Reviews for British Piano Concertos

Find the full review in the October 2025 edition of Gramophone.

Here’s an interesting prospect: three British (sort of) piano concertos, each from a different 20th-century decade, each offering different escape routes from those epic 19th-century boxing matches between a piano virtuoso and the orchestra. The unifying factor is the crisp artistry of Clare Hammond, whether she’s navigating the florid tendrils creeping over Tippett’s Concerto for Piano and Orchestra or pecking out the suggestive phrases that propel Britten’s Diversions using only the fingers of her left hand.   The album begins with Walton’s early Sinfonia Concertante, heard in its 1943 revision, not his most compelling piece, with the piano sometimes reduced to guest appearances in a tapestry that never quite knits together. Hammond and orchestra (the BBC Symphony Orchestra, conducted by George Vass) secure bigger rewards in the chiselled exchanges of the Britten, written for the one-armed pianist Paul Wittgenstein. Tippett’s hothouse effusions suit them too, even if the orchestra at times needs just a little more virility to match Hammond’s athletic flair.

Flora Willson: But we're going to start with a different disc. This is a disc of 20th-century piano works with orchestra by Britten, Tippett, and Walton. You might think, okay, so what's unexpected about that? But these are not big-hitting, well-known pieces of repertory. We've got Britten's Diversions for the piano left hand and orchestra. That's one of the Paul Wittgenstein pieces that he commissioned. That was the great pianist who lost his right arm in World War I fighting. The Tippett Concerto for piano and orchestra that was commissioned by the CBSO in the 1950s. But we're actually going to hear part of Walton's Sinfonia Concertante, not a well-known work.

Andrew McGregor: It's not well known, but it's got a really convoluted history, hasn't it? Because this is the last revision from 1943, isn't it? And so, big orchestra. So, obbligato piano, but it didn't sound like this.

FW: It did not, no. This started life as a ballet score. It was actually written speculatively by Walton for Diaghilev, no less, and his Ballets Russes in the 1920s. Walton was only in his mid-twenties himself, and Diaghilev politely declined and said, you know, have another go when you're a little bit older, young man. Funnily enough, Walton did have other goes. He wrote more ballet scores, this time choreographed by Frederick Ashton, the great British choreographer, but as far as the Sinfonia Concertante was concerned, Walton wasn't put off. He turned it first into a concert work, which was effectively a piano concerto, and then he returned to it a good 15 years after that world premiere and actually reduced the prominence of the piano. He effectively sort of stopped it being a piano concerto and turned it more into a symphony with piano. And the pianist, Clare Hammond, has recorded this with the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by George Vass. And we're going to listen to the third movement. This is an Allegro Vivo.

[Walton - Sinfonia Concertante, m. 3]

AM: The end of William Walton's Sinfonia Concertante, originally a ballet score from 1927, eventually turned into that symphony with piano obbligato, as Walton called it. And that's the new recording from pianist Clare Hammond with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, conducted by George Vass. Flora. I was surprised to see how much of a rarity this still is on record. I mean, there are very few recordings, two of them conducted by Walton himself.

FW: Yes, I think this is really significant that we've actually got another modern recording here, and it's so persuasive. I mean, you hear the relationship between the piano and the orchestra. and the movement we've just heard. The piano is almost like another percussion instrument, at times, more tuned percussion alongside the others that Walton's got there. It's such a musical dialogue, both in terms of how Walton has written this later version of the piece, but also the way Hammond plays it. She's, you know, so utterly at ease stepping in and out of the spotlight. You know those moments of virtuosic, really flashy finger work; she's absolutely got them in her fingers.

AM: I jotted down that she makes it seem quite straightforward, but in a lovely way.

FW: Exactly, it sounds easy, but then she's also willing to recede to be among the kind of rank and file of all the musicians of the BBC Symphony Orchestra.

AM: So she gets what he meant because it is that with piano obbligato, it's not a concerto, it’s a conversation.

FW: Well exactly. And I think the words piano concerto immediately set off, since the 19th century, a series of associations for us about, you know, what a soloist is, what a soloist should do, and especially there's something about pianos, you know, you're playing a big instrument placed in front of an orchestra. That too has a series of associations. And yet Hammond and the BBC Symphony here are just willing to kind of gently dismantle some of that, all in the service of this really, I'm going to say, fun music. It's got such spirit It really carries you along.

