
Much has been written on this work as a musical event with few if any equals. Yet it is vital to bear in mind that Brian, already an experienced composer when he began the piece, was reckless only in his conception – ‘problems’ that are encountered in performance being mainly logistical and occasionally technical though never arising from the musical content. All credit to Brabbins for overseeing so intensive a preparation (both regionally and at Alexandra Palace prior to the dress rehearsal), such that precious little was left to chance on the night itself. Anything that went wrong therefore stemmed from failings which were relative rather than intrinsic.
And this was not a performance that played it safe. Not only did it proceed straight through as intended, but Brabbins inserted brief pauses only after the first and before the last of its six movements – enabling the work to be appreciated as a cumulatively unfolding entity whose tonal evolution is as oblique yet as purposeful as its emotional progression. As a representation of the Gothic era in all of its diversity and contradiction, Brian was hardly averse to admitting a few formal ‘curve-balls’, though these only serve to open-out the expressive scope of a piece whose inclusivity can only be appreciated in the original sense of that much misused word.


Brian making the sixth movement the longest and the most diverse was a gamble that paid off handsomely in this performance. Peter Auty coped gainfully with his high-lying aria, while Alastair Miles gave a persuasive account of his more introspective solo. The choruses had the measure of music ranging from the densest tuttis to plainchant-like austerity (intonation aided, as earlier, by discreet organ underpinning). The nonchalant then celebratory sequence framed by jazzy clarinet march-pasts was unerringly handled, though Brabbins might have kept the frenzied double-peroration for massed brass and drums nearer the tempo of the choral double fugue (given with exquisite pathos), allowing their naked violence its head even more fully before a fragmented orchestral postlude. That said, the closing ‘Non confundar in aeternam’ was flawlessly rendered – its calm imploration imbued with a speech-like understatement which set the preceding 105 minutes in the most meaningful relief.
Otherwise, the sterling contributions of Christine Rice – denied a solo – to the vocal quartet, and David Goode in the wide-ranging organ part, must be mentioned. Orchestral failings were gratifyingly few, with the BBC National Orchestra of Wales and the BBC Concert Orchestra evincing unanimity as if they collaborated on a regular basis. Above all this was Brabbins’s performance, and the discreet but intent control exerted over the vast numbers (no voice or instrument spared) left no doubt he believed in the music from the inside and had absorbed it thus. That the capacity audience betrayed few signs of its presence says much for this conviction. Hopefully it will not be another thirty-one years before Gothic Symphony is heard in this venue again (previously Ole Schmidt). Such a work is, almost by definition, an occasional piece – albeit one that stands to offer much by being widely known and thought on. As flawed masterpieces go, no other risks so much in staking out the listener’s awareness of its greatness.
- BBC Proms
- Gothic Symphony/Boult
- This performance was subsequently issued on the Hyperion label