Sir
Edward ELGAR (1857–1934)
The Dream of Gerontius,
Op. 38
Some personal observations
on recordings of the work
The Background
On 8 May 1889 Edward
Elgar married Alice Roberts at Brompton
Oratory. Among the wedding presents
he received was a copy of the poem,
The Dream of Gerontius by John,
Cardinal Newman (1801-1890), which was
given to him by the parish priest of
the Catholic church in Worcester where
Elgar had been the organist. Newman’s
poem had been published in 1865 and
Elgar was familiar with it already but
now he had his own copy of the text.
However, it was not until he received
an invitation from the prestigious Birmingham
Festival to compose a major choral work
for the 1900 festival that Elgar turned
in earnest to making a setting of the
poem.
Newman’s poem is a
long one, consisting of some 900 lines,
including a substantial prologue. Elgar
set most of the prologue as Part One
of his composition but for Part Two
he pruned the main body of the poem
drastically, setting only about 300
of its 730 lines. His imagination fired
by Newman’s verse, Elgar proceeded to
compose what the critic Michael Steinberg
has described as "a truly complete
response to a poem of immense religious,
intellectual, and literary complexity
– complete both as an avowal of faith
and as a work of human art."
In 1899 Elgar had scored
a conspicuous triumph with the orchestral
‘Enigma’ Variations. That work
marked a quantum leap forward in terms
of his compositional technique, his
imagination, and his mastery of the
orchestra. In the same way Gerontius
was a huge advance for him as a choral
composer. He had already written several
notable large-scale cantatas but though
King Olaf (1896) and Caractacus
(1898) in particular are fine works
Gerontius is a work of genius.
In the solo writing we find Elgar displaying
the same ability to depict characters
in music that he had shown in ‘Enigma’.
In addition, the writing for the
chorus is quite superb and Elgar deploys
the choir daringly. This is especially
true of the build-up to ‘Praise to the
Holiest’, where the multi-layered choral
writing is amazingly assured and produces
thrilling spatial effects. Later on
in that same chorus, when the choir
is divided into eight separate parts
the complex individual lines fit together
superbly. And the orchestration too
represents a significant advance, even
on ‘Enigma’, as the subtlety
and power of the orchestral prelude
alone demonstrates in abundance. As
Michael Kennedy has observed, "Gerontius
is the very pivot of his career: it
sums up and glorifies all that he had
been striving to say with lesser material
and subjects, and at the same time looks
forward, in its revolutionary ardour,
to the symphonies and the later choral
works."
However, what truly
sets Gerontius apart from all
Elgar’s previous compositions is the
sense of vision. Newman’s mystical poem
clearly held Elgar in thrall. We may
wonder how much this complex man, often
beset by self-doubt even when at the
height of his powers and fame, identified
with Gerontius himself. Certainly Elgar
depicts Gerontius’s trepidation, uncertainty
and, finally, his sense of smallness
beside the immense majesty of God, with
remarkable prescience. The portrayal
of Gerontius’s Guardian Angel as a being
of serenity, reassurance and protection,
yet also of quiet authority, is also
remarkably successful.
But the vision was
nearly still-born; the première
in Birmingham on 3 October 1900 was
a near-disaster. The choir, faced with
some of the most challenging music they
can ever have encountered, was poorly
prepared. Unfortunately, the chorus-master,
who understood Elgar’s music, died very
suddenly just before rehearsals commenced.
His seventy year-old predecessor was
called back out of retirement and was
manifestly not up to the task, not least
because he was out of sympathy both
with the music and, as a Non-Conformist,
with the text. The orchestra was equally
under-rehearsed and the great German
conductor, Hans Richter, who had triumphantly
led the first performance of ‘Enigma’
in June 1899, had not mastered in advance
this new and much more complex score.
Somehow they got through to the end
and despite the manifest inadequacies
of the performance Gerontius
was warmly received by both the audience
and the critics, though the reception
did little to cheer the distraught composer.
Despite his failure to give Gerontius
a fitting première, Richter was
clearly moved and impressed. After the
first performance he wrote in Elgar’s
score in his idiosyncratic English:
"Let drop the Chorus, let drop
everybody – but let not drop
the wings of your original Genius."
The Music
Gerontius has
a compelling logic and a narrative inevitability.