AM: It's really entertaining. What about the Tippett Piano Concerto though, just briefly, because, well, it's got a reputation of being sort of almost unplayable, although Stephen Osborne, or John Ogden, or even Lang Lang would disagree.

FW: Well, quite. I think, you know, the fact that the pianist originally booked to give its premiere declared it unplayable and walked out of rehearsals, that is meaningful, even though some have proved it definitely playable ever since. You know, I don't think you'd get Hammond pulling something like that. Put it this way. It's a really remarkable recording. Again, that real apparent ease. The Tippett Concerto, I mean, it takes in really ethereal glistening of the first movement. There's some thunderous piano playing. I mean, there's nothing gentle about the way Hammond's going here. But then you get some of, you know, Tippett's classic groove as well. It's a great recording.

AM: It is. Concertante pieces by Walton, Tippett, and Britten from Clare Hammond and the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by George Vass, released yesterday on BIS. It's a hybrid SACD. And there'll be music by Sir Michael Tippett at the end of Record Review this afternoon. A new concert recording of his oratorio A Child of Our Time. That's at about ten to four. And I think you're going to be able to hear Clare Hammond's complete recording of the Tippett in Radio 3's Classical Live this Wednesday afternoon from one o'clock.

Find the full review in the December edition of BBC Music Magazine.

On her latest BIS CD, British pianist Clare Hammond (° 1985) presents a richly filled programme of three British piano concertos from the twentieth century, accompanied by the BBC Symphony Orchestra under the direction of George Vass. Hammond resolutely chooses unknown paths and proves both her virtuosity and her intellectual finesse in works by William Walton (1902–1983), Benjamin Britten (1913–1976) and Michael Tippett (1905–1998).

Walton between bravura and refinement

Walton's Sinfonia concertante (1943)—originally conceived as ballet music—is lively and playful, full of stylistic quotations from contemporaries like Stravinsky and Poulenc, but always unmistakably Walton's. Hammond emphasises the dialogue between piano and orchestra rather than a battle between soloist and ensemble, with an elegant lightness of touch in the fast work and a warm lyrical touch in the slow middle section. Conductor Vass keeps the soundscape light and transparent, allowing Walton's witty humour to shine without losing any of the drama. Britten composed his Diversions (1940) for the one-armed pianist Paul Wittgenstein. Hammond sets the eleven variations to music as miniatures, each with its own character: playful, melancholic, sometimes bitingly ironic. Her profound knowledge of this score—she wrote her doctorate on it—is evident in her captivating interpretation. The “Nocturne” exudes a delicate poetry, while the virtuoso movements never lose their light touch. There is a perfect understanding here between soloist and orchestra, with Vass as a passionate accompanist. Tippett’s Piano Concerto (1955) is among his most compelling works. Hammond has an unerring sense of how to build tension: her sound is monumental without being overweight, and the climactic moments are all the more powerful. In the central Molto lento e tranquillo, pianist and orchestra navigate a labyrinth of sound and colour, with a clear vision and without falling into fog. In the final movement, the work bursts forth with a dancing vitality, bursting with musical fireworks. Vass keeps the sometimes heavy orchestration light, and the BBC Symphony Orchestra gives it its all.

More Than Bravura: Clare Hammond as an Explorer

Hammond is known as one of the most curious and versatile pianists of her generation. She combines a clear technique and transparent touch with a profound musical curiosity. Albums like Études (2014), which pairs classics with new etudes, her inventive Josef Mysliveček: Complete Keyboard Music, and the introspective Ghosts & Whispers (2021) are testament to this. Hammond is not only a virtuoso soloist, but also an inspiring chamber musician and an advocate of contemporary music. Her international recognition—including her recognition with the Royal Philharmonic Society's Young Artist Award—stems from her original vision, her sensitive choices, and her courage to explore uncharted territory. This recording is a textbook example: Hammond revalues forgotten masterpieces in a unique and profound way.

Conclusion: Highly recommended

British Piano Concertos: Walton, Britten & Tippett is a CD that captivates both for its program and its expressive and refined performance. Hammond makes the often complex scores sound as if they were self-evident: intelligent, emotional, and always in dialogue with the orchestra. For those who want to expand their repertoire and discover the richness of British modernism, Hammond's CD is highly recommended. An excellent testament to the British piano concerto, with Clare Hammond as a compelling ambassador.

