Symphony No. 2 (1933 rev. 1982) *
Symphony in A (No. 1) (1932 rev. 1982) **
Symphony No. 3 in F (1933) *
Charade 'Scenes from the '60s (1968) *
Symphony No. 4 'The Arctic' (1945-6) **
Overture from the opera 'John Socman' (1951) *
Symphony No. 5 in B-flat (1947-8) *
Symphony No. 6 (1956) *

* BBC Philharmonic
** Albany Symphony Orchestra

I will be the first one to admit that I am not all that familiar with the music of British composer George Lloyd (1913-1998). Aside from a recording I reviewed back in 2017 of his Symphonies 6 & 7, I don't believe I've heard anything else until now. Mind you I have always been well aware of this composer's standing and reputation. During my many, many years in classical music retail management, customers would often enquire about available recordings and would gladly place special orders (at a premium since the Albany label was an import here in Canada at the time), and anxiously await their arrival. That always piqued my curiosity about his music, but busy as I was listening to dozens of other composers at the time, George Lloyd was relegated to the back burners. Therefore this review will be a combination of bits from the booklet notes, anecdotes, and my initial perceptions of his music.

For your information, these are special, boxed-set Signature Edition reissues on the esteemed Lyrita label of previously individually available recordings on the Albany Records label, a production company established by the composer himself.

Symphony No. 1 (rec. 1990) → Considered a lightweight work structured around a theme-and-variations format, and laid out as one single movement divided into three segments, it opens in a lively and spirited fashion, and immediately demonstrates Lloyd's ease with organic development, with different sections of the orchestra tossing around and exchanging motifs and ideas in one continuous flow of thoughts and reflections. The ease with which the composer manipulates the main subject from start to finish is quite impressive. Most especially the way he adorns it in constantly varying garb by clever use of his orchestration skills. The buildup halfway through the final segment is quite impressive, as it requires nimble and agile playing from the orchestra members. The symphony ends with a strong, fanfaric flourish.

Symphony No. 2 (rec. 1986) → More conventional in form and structure as it is laid out over the usual four-movement format, Lloyd's 2nd Symphony is a stronger, more extrovert work than its predecessor. As the aptly marked Con brio first movement opens, a flurry of activity sets the symphony in motion. And once again, George Lloyd's knack for ingenious thematic manipulation is on full display. I can discern bits of William Walton lurking in the shadows now and then. Lloyd's penchant for evocative melodies is highly apparent within this symphony's Largo movement. The tongue-in-cheek Alla marcia Scherzo movement which follows is full of wit and parody, all the way to its jocundly abrupt ending. By contrast, the final movement opens with a sense of foreboding. There's a sense of unease throughout which the booklet notes describe as "transmogrified" tunes. As if the upcoming conflicts were already being presaged, and uncommon for Lloyd, it ends on a rather cynical tone.

Symphony No. 3 in F (rec. 1992) → It's hard to believe that George Lloyd was only 19 years old by this point. As in the First, its three movements are continuous, with the middle Lento movement acting as the nucleus of the symphony. Almost prayerful in character, its highly memorable main melody and gripping atmosphere, linger on the mind long after audition. Once again Lloyd's command of development and charged emotive expression come to the fore here. The finale, aptly marked Energico, opens with boisterous brass fanfares and leads to a truly rollicking finish, the type from which goosebumps are generated.

The twelve year lapse between the 3rd and 4th Symphonies is documented as follows in the booklet notes: When war broke out in September 1939, Lloyd joined the Royal Marines as a bandsman. In 1942 he served as a radio signaller on Arctic convoys to Murmansk on the cruiser HMS Trinidad. During one of these convoys the ship was struck by one of its own malfunctioning torpedoes. An oil tank was ruptured and the transmitting station which Lloyd was helping to operate filled with oil. There were heavy casualties and he was almost drowned. He was mentally and physically traumatised to the extent that his doctors believed he would never recover. Nancy Lloyd refused to accept this verdict and slowly nursed her husband back to health.

