George Dyson is a largely forgotten British composer (1883-1964). I have had his Violin Concerto (1941) in my collection for a very long time. A the time I bought the recording on the strength of the concerto's infectious Vivace which I had heard on a Gramophone sampler. However, when I heard the whole piece I was disappointed and as a result the CD has seen very little rotation.
But I am happy to report that revisiting the piece made me see it in a different light. Sure, it's a very long concerto. At just under 45 minutes one can easily say it has symphonic ambitions. The opening Molto moderato only takes a full 20 minutes. But having listened to it four times over the last few days, I feel the work doesn't outstay its welcome. Dyson's musical language is conservative, to put it midly. He was a pupil of Charles Villiers Stanford and on account of this concerto I would say Dyson's idiom remains within the compass of a traditionalist but tasteful late 19th century style.
The concerto starts with a dramatic flourish: a marvelous, noble, almost tragic theme in full orchestral garb that, remarkably enough, disappears from view in the remainder of the piece (I may not have recognised it, of course). It takes a full 3 minutes for the soloist to appear with a distinctive theme of an understated, hymnic character. The movement comes across as darkly lyrical and very rhapsodic. In that sense it reminds me of Schoeck's Violin Concerto (who composed it 4 decades earlier) but sadly Dyson does not quite match the exquisite, bittersweet ruminations of his Swiss colleague. However, the play of light and shadow in this expansive meditation entices. There are occasional echoes of Bax, RVW and Delius. Effortlessly the mental eye wanders over expansive, hospitable landscapes. The Vivace is a very accomplished, folksy scherzo, almost a jig. Dyson elaborates it with consumate skill. The Poco Andante is dreamy and very sweet, with a slightly more animated middle section. The finale - Allegro ma non troppo - surprises with its upbeat and dancelike character. It must have sounded oddly out of place at the premiere in 1942 London.
The filler on this disc is an attractive 20 minute, 4-movement suite that evokes a nursery world. Here the Delius fingerprints are even more difficult to ignore.
Lydia Mordkovitch and Richard Hickox (conducting the City of London Sinfonia) did an excellent job in shaping this expansive concerto. The Chandos recording is very successful too: warm but not shapeless, dynamic but not shrill.
All in all a pleasant rediscovery. Dyson's best-known work - the Canterbury Pilgrims cantata - has recently been included in Chandos' 241 budget series. Years ago I remember hearing a section from that too, with an impressive Robert Tear. I hope to be able to listen to it soon.
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