English Choral Premieres & Rarities
Sir Edward Elgar (1857-1934)
With Proud Thanksgiving
Frank Bridge (1879-1941)
A Prayer
Herbert Howells (1892-1983)
Sine Nomine
Sir George Dyson (1883-1964)
The Blacksmiths
Havergal Brian (1876-1972)
Psalm XXIII
Henry Purcell (1659-1695)
Jehova, quam multi sunt hostes mei
Elizabeth Donovan (soprano), Kevin Matthews (tenor), William Prideaux (baritone)
Pauline Alston (piano)
Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra & Choir/Douglas Bostock
rec. 2002, Philharmonic Hall, Liverpool, UK
GRIFFIN GCCD4086 [77]
This disc was recorded twenty years ago and issued on Classico with the title Elgar & The English Choral Tradition. It included four first recordings (Elgar, Howells, Dyson, Purcell), and it has now been re-issued on Griffin. On the back of the disc, Rob Barnett,
in his review of the original on this site, is quoted saying, quite rightly, that the disc “is not to be missed by fans of lyrical British choral music”.
The oldest work, in a way, is Purcell’s rather grave but dignified Jehova, quam multi sunt hostes mei – the words from Psalm III – but in Elgar’s orchestration. It is generally considered that in the 1920s, after the death of Elgar’s wife, he lost his creative flame. He turned instead to writing fugues and orchestrating baroque music. What struck me, following the S.A.T.B vocal score (Novello), is how restrained Elgar had been until the last twenty or so bars. There are solo recitativic passages, but he is careful throughout. The first performance took place in Worcester Cathedral in 1929. This was the first recording.
Elgar’s With Proud Thanksgiving also had its first recording in 2002. Part of his oratorio For the Fallen, it was rearranged for military band to be performed at the cenotaph in 1920. That never happened, so it was orchestrated for an Albert Hall performance in May 1921. Later it reappeared as the closing music for A Pageant of Empire in 1924. But this is not jingoistic music. It is a dramatic, moving and sincere setting of Laurence Binyon’s famous text in Elgar’s finest vein: “They shall not grow old as we that are left grow old…”
Contemporary with Elgar’s work is the longest piece here, A Prayer by Frank Bridge, a setting of Thomas à Kempis, written in the depths of the war in 1916. Bridge might have realised that its call for peace and ‘rest’ – the final word of the text – might have struck the wrong chord at that time. It was not until 1919 when a successful first performance took place, and by then it was understood as a cry of consolation. It is mainly a thoughtful, quiet piece but with three magnificently uplifting climaxes. Its style is more Holst than Vaughan Williams but really it is neither, and the orchestration is a revelation. Texts are not provided for any of the works on this disc. It is no criticism of Tony Wass, the recording engineer, or indeed the diligent effort of the choir and Douglas Bostock, but this work would benefit from having the text easily available. It would enhance one’s understanding of what Bridge was trying to do. I am fortunate to have Hickox’s recording (a Chandos box set CHAN 10729(6) X) which has the text in its booklet. The final line “I will sleep and take my rest” says it all.
Havergal Brian was no stranger to large-scale choral works in the great days of massed choral societies, especially in the north Midlands where he was based. This is where the title of the Classico disc comes in. It was after Brian’s involvement in a performance of The Dream of Gerontius in 1903 that he composed this setting of Psalm XXIII. He even took it to Elgar, who was wildly enthusiastic about it, but no performance ensued and Brian never heard it. If you are familiar with Brian’s style before World War I, it will come as no surprise: march rhythms, sudden contrasts of mood, hushed passages of extraordinary beauty, complex counterpoint including a closing fugue, swift changes of key. His word setting is always appropriate, and the diction of the choir here is excellent.
It would be interesting to know if Elgar was in attendance at the Three Choirs Festival in September 1922 for the premiere of Howells’s Sine Nomine, and if so, what he made of it. It is scored for orchestra, two soloists who only vocalise, and a choir who surprisingly and almost imperceptibly enter two minutes from the end. The language is of Vaughan Williams’s Pastoral Symphony composed at the same time, but with many touches of what RVW described as “French polish”, that is to say, Debussy and Ravel. In other words, it is some distance away from the Elgar of the work discussed above. Howells’s work really is a tone poem for orchestra and voices. It was a highly individual contribution to the repertoire but was not heard again for seventy years.
Finally, another premiere recording, The Blacksmiths by Sir George Dyson, a stirring and dramatic work, first performed in 1934 and not heard again. A translation of the German word that heads the score comes out as ‘Gunsmiths’. If you feel in the orchestration the power of the timpani and the desperate plodding of exhausted soldiers, you should read in the booklet Dyson’s description of trench warfare from which he eventually suffered shellshock. He described it as a “Fantasy for chorus, pianoforte and orchestra”. The late-mediaeval poem in Middle English is practically impossible to hear on the recording. The text can be found on this page on The Guardian’s website. It is worth printing off before listening. The performance, however, captures the mood brilliantly.
These, then, are fascinating works. They deserve to be better known but in today’s climate and programming demands the only way to enjoy them may be to purchase this disc, which I thoroughly recommend you do.
Gary Higginson
Previous review (original release):
Rob Barnett
