''Bax, A: 14.4 overs, 2 maidens, 6 for 27''—it may not be too fanciful to find some such memory enshrined in Bax's Clarinet Sonata, which was written for Hugh Prew, an amateur clarinettist and fellow member of the Old Broughtonians, who met each year for a week of cricket-filled days and evenings of pipe-smoking, cider-drinking, talk and music (the other ''OB's'' included, at one time or another, Herbert Farjeon, Edward Thomas, Armstrong Gibbs, J. C. Squire, R. O. Morris and Julius Harrison). It is, at all events, a charmingly serene work, even in the energetic moto perpetuo of the second movement, which must have stretched Prew's technique to the limit, but continually eases into passages of grateful lyricism. The first movement (there are only two) has a moment of Baxian shadow before the tranquil opening theme and the slightly French-inflected second (it might almost be by Berkeley) are developed, but the overall mood is again relaxed. It is, however, far from indulgent: one of the most impressive things about the sonata, despite its rhapsodic late-romanticism, is its pithiness and sense of direction. For this and the distinction of its melodies it deserves to be better known.
The same is even more true of the Bliss Quintet, one of his finest works. Here too the melodies are fluid, at times approaching Richard Strauss in their twining lyricism, but with an ever-present impetus that prevents them from cloying or becoming merely luxuriant. It is an intimate work, too (though finding room for moments of enjoyable rhetoric, as at the height of the Scherzo) and a beautifully-crafted one, with many passages of genuinely chamber-musical discourse that tempt one to the highest comparisons. I shall have to ration myself to mentioning only two of the Quintet's delights: the momentary and delicious side-step into tonal ambiguity in the coda of the first movement and the exquisite, ethereal arabesques at the centre of the third. The Vaughan Williams pieces are less 'studies' in any of the usual senses of that word that settings which lovingly show six splendid melodies to the finest advantage. Their freshness is nowhere spoiled, the accompaniments never dominate, the tunes are modified in this detail or that as of folksinger might modify them, to make them still more beautiful. The result is haunting and peculiarly suited to the clarinet (the work is best-known in its original version for viola but to my mind sounds even finer in this permitted alternative).
Janet Hilton plays all three works with great subtlety of phrasing and a brilliant, penetrating tone-quality that is especially effective in the faster music. I would have liked one per cent more warmth at one or two other places, but am grateful for her sensitive response to three such varied rewarding works. She is admirably partnered by both pianist and quartet and recorded with excellent clarity.'