Ruth Gipps: Orchestral Works, Volume 4 (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Violin Concerto, Op. 24; Leviathan, Op. 59; Symphony No. 5, Op. 64. Charlie Lovell-Jones, violinist; Bill Anderson, contrabassoonist; Rumon Gamba, conductor; BBC Philharmonic. Chandos 20319

Perhaps the most challenging aspect of reviewing classical music is having to deal honestly with composers and compositions that one wants to extol but can’t fully. The problem is compounded when performers are sympathetic and deliver the works in question about as well as can be expected. I want to root for Ruth Gipps and her advocates here, much as I have wanted to root for Mieczyslaw Weinberg and Company in my past reviews. I feel tempted to make exaggerated claims for these composers out of sheer admiration for their life stories, causes, and even the considerable talent that each exercised. But if the peculiar failures of recent musicology and music criticism (where they can be separated anymore) are any indication, merely wishing for something does not make it so. I wish Ruth Gipps were a great composer rather than merely a very good one capable of the occasional outstanding effort, but she wasn’t. And as I suggested in my review of Volume 3 of her orchestral works, this reality weighs when comparing her miniatures and longer works. Volume 4 here contains two of the latter plus a solid miniature: not an auspicious beginning for my initial desire to give this recording a rave review.

Bill Anderson

We’ll start with the miniature. Leviathan is scored for the interesting combination of contrabassoon (or double-bassoon) and chamber orchestra. Frankly, I’ve always harbored a special affection for this solo instrument, and my curiosity is stirred whenever it receives more than background consideration. Happily, Leviathan is now my personal favorite work featuring it (whatever that distinction is worth!). Here is a study in atmospheric scene setting, where I imagine an open ocean scene under a saturnine sky with a large sea serpent or cetacean rolling at the water’s surface. Aided by that imagery the music gives me chills! At 5 minutes long it should be programmed and taken up by your friendly local contrabassoonist everywhere.

But then we come to the bigger works, and I just wish I were less frustrated by them. The main thing is that Gipps’s themes are not arresting and differentiated enough for extended treatment. Materials that more distinguished composers might use briefly for transitional purposes here get positioned in a front-and-center way. Her tendency of spinning larger forms from these materials is reminiscent of Vaughan Williams, but without either his sense of drama or melodic ability. These problems are more serious in the Symphony, where there is no soloist to provide relief activity. But even in the Violin Concerto there is too much sameness that lasts for too long. The trimmer, more inviting Horn Concerto of later years avoids this issue. (I do think solo winds are friendlier to Gipps’s sound palette.) However, when it came to symphonies she was never entirely able to overcome her limitations. And so, while her Fifth is beautifully constructed and (again) atmospheric, it just doesn’t pack the punch that a work pushing 40 minutes ought to do. Not even a “Missa brevis for Orchestra” finale provides enough interest to keep me from wishing it had all ended beforehand.

I’ll say it: Ruth Gipps tended to be at her best when she attempted less. And there’s no shame in this! Even a great composer like Chopin never produced a symphony or an opera. Schumann is still most enthusiastically praised for his songs and piano miniature cycles. It’s not that any of these individuals couldn’t do big orchestral things; it’s that what they had to say was so frequently said advantageously in the small and medium genres. Gipps won’t bear comparison to Chopin or Schumann, nor even to one of the great British symphonists, but she doesn’t have to for her specific gifts to shine.