After the orchestral Prelude, in which
all the key musical themes that will
be heard in the work are presented,
we find the character of Gerontius on
his deathbed. Friends and a priest are
close at hand. Gerontius alternates
between, on the one hand, frailty and
trepidation (‘Jesu, Maria, I am near
to death’) and, on the other, courage
and faith (‘Sanctus fortis’). The chorus,
representing his friends, punctuates
his last moments with prayers until,
after he has breathed his last, they
and the Priest commit his soul to God
(‘Proficiscere, anima Christiana’)
When Part Two opens
Elgar transports us to another world
through the device of a short, luminous
prelude of ethereal beauty. The Soul
of Gerontius has passed into this spiritual
place and here he encounters his Guardian
Angel (‘My work is done’). The Angel’s
last service is be to guide him to Judgement,
first leading him safely past the dreadful
spectacle of the Demons (‘Low-born clods
of brute earth’). On the way the Angel
explains to Gerontius that he will be
granted but a glimpse of God before
he is despatched to Purgatory (‘Yes,
for one moment thou shalt see thy Lord’).
The last stages of the journey to Judgement
see Gerontius led through the serried
ranks of Angelicals, who are praising
God, until it is as if great gold doors
have been flung open and the hymn of
praise erupts (‘Praise to the Holiest’).
After the tumult has
subsided the Angel of the Agony stands
close to the throne of God. He begs
divine mercy for all those souls that
come to judgement, culminating in a
deeply moving phrase that is at once
grand and supplicatory, (‘Hasten, Lord,
their hour and bid them come to Thee’).
Gerontius stands, humble, insignificant
and afraid, before his God (‘I go before
my judge’). In a masterstroke, Elgar
depicts the brief moment when Gerontius
sees God as the musical equivalent of
a blinding flash of light. ‘Take me
away’, cries Gerontius in a mixture
of fear and ecstasy. As he begins his
time in Purgatory, the Angel calmly
reassures him that his time there will
pass and that once he is purged his
Angel will bring him safely to everlasting
life.
Gerontius in Performance
Elgar sets his interpreters
many challenges in this work. The bass
soloist has least to do but one of the
key issues is that his two solos are
very different both in character and
in tessitura. The Priest should be noble,
dignified and consolatory without ever
sounding sanctimonious. The role lies
predominantly in the baritone range.
The role of The Angel of The Agony ideally
calls for a basso cantante with
a commanding presence and the ability
to inspire a degree of awe. Many times,
both on record and in concert, I’ve
felt that a soloist is better suited
to one role or the other. The ideal
solution is to have two singers but
this is an expensive luxury. I’ve never
seen it done in a professional performance
and to date it’s only been done once
on record.
Is the role of The
Angel better sung by a contralto or
a mezzo-soprano? In truth I think the
answer is that either type of voice
can fulfil the role but it depends on
who the singer is. Attitude is all-important.
If the singer is too objective then
there’s a risk of coolness – that happens
in at least one of the recordings under
discussion here. But I’d rather have
coolness than a fulsome approach – thankfully
none of our singers falls into that
trap. Arguably, nowadays there’s a further
challenge for singers of the role: the
shadow cast by Dame Janet Baker. There
can be few roles in music on which one
singer has so firmly stamped his or
her mark and I’m sure I’m not the only
person who cannot hear certain phrases
without hearing in my head the way Dame
Janet inflects them. In fact, it’s just
as much of a challenge to listeners
such as me to put those thoughts aside
when listening as it is for singers
to put their own stamp on the role.
As for the tenor, well
Elgar all but asks the impossible. On
the one hand Gerontius needs the power
and stamina of a heldentenor for passages
such as ‘Sanctus fortis’ and ‘take me
away’. On the other hand much of the
role, especially in Part Two, demands
the subtlety of a lieder singer.
Furthermore, the singer must convincingly
suggest a dying man at the start of
the work yet be capable of meeting the
rigours of ‘Sanctus’ Fortis’. Then,
in Part Two, he must express, without
overdoing it, a sense of wonder, fear
and awe as he portrays the Soul experiencing
life after death. Identification with
the text and the character are crucial
and not every one of our soloists passes
this test. But if one encounters a singer
who can satisfy most, if not all, of
Elgar’s demands then the rewards are
great. Arguably, prior to Gerontius,
it’s only in Elijah that we find
as full a portrayal of a character in
a piece of music with a religious theme
The chorus too must
play their part. It’s often forgotten
how little of Gerontius is actually
choral music – only about one third,
I’d say. The rest consists of solos
and two orchestral preludes. However,
the choral music is very challenging
and it’s easy to see why the ill-prepared
chorus came to grief at the première.
The long lead-up to ‘Praise to the Holiest’,
with its many layers and luminous textures,
is a major test. So too, in a very different
way, is the Demon’s Chorus, where, in
Barbirolli’s memorable phrase, the chorus
should avoid sounding "like bank
clerks on a Sunday outing".
