The Viola Concerto by William Walton was written in 1929 for the violist Lionel Tertis at the suggestion of the conductor Sir Thomas Beecham. The concerto carries the dedication 'To Christabel' (Christabel McLaren, Lady Aberconway). William WALTON (1902-1983) Viola Concerto (1928-29, rev 1936-37, rev 1961) [23:27] Sonata for String Orchestra (1971) [26:07] Partita for String Orchestra.
It’s not just critics who get things wrong. Even great soloists have occasionally rejected concertos before changing their minds. Nikolay Rubinstein was scornful of Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto at a play-through before later becoming an advocate, while Leopold Auer initially refused to touch the same composer’s Violin Concerto, which had been dedicated to him. At the suggestion of Thomas Beecham, William Walton wrote his Viola Concerto for Lionel Tertis, who rejected the manuscript out of hand, at which point Paul Hindemith stepped in to give the premiere at a 1929 Proms concert. Tertis changed his mind and championed the concerto, later performing it at the Three Choirs Festival in 1932 (where Elgar was less than impressed).
That Walton’s is one of the great concertos written for the viola cannot be doubted, especially when you consider the number of violinists who have muscled in to take it into their repertoire. Yehudi Menuhin recorded it in 1968, under the composer’s baton, an account which set a trend for leisurely tempos in the Andante comodo first movement. Nigel Kennedy (1987) and Maxim Vengerov (2002) followed, to which may now be added this splendid new account from James Ehnes with the BBC Symphony Orchestra under Edward Gardner. What is immediately apparent is that Ehnes and Gardner take us back to those pre-Menuhin tempos, only a fraction slower than William Primrose’s pioneering 1946 recording. There’s a grand sweep to the performance which is wholly engaging in its refusal to wallow. Ehnes’s burnished viola tone is noble and warm, without Vengerov’s lusciousness but also without its tendency to cloy.
The Vivo middle movement dances along in the highest of spirits, while Ehnes’s playing in the finale balances sweetness with energy. Gardner keeps things moving, the BBC SO romping along in the opening movement (5'02') and the bassoon bouncing jauntily to introduce the finale. Vengerov and Rostropovich drag this out to well beyond 16 minutes, whereas Ehnes and Gardner are done soon after the 11 minute mark, without compromising on the satisfying sense of repose in the concerto’s hushed coda. A winning interpretation. In his third volume of Walton, Gardner conducts a lithe performance of the Sonata for string orchestra (Walton’s arrangement – at Neville Marriner’s suggestion – of his First String Quartet) and a suitably boisterous Partita to fill out the disc. The Toccata swaggers along with tremendous vigour, the BBC SO brass in great form and in characteristically red-blooded Chandos sound, while the Giga burlesca finale is guaranteed to raise a smile.
Portsmouth Point by inspired Walton's overture of the same name. Walton's works of the 1920s, while he was living in the Sitwells' attic, include the, dedicated to Sassoon and inspired by the well-known painting of the same name. It was first heard as an entr'acte at a performance in 1926 ballet season, where complained, 'It is a little difficult to make much of new music when it is heard through the hum of conversation.'
Programmed the work at the following year, where it made more of an impression. The composer conducted this performance; he did not enjoy conducting, but he had firm views on how his works should be interpreted, and orchestral players appreciated his 'easy nonchalance' and 'complete absence of fuss.' Walton's other works of the 1920s included a short orchestral piece, Siesta (1926) and a for piano and orchestra (1928), which was well received at its premiere at a concert, but has not entered the regular repertory.
The (1929) brought Walton to the forefront of British classical music. It was written at the suggestion of for the viola virtuoso. When Tertis received the manuscript, he rejected it immediately. The composer and violist stepped into the breach and gave the first performance. The work was greeted with enthusiasm.
In The Manchester Guardian, wrote, 'This young composer is a born genius' and said that it was tempting to call the concerto the best thing in recent music of any nationality. Tertis soon changed his mind and took the work up.
A performance by him at a concert in in 1932 was the only occasion on which Walton met, whom he greatly admired. Elgar did not share the general enthusiasm for Walton's concerto. Walton's next major composition was the massive choral (1931). It began as a work on a modest scale; the commissioned a piece for small chorus, orchestra of no more than fifteen players, and soloist. Osbert Sitwell constructed a text, selecting verses from several books of the and the. As Walton worked on it, he found that his music required far larger forces than the BBC proposed to allow, and Beecham rescued him by programming the work for the 1931 Festival, to be conducted.
