How odd that a German conductor and record company and an Australian orchestra should be unearthing a British composer of whom even very few Britons have heard, and symphonies by him that, around the time of their composition (the 1830s), very few Britons wanted to hear. ‘A pompous, melancholy Scotsman’ was Wagner’s unflattering description of him – inaccurate description, in fact, as Macfarren was born, mainly lived, and died a Londoner. The occasion of their meeting was a visit from Wagner (Macfarren’s exact contemporary) to London in 1855 to conduct an opera of Macfarren’s, which he seemed to enjoy rather more than the Englishman’s company, ‘on account of [the music’s] peculiarly wild, passionate nature’.
Not that those are words which spring to mind here, the symphony for Macfarren obviously being a more serious affair. These are both works of a man in his twenties respectful of the classical form but keen to experiment with it. The spur was Mendelssohn, who conducted the premiere of the Italian Symphony on his third visit to London in 1833, the same year as Macfarren finished the Fourth Symphony (Macfarren’s Seventh is dedicated to Mendelssohn), but it would be wrong to expect Mendelssohn’s inventive mastery of the form, or his melodic gifts and poetic sensibilities. Indeed, for what might be termed early-romantic symphonies, illustrative poetry is, perhaps surprisingly, not on Macfarren’s agenda. But there is a very personal brand of vigour, along with some engaging ideas (the genuinely free-spirited Scherzo of the Fourth Symphony has a Trio introduced by horns and trombones), some more commonplace ones saved by odd-ball touches (a continuous trill on lower strings running through the Trio of the Seventh), and a fondness for harmonic ‘spice’ and dissonance.
Occasionally in these generally confident, spirited performances, tentative moments (mainly from the strings in lyrical passages) produce the kind of dissonance that Macfarren wouldn’t have imagined in his wildest dreams (quiet microtonal clashes from 9'03'' in the first movement of the Fourth Symphony) or fail to do his lyrical gifts full justice. And some of the more rhythmically repetitive ideas would have benefited from the shaping hand of, say, Sir Roger Norrington. Equally, for prolonged listening, one might prefer a recording less insistently close and bright, with a little more warmth in the bass, and without the metallic colouration that creeps into the last minute of the Fourth Symphony’s first movement. But these are mild warnings, rather than major caveats. If the idea appeals …'