But inevitably the
greatest challenges are faced by the
conductor, who must hold the whole thing
together and inspire a performance of
strength and feeling while eschewing
any religiosity. He (or she) must also
bring out the drama in the work. There
are large forces to control and complex
ensembles to direct. Yet much of the
music, especially at the start of Part
Two, is intimate and subtle. But Elgar
helps his conductor. As in all his works,
the score is littered with copious instructions
as to tempo and dynamics. As a highly
experienced Elgar conductor told me
more than once, it’s all in the score
and "all" the conductor has
to do is to follow Elgar’s markings!
Gerontius is difficult to define
– and impossible to pigeonhole – but
it is very far removed from "conventional"
Victorian oratorio and often almost
operatic in its intensity and sense,
almost, of theatre. Elgar’s achievement
is particularly remarkable since he
must have been exposed to – and found
it hard to break free from – the influence
of many a second-rate oratorio during
his formative years in Worcester. For
the conductor, finding the balance between
religious sentiment and the essential
drama of the piece is not easy but it’s
the key.
The recordings
I know of eleven CD
versions of this work, in addition to
which there is a DVD of a live performance
by Sir Andrew Davis. On CD the choice
is between - in chronological order
of recording - Sir Malcolm Sargent (HMV,
1945); Sargent again (EMI, 1954); Sir
John Barbirolli (EMI, 1964); Benjamin
Britten (Decca, 1972); Sir Adrian Boult
(EMI, 1976), Sir Simon Rattle (EMI,
1986); Vernon Handley (EMI Eminence,
1993); Sir Colin Davis (LSO Live, 2005);
and Sakari Oramo (CBSO, 2006), There
are also versions by Sir Alexander Gibson
(CRD) and Richard Hickox (Chandos) but
I’m not making any comments about these
two recordings, because I don’t own
copies from which to make detailed comparisons.
As far as I know all of these recordings
are currently available. It’s interesting
to note in passing the extent to which
EMI or various divisions of that company
have led the way in recording this work.
The survey that follows consists of
some personal reflections on most of
the recordings.
Historic incomplete recordings
Before dealing with
the complete recordings mention should
be made of some fascinating historical
extracts. The first-ever recordings
of parts of Gerontius were made
– by HMV, which was eventually to become
part of EMI – in 1927 with Elgar himself
conducting. Over forty minutes of music,
including the complete Part One Prelude,
were captured in a live performance
in London’s Royal Albert Hall on 26
February 1927. Later that same year,
on 6 September, HMV captured the composer
in Hereford Cathedral during the Three
Choirs Festival but only some 16 minutes
of that performance have survived onto
CD. So far as I know the only CD incarnation
of those excerpts is contained in Volume
One of EMI’s utterly indispensable Elgar
Edition (EMI Classics CDS 7 54560 2.
3 CDs). Though tantalisingly brief,
these extracts are of great value and
interest.
Just recently The Elgar
Society has issued a three-disc set,
Elgar’s Interpreters on Record,
Vol. 5 (EECD003-5). These CDs contain
off-air recordings made by the late
Kenneth Leech and include just over
thirty minutes of extracts from a 1936
radio broadcast conducted by Boult.
Even more fascinating is no less than
seventy-one minutes of excerpts from
another broadcast, this time from 1935,
conducted by Sargent. In both cases
the Gerontius is Heddle Nash. Opposite
him are two highly contrasted Angels,
Astra Desmond for Sargent and Muriel
Brunskill for Boult. We also hear Keith
Falkner in fine voice in both bass solos
in 1935 but the bass in the Boult performance,
Horace Stevens, offers a much less enjoyable
listening experience. The sound quality
is variable and surface noise is often
intrusive, especially in the Sargent
extracts. However, whilst the orchestra
and chorus are rather dimly heard, meaning
that it’s unfair to judge their contributions,
the soloists are all clearly recorded.
Nash had given his
first performance in Gerontius in 1931,
at the prompting of Elgar himself, who
conducted Nash’s first performance of
the role. The Sargent’s performance
was noted in Nash’s score as the fourth
occasion on which he’d sung the work.
He’s captured in very good voice. He
sings with a real feeling for the words
and his identification with words and
music is complete. Where it’s called
for his voice has an heroic ring, though
what impresses me even more is the sense
of inwardness that he conveys. We shall
find all these qualities displayed again
– and arguably to even greater effect
- in his 1945 recording. There are occasions
where Nash and Sargent linger over detail
just a bit too much but the conviction
of the performance carries the day.
Nash brings a fine degree of intimacy
and wonder to the dialogue with the
Angel in Part Two. His Angel is Astra
Desmond, who is described aptly by the
late Alan Blyth in the booklet as "calm
and serene." Keith Falkner is an
elevated Priest and a fine Angel of
the Agony.
The Boult extracts
are in sound that is appreciably better.
