Barber: Violin Concerto, op. 14; Souvenirs, op. 28; Serenade for Strings, op. 1; Music for a Scene from Shelley, op. 7
James Buswell, violin. Royal Scottish National Orchestra; Marin Alsop, conductor.
Naxos. Recorded at Henry Wood Hall, Glasgow. Compact disc.
Barber in Scotland: A Mixed Blessing
Marin Alsop’s Barber series for Naxos continues to intrigue—though not always to persuade. This third installment brings us the Violin Concerto, that most beloved of American works, alongside three orchestral pieces that chart the composer’s stylistic journey from youthful Romanticism to midcentury sophistication.
The Violin Concerto remains one of those pieces that can survive almost anything. Commissioned by the industrialist Samuel Fels for his adopted son Iso Briselli—who famously rejected it as “too simple” (imagine his chagrin!)—it’s become a repertory staple precisely because of its unabashed melodic generosity. Those two opening movements, with their long-breathed lyricism, make no apologies for their emotional directness. The "finale"’s perpetuum mobile has sent many a violinist scrambling.
James Buswell plays with considerable intelligence and commitment. His phrasing in the "Andante" second movement shows genuine understanding—he knows when to lean into Barber’s harmonies, when to float above them. But here’s the problem, and it’s not a small one: the sound. We’re told he’s playing a 1720 Stradivarius, yet what emerges from the speakers has a peculiarly wiry, almost nasal quality that robs the instrument of its natural bloom. Is this the violin itself? The microphone placement? Some quirk of Henry Wood Hall’s acoustics? Whatever the cause, it matters. In a concerto this unashamedly Romantic, where the soloist must seduce us with sheer tonal beauty, a thin or edgy sound becomes a serious liability. Buswell’s artistry is secure, his musicianship evident—but the sonic result leaves one hungry for the plush, golden tone that Hilary Hahn or Joshua Bell bring to this work.
Alsop has clearly worked hard with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra on getting inside American idioms. The results are considerably more idiomatic than on the first disc in this series—there’s a genuine swing to the rhythms now, a looseness in the articulation that feels authentic rather than studied. The orchestra plays with warmth and precision, though one occasionally wishes for more sheer heft in the tuttis.
Souvenirs—that delicious confection inspired by pre–World War I nostalgia—receives a thoroughly charming interpretation. Barber’s evocation of the Palm Court at the Plaza Hotel, complete with tangos and waltzes, demands a light touch and affectionate wit. Alsop provides both. The “Hesitation-Tango” has just the right degree of rhythmic give, while “Two-Step” bounces along with infectious energy. This isn’t music that requires deep excavation; it simply needs to be played with style and elegance, and it is.
The Serenade for Strings, arranged from the early string quartet, shows us the eighteen-year-old Barber already in command of his craft. It’s a slight work—three brief movements that wear their influences (Elgar? Delius?) lightly—but it’s beautifully made. The RSNO strings produce a warm, blended sound here, though I found myself wishing for more individual character in the phrasing, more dynamic shading. It’s well played but perhaps a bit too polite.
Music for a Scene from Shelley gives us Barber at his most Debussyan—all shimmering textures and atmospheric washes of color. Inspired by Prometheus Unbound (though the composer insisted it wasn’t programmatic), it’s a single-movement tone poem that demands sophisticated orchestral playing. Alsop handles the score’s shifting moods skillfully, and the recording captures the refined instrumental balances. The clarinet solos are particularly fine.
The recorded sound is generally distinguished: spacious, detailed, with good depth. Only in the concerto does one feel that something went awry in the engineering.
So where does this leave us? The disc offers valuable insights into Barber’s range—from the youthful lyricism of the Serenade to the sophisticated charm of Souvenirs. The performances are consistently intelligent and well prepared. But that problematic violin tone in the concerto—the disc’s main attraction—keeps this from being a first recommendation. For the concerto, one must still turn to Hahn with Wolff, or Bell with Slatkin, or even the classic Stern recording. The couplings, though, are worth having, and Alsop’s ongoing exploration of American repertoire deserves support.
A qualified success, then. Not quite the knockout one hopes for, but valuable nonetheless.