Walton later recalled Beecham as saying, 'As you'll never hear the work again, my boy, why not throw in a couple of brass bands?' During early rehearsals, the Leeds chorus members found Walton's music difficult to master, and it was falsely rumoured in London musical circles that Beecham had been obliged to send Sargent to Leeds to quell a revolt. The first performance was a triumph for the composer, conductor and performers. A contemporary critic wrote, 'Those who experienced the tremendous impact of its first performance had full justification for feeling that a great composer had arisen in our land, a composer to whose potentialities it was impossible to set any limits.' The work has remained a staple of the choral repertoire.
Alice Wimborne, Walton's partner from 1934 to 1948, photographed in 1914 In the 1930s, Walton's relationship with the Sitwells became less close. He had love affairs and new friendships that drew him out of their orbit. His first long affair was with Imma von Doernberg, the young widow of a German baron. She and Walton met in the late 1920s and they were together until 1934, when she left him.
His later affair with Alice, (born 1880), which lasted from 1934 until her death in April 1948, caused a wider breach between Walton and the Sitwells, as she disliked them as much as they disliked her. By the 1930s, Walton was earning enough from composing to allow him financial independence for the first time. A legacy from a musical benefactress in 1931 further enhanced his finances, and in 1934 he left the Sitwells' house and bought a house in. Walton's first major composition after Belshazzar's Feast was his. It was not written to a commission, and Walton worked slowly on the score from late 1931 until he completed it in 1935.
He had composed the first three of the four movements by the end of 1933 and promised the premiere to the conductor. Walton then found himself unable to complete the work. The end of his affair with Imma von Doernberg coincided with, and may have contributed to, a sudden and persistent. Harty persuaded Walton to let him perform the three existing movements, which he premiered in December 1934 with the. During 1934 Walton interrupted work on the symphony to compose his first film music, for 's (1934), for which he was paid £300. After a break of eight months, Walton resumed work on the symphony and completed it in 1935. Harty and the gave the premiere of the completed piece in November of that year.
The symphony aroused international interest. The leading continental conductors and sent for copies of the score, the premiered the work in the US under Harty, and the gave the New York premiere, and the young conducted the symphony in Australia. Commissioned Walton's Violin Concerto. Elgar having died in 1934, the authorities turned to Walton to compose a march in the Elgarian tradition for the in 1937. His was an immediate success with the public, but disappointed those of Walton's admirers who thought of him as an avant garde composer. Among Walton's other works from this decade are more film scores, including the first of his for Shakespeare adaptations, (1936); a short ballet for a West End revue (1936); and a choral piece, In Honour of the City of London (1937). His most important work of the 1930s, alongside the symphony, was the (1939), commissioned.
The concerto, Walton later revealed, expressed his love for Alice Wimborne. Its strong style caused some critics to label it retrogressive, and Walton said in a newspaper interview, 'Today's white hope is tomorrow's black sheep. These days it is very sad for a composer to grow old. I seriously advise all sensitive composers to die at the age of 37. I know: I've gone through the first halcyon period and am just about ripe for my critical damnation.' In the late 1930s Walton became aware of a younger English composer whose fame was shortly to overtake his,.
After their first meeting, Britten wrote in his diary, '. to lunch with William Walton at. He is charming, but I feel always the school relationship with him – he is so obviously the head prefect of English music, whereas I'm the promising new boy.'
They remained on friendly terms for the rest of Britten's life; Walton admired many of Britten's works, and considered him a genius; Britten did not admire all of Walton's works but was grateful for his support at difficult times in his life. Second World War. The view from the Waltons' house on In 1956 Walton sold his London house and took up full-time residence on Ischia. He built a hilltop house at and called it.
Susana Walton created a magnificent garden there. Walton's other works of the 1950s include the music for a fourth Shakespeare film, Olivier's, and the (1956), written for, who gave the premiere in January 1957 with the and the conductor.
Some critics felt that the concerto was old-fashioned; wrote that there was little in the work that would have startled an audience in the year the met its iceberg (1912). It has nevertheless entered the regular repertoire, performed by, and among others. In 1966 Walton successfully underwent surgery for.