Nash delivers a superb "Sanctus
fortis". Muriel Brunskill is a
very different type of Angel in comparison
with Desmond. Hers is a rounder, more
full voice, a genuine contralto in fact.
Horace Stevens was reputed to be a fine
exponent of the bass roles but if what
we hear in these extracts is representative
then that reputation was grossly exaggerated.
In fact he’s almost a caricature; his
emphatic, portentous delivery of "Proficiscere"
gives me no pleasure whatsoever.
In all these instances
the performing styles are very much
of their time and not all modern listeners
will react positively. Inevitably the
sound calls for some tolerance, especially
in the Sargent recording. But all these
extracts are precious; one set conducted
by the composer himself, and the others,
both from performances within a couple
of years of Elgar’s death, are by leading
interpreters of the work who indubitably
imbibed their performing tradition from
the composer himself. It should also
be noted that all three singers of the
title role in these recordings - Steuart
Wilson and Tudor Davies sang for Elgar
– are tenors of whose performances he
is known to have approved.
These are recordings
which all lovers of Elgar’s music should
try to hear; they are highly relevant
to a wider audience than just specialist
collectors.
Complete recordings prior to
1970
The first complete
recording of Gerontius was made
in Huddersfield Town Hall between 8
and 12 April 1945 under the auspices
of the British Council and was conducted
by Sir Malcolm Sargent. Walter
Legge was the producer. The distinguished
cast included Heddle Nash in the title
role, Gladys Ripley as the Angel and,
uniquely on record, a baritone, Denis
Noble, as The Priest and a bass, Norman
Walker, as The Angel of the Agony. Also
taking part were The Huddersfield Choral
Society and Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra.
This recording has been issued on several
labels in recent years, including Pearl
(see review)
and on Pristine Audio (see review).
My experience of this recording is confined
to the version issued in 1993 by Testament
and my comments refer only to that transfer.
However, my colleague, Jonathan Woolf,
has heard all three transfers and it
may help collectors to summarize his
views of them. He is not enamoured of
the Pristine Audio transfer for the
reasons mentioned in his review. I’m
grateful to him for providing the following
comment on his view of the relative
merits of the Testament and Pearl versions:
"the Testament is smoother and
has been more filtered; it gives an
easier aural ride but the Pearl will
appeal to those who can absorb shellac
hiss and welcome the preserved higher
frequencies. I'd go for the Pearl but
I suspect the majority would prefer
Testament."
By the time Heddle
Nash came to make this recording he
had noted twenty-two performances of
Gerontius in his score so he
was truly a seasoned interpreter. His
performance here is, quite simply, wonderful.
As in 1935, he and Sargent linger expressively
on occasion – for example, in Nash’s
very first solo. However, "Sanctus
fortis" burns with conviction and
throughout Part One the ardour and urgency
of Nash’s interpretation is readily
matched by Sargent. The cry at "In
Thine own agony" sounds as if it
has been wrenched from Nash’s very being.
The hushed inwardness that he achieves
through the use of head voice at "Novissima
hora est" makes for a very special
moment indeed.
In Part Two, after
Sargent has directed a compelling reading
of the gently luminous Prelude, Nash
sings his opening solo with a miraculously
light airiness. Above all he conveys
a sense of wonder in these pages that
is deeply affecting and he sustains
this mood throughout the dialogue with
the Angel. Gladys Ripley sings that
role quite beautifully. She has a lovely
tone and sings sincerely and is most
communicative. Hers is a distinguished
performance throughout and her achievement
is capped by a dignified and touching
account of the Farewell.
Walter Legge had the
discernment to engage different soloists
for the two bass roles, a real piece
of luxury casting. But his "extravagance"
pays off. Denis Noble is well suited
to the higher tessitura of the Priest’s
role while Norman Walker is a commanding
presence as the Angel of the Agony.
The Huddersfield Choral Society makes
a stirring contribution. One wonders
what impact the war must have had on
their membership; presumably many younger
members would have been away on active
service at this time. There’s no evidence
of weakness, however, and all the big
choruses come across very well. The
Liverpool orchestra also plays extremely
well. The sound has come up remarkably
well in this Testament transfer.
Sargent was
back in Huddersfield to re-record the
work in November 1954, to mark his impending
sixtieth birthday. Again he conducted
the town’s Choral Society and the by-now
Royal Liverpool Philharmonic
Orchestra. This time his soloists were
Richard Lewis, Marjorie Thomas and John
Cameron. Lewis is a very involving Gerontius.
He’s tremendous at the start of "Sanctus
fortis" and indeed he sings the
whole of that aria splendidly. Hear
him, for instance, in the passage beginning
"And crueller still", which
is quite gripping. Showing, however,
that he is responsive to the whole range
of the part, he’s rapt at "Novissima
hora est". Throughout the whole
set he displays marvellous clarity of
tone and diction. His singing gives
consistent pleasure and seems effortless.