While the newspapers are filled with discussions about AI-generated music in shops and supermarkets—intended to circumvent Sabam but usually sounding as if someone had put Chopin through a blender—fortunately, music is also emerging that centers on humans. Pianist Clare Hammond proves with her new CD that interpretation, feeling, and imagination are still unprogrammable.

Together with the BBC Symphony Orchestra, conducted by George Vass, she presents three gems by British composers: William Walton (1902–1983), Benjamin Britten (1913–1976), and Michael Tippett (1905–1998). Three contemporaries, three completely different voices, but all driven by the same quest: what does human expression sound like in a changing world?

Walton’s Sinfonia Concertante (1927, revised 1943) bursts with life. Originally written as ballet music for Diaghilev, it’s a sparkling piece of rhythmic quirks, humor, and English elegance. Hammond plays it with joy, audible in every note—lively, precisely, and without a trace of aloofness. Next comes Britten’s Diversions, a work with an almost believable story. Britten wrote it in 1940 for Paul Wittgenstein, the pianist who lost his right arm in the First World War. Wittgenstein also commissioned such luminaries as Ravel, Prokofiev, Korngold, and Richard Strauss, and Britten joined that list with a composition for the left hand alone. Listening, you quickly forget this: Hammond makes the piano sound as if she’s playing with both hands. In the second movement, Recitative, she sweeps across the keyboard—from left to right—with a control that is at once powerful and tender. Britten names his variations Romance, March, Nocturne, and Toccata, as if he were walking through music history, saluting Bach, Schumann, and Chopin along the way. The final work, Tippett's Piano Concerto (1953–1955), is cinematic. Inspired by Walter Gieseking's performance of Beethoven's Fourth Piano Concerto, Tippett composed a dialogue between piano and orchestra, not a struggle. The third and final movement is exhilarating and leaves the listener with a smile that stretches across the room.

And then there's that striking CD cover. The background was clearly created by artificial intelligence—geometric, slightly distorted, almost surreal. But if you look closely, you'll notice that Hammond herself also seems a bit too smooth, as if her portrait were digitally generated. Perhaps that's a coincidence, perhaps not. But it fits wonderfully with the message of this CD: that in an age when images and sounds are increasingly artificial, human interpretation is indispensable. This recording is therefore an ode to craft, expression, and nuance—three things that no algorithm will ever be able to credibly imitate.

Review available in Dutch here.

Find the full review in the Winter 2025 edition of International Piano.

From BIS recordings, Britten’s Diversions for the Left Hand (1940, revised 1954), the Tippett Piano Concerto (1953-55) and Walton’s Sinfonia Concertante (1927, but revised 16 years later) make a triumphant trio of important, but – strangely – neglected British works. In the hands of Clare Hammond, one of our most admired pianists, these exciting concerto pieces reveal not just the genius of their composers, but (like the Bliss and Vaughan Williams mentioned earlier) the style and form of a whole golden era of our music: the unique fusion of nostalgic lyricism and light – especially in the Walton – interwoven with dynamic, often stretched tonality; and in the Britten and Walton, an intricate embroidery of variation upon variation, of abstract ideas, which somehow managed to sound as though they have been drawn, as if by water-divining magic from the fen, meadow and megalith landscape of England. George Vass and the BBC Symphony Orchestra give a razor-sharp accompaniment to Clare’s brilliant detail, but those who know Vernon Handley’s version of the Sinfonia Concertante may prefer his faster tempo and ‘thicker’ orchestral sound. But that is not to say that the BIS performance is anything other than completely satisfying and substantial in its well-captured recorded studio sound.

This enterprising and well-filled programme of works for piano and orchestra is self-recommending for its contents almost as much as it is for the excellence of its soloist. You can always have confidence in Clare Hammond as a performer of whatever she turns her hands to, and so I was never going to turn down an offer to hear this release.

Hammond’s own booklet notes on these works are concise and informative, and she points out that William Walton’s Sinfonia Concertante has only been recorded twice previously in its 1943 revised version, both times with the composer conducting. Walton’s fine but softer-edged recording on with Peter Katin from 1970 can be found on the Lyrita label (review), and Phyllis Sellick and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra from 1945 is of course in glorious mono but was produced by Walter Legge and is surprisingly good for its age if you can find it. Another recording with Peter Donohoe on Naxos (review) is of the 1927 original and it is intriguing to compare similarities and differences between the two. This work was originally intended as music for ballet, and while it has plenty of Walton fingerprints in its character, the early influence of contemporaries such as Stravinsky and Poulenc, and of impressionist orchestrators such as Ravel and Debussy can all be heard. There is romance in the air everywhere especially in the gorgeous slow second movement, though Walton’s firm fist is never entirely absent, and there is plenty of that wit and humour in the finale to go along with more troubling elements perhaps associated with the movement’s original dedicatee, Sacheverell Sitwell.

