CONCERT REVIEW
By Marion M SCOTT
PREMIERE - Elgar Cello Concerto
The Christian Science Monitor, Boston, USA, Saturday, 13th
December 1919
A New Elgar Cello Concerto
By special correspondent of The Christian Science Monitor
LONDON, England – The first concert this season of
the London Symphony Orchestra took place at Queen’s Hall on October
27. It was rendered remarkable by two events – the production of Sir
Edward Elgar’s new concerto for violoncello, and the conducting of Mr.
Albert Coates. Musicians had marked the program beforehand as one of
the most interesting this autumn: when the evening came, an audience
representative of every branch of the profession streamed into Queen’s
Hall, and their expectations were not belied. The concert was interesting
– extraordinarily so: it still further enhanced Mr. Coates’ renown as
a conductor, and if the new concerto did not carry Elgar beyond the
heights he has already achieved as a composer, it at least did not fall
below the elevation of thought he has taught us to hope for.
Borodin’s "Heroic Symphony" in B minor stood
first on the program, a work of which the great Russian critic Stassov
said: "It owes its strength chiefly to the national character of
its subject," and as one listened, one could well believe that
Borodin was "a national poet of Russia in the highest sense."
The rendering of the symphony under Mr. Coates left nothing to be desired:
it was spacious, masterful, glowing with color, and absolutely authoritative.
In the Place of Honor
Second on the program, in the place of honor, came
Sir Edward Elgar’s new concerto for violoncello and orchestra. He himself
conducted, and Mr. Felix Salmond played the solo part with rare finish,
refinement of style, and consistency of characterization. It was more
like the performance of some actor who completely merges himself in
the part he plays than a virtuoso coming before an audience to exhibit
his own abilities.
This new concerto is too big a work to analyze or appraise
quickly. The most that can be done after a single hearing is to record
the salient impressions received. Prominent among these is the one that
Elgar’s conception of concerto form is totally different to that of
the majority of composers. With him a concerto is not a public oration,
nor a pyrotechnic display, but a psychological poem. It was so in his
violin concerto; it is so in this. He feels the solo instrument to be
as much a person as Browning felt his characters to be real in the "Dramatic
Romances and Lyrics," and exactly as the characters speak for themselves
– unfolding their ideas through his poems – so does the concerto deal
with a subjective drama, the solo instrument expressing a sensitive,
intimate train of thoughts in the language of music. This necessitates
a wholly different attitude in soloist, orchestra, and audience from
that usually taken toward a concerto, and while Mr. Salmond understood
and acted upon it perfectly, one had a sense that the London Symphony
Orchestra only partially apprehended their role in this work, fine as
they are and well though they played.
The concerto had been contemplated by Elgar for some
time before he wrote it in the summer of this year, and he bestowed
special care on the balance of tone between the ‘cello and orchestra.
He has solved the problem with singular success. The solo instrument
is never entangled nor swamped by the accompaniment, and there is a
lucent quality in the orchestration which removes all justification
for a coarse or showy tone on the part of the ‘cellist.
The Scheme of the Work
The work is in four rather short movements, well contrasted,
and it opens with an introduction (recitativo), which leads to the first
movement proper. This in turn is joined to the scherzo by a bridge-passage
of unusual interest and beauty, music that compels one to follow it
with close and expectant attention wheresoever it may lead. But on arrival
at the scherzo, interest flags, for the scherzo itself is the least
satisfactory movement of the four. Though it is sparkling and graceful,
it approximates to the type of a "Moto Perpetuo." However,
the lyrical adagio which follows is pure "Elgar," and the
finale (allegro non troppo) is the best and most strongly designed movement
in the work, binding the whole thing together. This is largely due to
a remarkable passage near the end, in which the solo instrument seems
to review the concerto as Abt Vogler did his extemporization in Browning’s
poem:
and I stand on alien ground.
Surveying awhile the heights I rolled
from into the deep.
Wagner’s "Waldweben," next on the program,
came as a restful interlude after so much that was unfamiliar. It received
a fine performance under Mr. Coates, but the climax of the evening lay
in what followed – Scriabine’s "Poème de l’Extase."
This splendid work, so large that it lies on the borderline between
a symphony and a symphonic poem, expresses some of its composers profoundest
conclusions, and while all music lovers may appreciate its beauty and
intensity, it must always make a special appeal to composers, for in
it Scriabine endeavors to convey the joy of the artist in the shaping
of his work. The sequence of ideas and emotions, the harmonic methods
and the orchestral structure of the "Poème de l’Extase"
are extremely complex, but in Mr. Coates’ hands they became lucid and
eloquent. The music seemed lambent with meaning, the audience caught
the glow and were swept on to such a fervor of enthusiasm that they
clapped and cheered long after it was over, recalling Albert Coates
to the platform again and again.
The Christian Science Monitor, Boston, USA, Saturday, 13th
December 1919
This article appears here with the kind permission of Pamela
Blevins
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