David Lloyd-Jones’s exciting and idiomatic account of A Colour Symphony with the English Northern Philharmonia proves easily more than a match for all current competition, including the composer’s own 1955 Decca recording so spectacularly transferred by Michael Dutton last year. Speeds are judged to perfection – nicely flowing for the first and third movements, not too hectic for the flashing scherzo – and countless details in Bliss’s stunning orchestral canvas are most deftly attended to. (I’m thinking in particular of those irresistible syncopated trombone chords towards the end of the pastoral third movement – try from 8'40'' on track 3, for example.) Phrasing is sensitive and ideally affectionate, solo work is consistently excellent (the slow movement’s delicate woodwind arabesques are exquisitely voiced), and tuttis open out superbly in what I feel is technically the finest recording I have yet heard from Naxos (magnificently keen-voiced horns throughout). All in all, a hugely enjoyable display.
Though it can’t match its partner here in terms of melodic freshness and imaginative scope, Bliss’s 1946 ballet Adam Zero represents an impressive achievement none the less. Like its two predecessors, Checkmate (1937) and Miracle in the Gorbals (1944), Adam Zero grew out of a collaboration with the Sadler’s Wells company (the work’s dedicatee, Constant Lambert, supervised the premieres of all three). Whereas A Colour Symphony was inspired by the heraldic associations of four different colours (one for each movement), the theme of Adam Zero is the inexorable life-cycle of humankind. Up to now, we have had to make do with excerpts from the work. Vernon Handley’s extensive 1979 LP selection with the RLPO was drastically trimmed when EMI reissued it on CD (9/87 – nla), so a warm welcome to Lloyd-Jones’s highly sympathetic rendering of Bliss’s rewarding ballet score in its entirety. Lasting over 42 minutes, Adam Zero does admittedly have its occasional longueurs, but for the most part Bliss’s invention is of commendably high quality. Certainly, the vivid exuberance and theatrical swagger of numbers like “Dance of Spring” and “Dance of Summer” have strong appeal. Equally, the limpid beauty of both the “Love Dance” and the hieratic “Bridal Ceremony” which immediately ensues is not easily banished, while the darkly insistent “Dance with Death” distils a gentle poignancy which is most haunting. Again, the orchestra respond with discipline and plenty of enthusiasm, and Naxos’s sound is first-rate (apart, that is, from a rather-too-forward glockenspiel in “Dance of Spring”).
Terrific value for money, then, and a generous pairing which should hopefully win many new friends for this fine composer. Now, can we please have a complete Checkmate from these artists?'