‘Without Mendelssohn, I would not be what I am today;
this composer is not yet recognized for what he is, and there is so
much more great music of his to discover.’ The words of the conductor
Kurt Masur, at a post – concert reception given to mark his 75th
birthday, and I wonder just how many other conductors there are who
can measure up to this man in terms of selfless devotion to the music
and tireless quest for perfection from the orchestra. He represents,
of course, a direct link to Mendelssohn in that he formerly directed
the Leipzig Gewandhaus, the composer’s own orchestra, and after the
previous evening’s beautiful but bland performance of Beethoven’s 9th,
it was a true joy to experience Masur’s highly charged and devoted direction
of this monumental work.
‘Elijah’ was written mainly for an English audience,
and was rapturously received at its first performance; the Victorians,
of course, placed it second only to ‘Messiah,’ and one usually hears
it, as it were, in full Victorian dress, complete with plummy solos
and wall – of – sound choirs, since it has not previously undergone
the ‘scrubbing – clean’ which Handel’s masterpiece has experienced in
recent times. It was clearly Masur’s desire to let us hear how the work
can sound when performed with delicacy and without any need to follow
the practices of others, and he succeeded triumphantly. Using the trio,
quartet and double quartet arrangement of soloists which Mendelssohn
had asked for to sublime effect, this was an interpretation of ‘Elijah’
that was operatic in the best sense of the word, with clean, sharp playing,
neat articulation throughout and light, buoyant phrasing.
The part of the Prophet makes serious demands on a
singer: he must be able to convey grandiose certainty in his addresses
to the People, tenderness towards the Widow, and nobility and humanity
throughout. Despite not having quite the warmth of tone of Bryn Terfel
in his well – known recording of the part, Alastair Miles succeeded
in presenting a highly charged reading of the role, growing in stature
as the story progressed and giving real dramatic point to ‘Call him
louder’ and ‘Is not his word like a fire.’ He was at his finest in the
poignant ‘It is enough,’ where he conveyed all the character’s vulnerability
and tenderness, especially in such lines as ‘I am not better than my
fathers,’ and his ‘For the mountains shall depart’ was as finely shaped
and emphatic as could be desired.
Kim Begley’s singing of Obadiah was on this level in
every respect; Begley is a lyric tenor with a sweet and yielding voice,
but it also has a steely strength behind it, reminding you that this
is someone who has sung Siegmund. His lovely, elegant phrasing gave
constant pleasure, and his wonderful tenderness at ‘See, now he sleepeth
beneath a juniper tree’ made this section of the work the still centre
that it ought to be. Indeed, the whole movement from Elijah’s ‘It is
enough’ and ending with the Chorus ‘He, watching over Israel’ was exquisitely
touching, especially in the Trio of Angels.
I was less impressed with the other major singers.
Janice Watson was a musical, reliable Widow, but to my ears her voice
lacks pathos, especially in such moments as ‘there is no breath left
in him,’ and I did not find her singing as engaging as I would like:
since I have been listening to Renee Fleming’s heart-rending assumption
of the role in preparation for this concert, however, it may well be
that I’m trying to hear nuances which are not as essential as I think
they are. Karen Cargill sang the Angel fluently but rather matter- of
– factly, and her ‘O rest in the Lord’ will have disappointed those
accustomed to, say, Janet Baker, but the tempo adopted here was equally
unexpected, the experience being one akin to hearing, say, ‘Rejoice
Greatly’ sung as a minuet rather than a pavane. The smaller vocal parts
were well taken, with an especially vivid Youth from young Alexander
Main-Ian of the Trinity Boys Choir.
I first heard ‘Elijah’ in the grandiose surroundings
of Leeds Town Hall, with a grandiose choir to match: the forces of the
London Philharmonic Choir, the Philharmonia Chorus and Trinity Boys
Choir were equal in number, but far superior in subtlety; from the high
drama of ‘Help, Lord!’ through the delicacy of ‘He, watching over Israel’
to the grandeur of ‘But the Lord from the north…’ this was choral singing
of the very highest calibre. When ‘Elijah’ was first performed at Birmingham
Town Hall in 1846, the ‘Times’ commented that there had never been a
‘more thorough and speedy recognition of a great work of art.’ and the
audience’s response to Masur’s direction of the work confirmed not only
its greatness but its power to move and delight when performed with
such impassioned advocacy.
Melanie Eskenazi
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