What a pity that Respighi never became a Hollywood composer. The musical content of these opulent pictures in sound may be minimal, but the tonal delights are many, and with fine playing from the Philharmonia and superb sound, full-ranging and spacious, of the quality we have come to expect from Chandos, the result can be warmly recommended to uncensorious listeners with a sweet tooth.
My only doubt is that in Vetrate di chiesa (''Church Windows'') Respighi was taking himself too seriously. The technique of wrapping up a simple melody in the most elaborate orchestration imaginable may be no different from usual, but his themes are Gregorian, which at slow speeds bring inevitable solemnity. The result is still ear-tweaking in a rich, untroubled way, but Respighi is best when he is having fun. In the second of the four pieces, representing St Michael in stained glass, there is a swinging theme on horns and cor anglais, the Gregorian element much adapted, which has a distinct ring of Vaughan Williams and of the Scherzo of A Sea Symphony in particular. That is a delightful exception to the generally sober tone of voice. But even there Constant Lambert's famous remark about not being able to do anything with a folk-tune except repeat it louder (quoted by Vaughan Williams himself in his note on the Scherzo of the Sixth Symphony) inevitably comes to mind. Interestingly, Edward Johnson's admirable sleeve-note points out that the music here was not actually written to illustrate church windows. What Respighi did was to orchestrate three piano pieces and add a fourth for luck, and then ask a friend for ideas what to call them. This new version, crisply conducted by Geoffrey Simon, may not be so weighty as Ormandy's on CBS (61082, 8/69—nla) and Simon does not always mould melodies quite so persuasively, but he gains enormously in what really matters in Respighi, richness, spaciousness and refinement of orchestral sound.
The Impressioni brasiliane prove quite a find, particularly the last one ''Canzone e Danza'', which at last brings a measure of fast music—something in short supply on this LP. I even wonder—both there and in the first of the pieces, ''Notte tropicale'', with its tango rhythms—whether Aaron Copland took note of this work before writing El salon Mexico. the Latin-American dance rhythms bounce along as infectiously as Copland's do, and the pay-off finds Respighi for once using the lightest sleight of hand. Curiously the middle piece, depicting a snake garden near Sao Paulo, also has its Copland likeness, but it is the other way round, for the baldness of harmony gives hints of wide-open spaces music. That is until Respighi has various instruments illustrating snakes slithering—stricciante as the score says—and the tambourine played with side-drum sticks does a convincing imitation of a rattle-snake. This may not be great music, but in such performances and recording it certainly brings enjoyment.'