This is Bryden Thomson's finest contribution yet to the Chandos Walton series, helped by fuller, more detailed recording than on digital rivals like Mackerras, Handley (both EMI) or Slatkin (Virgin Classics). I had rather feared that Thomson—who I found rather too expansive in the Second Symphony (7/90), lacking a degree of tension—would not convey the full bite of this searingly intense inspiration of the pre-war years. Yet his is a warmer, more idiomatically Waltonian view of the work than even Mackerras's which was my top digital choice when I last reviewed a new version (Fremaux on Collins Classics, 4/91). Previn's ever-fresh 1966 RCA version with the LSO still remains in a class of its own for its urgency and biting sense of drama, but equally the weight of Thomson's reading and his rhythmic persuasiveness go with a full appreciation of the emotional thrust of the work. In the slow movement he is more freely expressive than Previn, yet more than Mackerras keeps it flowing well. Aptly, Christopher Palmer's splendid note provides fascinating biographical material, filling in the emotional background behind Walton's celebrated failure to complete the finale in time for the planned first performance.
What my comparison of Thomson and Mackerras has regularly brought out is that the new version achieves its idiomatic feeling to a remarkable degree through Thomson's natural feeling for agogic emphasis, something which equally comes naturally to Previn. This is a work which builds tensions relentlessly, regularly working towards climaxes which are then dramatically resolved. In that process the extra impact at the moment of thrust brought by an agogic hesitation or a slight pressing forward can be crucial, notably in the hammered repetitions so characteristic of Walton, something which Thomson consistently realizes. It is not just a question of interpreting the notes literally, even though that may imperil ensemble in places. After all, Walton's rhythmic tricks, closely allied to jazz, ask to be treated similarly. If the scherzo is a degree less demonic than it might be at a speed fractionally slower than usual, it is infectiously sprung. There and throughout, the warmth and commitment of the performance tend to blot out any suspicion that extra rehearsal might have made it all as sharp as the early Previn.
The Mackerras still has an advantage coming at mid-price on EMI Eminence, coupled with an outstanding account of the Second Symphony. Thomson's coupling is far less generous, but very welcome when it is the first recording of Varii capricci, the orchestral suite in five compact movements which Walton developed from his set of guitar Bagatelles written for Julian Bream. It is astonishing how he manages to turn lightweight guitar textures into full-blown, robust orchestral sound, notably in the first movement, which is very like the Scapino Overture of nearly 40 years earlier. The three middle movements are relaxed and relatively slow, the third a sensuously scored Alla cubana with haunting tango rhythms, while the fourth with its tremolos sul ponticello might be sub-titled 'Nights in the Gardens of Ischia'. With a brilliant performance and sumptuous sound, it makes a fine supplement.'