**Arnold: English Dances, Sinfoniettas, and Other Works**
Bournemouth SO, Charles Groves, conductor; Bournemouth Sinfonietta, Ronald Thomas, conductor; Philharmonia, Neville Dilkes, conductor; CBSO; Malcolm Arnold, conductor.
EMI Classics CDZ 5 74780 2. Recorded 1972–79, various venues. ADD, 76:16.
This generous anthology—drawn from EMI’s admirably consistent Arnold advocacy during the 1970s—reminds us what a supremely gifted miniaturist Malcolm Arnold could be. Twenty-five tracks, only one exceeding five minutes. The compression is Mozartian, though the emotional palette is darker, more troubled.
Arnold’s gift for distilling mood and atmosphere into brief, perfectly proportioned structures has always struck me as comparable to Liadov’s—those exquisite Russian tone poems where nothing is wasted, nothing overstays. Here we get the complete English Dances (both sets), the Serenade for Small Orchestra, all three Sinfoniettas, and the Four Cornish Dances. A substantial feast of what might be called Arnold’s lighter fare, though “light” hardly captures the shadows that periodically darken these scores.
Charles Groves leads the Bournemouth Symphony in the English Dances, and his long association with Arnold (he conducted the premieres of the Seventh and Eighth Symphonies) shows in the idiomatic phrasing and rhythmic spring. The 1976 Guildhall recording captures the orchestra in fine fettle, though I confess the string tone occasionally sounds a touch thin—not quite the opulence one ideally wants in Arnold’s more expansive lyrical moments. Still, Groves understands the music’s dual nature: the brash extroversion and the unexpected melancholy that can suddenly cloud a major-key tune. The alternation between rustic exuberance and wistful nostalgia is beautifully managed.
The Serenade with the Bournemouth Sinfonietta reveals Arnold at his most relaxed and lyrical. Ronald Thomas draws transparent textures from the smaller ensemble, though here the string sound grows distinctly wiry—a limitation of forces, perhaps, or the 1979 release venue. The first two movements charm without effort; the "finale" feels less inspired, though all Arnold’s fingerprints remain visible.
Now the Sinfoniettas. These aren’t miniature symphonies in the concentrated, aphoristic sense of a Rubbra Eleventh or Alwyn Fifth—Brian’s Symphonia Brevis even less so. They’re closer to eighteenth-century cassations: genial, well-crafted, occasionally probing darker emotional territory but never losing their essential poise. Neville Dilkes and the Philharmonia (recorded at Abbey Road in 1977) bring welcome weight to the First and Second, particularly in the "Allegro" con brio "finale"s where the orchestra really opens its lungs. The First, written for Boyd Neel’s ensemble, charms more than it challenges. But listen to the central Lento—those hints of Tapiola‘s forest gloom, even a touch of Mahlerian alienation. Arnold’s orchestral imagination never rests.
The Second Sinfonietta adopts a more serious mien in its opening movements before unbuttoning for a flute-dominated "finale" of considerable charm. The Third—now in four movements rather than three—marks a distinct darkening. The "Andante" particularly struck me: there’s genuine disillusionment here, echoes of late Frank Bridge, even Kurt Weill’s acidic cabaret melancholy. Thomas and Dilkes handle the shifting moods with considerable finesse.
But the disc’s crown jewel arrives at the end. The Four Cornish Dances with Arnold himself conducting the CBSO in 1972 at De Montfort Hall—this is demonstration-quality Arnold. The composer understands his own music’s theatrical contrasts better than anyone: the exuberant outer dances explode with infectious energy, while the eerie Andantino conjures fog-shrouded Cornish ghosts with remarkable economy. Those light percussion ostinati in the "Allegro", suggesting Trevithick’s steam engines—delicious. And yes, the Háry János echoes have never been so brazenly displayed. The CBSO responds with playing of real character and refinement.
The recorded sound across these various sessions holds up remarkably well, ADD transfers notwithstanding. Only the Sinfonietta sessions betray their age with occasional thinness in the upper strings.
This could easily serve as the cornerstone of an Arnold collection—seventy-six minutes of consistently engaging music, superbly performed. One wishes EMI would now gather the companion concertos from this same period: the works for clarinet, oboe, trumpet, horn. But that’s greedy. What we have here is more than sufficient testament to a composer whose craftsmanship and emotional range deserved—and still deserves—far wider recognition.