Symphony No. 4 'The Arctic' (rec. 1987) → Surprisingly, when compared to the darker Symphony No. 6 from the same period by Ralph Vaughan Williams which was obviously a direct reaction to the war, and while still recovering from a highly traumatic experience, Lloyd's post-war symphony, despite its opening crescendo drumroll, seems rather bereft of anger and trauma. In fact, some passages within its opening movement seem almost bucolic in character. Midway through the movement though agitation and disquiet do come to the surface, and following a tense skirmish subside and allow the movement to return to its calm nature, at least until the short-lived flashy ending. In a hushed whisper, the following Lento tranquillo opens mysteriously, tentatively. Like delicate gossamer, the strings and harp lead the way well into the movement, where woodwind chatter and strong string melodies take over leading to a brass peroration at its climax. The movement subsides just as mysteriously as it came in. The Allegro scherzando is rather jaunty and cheerful for someone slowly recovering from shell-shock and, quite honestly sounds like a pleasant trot through the countryside. Its sprightly rhythmical cadence is infectious. Midway through, as if resting under a large oak tree, the pace slows to a beautiful, slumbering lilt, embellished with darker woodwind colors. Fully rested, the cheerful trot resumes with the same fleet-footed resolve, and leads to a powerful and joyful coda. The final movement, the longest so far in this collection at 21 minutes, opens full of promise and assurance. Almost Elgarian in character, some of the middle episodes pass by with quasi-martial pomp and purpose. A powerful frenzy erupts at the 14 minute mark, only to lead back into a gleeful march-like episode. Lloyd's organic writing and orchestration skills are remarkable here, as everything seamlessly comes together to bring the whole symphony to a truly epic and grandiose coda. I'm sure each and every musician in the orchestra must have had a huge grin on their faces as they rushed to the finish line.

Symphony No. 5 in B-flat (rec. 1989) → As we rise up through the numbers, it seems that good spirits are also on the rise. This symphony was composed during a happy period of George Lloyd's life, enjoying a simple life on the shores of a lake in Switzerland. This extended, five-movement work certainly launches on a highly positive note, with the first movement brimming with bright and sweeping gestures. If you're listening to this at a high volume, the opening of the following Corale. Grave is guaranteed to give you a jolt - a hard snap of the snare drum with brass choir chords - quickly followed by a sudden diminuendo. It's an odd movement scored mostly for wind instruments and percussion with, at times, some glaring dissonances. It is said that Lloyd was fond of brass instruments, and he certainly puts these to the test within this quirky segment. Tne ensuing Delicatamente scherzando is a prime example of sprightly and mercurial writing, very brightly colored with piccolo, flutes, triangles and tinkling bells, and odd instrumental couplings. It's as if the instruments of the orchestra have been sprinkled with fairy dust, as they dart to and fro. The Lamento. Adagio drammatico which follows is the emotional core of the symphony, described as a 'cri de coeur' in the booklet notes. It's highly lyrical and emotionally charged ending would make for great background music during a film's tragic scene. Of the finale to the last movement the composer said: "Everything is brought in to make as exhilarating a sound as possible." The whole movement is one sonic outburst after another. The final two minutes or so are quite simply hair-raisingly spectacular.

Symphony No. 6 (rec. 1988) → Here's William Walton lurking behind the notes within the opening movement. And in my aforementioned review of this symphony conducted by Edward Downes, I had mentioned: "The second movement Adagio on the other hand sets a beautifully idyllic tone laden with grievous sadness which Lloyd adroitly prevents from falling into despair. In my opinion, one of the most affecting and poignant slow movements of any English symphony." Somewhat similar to some of Sibelius' most evocative and elegiac moments. And that certainly applies here as well. Here, in his role as conductor, Lloyd allows the music to gently flow of its own power. And in typical Lloyd proclivity, the final movement caps the symphony in an upbeat fashion with boundless energy.

I now regret the fact that I took so long to discover and appreciate the music of George Lloyd. Definitely a set worth having for anyone who enjoys symphonic and/or orchestral music, and an absolute must-have for anyone deeply invested in powerful and polished 20th century symphonic writing. Tonal from start to finish, organic in development, and powerful in expressive and emotive outlook. Plus, conducted by the composer himself, it rings true and feels authentic. The audio engineering from the mid 1980s is wide and open, and projects the scope of the orchestra very well.