This is the first Elgar symphony CD by both a Japanese conductor
and orchestra, but Tadaaki Otaka already has sound Elgar credentials,
having recorded Symphony 1 with the National Orchestra of Wales
in 1995 (Bis CD-727). With his Japanese orchestra here he performs
Symphony 3 as reconstructed by Anthony Payne.
In Otaka’s hands
the first movement opens with weight and might, its first theme
parades like a juggernaut, its second part (tr. 1 0:31) pushing
forward more strenuously, after which the soothing second theme
(1:11) is all the more refreshing and enchanting. It too has
a second part notable for its largamente broadening out
(2:10). The development (6:18) opens with some dreamy material
which intriguingly expands the mood of the second theme. A resolute
March (9:09), with plenty of bite in Otaka’s horns, leads to
a maestoso climax (10:44) which I felt Otaka might have
marked more. However, in the recapitulation he brings more warmth
and presence to the second theme and in the coda he seems to
suggest it’s a natural evolution when first and second themes
are clearly shown to start to link from 14:00. At the very end
the upward glissando recalls that at the same point in Symphony
2.
I compared the recording
also made in 2007 by the BBC National Orchestra of Wales/Richard
Hickox (Chandos CHSA 5057). Here are the comparative timings:
I II III IV Total
Otaka 16:11 9:48 15:05 16:34 57:38
Hickox 15:33 9:51 15:08 15:03 55:35
Hickox’s first theme
seems broader in outlook, with a sense of both celebration and
defiance about it. His second theme, treated more freely than
Otaka, similarly has more character, more reflection, lilt and
grace, light and shade about it while its largamente
extension has more glow and splendour. Otaka is content to be
calm and lyrical, fresh and flowing, but his largamente
is more formal than ardent. Hickox brings more of a feel of
mystery and shadowy quality to the development’s dreamy material.
Generally then Otaka’s approach is more direct, Hickox’s more
suggestive.
The second movement
Scherzo has from Otaka a bashfully winsome main theme on first
violins with trilling tambourine embellishment followed by a
first interlude (tr. 2 1:00) of fragmentary illusions and an
individual viola solo, all rather like Dorabella in the
Enigma Variations. But I feel Otaka’s clear and dance
like performance has overmuch presence here. Hickox finds a
more gauzy, summery dream like quality from the outset and has
a more buoyant first interlude without disturbing the overall
mood. He also catches with more assured bite the later, freer
treatment of the main material and the first interlude theme
flaring out in the brass. Nevertheless Otaka’s second interlude
(5:23) with its airy leaps has a refreshing sense of opening
out. The coda features wisps of solo violin with the main theme,
benign musing and a magical close. Otaka brings a feel of wry
observation appropriate to a scherzo. Hickox more beguilingly
seems happy to immerse himself in its self contained magical
world.
For Elgar the start
of the slow movement was intended to “open up some vast bronze
doors into something strangely unfamiliar” but more significant
is the soft repeat featuring solo viola which shows the individual’s
apprehension after awe. Otaka makes the contrast clear, though
Hickox is more imposingly stern in the opening and shadowy in
the repeat. The impassioned tutti loud passages are given
more tension by Hickox. The second theme (tr. 3 4:02) offers
solace in a reverential manner, but equally memorable from Otaka
is the neatly phrased transitional passage with muted strings
that precedes it. Hickox gives this more humanity, more sense
of condolence and is more stately in the rounded comeliness
of the second theme, but Otaka’s homely directness here is engaging
in its greater freshness. This characteristic applies as well
to Otaka’s wanly anguished recapitulation and powerful climax,
if not as solemn as Hickox’s. Also intriguing are the demisemiquaver
risings like a new growth that follow the second theme, these
being entirely Payne’s invention. The second theme is recapitulated
in splendid fashion, gradually more fully and then again lightly
scored but what lingers in your mind is the close with solo
viola marked ‘estinto’, barely perceptible, like a dying breath,
staring stonily into infinity.
The finale progresses
ingeniously and attractively with something of the parade of
themes found in Elgar’s Symphony 2 though not its sense of summation.
