor to anthologize in two CDs, even those as well-filled as in this set. But despite the daunting task facing the producers, they should have made a stronger case for Beecham’s stature. For example, Beecham was a great opera conductor, but all we have here from opera is a provincially sung Rheingold excerpt and a pair of overtures–a Rossini William Tell distinguished by Anthony Pini’s cello solo, and a “live” 1935 Weber Der Freischütz, notable for its atmospheric opening, the theatricality of its drama, and the wild coda (a Beecham specialty).
Beecham’s avuncular image was burnished by his expertise in short, light works played with a smile. But the “lollipops” selected here are deficient in interest. The Dvorák Legend is expertly done, but the orchestrations of the Mendelssohn Songs without Words are too soupy, the Handel concoction (Amaryllis Suite: Sarabande) too thickly inert, and the fragment sliced from the Mozart Divertimento No. 15 (K. 287) too slow and heavy. Regarding the latter, I’d argue with its characterization in the booklet notes as one of “Mozart’s lesser works”, and of this performance as “gracefully elegant” and “eloquently judged.” Beecham usually was more successful in Haydn than in Mozart, and if lollipops were wanted, one or two buoyant French selections would have exemplified both his brilliance in light music and his mastery in French music, which are otherwise missing from these discs.
The major works here do help to present a more rounded picture of Beecham’s conducting. The Tchaikovsky Fourth Symphony is thrilling–the coda bursts with energy and Beecham whips up one impressive storm in the central portion of the first movement. For all the thrills though, he’s at his best in the symphony’s lyric sections, such as the beautifully sung Andantino movement. The first movement was recorded in 1958 in stereo for a planned remake; the rest, from a year earlier, is from the well-engineered mono recording still available on EMI. Rimsky’s Antar Symphony, a live studio recording (presumably a live broadcast without an audience present), dates from 1951. Beecham’s alive to the work’s coloristic opportunities, but it really needs modern stereo to make its full effect. For many listeners, the set’s novelty (if you can so describe a work available in two other Beecham recordings) will be a 1935 concert performance of Delius’ Appalachia–American Rhapsody. Performed more swiftly than in the conductor’s studio renditions, this is a piece close to Beecham’s heart–and it’s played that way, though as with all of Delius’ music, I still find it conducive to napping.