Marjorie Thomas is
a good angel, if not, perhaps, the most
distinctive one has heard. She makes
all the expressive points but, happily,
never overstates them. The dialogue
between the Soul of Gerontius and the
Angel at the start of Part Two is very
well sung by both soloists and it’s
fluently conducted by Sargent. In the
closing section of the work "Take
me away" sounds as if the music
is being ripped from Lewis and he gives
a very good performance of the aria.
As for Marjorie Thomas’s account of
the Farewell it seems appropriate to
borrow Alan Blyth’s phase and describe
it as "calm and serene".
EMI didn’t repeat the
extravagance of 1945 and contented themselves
with one singer for the bass roles.
The choice fell upon that fine singer
John Cameron. He makes a noble, prayerful
Priest. Perhaps he lacks the last ounce
of vocal amplitude for the Angel of
the Agony, a role that has a lower tessitura
overall. However, he sings the part
very well, not least those magnificent
phrases at "Hasten, Lord, their
hour."
The singing of the
Huddersfield Choral Society has a bit
more bite and presence than that of
their 1945 counterparts. Perhaps the
average age of the choir was a little
lower in peacetime? I suspect, however,
that it’s more to do with the advances
in recording technology over the intervening
years. Suffice to say that, for the
second time, the choral reputation of
Huddersfield is well served although
the outburst at "Praise to the
Holiest" is heard more thrillingly
on several other recordings and later
in the same chorus the passage beginning
at "O loving wisdom of our God"
could and should sound more urgent.
With another good showing from the Liverpool
orchestra this is another very telling
contribution by Sargent to the work’s
discography. I feel that his interpretation
is heard to better advantage in its
1945 incarnation though, of course,
the remake is in much better sound.
Richard Lewis was also
involved in the third complete recording
of the work (see review)
but this time the venue was on the other
side of the Pennines. The Free Trade
Hall, Manchester was the place where,
in December 1964, Sir John Barbirolli
assembled the combined forces of the
Hallé Choir and Orchestra, the
Sheffield Philharmonic Chorus and the
professional singers of the Ambrosian
Singers, who, I think, formed the semi-chorus.
Joining Lewis on the soloists’ roster
were the Finnish bass, Kim Borg and
a young mezzo-soprano named Janet Baker.
I’ve heard that Lewis
was suffering from a cold at the time
of these sessions. There are one or
two occasions when one wonders if he
was in fresher voice for Sargent but
the differences, if differences they
be, are minor. Once again he gives a
most convincing portrayal. Indeed, in
his very first solo he seems to suggest
the frailty of the dying Gerontius even
more convincingly than he did for Sargent.
He’s right on top of "Sanctus fortis",
of which he gives a splendid, ringing
account. He’s alive to every nuance
of the role and attains a real spirituality
at "Novissima hora est". When
we encounter him in Part Two he conveys
an inwardness and a sense of wonder
to rival Heddle Nash. In "Take
me away" his singing catches both
the anguish and the hope that’s inherent
in both the words and the music. In
summary, Lewis is a first rate Gerontius,
one of the finest exponents of the role
on disc.
But for me one of the
key factors behind the success of this
recording is the performance of Dame
Janet Baker. When she sings for the
first time what was already an exceptionally
eloquent performance is taken to a new
and higher level. Down the years much
has been written about her assumption
of this role and for many she is the
Angel, though I’m sure Dame Janet herself
would be the first to dismiss such talk.
Nonetheless, the fact remains that for
many people, myself included, it’s almost
impossible to hear certain phrases without
hearing in the mind the unique tone
quality and inflection that she brought
to these passages. These key phrases
include "You cannot now cherish
a wish"; "It is because then
thou didst fear"; "A presage
falls upon thee"; and "There
was a mortal". On these and many
other parts of the work Dame Janet has
left an enduring mark. With singers
of the calibre and intelligence of Lewis
and Dame Janet on hand it’s no surprise
that the dialogue between the Soul and
the Angel is deeply satisfying in this
recording. Both singers are audibly
right inside their roles and, of course,
they are guided and inspired by Barbirolli.
I mentioned Baker’s
participation as a key factor behind
the success of this recording. The other
is the direction of Sir John Barbirolli.
Gerontius was a piece that he
loved deeply and that comes through
in every bar of this recording. True,
there are one or two points when one
wonders if he isn’t loving the music
just a little too much but he doesn’t
wallow in the emotion of the work and
it’s abundantly clear that he inspires
his forces to give of their very best,
individually and collectively, in the
service of Elgar’s music. The Hallé
Orchestra plays marvellously. The Prelude
to Part One sings with Barbirolli as
for no one else and in the Prelude to
Part Two he coaxes playing of great
refinement from the string section.
