Barbirolli was aged 
                between 63 and 67 when he made these 
                recordings and had only four more years 
                to live after the latest sessions. He 
                brought to his Elgar a lifetime of associations 
                which included being amongst the earliest 
                solo proponents of the Cello Concerto. 
                He knew the composer and had his imprimatur 
                as a result of conducting the Second 
                Symphony in 1927. That these tapes were 
                made in the 1960s when Elgar’s music 
                still stood in the unwarrantedly mired 
                reputation of imperial bombast is all 
                the more remarkable. 
              
 
              
While this bargain 
                set is presented with the typically 
                spartan minimalism of this well loved 
                series you are not short-changed on 
                quality. The recordings are excellent 
                1960s EMI vintage and the rewardingly 
                detailed essay is by Lyndon Jenkins. 
                The Introduction and Allegro and 
                Serenade are from the illustrious 
                Sinfonia of London sessions originally 
                issued on ASD 521; vinyl that seemed 
                destined to remain forever in the catalogue 
                and at full price. This is their first 
                ever appearance at bargain price and 
                they add decisively to the attractions 
                of this set. Rangy, poignant and full-blooded 
                playing is yours for the taking in the 
                Introduction and Allegro. There’s 
                a wondrous analogue depth to the recording 
                which captures the throaty attack of 
                the massed strings. Incredibly this 
                was Barbirolli’s sixth and final recording 
                of the work. Isn’t this the recording 
                exhilaratingly used by Ken Russell in 
                his Elgar film: the final titles with 
                the camera mounted in a car accelerating 
                up the hill roads? 
              
 
              
Babrirolli’s reading 
                of the First Symphony sometimes feels 
                as if it has lead weights attached, 
                at least in the first movement. It would 
                be an eccentric sole representative 
                but it is of the type that easily engenders 
                enormous affection. It has a special 
                plangency and lustre greatly assisted 
                by the harp’s underpinning, captured 
                even in moments of notable climax. No 
                surprises there as EMI’s team proved 
                a decade later with the harp figuration 
                refulgently heard in Birmingham for 
                the Walton-Frémaux coronation 
                marches. The Second Symphony has the 
                same virtues and faults. Barbirolli 
                relishes every moment – and there is 
                pleasure in that for the listener too. 
                This lacks the headstrong potency of 
                the Solti/LPO Decca which remains both 
                watershed and reference disc as much 
                as Barbirolli does for the Introduction 
                and Allegro. Once again however 
                the recording proclaims its high calling 
                in capturing the violins’ ‘fugitive 
                gleam’ for example in the second movement 
                at 2:20 and also the assertive grandiloquent 
                bloom of the horns. The strolling legato 
                of the finale is lovingly paced and 
                as well judged as the pregnant gait 
                Barbirolli mints for the opening of 
                the First Symphony. The stereo separation 
                and other spatial qualities excitingly 
                enhance the bold and noble brass-string 
                dialogues from 4:10 onwards in the finale. 
                The climax with that swaying asymmetrical 
                syncopation at 8:50-8:53 still has the 
                power to get you on your feet. 
              
 
              
Barbirolli’s Falstaff 
                has the impetuous qualities of its 
                subject, dissolute, quixotic, rash (quite 
                a lot of that), given to humour, poetry, 
                affectionate lechery and self-pity. 
                This is a reading as full of unruly 
                life as Robert Nye’s portrayal of Falstaff 
                or in Orson Welles film The Chimes 
                at Midnight. The conductor, himself 
                a cockney, knew and loved Elgar’s London 
                as reflected in Cockaigne and 
                delivers an impetuous and loving reading 
                which in this case does not dawdle (2:12). 
                That shiver of youthful panache can 
                also be felt in the early Froissart 
                overture – presumably its first 
                recording since the composer’s own. 
                As with Falstaff the recording 
                of Enigma is generously tracked 
                so that you can find your way around 
                with ease. While this does not have 
                the momentum of the Beecham version 
                (BMG-Sony) – a personal favourite – 
                it is grand and expansive and most artistically 
                recorded. The marches are crackingly 
                done and Nos. 2 and 4 stand out in this 
                company for their gruffly spick and 
                span rigour. That said I still rate 
                Norman Del Mar’s recording with the 
                RPO very highly indeed for its vivid 
                character (DG-Universal). 
              
 
              
The final disc of the 
                five is an exact copy of another well-loved 
                EMI LP (ASD 655) with a phenomenally 
                long life at full price in the EMI catalogue. 
                Janet Baker, caught in her early prime, 
                is matchless in the Sea Pictures 
                making, with her sincerity and naturally 
                pellucid enunciation, a masterful impression 
                of a work that is not out of Elgar’s 
                top drawer. The Du Pré Cello 
                Concerto is also most beautifully and 
                passionately done and is generally reckoned 
                a reference version. For me it lacks 
                the sheer voltage overload of her irresistible 
                version made live in 1970 with her husband 
                conducting the Philadelphia Orchestra 
                (BMG-Sony). Like all these recordings 
                these two nevertheless stand as testimony 
                to the velvet and satin translucency 
                of the now-demolished Kingsway Hall; 
                almost as much of a loss as Barbirolli 
                himself. 
              
 
              
Looking back we have 
                now adjusted to the imbalances of the 
                Elgar-Barbirolli heritage. There’s no 
                Violin Concerto. Such a pity he did 
                not record the concerto in the 1960s 
                with the then still fiery Ida Haendel 
                – rather than the honour falling to 
                an elderly Boult when the flames were 
                reduced to a glimmer (Testament). We 
                also missed In the South (although 
                there is a BBC Legends CD of a radio 
                broadcast from circa 1970) a piece which 
                should surely have suited Barbirolli’s 
                Italian blood if the Introduction 
                and Allegro is anything to go by. 
                As it is, the crown for that work belongs 
                with Constantin Silvestri and the Bournemouth 
                Symphony Orchestra – another EMI treasure 
                – a true Great Recording of the Century. 
                I should add that I recently heard the 
                Sinopoli version on DG and was impressed. 
              
 
              
This box is a commanding 
                Christmas bargain. Readings that are 
                still exciting, eccentrically blighted 
                and blessed, magnificent and suffused 
                with radiant personality. 
              
Rob Barnett  
              
  
              
Information received 
              
From Martin Walker: 
                Rob Barnett says "The Introduction 
                and Allegro and Serenade are from the 
                illustrious Sinfonia of London sessions 
                originally issued on ASD 521; vinyl 
                that seemed destined to remain forever 
                in the catalogue and at full price. 
                This is their first ever appearance 
                at bargain price". The whole recording 
                with the Sinfonia of London (Greensleeves 
                & all) was reissued on a GROC some 
                time ago. Review
              
From Christopher 
                Howell: re your review of the Elgar/Barbirolli 
                set, alas I'm afraid you're wrong in 
                presuming that his Froissart was the 
                first since Elgar's own. Boult recorded 
                it on ALP 1379, issued in 1956 and coupled 
                with Dream Children and the P&C 
                Marches. It lasted in the catalogue 
                till 1968, i.e. just after the Barbirolli 
                was issued.
              
Personally, I'd hesitate to claim publicly 
                that even this was the first since Elgar's, 
                though I daresay it was.