Sir Arnold Bax Website

Last updated July 23, 2007

BAX’S UNRECORDED WORKS

 By Graham Parlett

In Music on Record, volume 1 (Arrow Books, 1962), Peter Gammond and Burnett James wrote that if you went to a record company with the suggestion that they should record some of Bax’s music you would be met with the puzzled response ― ‘Why?’. This was the period, less than ten years after his death, when his reputation was at its lowest and the British musical establishment was beginning to catch up with the newer means of expression emanating from the ‘Darmstadt school’ of composers (Boulez, Stockhausen and Nono) and the ‘Manchester group’ (Birtwistle, Davies and Goehr). It is true that the recently-formed Lyrita label had already recorded some of Bax’s piano music with Iris Loveridge, soon to be followed by LPs from the Frank Merrick Society, but the only orchestral works that would then have been available in the shops were The Garden of Fand (Barbirolli on Pye), Tintagel (Weldon on Columbia), and the Coronation March (Sargent on Decca); hardly a representative selection. The appearance of Vernon Handley’s recording of the Fourth Symphony with the semi-professional Guildford Philharmonic on the Concert Artist label in 1964 (now available on CD) was quite an event for those whose inclinations were for late romantic music. Although we may perhaps question the choice of symphony (the Fourth is not generally reckoned to be Bax’s best), its issue was a timely reminder that not everyone was in sympathy with the aims of William Glock at the BBC. The symphony was followed by Handley’s recording of The Tale the Pine-Trees Knew and then, in 1967, by Norman Del Mar’s Lyrita recording of the Sixth Symphony, recently re-released on SRCD 296.

Four decades on, the world of recorded music has changed beyond all recognition, thanks in large measure to the ubiquitous compact disc (introduced in Bax’s centenary year, 1983), and we now have rival versions of all seven symphonies to choose from. But not all of Bax’s admirers welcomed this indiscriminate explosion of new recordings. The composer and conductor Christopher Whelen, who performed several of his works in the early 1950s with the Bournemouth Municipal Orchestra and knew him quite well, felt even as late as 1990 that ‘damage has been done in recording indifferently (little tempo-relation, no balance of the strands ― especially of the wood-wind) everything of his. Life simply isn’t like that. A lot of it was junk (cf. Sibelius) and he [Bax] knew it’ (Dennis Andrews, Cuchulan among the Guns, 1998, p.10). Whelen was passionate in his advocacy of Bax’s music but deplored the dissemination of his lesser pieces and felt that they harmed his reputation by drawing attention away from his greatest works, such as the symphonies and tone-poems. But much the same could be said about nearly every prolific composer, and there is no indication that the recent recordings of early chamber works by Sibelius and Vaughan Williams or the resurrection of Grieg’s symphony or Elgar’s Third have adversely affected their reputations. Admirers of a composer’s music usually have a natural interest in exploring its more obscure corners, and even the most insignificant chip from the workbench can sometimes contain a few bars, a harmonic progression, or a snatch of melody that reminds you why you fell for this or that composer in the first place.

But this whole argument is now academic: the fact remains that most of Bax’s output is now available on disc, however much some people may wish that it were otherwise. This being so, I thought that it might be of interest to have a look at what little still remains to be commercially recorded. I have arranged the works in chronological order by medium.

Bax completed nearly fifty works in this category, most of which have been commercially recorded at least once and many in more than one version. Some works have not been recorded for decades (the Coronation March, for instance), while the most frequently recorded, Tintagel, is available in no fewer than fourteen versions, which Christopher Webber has deftly summarized and compared elsewhere on this website. Some minor scores, such as Cortège and Pæan, have only ever been recorded once, and needless to say not all the recordings available, even of major works, are entirely satisfactory: the Overture, Elegy and Rondo, for instance, still awaits a really decent performance on record. This raises the question: ‘Is it better for a piece to remain unrecorded rather than to exist only in an unsatisfactory version that may create a distorted impression?’. It is tempting to say ‘yes’, but I was recently told of a neglected English composer whose son always refused to countenance performances or recordings of his father’s music unless they involved someone like Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic. Needless to say, practically none of the composer’s orchestral works was familiar to anyone while his son was alive, and not many have been recorded since his death.  

There are still a few of Bax’s orchestral pieces left that have yet to receive even a single commercial recording. Some scores, of course, are no longer extant, and we can only speculate on what, for example, A Connemara Revel (1905) or the Prelude to Adonais (1912) might have been like. It is not impossible that these manuscripts may one day be found, just as In Memoriam (1916) suddenly came to light in 1993.  

There are also a few works that exist in short (piano) score but were never orchestrated:  

Symphonische Dichtung nach ‘Rubaiyat’ von Omar Khayyam (1898) is of interest only in that it represents the fourteen-year-old Bax’s first attempt at a symphonic poem. Only the fifty-six-bar introduction seems to have been written.  