But it’s on the choir that he works
his strongest alchemy, inspiring them
to sing with enormous commitment – there
isn’t a bank clerk in sight during the
Demon’s Chorus, which is sung – and
played – with real bite. The long build
up to "Praise to the Holiest"
is superbly handled and Barbirolli and
the engineers realise with great skill
the many layers of choral texture. When
we reach the great paean of praise itself
it’s a thrilling moment.
The performance is
crowned by a deeply moving account by
all concerned of the Angel’s Farewell.
Here we realise that Baker has saved
her best singing of all for the end.
She sounds consoling and encouraging
but her singing is not just emotionally
engaged it’s also technically superb.
The exquisite top E on the word "hold"
in the bar before cue 129 is, for me,
almost worth the price of the discs
alone.
Sadly, there is a flaw
in this set and it’s not an inconsiderable
one. The bass solos are allotted to
the Finnish bass Kim Borg. I seem to
recall reading somewhere that Borg was
Barbirolli’s own choice. Even if that’s
not the case Michael Kennedy remarks
in his definitive biography of the conductor
that JB had a penchant for bass voices
such as Borg’s in Gerontius and
that it mattered not if they weren’t
English. Sadly, Borg is very badly miscast.
His English pronunciation is idiosyncratic,
to put it kindly. One might forgive
him that were it not for the fact that,
to my ears at least, the sound he makes
is just ugly. I don’t detect any great
feeling for or understanding of what
he’s singing and "Proficiscere"
is only rescued by the superb choir.
His solo in Part Two is no more appealing
and one’s enthusiasm for this set must
be qualified on account of his involvement.
As I write this recording has just been
reissued as one of EMI’s Great Recordings
of the Century.
Before leaving Barbirolli
it’s worth mentioning another recording
that has surfaced from time to time
on various unofficial labels. This version
captures a live performance given in
Rome in November 1957 when Barbirolli
directed the chorus and orchestra of
the Italian broadcasting organisation,
RAI. Once again Barbirolli was given
– or chose - a big-voiced European bass,
in this case the Pole, Marian Nowkowski.
His Angel was that fine English contralto,
Constance Shacklock. Most interest lies,
however, in the involvement of the remarkable
Canadian tenor, Jon Vickers. [Archipel
(ARPCD0403) coupled with a live 1947
Halle/Barbirolli Symphonie Fantastique.]
Vickers is a powerful,
ringing Gerontius, as one might expect.
But he also encompasses the more sensitive
passages well. Constance Shacklock has
a rich contralto voice and she sings
with feeling and understanding. Marian
Nowkowski is not much better suited
to the bass roles than was Borg. However,
his voice falls more pleasingly on the
ear. The English pronunciation of the
Italian choir is definitely an acquired
taste. In truth, this performance adds
nothing to our view of Barbirolli’s
interpretation of Gerontius –
though his trademark groans are much
more in evidence than on the EMI recording.
But if it’s possible to track down a
copy of the recording then lovers of
the work will find the performances
by Jon Vickers and Constance Shacklock
of no little interest.
========================
Complete recordings: 1970-2006
Having drawn something
of an arbitrary line at the year 1970
I classify the remaining recordings
as "non-historic". The first
of these recordings is a bit special
for me as it was the first I ever owned
and therefore the one through which
I really got to know the work. It also
earns something of a unique place in
the pantheon because it’s conducted
by another composer, Benjamin Britten,
who brings some fascinating insights
of his own to the work (see review).
The recording was made in The Maltings,
Snape in 1971, after an Aldeburgh Festival
performance.
Britten had an interesting
team of soloists. Perhaps predictably
the Gerontius was Peter Pears. As the
Angel, he had the Australian mezzo,
Yvonne Minton while John Shirley-Quirk
sang the bass roles. Britten scored
a particular coup by using the
choir of King’s College, Cambridge,
for his semi-chorus. The different timbre
of this choir set against the London
Symphony Chorus is telling – in a wholly
positive way. On no other recording
is the vital semi-chorus contribution
so individually defined. The use of
the King’s choir in this way suggests
to me that Britten had thought about
Gerontius very deeply.
Early on in the performance
there’s another small detail that shows
how Britten has thought about the score.
In the Prelude to Part One there are
two abrupt cut-offs just before cue
10. Britten, however, includes a drum
roll at this point. It’s completely
unauthorised – and very exciting, though
the drama of the abrupt cut-off of the
entire orchestra is sacrificed. I wouldn’t
want to hear it done this way all the
time but it’s good to hear it this way
once in a while. I’ve never heard this
done before or since until the Colin
Davis recording appeared.