Benjamin Britten’s Diversions was written for the left-handed pianist Paul Wittgenstein, and the composer is quoted as stating that in “no place in [Diversions] did I attempt to imitate a two-handed piano technique”, reinforced by Hammond’s comment that “he did not seek to conceal the soloist’s one-handedness, but revelled in it.” There is plenty of virtuoso writing in this work, but too much of this was allocated to the orchestra in Wittgenstein’s opinion, and so he proceeded to muck about with the score to ‘improve’ both the solo part and some of the orchestration, with Britten’s original only to be restored in the 1950s. This is an excellent performance of another rarely heard work, full of contrasts as you might expect in a theme and eleven variations, and lighter in touch than can sometimes be the case with this composer. There are few enough recordings of this around, but it certainly stands comparison with Steven Osbourne’s excellent performance with the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra on Hyperion CDA67625. The BBC Symphony Orchestra and soloist are more forward in terms of sonic perspective and as a result perhaps a touch less atmospheric in the quieter variations, but Osbourne’s piano is twangier in its sound so it’s one more case of swings and roundabouts and no clear winner either way.

Michael Tippett’s Piano Concerto is always a treat, and I still treasure Steven Osborne’s recording on the Hyperion label (review), which is something of a reference when it comes to Tippett’s piano works in general. Osborne is a touch more compact than Hammond when it comes to timings, with the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra sounding clean and disciplined. The BIS recording picks out instrumental solos more closely, emphasising the chamber-music qualities of certain passages in the first movement, but with the piano solo also closer in the balance those grandly gestural shifts in perspective have a different effect. The function of the piano as an orchestral continuo, adding colour and magical sparkle is lost somewhat, and while it’s good to hear most of Clare Hammond’s notes, half a metre or so of extra distance between us and the piano might have made the difference. The central Molto lento e tranquillo is nicely done, but the lower strings are indistinct and again the piano’s riffs are more solo than concerto, which is a shame. The final Vivace is suitably spectacular and rhythmically dynamic, with a potent eloquence in those elongated phrases through perhaps lacking some of that driving edge-of-the-seat impetus this movement can have. All of these are relatively minor gripes and on its own terms this is most emphatically a fine recording that will by no means disappoint.

Whatever the competition, this is a must-have programme for seekers of mostly neglected and rarely performed mid-20th century British repertoire. With regard to sound quality, this is released on one of BIS’s multi-layered SACD discs where I had to make do with a WAV file download. This sounds good enough in conventional stereo but the recording will no doubt benefit from the full SACD surround or stereo treatment, and any comments I have concerning balance and other details should be read with this in mind.

Clare Hammond’s new recording with the BBC Symphony Orchestra and George Vass invites us into a world of invention, warmth, and wit brought into focus by a pianist whose hallmark is clarity without coldness. Pianist Clare Hammond has collaborated with the BBC Symphony Orchestra and conductor George Vass to offer a thought-provoking contrast of three mid-twentieth-century works for piano and orchestra written within thirty years of each other.

In the sleeve notes, Clare Hammond describes recording this album with Vass and the BBC Symphony Orchestra as an immensely fulfilling experience. Listening, it’s hard not to hear that evident in her playing. Her sound carries a distinctive crispness — even in the most lyrical passages — that sets her apart from many amongst her generation. There’s a reassuring fastidiousness in the placing of every note. The second-movement solo line in Walton’s Sinfonia Concertante, delicately shadowed by the flutes, is a striking example: poised, lucid, and unshowy. Yet the clarity comes with a self-assured warmth. The movement’s swift harmonic shifts and intricately woven textures grow from careful decision-making — the kind of detail in music-making that acts as a powerful trigger for the imaginative listener. The outer movements are textbook Walton, the concluding finale decorated with dazzling brass and an enveloping string sound from the BBC Symphony Orchestra that could, if you shut your eyes for a moment, easily sweep you off your feet. The material for keyboard may not have the allure it does in the first two movements — it’s the rhythm that does a lot of the heavy lifting here — but Hammond’s execution remains characteristically sharp and dry, taut percussion giving the final bars a playful, throwaway wink.