Ballet Suite (1901) . Only two movements exist: the first (Humoreske) a charming example of light, balletic music; the second a lively Russian Dance that contains a few bars that seem to anticipate Kabalevsky’s Colas Breugnon overture.  

Love-Song (1902). An attractive six-minute score, well constructed and with a memorable main tune that could easily become popular if played on Classic FM. Bax has annotated it with notes for orchestration, and it is just conceivable that it may be the piece called In Life’s Springtime mentioned in the new, third edition of Lewis Foreman’s biography (p.23) as having been performed at the RAM later in 1902.  

Symphony in F (1907). Bax’s second-longest work (after Tamara) is in four movements and was never orchestrated. The first and last movements reflect Bax’s love of Russian music, while the slow movement has more of an Irish flavour. The third (Intermezzo) has some Straussian moments.  

Of Bax’s completed, surviving orchestral works the following have yet to receive a first recording:  

Variations (Improvisations) (1904). The rehearsal of this piece in May 1905 is amusingly described in Farewell, my Youth in the chapter entitled ‘R.C.M.’. The inexperienced Bax was unexpectedly called upon to conduct it himself and, not surprisingly, made a complete hash of it. The twenty-five-minute work consists of a theme, followed by six variations and a lengthy finale that introduces a sturdy, nobilmente-type of melody with an Irish tinge. In my opinion, this rivals or even surpasses the trio melodies in the later marches (London Pageant, Victory March), and it is surprising that Bax never returned to it. The finale also includes a solo passage for organ (as in Christmas Eve). I have recently put the score on to ‘Sibelius’, though it will need some further editing; but there is no reason why the work should not now be played.  

A Song of War and Victory (1905). This is a problem piece, in my view, cast in an extended march and trio form. The trio uses the same theme to be found in that of the much later London Pageant, though in a slightly truncated form. The problems begin in what might be called the ‘development section’, which has several pages where very little seems to be happening. At its first performance in 1994 (Windsor Sinfonia under Robert Tucker) a four-minute cut was made. The work was later performed complete in the USA , but I have no idea whether the conductor, Paul R. Ludden, was able to make sense of those obscure passages. The complete score lasts about fifteen minutes.  

Victory March (1945). The trio of this march was taken from the finale of Malta , G.C. and later re-used in the Coronation March; the rest of the score was newly composed. The work was actually played through a couple of times in 2000 by Martin Brabbins and the BBC Philharmonic at the recording sessions for CHAN 9879, but it was decided in the end that there was insufficient time for both it and London Pageant to be recorded, and preference was rightly given to the latter.  

Variations on the name Gabriel Fauré (1949). The original piano version of 1945 has been recorded by Marie-Catherine Girod on the French Opès 3D label, but this later arrangement for harp and strings has only ever been played once (in 1961 by the Boyd Neel Orchestra) and awaits its first recording. It is a slight affair in Bax’s later, more relaxed style, but it certainly sounds better in this form than in its original, rather lumpy piano version.  

Mention should also be made of the original, unrecorded versions of works that were later revised and are currently available on CD: 

Festival Overture (1911) and Scherzo (1917). The differences between these original versions and the revised scores of 1918 and 1933 respectively (both available from Chandos) are all minor.  

Christmas Eve on the Mountains (1912). This original version of Christmas Eve differs in several respects from the revision of c.1921 recorded by Chandos. The introduction is longer than in its revised form, and the first part of the work contains quite a substantial chunk that was later cut and replaced by a few new bars.  

Four Orchestral Pieces (1912-13). The fourth piece, The Dance of Wild Irravel, has been recorded by Chandos. The other three pieces have only been recorded in their revised versions of 1928 (Three Pieces for Small Orchestra: Jeffrey Tate on HMV; Dance in the Sunlight also recorded separately by Neville Dilkes on HMV). The differences are all minor, though Dance in the Sun (the original title) is in E major whereas the revised version is in F.  

Summer Music (1921). The revised version of 1932 has been recorded twice.    This original version is extant but I have not yet succeeded in gaining access to the manuscript, which is privately owned (formerly by the composer Elizabeth Poston).  

There is also Eugene Goossens’s arrangement for orchestra alone of Variations sur ‘Cadet-Rousselle’, the song written jointly in 1918 by Bax, Bridge, Goossens, and Ireland .  

(1) Ballets: Bax wrote three ballets, of which From Dusk till Dawn (1917) has been recorded complete by Chandos. Tamara (1911) exists in piano score only, and a suite orchestrated by myself is available from Chandos; a second suite is currently being worked on. The third ballet, The Frog-Skin (1918), has never been traced and nothing is known about it.  