Britten’s conducting
is very fine. Much of the Prelude has
sweep and urgency and he obtains really
red-blooded playing from the LSO and
singing to match from the LSO Chorus.
This is not to say that the performance
lacks refinement for that is certainly
not the case. Once or twice Britten
rather overplays his hand, most notably
in the animato section of "Praise
to the Holiest", from cue 89. Frankly,
between here and cue 95 Britten’s urgent
pacing becomes rushed and as a result
the music has become gabbled before
cue 95 is reached. I also wish he’d
held back a little immediately before
the choir’s great outpouring at "Praise
to the Holiest" itself. It’s marked
maestoso the first time and molto
maestoso the second time but Britten
rather ignores the markings and whilst
the result has energy the grandeur goes
for nothing. But such miscalculations
are rare and what impresses above all
in Britten’s reading is the sense of
drama. In this, albeit their interpretations
are very different, he comes closest
to Barbirolli and it’s surely not without
significance that of all the conductors
under review here apart from Sir Colin
Davis these two had the most extensive
operatic experience.
Peter Pears’ assumption
of the title role won’t be to all tastes.
He was sixty-one when this recording
was made and, arguably, the recording
came a few years too late in his career.
However, it’s a while since I’ve listened
to this performance and coming back
to it now for this retrospect I was
surprised at how good he actually is.
He’s ardent in "Sanctus fortis"
although he does seem to need to take
more breaths than many of his rivals.
He floats "Novissima hora est"
plangently and, indeed, it’s in the
quieter, more introspective sections
of the role that he’s at his most effective.
Given his eminence as a singer of art-songs
it’s perhaps no surprise that he’s in
his element in the opening paragraphs
of Part Two. Here he sings with no little
eloquence and he combines very tellingly
with the Angel of Yvonne Minton. I detected
signs of strain and tiredness by the
time we get to "Take me away"
and this isn’t the most convincing account
of that aria on disc. One interesting
small point is that Pears takes the
lower alternative at "and go above"
in the bar after cue 123, something
I’ve not heard done by any other singer
on disc – it’s a choice which is rather
at odds with the words.
Miss Minton is a very
fine angel. She may not tug at the heart-strings
in the way that Dame Janet does, but
she’s at all times tasteful and sensitive.
She does the Farewell very nicely indeed,
though it’s noticeable that Britten
is unsentimental here and makes the
music flow more than anyone else, though
not to its detriment. The third soloist
also makes a very distinguished contribution.
John Shirley-Quirk is in sovereign voice
as the Priest. The Angel of the Agony
is not entirely within his best compass
but he sings the part well, and he’s
magnificent at "Hasten, Lord, their
hour."
This Britten performance
would not rank as a first choice but
it’s a most interesting and vital interpretation
and one that anyone interested in the
work ought to hear.
The next recording
to be made was the one for which Elgar
enthusiasts had been waiting with no
little impatience for many years. At
last, in 1976, Sir Adrian Boult
was invited to record the work for EMI.
He had a very noted exponent of the
role of the Angel in Helen Watts and
the bass soloist was Robert Lloyd. For
the role of Gerontius the choice was
a controversial one, the Swedish tenor,
Nicolai Gedda. Gedda’s performance drew
mixed notices at the time, as I recall
but, according to Michael Kennedy’s
authoritative biography of Boult, the
conductor himself was pleased with the
choice, describing Gedda as "Alpha
plus". In a letter to the producer,
Christopher Bishop, again quoted by
Kennedy, Boult thanked Bishop for his
"choice of and responsibility for
the soloists, including the brilliant
recruitment of an unlikely foreigner."
In listening to Gedda,
I don’t have the reservations about
his English pronunciation that I do
where Kim Borg is concerned. Sometimes
the vowels sound a little unnaturally
stressed but overall Gedda is good in
this respect. He’s eloquent in his first
solo though I find him a touch mannered
at "Rouse thee, my fainting soul."
He’s powerful, but also lyrical, in
"Sanctus fortis" but, on the
other hand, the aria doesn’t quite seem
to flow. When we get to "I
can no more" Gedda displays a wide
range of expression and dynamics but
in the passage beginning at "O
Jesu, help!" the music does seem
to be pulled about too much. The employment
of mezza voce at "Novissima
hora est" is excellent.
In the opening solo
of Part Two Gedda produces some lovely
sounds but I do wonder if his approach
doesn’t sound just a little studied.
The same comment applies to portions
of his contribution to the dialogue
with the Angel and though "Take
me away" begins thrillingly the
body of the solo seems a bit on the
slow side, but whether this is down
to Gedda, to Boult or to the two of
them in alliance is open to question.
