Ruth Gipps Orchestral Works, Volume 3 (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Coronation Procession, Op. 41; Ambarvalia, Op. 70; Concerto for Horn and Orchestra, Op. 58; Cringlemire Garden, Op. 29; Symphony No. 1, Op. 22. Martin Owen, horn; Rumon Gamba, conductor; BBC Philharmonic. Chandos 20284

In this third installment of Ruth Gipps’s orchestral music, Chandos shows that there is plenty else by the Englishwoman that is worth exploring. Indeed, a couple of what I consider to be her finest compositions are on this disc. I imagine that few listeners are somehow already familiar with the “dance” Ambarvalia, which receives its premiere recording here. Despite its modest playing time of just over 7 minutes, this tribute to composer Adrian Cruft (who died early in 1987) is one of the loveliest British orchestral works I have ever heard. If I am not mistaken, it is Gipps’s last composition for an orchestral ensemble (albeit a small orchestra in this case). By this point Gipps had fully assimilated her influences and was able to wield a distinctive personal voice. In her mature works she often loves to revel in rippling melody and turquoise hues. These are nowhere better evidenced than in Ambarvalia, which deserves to adorn live concerts with at least intermittent regularity. 

 

Of course, many horn players have long known the Horn Concerto of 1968, already the beneficiary of multiple recordings. While not exactly a miniature work like Ambarvalia, its three movements are relatively short and feature many of the same stylistic fingerprints. A certain pastoral dreaminess governs the proceedings despite some virtuosic passages for the soloist. But what we hear is not merely second-hand Vaughan Williams; Gipps’ aesthetic world here is very much her own, whatever she occasionally owes to her famous teacher. Soloist Martin Owens may lack some of David Pyatt’s glittering brilliance (Lyrita SRCD316), but the former’s velvety tone strikes me as a better fit for such a balmy score. 

 

Rumon Gamba

While I’m comparatively less impressed with the other works performed here, all of them offer at least pleasant listening experiences. Each is from earlier in Gipps’s career. The Coronation Procession of 1953 is approximately the length as Ambarvalia, although perhaps lacking its younger sibling’s stronger flavor. Savvy listeners might recall the middle section melody being used in Malcolm Arnold’s Variations on a Theme of Ruth Gipps (1977). (The two composers were close friends from their student days. They also had much in common as opponents of avant-gardism during the age of its ascendance.) In his unsurprisingly excellent liner notes, musicologist Lewis Foreman calls Cringlemire Garden a “pastoral miniature.” Gipps herself subtitled it “An Impression for String Orchestra.” Indeed, the inspiration was the Lake District landscape. Compared to everything heard so far, this work is more glaringly indebted to Vaughan Williams. Though nice, I am not sure it is strong enough to compete with its more distinguished models. 

The third item receiving its premiere recording here is Gipps’s First Symphony, composed in 1942. This is the product of a student. It’s an extremely impressive effort for being that, but stylistically pretty much “Vaughan Williams plus water” (to modify a criticism once leveled, less truthfully, at the music of Charles Villiers Stanford). While Gipps would go on to compose four more masterfully constructed symphonies, she never quite sounds as convincing in them as she does in her smaller creations. The themes and pastel colors with which she paints in selections such as Ambarvalia, or even the Horn Concerto, poorly transplant to more extended structures. As one can read from my published work, I’m far from a stickler for traditional “symphonic form.” Much the opposite! But Gipps simply fails to hold the (or my) attention in this medium as she does in the best of her more concentrated efforts. 

 

All in all, though, Volume 3 delivers a soundly worthwhile listening experience. Conductor Rumon Gamba and his musicians yet again adroitly give some worthy music good exposure. I can’t help thinking, though, as I partake of release upon release churned out by Chandos and others, about potential audiences. How much of even the best of this material is being heard, and by whom? How much stands to catch on or endure in the ever-fraught marketplace for classical music? This is all increasingly on my mind, with no concrete answers in sight.