(2) Incidental music: The Truth about the Russian Dancers (1920) has been recorded complete by Chandos. Golden Eagle (1945) has been recorded by Chandos except for two songs (one for baritone and harp, the other for soprano, contralto, baritone, harp and strings), a Dance for harpsichord solo, and ‘Rizzio preludes on the lute’ ― a short piece for harp solo that deliberately breaks off in the middle to match the stage action.  

(3) Film scores: Only the ten-minute Journey into History (1951) awaits its first recording, though it can be heard as the soundtrack of the documentary film itself, which is currently available on a British Film Institute DVD (BFIV 116). The full score is missing but the short score is extant. In 1994 the BBC found a set of string parts for four of the movements in its Music Library, but they have subsequently been mislaid. At the request of Chandos, I reconstructed three movements, which were due to be recorded along with Malta , G.C. and Oliver Twist, but the latter proved longer than expected and the movements went unplayed.  

(4) Fanfares: Bax is known to have written at least ten fanfares, most of them after he was appointed Master of the King’s Music in February 1942. Only Fanfare for a Cheerful Occasion (1930) and two of the three Royal Wedding Fanfares have been recorded (1947). The others are extant except for the third Royal Wedding Fanfare and the two that he wrote for the ‘Red Army Celebration’ in 1943; one of the latter exists in a non-commercial archive recording and includes a part for organ. Salute to Sydney (1943) is the grandest of the extant fanfares, and the two he wrote for a radio programme called ‘Show Business 1851-1951’ are the slightest. I am told that fanfares are a problem to record with the brass section of an orchestra because the players are entitled to regard them as a form of ‘chamber music’ and to demand higher fees.

Bax with some military types at Kneller Hall. From Picture Post, 22 November 1947.

The only work that has not been recorded is my own ongoing realization of the Concertino for piano and orchestra, which the composer was working on when war broke out in 1939. The first two movements of Bax’s manuscript are complete but written mainly on two staves, which entails editorial decisions as to which notes are meant to be played by the solo piano and which by the orchestra; the third movement exists complete in a neatly written two-piano score, with the solo part clearly distinguished from the orchestral.  

All of Bax’s mature chamber works have now been commercially recorded at least once, and some scores (notably the Elegiac Trio, the Fantasy Sonata, and the Clarinet Sonata) have received many recordings. Only the following (mainly early) scores still await a first recording:  

Menuet (1898). A short, juvenile piece hardly worth bothering with.  

Fantasia for two pianos (1900). This extended score would need considerable editing to make it performable.  

Horn Sonata (1901). A single-movement work discovered a few years ago and still awaiting its first performance. An accomplished, Brahmsian piece but lacking any features that would suggest it had been written by Bax.  

Trio in B flat minor (1901). Only the first movement of this work seems to have been completed, but unfortunately there are some pages missing from the manuscript, making it impossible to perform. A pity, since the extant pages contain some attractive, though derivative, material.  

String Quartet in E (1903). The slow movement (later orchestrated as Cathaleen-ni-Hoolihan) is available played by the Maggini Quartet on Naxos . The other movements have never apparently been performed. A more mature piece than the earlier Quartet in A (which has been recorded complete by Dutton).  

Concert Piece (1904). The original version for viola and piano has now been recorded twice, but Bax’s own arrangement for violin and piano awaits a recording.  

Concerto (RV 540) by Vivaldi (arr. by Bax for harp quintet, 1927). Present-day notions of authenticity need to be put aside in contemplating this arrangement (see illustration above). A note of warning: the parts published by Lyra Music in 1978 are highly inaccurate.  

Discounting about a dozen pieces of uncharacteristic juvenilia dating from 1897 to 1900, most of Bax’s extant solo piano works have been recorded at least once. Only the following await a first recording.  

Concert Valse (1910). This was actually recorded by Iris Loveridge for Lyrita in the 1960s but it was never issued. With the company’s recent revival, let us hope that all her fine mono recordings, including this one, will be made available on CD.  

Nympholept (1912) and The Happy Forest (1914). Although originally written as piano pieces, these are more familiar in their orchestral versions of 1915 and 1921 respectively.  

Fantasia in G (BWV 572) by Bach (transcribed by Bax). Part of A Bach Book for Harriet Cohen (OUP, 1932).  

Sonata in B flat (1937). Also known as the ‘ Salzburg ’ Sonata, this is Bax’s 18th-century pastiche. The slow movement was recorded by Eric Parkin for Chandos, but the other three movements have never been played. Since it sounds nothing like Bax’s other music, the sonata is of little more than academic interest.  

Four Pieces (1947). Although published by Fand Music Publishing in 1999, these late pieces await their first recording. They have only been performed once (in 1983).  

