The Cambridge Companion
to Elgar is one of a number of books
in the Companion to Music series
from Cambridge University Press. As
well as composers, the series includes
books on topics such as conducting and
musical instruments. In the composer
series, a wide variety have already
been covered from the Baroque period
(Bach) to the present day (John Cage)
with Verdi, Stravinsky and Britten for
good measure in between.
The first thing to
say is that there are already plenty
of books available about Elgar. He has
been lucky in accumulating a large number
of expert biographers ranging from the
present day (Michael Kennedy, Simon
Mundy, Diana McVeagh, Jerrold Northrop
Moore and Robert Anderson for example)
to musicians who were in close contact
with him during his life, such as W.H.
Reed. However, as the editors Daniel
Grimley and Julian Rushton explain in
their introduction, this book is not
a biography but a "companion".
Its role is not to reiterate facts and
views about Elgar. Rather, it presents
a series of scholarly essays on certain
aspects of Elgar's music including his
compositional methods, his relationship
with the Gramophone Company and the
process of recording most of his own
orchestral works, and the BBC. Thus
it differs from the biographies in that
it contains range of views on, and insights
into, his music from different sources
rather than offering one consistent
standpoint. Furthermore, the emphasis
which the authors place on the works
they cover differs markedly. Byron Adams,
for example, who deals with Elgar's
later oratorios, goes to great lengths
to consider the relationship of Elgar
with, and the influence on his music
of, writers such as Oscar Wilde, Newman
and Catholicism and the decadence of
the late 19th century literature and
society. Robin Holloway, on the other
hand, who examines Elgar’s early choral
works, gives a more accessible overview
of the works, including story-lines
and musical descriptions of the pieces.
I was a little disappointed
by the limited amount of space allocated
to the two symphonies and Falstaff.
These are considered in two separate
chapters, one entitled ‘In search of
the symphony: orchestral music to 1908’
by Julian Rushton and the other ‘The
later orchestral music 1910-1934’ by
Christopher Mark. In both these chapters
I feel that the musical analysis is
somewhat brief and patchy, especially
considering the importance of these
works. Later in the book there are references
to differences of opinion among critics
as to whether or not Elgar can be called
a progressive composer. It is curious
then that the third movement of the
Second symphony receives virtually
no analysis at all. It is arguably one
of the most avant-garde movements in
symphonic music up until 1911 (and for
many years thereafter), so it is strange
that it is not given the prominence
it deserves.
One chapter I thoroughly
enjoyed was Timothy Day’s about Elgar
and recording. He notes how, throughout
his life, Elgar was tremendously supportive
of the new medium of the gramophone
record and did much to promote its popularity.
This was despite the fact that many
of the early recordings had to be made
with the acoustic microphone in what
can only be described as extremely cramped
circumstances ... some of which Day
rather amusingly describes. It is fortunate
that Elgar formed a good relationship
with Fred Gaisberg of EMI, an American
who facilitated all the later electrical
recordings that we now possess, resulting
in the greatest recorded legacy of a
composer of Elgar’s stature’s own music.
In later years, of course, composer-conductors
such as Britten have extended this role
to even include videos of their rehearsals
and performances, but in this, Elgar
was a pioneering spirit.
Just as Elgar was keen
on the gramophone before many of his
contemporaries were, he also recognised
the enormous possibilities that the
BBC would eventually have in bringing
music to the masses. Interestingly,
in the early days of the BBC, there
was a determination to make British
music more widely available to a home
audience, and one can see a degree of
propaganda and patriotism at work. Unfortunately,
this policy was sharply reversed in
the Fifties and the BBC became a much
more politically correct organisation,
with British composers being consigned
metaphorically to the scrap heap, sacrificed
on the altar of the 2nd Viennese
School and atonality.
Perhaps one of the
most interesting chapters in the book
and a topic that I have not come across
in such detail elsewhere is ‘Elgar in
German criticism’ by Aidan Thomson.
Thomson has put together from a variety
of sources a snapshot of German musical
opinion of Elgar focusing in particular
from the time of the Enigma Variations
up until the First World War. It is
quite clear that he was seen as an extremely
important composer at this time in Germany
and a true progressive of international
stature. Over the years, especially
when Elgar's star was waning, some critics
have been only too keen to believe that
Elgar never had any sort of international
reputation and could only be considered
a minor composer in the international
context – a belief that this, albeit
brief, chapter certainly knocks on its
head.
Despite having undergone
a spell of unpopularity, Elgar is now
a major figure in the international
musical scene. It is heart-warming to
see the number of performances of his
music on the Continent (a couple of
years ago I attended his First symphony
in Vienna and the Dream of Gerontius
in Munich on successive nights ... although
I didn’t then make the Second Symphony
in Switzerland the following evening!).
So, it is fitting that a large number
of books by a variety of authors are
now available for those who have been
attracted to his music and wish to know
more about the man behind it. These
biographies have now totally dispelled
the popular image of Elgar as an Edwardian
country gentleman and patriot, a sort
of Colonel Blimp character. What comes
across now is a composer who was introspective,
rather depressive, melancholic, greatly
influenced by nature and of an intensely
nervous disposition.
Where does this book
fit in? Personally, I would recommend
the biographies by Kennedy and Mundy
to begin with. I would then proceed,
if I wished to explore the composer
further, to the larger books by Jerrold
Northrop Moore and Robert Anderson.
In a way, the Cambridge Companion to
Elgar comes somewhere in between these
two extremes and indeed is, as the title
suggests, a companion source, though
perhaps not so much to the music of
Elgar but to the other volumes. I am
concerned that, although of tremendous
interest to an Elgar scholar, this book
would be too erudite and sometimes uneven
and patchy to be a first choice for
the ordinary music lover who wants to
know more about Elgar. It does, however,
contain some fascinating and original
material on this great composer, and
I would recommend it to any true Elgar
enthusiast who is already familiar with
the other books on the market.
Em Marshall
