This new Brigg Fair is unique. Apologies in advance to ornithologists—your reviewer doesn't know his peewit from his pterodactyl—but what a lovely surprise to hear real London sparrows (I presume) sharing the air space of St Augustine's Church with Delius's translated Lincolnshire larks (flute and clarinet) in the opening minutes of the work, albeit much more distantly. Fortunately they remain silent for Davis's very effective two seconds of silence at the end of the fifth bar. Very effective too are those almost still pools of string sound (early morning mists?), given the extended boundaries of this acoustic, and the now familiar warmth and depth of tone Davis draws from the orchestra's strings. Davis explores well the changing moods of this piece: I've not heard the slow march (from fig. 26, 9'45'') sound as gravely beautiful, and the tempo is (unusually) maintained for the ensuing maestoso variation. Here again, and in the final magnificently broad climax (pealing bells, for once, very clear), you cannot fail to be impressed by the depth, coherence and articulacy of the sound—hallmarks, indeed, of the entire disc.
Davis's strings come into their own in the Walk to the Paradise Garden: the softest of muted string accompaniments at the opening; the stylish portamento when the first violins take up the familiar rising phrase (1'31''); the intimacy and quiet intensity of the playing at the still centre (from 5'27''); and last, but most memorable of all, the projection of the quaver accompaniment (principally violas and cellos from 7'18'') at the climax. I may be mistaken, but during In a Summer Garden, it sounds as if Davis mutes his strings far more often than Delius asks; for instance, most of the concluding four minutes. Certainly the reading's delicacy of texture and hazy, suffusing warmth are difficult to resist. And it will please those who didn't respond to the more animated Mackerras's freshening up of the score (with clearer but relatively hard sound), though it's not quite in the same class as the (sadly, unavailable) 1951 RPO/Beecham (12/53) or 1969 Halle/Barbirolli (7/69—mainly a question of consistent affection for small details).
The relevance of incorporating comparisons in this review is questionable, as no other Delius disc has an identical programme, and very few such a generously extended one. I could observe that Davis's Paris is well controlled; the balancing of the huge forces and the degree of elegance achieved with this kind of mass in motion deserving high praise indeed, but that it falls a little short of the imagination, daring abandon, and precision of ensemble of the Mackerras disc. Likewise that no one, and certainly not Davis, casts the Beecham spell in the preludial three bars of On hearing the first cuckoo. The fact remains that this disc is the best of its kind currently available for those wanting state-of-the-art sound and wishing to start a Delius investigation; it will also bring many moments of joy and illumination to seasoned Delians.'