Two Lyrical Pieces from Oliver Twist (1948). These are better known in their original version for piano and orchestra.  

I hope too that we may one day be able to hear the first version of the Second Sonata, the manuscript of which is in the British Library.  

These are all available on record except for the following:  

To Russia (1944). This four-minute setting of an ode by John Masefield for baritone, chorus and orchestra has only (to the best of my knowledge) been performed twice, in 1944 and in 1986. Not an inspired piece, but it would make a useful filler on a disc of British choral music.  

St George (1947). This twenty-minute-or-so work is almost complete in vocal score but was never orchestrated. It might be possible to devise a performing edition but there are other scores that should take priority.  

Happy Birthday to You (1951). Bax’s completely undistinguished nine-bar arrangement for SATB of this well-known song by Mildred J. Hill is merely a curiosity. It was written at Samuel Barber’s invitation to celebrate the birthday of Mary Zimbalist, along with brief arrangements by many other famous composers, including Copland, Hindemith, Honegger, Sibelius, Stravinsky, Vaughan Williams, and Walton. The original song is still in copyright.  

It should also be mentioned that Bax’s attractive carol Of a Rose I sing a Song for small choir with harp, cello, and double bass (1920) has never been available on CD. Its only recording (for Hyperion) was only ever issued on LP.  

The following have not yet been recorded:  

Three Songs for soprano (1914). ‘Slumber Song’ has been recorded separately by Chandos, but the other two, ‘A Celtic Lullaby’ and ‘A Christmas Carol’, have not been sung since 1986.  

Wild Almond for soprano (1934). This scherzo-like setting of a poem by Frederic Herbert Trench has never been played in its orchestral form.  

Many of Bax’s 130-odd songs with piano have been recorded at least once (ignoring juvenilia), but there are still quite a few that await a first recording and even a first performance. The following are perhaps the most interesting:  

Das tote Kind (1911). A surprisingly jaunty setting of C.F. Meyer’s poem with a grand coda for the piano.

Of her Mercy (1914). One of Three Rondels with words by Chaucer.  

A Leader (1916). A grim setting of a poem by AE (George Russell). It begins with an unidentified melodic quotation and is written ‘In memory of certain Irish patriots’.  

The Splendour falls (1917). Hardly the equal of Britten’s celebrated setting, but worth a recording.  

A Rabelaisian Catechism (1920). A six-minute arrangement of a traditional French chanson de série. It is remarkable for being in the same key throughout and for containing a musical quotation from Vaughan Williams’s A Sea Symphony. It has never been performed.  

Dermott Donn MacMorna (1922). A setting of words by Padraic Colum that has only been performed once.  

Carrey Clavel (1925) and On the Bridge (1926). Words by Thomas Hardy.  

Three Songs from the Norse (1927). These settings of Danish and Norwegian words have only been performed once (by Tracey Chadwell in 1994) and would be well worth recording.  

Mention should also be made of Bax’s two recitations with piano accompaniment of 1906, which have never been performed (The Twa Corbies and The Blessed Damozel).

From this brief survey of Bax’s unrecorded works, it is clear that there are now very few scores of significance that still await their first recording, a situation that will no doubt please most visitors to this website. Not everyone, however, views this state of affairs with equanimity. The distinguished nonagenarian American composer and musical theorist Milton Babbitt complains bitterly on the Schirmer website that what he hears when he switches on his radio is mainly ‘the complete works of Arnold Bax or Delius or Gerald Finzi’ rather than what he calls ‘the most influential music of the 20th century’ such as Carter, Schoenberg or Stravinsky. ‘Instead they play Sir Hamilton Harty and Herbert Howells...and the announcers tell us how important and beautiful their music is!’. Although I feel sorry for him, I suspect that his contempt for conservative British music has led him to exaggerate, and I am sure that the works of the famous composers he champions receive their fair share of attention in the concert hall, on record, and in the mainstream histories and dictionaries of music, if not on radio stations in the USA. It is illuminating to compare Babbitt’s attitude with that of another distinguished American composer, the octogenarian Gunther Schuller, who, in an interview on the AMPPR website, remarks:  

It’s interesting that you mention Bax. I became a Bax fan when I was 14 years old! I’ve known all his symphonies all my life and have loved them and conducted them. That’s what’s so crazy about this. He is a wonderful composer and so are many of the other Romantic English composers. I’ve been aware of that music for quite some time. Most people weren’t. And as you point out, the record companies had no use for any of that stuff, you know? So it’s always this polarized exaggeration: either/or. Why does it always have to be either/or? Why can’t we have the best of both worlds?

 Schuller’s final rhetorical question has much to commend it.

Bax posing in 1942 with the manuscript of his Sinfonietta (1932)