Britten’s Diversions are essentially a set of theme and variations, though disguised as a series of evocative vignettes. Written in 1941 for left-handed pianist Paul Wittgenstein, when the composer was living in the US during the Second World War, the work carries a glorious sense of youthful energy. The second-movement Romance in particular — a simple, slightly awkward melodic idea confidently underpinned by dry yet committed strings — captures the early Britten sound. In the March that follows, Clare Hammond creates a playful distraction from the thunderous, faintly pompous orchestral accompaniment. The piano articulation in the Arabesque is carefully spun gold, while the Badinerie bubbles along with gurgling wit. The virtuosity and the ensemble evident in the Toccata build the tension nicely before the orchestra takes on the lead in material with more than a whiff of Copland about it.

The path to premiering Tippett’s Piano Concerto — the third work on this album — was far from straightforward. Originally intended for pianist Noel Mewton-Wood, who died in December 1953, the work was later offered to Julius Katchen, who famously walked out of rehearsals claiming it was unplayable.

Seventy-five years later, that claim feels hard to fathom when hearing Hammond and the BBC Symphony Orchestra in this performance. Her recording places her firmly within a distinguished line of British pianists who have championed the work — Howard Shelley, John Ogdon, Benjamin Frith, and Steven Osborne among them. This feels the richest of the three concertos on the album: a supple blend of wind and brass, warm strings, and nimble shifts of style, mood, and colour from the piano. The lyrical second movement glows with shimmering luminosity, its harmonies shifting purposefully beneath an undercurrent of quiet urgency. Hammond’s clarity ensures it never slips into sentimentality, maintaining a razor-sharp edge within an overarching legato line. The closing Vivace has a sprightly energy that’s finely judged — never overstated — its gentle introspection giving way to a buoyant dance that brings the work to a joyously resolute close. A defining album for Clare Hammond, which inevitably demands the question: what next?

I really liked this programme of neglected British piano concertos by the always excellent pianist Clare Hammond, accompanied by conductor George Vass, himself committed to the cause of promoting British music over many years. Britten’s one-handed Diversions, written for Paul Wittgenstein, and Walton’s Sinfonia Concertante are both full of youthful vivacity, although both have troubled histories.

Best known by far is Michael Tippett’s Piano Concerto, a top-three in my Tippett favourites list, alongside the Fantasia on a Theme by Corelli and the Second String Quartet. I observed recently in this column how Tippett is one of the most uneven of composers, but when he’s on song I find him irresistible. The concerto is big-boned, with the heft of a large construction, and designed to explore the piano’s “poetic capabilities”, in which it really succeeds. Hammond paces her passages of build-up so the climaxes really hit and her playing brings out the melodic lines sometimes hidden in a barrage of notes. The orchestration is often quite dense (a bit of a Tippett weakness) but Vass keeps it light, the BBC Symphony Orchestra revelling in the sparser woodwind solos, but also finding a nobility in the brass fanfares. The second movement is labyrinthine and a touch self-important, although Hammond negotiates her way through its thickets with a clear eye. But it’s in the last movement that everything comes together: spirited pianism, orchestral sparkle and the dancing high spirits that characterised Tippett’s best music from the early 50s.

The Walton Sinfonia Concertante that opens the album has an interesting backstory. Written as a ballet score for Diaghilev in 1926, dismissively spurned by the great impresario. Reworked as a concert piece in 1928 and then into its final form in 1943, Walton was clear it was not a concerto, but a symphony “with piano obbligato”. To me it works as a concerto, with dialogue between piano and orchestra, and it has the vivacity and wit of Walton’s early style, with a serious and thoughtful second movement, as in the Tippett. As Hammond notes in her liner notes, Walton’s downplaying of the piano’s role makes this a somewhat unappealing prospect for pianists, but she does a great job of advocacy, her playing dynamic and, in the slow movement, inward to the right degree.

The other piece is Britten’s one-hand concerto Diversions, on which Hammond is an expert, having written her doctoral thesis about it. The chequered history here consists of the dedicatee Paul Wittgenstein making significant changes to Britten’s music in his performances, to the composer’s distress. The piece is a set of variations, each strongly characterised, the piano collaborating with the orchestra, rather than being in heroic combat. Hammond’s playing of this attractive work is perfectly judged and accompanied sympathetically by Vass and the BBCSO, with the “Nocturne” a particular highlight.