Until then he had been an inveterate pipe-smoker, but after the operation he never smoked again. While he was convalescing, he worked on a one-act comic opera, which was premiered at Britten's, in June 1966, and enthusiastically received. Walton had become so used to being written off by music critics that he felt 'there must be something wrong when the worms turned on some praise.' Walton received the in 1967, the fourth composer to be so honoured, after Elgar, and Britten.
Walton's orchestral works of the 1960s include his (1960), Variations on a Theme by Hindemith (1963), (1968), and (1969). His from this period were composed for ( Anon. In Love, 1960) and Schwarzkopf ( A Song for the Lord Mayor's Table, 1962). He was commissioned to compose a score for the 1969 film, but the film company rejected most of his score, replacing it with music. A concert suite of Walton's score was published and recorded after Walton's death. After his experience over Battle of Britain, Walton declared that he would write no more film music, but he was persuaded by Olivier to compose the score for a film of 's in 1969.
Last years Walton was never a facile or quick composer, and in his final decade, he found composition increasingly difficult. He repeatedly tried to compose a third symphony for, but eventually abandoned it. Many of his final works are re-orchestrations or revisions of earlier music. He orchestrated his song cycle Anon.
In Love (originally for tenor and guitar), and at the request of adapted his A minor String Quartet as a Sonata for Strings. One original work from this period was his Jubilate Deo, premiered as one of several events to celebrate his seventieth birthday. The British prime minister, gave a birthday dinner for Walton at, attended by royalty and Walton's most eminent colleagues; Britten presented a Walton evening at and Previn conducted an all-Walton concert at the. Walton revised the score of Troilus and Cressida, and the opera was staged at Covent Garden in 1976. Once again it was plagued by misfortune while in preparation. Walton was in poor health; Previn, who was to conduct, also fell ill; and the tenor chosen for Troilus pulled out.
As in 1954, the critics were generally tepid. Some of Walton's final artistic endeavours were in collaboration with the film-maker. Walton took part in Palmer's profile of him, At the Haunted End of the Day, in 1981, and in 1982 Walton and his wife played the cameo roles of King and Queen Maria of Saxony in Palmer's nine-hour film. Walton died at La Mortella on 8 March 1983, at the age of 80. His ashes were buried on Ischia, and a memorial service was held at, where a commemorative stone to Walton was unveiled near those to Elgar, Vaughan Williams and Britten. Legacy In 1944, it was said of Walton that he summed up the recent past of English music and augured its future.
Later writers have concluded that Walton had little influence on the next generation of composers. In his later years, Walton formed friendships with younger composers including and, but although he admired their work, he did not influence their compositional styles. Throughout his life, Walton held no posts at music conservatoires; he had no pupils, gave no lectures and wrote no essays.
After his death, the Walton Trust, inspired by Susana Walton, has run arts education projects, promoted British music and held annual summer masterclasses on Ischia for gifted young musicians. The First Meeting of Troilus and Cressida, by, 1912 Walton worked for many years on his only full-length opera, both before its premiere and afterwards. It has never been regarded as a success. The libretto is generally considered weak, and Walton's music, despite many passages that have won critical praise, is not dramatic enough to sustain interest. Grove calls the work a partially successful attempt to revivify the traditions of nineteenth-century Italian opera in a post-war era wary of heroic Romanticism. Walton's only other opera, based on a comic vaudeville by, is judged by critics as much more successful. It is, however, a one-act piece, a genre not regularly staged at most opera houses, and so is infrequently seen.
Records four productions of the piece worldwide between 2013 and 2015. Chamber works Apart from an early experiment in in his String Quartet (1919–22), which he later described as 'full of undigested and Schoenberg', Walton's major essays in chamber music are his String Quartet in A Minor (1945–46) and the Sonata for Violin and Piano (1947–49).
In the opinion of Adams in Grove's Dictionary, the quartet is one of Walton's supreme achievements. Earlier critics did not always share this view. In 1956 The Record Guide said, 'The material is not first class and the composition as a whole seems laboured.' The work exists also in its later expanded form as the Sonata for Strings (1971), which, the critic Trevor Harvey wrote, combines Walton in his most energetically rhythmic mood with a 'vein of lyrical tenderness which is equally characteristic and is so rewarding to listen to'. The Violin Sonata is in two closely related movements, with strong thematic material in common.
The first movement is nostalgically lyrical, the second a set of variations, each one a higher than its predecessor. Walton briefly refers back to Schoenberg with a passage in the second movement, but otherwise the sonata is firmly. Choral and other vocal music.