By my reckoning, this makes the third recording of Pomona we’ve had in the past two years. John Lanchbery’s enjoyably lithe account with a well-drilled State Orchestra of Victoria occupies a middle ground between the sturdier, at times unhelpfully sluggish manners of Barry Wordsworth and the BBC Concert Orchestra (whose mid-price ASV compilation remains essential listening for David Owen Norris’s eloquent resuscitation of the teenage Lambert’s astonishingly precocious 1924 Piano Concerto) and the altogether more touchingly graceful and witty approach espoused by David Lloyd-Jones and the admirable English Northern Philharmonia. Of course, with their formidable theatrical experience, both Lloyd-Jones and Lanchbery bring an enjoyable whiff of greasepaint to the proceedings, but the former’s remains my own favourite version.
No matter, the really good news here is the CD debut of Romeo and Juliet, one of only two ballet scores that Diaghilev commissioned from British composers for his Ballets Russes (the other being Lord Berners’ The Triumph of Neptune, also staged in 1926). In his helpful booklet essay, Peter Dickinson relates how the 20-year-old Lambert openly confronted Diaghilev when he learnt that his preferred set designer, Christopher Wood, had been replaced by Max Ernst and Joan Miro, and that the impresario had reworked Nijinska’s original choreography himself. It’s a frothy romp firmly in the Stravinsky/Poulenc/Milhaud mould – and a brilliantly confident achievement for a 20-year-old student – but, strange to relate, there’s barely a glimpse of the sheer expressive scope of either Pomona or The Rio Grande (not to mention that remarkable Piano Concerto referred to above). We’ve long needed a worthy successor to Norman Del Mar’s affectionate Lyrita version with the ECO (1/80 – nla); happily, Lanchbery and company have plugged the gap with commendable success. Not only does the orchestral playing evince infectious zest and unswerving dedication to the cause, Lanchbery directs with palpable relish throughout.
There’s also a sparkling curtain-raiser in the guise of The Bird Actors, a three-minute overture whose title comes from a poem by Sacheverell Sitwell and which originally began life as the finale of an even earlier ballet entitled Adam and Eve (which in turn sowed the seeds for much in Romeo and Juliet). The sound throughout is lively and full-bodied, without perhaps being in the very top flight. All in all, an extremely welcome and entertaining release.'