The New Queen’s Hall Orchestra – top professionals dedicated to the idea of what their instruments used to sound like – here crown their achievement so far in the first period-instrument performance on disc of Holst’s suite, The Planets. Roy Goodman may more often be associated with baroque and classical repertory, but here with period enthusiasts of a different generation he reveals himself as a persuasive interpreter of Holst, with the doctrine of long takes proudly advertised in the insert-notes. In his fast speeds – encouraged by lighter articulation – he plainly reflects the example of the composer himself in his two early (and flawed) Columbia recordings dating from the 1920s, the one acoustic (now available on Pearl, 4/91), the other early electric (now on EMI, 10/93). Not often, if ever, in recent years have we had a version of this showpiece lasting under 45 minutes.
The fast speeds might well be the first point that the unprepared listener will notice, and some might readily hear this without registering much change in the actual sound. The differences from a modern instrument performance are relatively subtle, and the atmospheric recording – made in EMI’s Abbey Road Studio No. 1 – is not as brilliant or sharply focused as some of the latest digital versions. Even so, one quickly appreciates how, for all the necessary weight of sound in tuttis, well caught in the recording, particularly in the contrasts of brass sounds, the result is less aggressive, less brash than usual.
The opening of “Jupiter”, for example, is light and clean, with crisp string articulation characteristic of the lighter sounds of instruments using gut strings. Brass, though well defined, is less dominant too, reflecting the use of authentic narrow-bore instruments. This is a performance consciously rejecting the latter-day emphasis on volume and brilliance at all costs.
Even so, it is not all gain. Incisive as Goodman is, shrewdly balancing the instruments as he would in a baroque performance, with line more important than vertical precision, the result is on balance less atmospheric, less evocative than we have come to expect, more concerned with purely musical values. Though differences are only marginal even in comparison with the finest modern-instrument versions, there is less menace in “Mars”, less sensuousness in “Venus”, less panache in “Jupiter” and “Uranus”, and less mystery in “Neptune”. Even so, this is a version which stands apart, and I welcome it warmly.
Goodman’s account of the St Paul’s Suite, which comes as coupling, also favours faster speeds than usual, made easier by light string articulation. Only in the “Jig” at the very start do I find the result sounding rushed or breathless, and the “Intermezzo” is as warmly expressive as anyone could want. As in The Planets, one’s ear quickly adapts. I look forward to more exploration of the early twentieth century in period form.'