With Otaka you note particularly the second of the first batch
of themes (tr. 4 0:59), at first soft and melting then, marked
largamente, grand and warm. Even further developed is
the second theme of the second group (2:02) with its nobilmente
and maestoso reappearances while an episode in G minor
(6:50) is a kind of minor reflection of it. The recapitulation
is stimulating and you appreciate an allusion to The Wagon
Passes (from 14:06) and a closing reference to the symphony’s
opening before an eerie tam-tam knell.
Hickox’s finale,
revealed at a faster sweep, has more pzazz and virtuosity, right
from the sheer splendour and fullness of the opening brass fanfare.
There’s more swagger to his first theme and courtly smoothness
to the second of the first batch. Similarly he brings more bounce
to the second theme of the second group and a richly regal quality
for its maestoso appearance. His G minor episode is fluent
and recapitulation plush. But in his own way, which is to reveal
the movement’s progression more steadily, Otaka is very satisfying,
even if he doesn’t match Hickox’s panache. His opening has less
splash but more grandeur. He achieves lucid clarity of presentation.
He is more lyrical than Hickox in the second theme largamente
of the first batch while his second theme of the second group
has at first a jaunty spirit, then richness in its nobilmente
and expansiveness in its maestoso return. He brings a
more volatile quality to the G minor episode and his gradual
crescendo approaching the recapitulation is very effective,
as is later the impression of a massive wagon passing.
The Pomp and Circumstance
March No. 6 (tr. 5), originally intended as the last of Elgar’s
set, existed only in a number of incomplete sketches which Payne
has skilfully merged to create a fascinating piece, well worth
placing alongside the others. Elaboration would be an appropriate
term here too, not least because the end product is more elaborate
than its predecessors, no Elgar recording of which timed at
more than 4:33 for March No. 3. Otaka’s No. 6 times at 8:41.
Not here just the standard pattern of March, Trio, both repeated
and then coda, but an introduction which floats the March material,
a homely second theme (1:38) as a kind of tail and then a scherzo
like Con spirito section (2:11) in 6/8 time making a
marked contrast to the familiar 2/4 of the March.
Otaka makes the
March suitably bracing and second theme pleasantly relaxed and
endearing. His Con Spirito section is pleasingly contrasted
both dynamically and with, for example from 3:11, the simultaneous
falling melody and rising bass clear; but its fully scored passages,
like the first marked Giocoso (2:23) seem too stern.
His Trio is a little stiff, perhaps a shade too reverent. His
coda, however, makes a spirited send off and from 8:08 a supercharged
version of the March seems naturally to have kinship with the
close of Elgar’s most famous March No. 1, to which Payne subtly
incorporates a quotation.
But the National
Orchestra of Wales/Richard Hickox account is more cogent. His
faster tempo, timing at 7:54 against Otaka’s 8:41, fuses the
sections of the piece more convincingly. In particular the greater
breadth of his phrasing in the Trio gives it more dignity and
its finely burnished return has more nobility. He also more
clearly and satisfyingly points the contrast in the March of
falling melody and rising bass and vice versa. This is aided
by being recorded in surround sound. His Con spirito
section is appropriately lighter, more scherzo like. But Otaka
has the advantage of Hickox in one respect. Despite Chandos’
claim on its disc’s documentation, the earlier released Hickox’s
is not the ‘premiere recording’ but Otaka’s is, by 3 months.
These rescue jobs
by Payne honour both the variety of Elgar’s late invention and
Payne’s capacity to fashion it into intriguing and worthwhile
musical experiences. Payne’s book, ‘Elgar’s Third Symphony,
the story of the reconstruction’ meticulously records his work
but it’s better to listen to performances. As I’ve indicated
there are many good things in these accounts by Otaka. They
are well considered, played and recorded with vivid clarity
but ultimately they aren’t as persuasive as Hickox’s whose recording
in turn also benefits from the greater amplitude of surround
sound. Also there are two other significant factors. The Japanese
orchestra doesn’t quite catch the Elgarian inflections as assuredly
as the Welsh one and Otaka’s approach is more concentrated and
studious whereas Hickox is able both to relax more and be more
dashing at times.
Michael Greenhalgh
Sapporo Symphony
Orchestra/Tadaaki Otaka 
