GRAMOPHONE Review: Walton Cello Concerto, Symphony No. 1, Scarpino – Jonathan Aasgaard, Sinfonia of London/Wilson

A whiplash Scapino, ducking and diving with impunity, sets the tone of this marvellous disc. As so often with John Wilson’s work it’s the precision, the clarity, and the keenest articulation that defines it. The level of virtuosity displayed by this band can be, and is here, absolutely jaw-dropping. Wilson has long admired the legendary George Szell’s work with the Cleveland Orchestra and one disc in particular – the coupling of Walton’s Second Symphony and Partita for Orchestra – might just be the high bar that perpetually challenges him throughout this disc. Scapino – like so much of Walton – juxtaposes the rhythmically brilliant and the almost indecently lush. The central section has the solo cello (might this be Jonathan Aasgaard, the concerto’s soloist?) basking in its raptness while the outer sections, soloistically and collectively fizz with excitement (just listen to the solo bassoon in the closing section).

So that cello-led middle section of Scapino is carried through into the Cello Concerto and like all three of Walton’s concertos for string instruments it opens with one of those distinctively exotic melodies rejoices in the composer’s favourite Italian word ‘sognando’ – dreaming. Jonathan Aasgaard, though Norwegian, seems blissfully at home in this sun-baked, vibraphone-flecked, light-catching sound world. I like his lightness on the string, the elegance of his lyricism. And true to Wilson’s preoccupation with articulation the contrasting animation really sparkles. The quicksilver scherzo is just that and there is a piquancy to it right up to and including the final harmonic which evaporates like a vapour trail. The Theme and Variations finale – a favourite form of Walton’s – offers plenty of opportunity for the work’s inherent contrasts and all roads lead to the inevitable return of that opening aria.

I sometimes wish Szell had recorded the First Symphony and if he had it would almost certainly have sounded something like this. Let me say straight away (because readers will be wondering) that Wilson’s reading doesn’t quite achieve the white-hot spontaneity of Andre Previn’s famous recording – who does? It’s a different temperament at work here, which is not to say that it is less exciting – just different. Rhythmic precision is again the driving force. It’s that raw, elemental energy (that I don’t think Walton ever came close to achieving again) and it grips like a vice. Wilson and his orchestra keep things as tight as tight can be and all those lethal sforzandi are part and parcel of that. It packs a different kind of punch to Previn in the way that it builds to that huge processional of a climax with bullseye trumpets nailing the final push to the emphatic bottom D in the timpani. That always hits the spot.

Speaking of the timpanist – he has a field day in the ‘malicious’ scherzo which is punchy and capricious and scary in its precision. Wilson gets Walton’s lust for the edgy and angular and, yes, barbaric rhythms. Everything is fiercely accented. Not a lazy note in earshot.

The slow movement – one of Walton’s most poignant creations – is poetically attended here. The trick I always think is to maintain the tension of the rest of the piece so that the underlying disquiet is there, even as that solo flute is quietly consoling. The Sinfonia of London strings, so incisive elsewhere, are now afforded that Wilson sheen.

I’ve always loved the finale – to some it is the suspect movement of the piece and famously the late arrival of the commission when the symphony was premiered with the just three movements. It’s the Henry V swagger of the movement that is irresistible to me though of course it needs a stickler for precision like Wilson to make music of that central fugue which can and does so often sound pedantic. When a conductor and orchestra get it right as here the rush to that splashy climax with the entry of the second timpanist is super-exciting. It’s a real ‘Cry God for Harry, England, and Saint George!’ moment.

Equally Henry V is that ‘last post’ trumpet solo just before the coda – beautifully realised here, the calm before the triumphal horns-blazing peroration with its Sibelius 5 pay off.

So a terrific fabulously engineered account of perhaps my favourite English symphony. Don’t judge me. I revere the Elgar symphonies too. But nothing comes close to Walton at his most pagan. It’s no surprise that Previn took him so quickly to heart. Wilson has too. Their mutual passion for it is self-evident.