John Wilson and Sinfonia of London perform works by William Walton

It's been a few months since the last album from John Wilson and Sinfonia of London (a glorious account of Rodgers and Hammerstein's Carousel released back in September), but I'm delighted to say that this dry spell has now been cleared with a fantastic first instalment in a series of recordings of the music of William Walton.

Although Walton's opera, Troilus and Cressida, has not really found a place in the repertoire since its premiere in 1954 (one critic denounced its musical language as 'deeply embedded in the stagnant waters of the past'), in 1987 Walton's widow Susana commissioned the composer and arranger Christopher Palmer to fashion an orchestral suite from the music.

The tragic tale of doomed lovers set against the backdrop of the Trojan War allows ample fodder for some incredibly evocative music. From the playful woodwinds in the Scherzo to the mournful cor anglais solos in the finale as Cressida laments her capture by the Greeks, plus a handful of trumpet fanfares that wouldn't be out of place in a Hollywood biblical epic (Walton referred to them somewhat dismissively as 'the MGM bit'), it's a kaleidoscope of colour that provides a superb showcase for Wilson and his players.

The highlight of the suite has to be the third movement, entitled 'The Lovers'. Presenting music from the love scene in Act Two of the opera, it's a surging movement full of slow-burning eroticism (described as 'the translation into music of the rising tides, the ecstasies so acute as to verge on pain, the subsidence into tenderness and rapture of love’s consummation’ by one critic, or somewhat more succinctly by Walton himself as 'pornographic'), demonstrating perfectly the signature sound of the orchestra's string section (listen to their fervently glossy sheen in the opening bars of this movement).

Normally the leader of the orchestra, Charlie Lovell-Jones steps out to perform the solo role in the Violin Concerto. Written for Jascha Heifetz, the concerto was composed during an extended stay on the Amalfi Coast, where Walton was recuperating after a double-hernia operation. It's clear to see how his Italian surroundings influenced the music, notably the second movement with its marking of "alla napolitana" and the inclusion of a tarantella (normally the allusion to the latter being a 'spider-dance' is metaphorical, but in this case it is literally true as Walton was inspired to write it after being bitten by a tarantula!).

When first presented with the score, Heifetz was enthusiastic but felt the last movement was too easy, and so Walton agreed to spice it up a bit. Lovell-Jones despatches every technical demand thrown at him with apparent ease: this must be one of the fastest accounts not only of this movement but of the entire concerto, and there are certainly some dazzlingly jaw-dropping moments from Lovell-Jones.

Similarly, the second movement is a tour de force of virtuosity with its rapid-fire succession of pizzicatos, harmonics, and double-stopping, and in all of this Lovell-Jones is matched by the commanding playing of Sinfonia of London. This movement briefly turns into a waltz, which is imbued with just the right amount of flexibility of tempo. It's an excellent example of how much care Wilson and his orchestra take to find the ideal mood and character for every single bar.

As undoubtedly impressive as this is, it's not all about the flashy bits, and Lovell-Jones contrasts these sections with a terrific searching tone, not least in the opening phrases of the concerto, and the final atmospheric bars of the first movement are extremely effective.

Inspired by an etching of the same name by Thomas Rowlandson, the overture Portsmouth Point is a bustling depiction of eighteenth-century seamen, and in Wilson's hands you can almost smell the salty sea air. For such a jolly-sounding piece, it's actually rhythmically rather complex with frequently-changing time signatures, but as you would expect these are negotiated fearlessly by the orchestra, with horns and brass making the most of their boisterous rhythms, alongside some engagingly cheeky woodwind during their various shanty-like tunes. Special mention should go also to the percussion and the colours they add to the overall sound, particularly some brief but vivid moments from tambourine and castanets. Despite it being an overture, it's a cracking way to end the album, and makes me eager to hear more from all concerned.