Though Boult’s direction of the whole
score bespeaks wisdom and understanding
there are a number of occasions, and
not all of them involve Gedda, when
I feel the pulse is a little too steady.
Helen Watts offers
a warm and highly satisfying portrayal
of the Angel. She’s completely inside
the role and I’d describe her interpretation
as "central" in terms of its
performing tradition – I mean that as
a compliment. She displays intelligence
and a reassuring presence during the
Dialogue in Part Two though I feel that
the interactions between Nash and Ripley
and between Lewis and Baker offer more.
Among felicitous moments she’s gently
radiant at "Thou shalt see thy
Lord" and she gives a dedicated
account of the Farewell.
The third soloist is
Robert Lloyd. He’s sonorous as the Priest,
singing the solo with great nobility
and expression. He’s also quite magnificent
as the Angel of the Agony and, for me,
he’s the pick of the singers that we’ve
heard so far who essay both roles. Interestingly,
in another letter to Christopher Bishop
quoted by Michael Kennedy, Boult expressed
regret, after the sessions, that two
singers hadn’t been used. He commented,
"the characters are so different,
they should sound different too."
Boult is quite right but Robert Lloyd
comes closer than any other bass soloist
to proving him wrong.
Boult benefits from
an excellent chorus (the London Philharmonic)
and orchestra (New Philharmonia). The
orchestral strings deliver a hushed,
translucent rendition of the Prelude
to Part Two and throughout the recording
the orchestral playing in all departments
offers warmth or bite, as called for,
and great distinction. As for the chorus,
well they are fiery Demons. In this
chorus they sing with punch and clarity.
Later, the build up to "Praise
to the Holiest" is splendidly controlled
and realised by the singers and, of
course, by Boult himself, while the
great paean of praise at the start of
the chorus, majestically paced, is a
tremendous moment. As the chorus unfolds,
the second section, from cue 89, where
the choir divides into two, is delivered
with exemplary clarity and when the
pace hots up, from cue 95 onwards, the
pacing strikes me as near ideal. All
of this is captured in a vintage 1970s
EMI recording of great warmth and clarity
for which that fine team of Christopher
Bishop (producer) and Christopher Parker
(engineer) must take full credit. The
original CD set suffered from one criminal
presentational flaw with Part One broken
between the two discs immediately before
"Proficiscere". I think I’ve
read somewhere that this horrible blunder
was eradicated on subsequent reissues:
I do hope so.
I’d describe Boult’s
performance as "dedicated".
It bears the stamp of all his accumulated
experience and wisdom but for all that
the drama is somewhat underplayed. The
reading, while very satisfying on many
levels, doesn’t always set the pulse
racing. For that reason I don’t believe
it can be counted as first choice but
it’s an essential chapter in the work’s
discography.
Ten years after the
Boult performance and EMI recorded yet
another performance of the work. This
time it was led by Simon Rattle
with his City of Birmingham Symphony
Orchestra and the CBSO Chorus. Three
soloists with distinguished pedigrees
were lined up. Dame Janet Baker and
John Shirley-Quirk each made their second
recording of the work while the Gerontius,
singing the role for the first time
on record, was the erstwhile pupil of
Heddle Nash, John Mitchinson. Here I
must declare an interest for I have
know John Mitchinson personally for
some years, during which time I’ve heard
and enjoyed him singing this role live
on several occasions. I think it’s interesting
to note that Mitchinson essayed more
of the heavy operatic tenor roles probably
than any other tenor under consideration
here. During the 1980s and 1990s he
was Rattle’s tenor of choice for such
works as Das Lied von der Erde,
Gurrelieder, and the Glagolitic
Mass. Mitchinson is thus ideally
equipped to be the most manly Gerontius
on disc and he fulfils amply that expectation
while at the same time being fully alive
to the many sensitive nuances of the
part.
His "Sanctus fortis"
is powerful and commanding but the more
reflective pages of that solo are equally
well realised. He fines down his voice
admirably for "Novissima hora est",
floating the sound beautifully. All
his experience as a character actor
in opera comes to the fore in his singing
in the opening paragraphs of Part Two
and the cultivated nature of his singing
brings a real distinction and many insights
to his part in the Dialogue. Such passages
as "But hark, a grand mysterious
harmony" are here shown to benefit
from the resources of an heroic tenor
and, predictably, he makes the start
of "Take me away" a thrilling
yet anguished moment. At times on sustained
notes the vibrato in his voice may distract
some listeners though I don’t find it
a problem and certainly the vibrato
doesn’t affect the clarity of the notes
in the way that, as we shall see, is
a serious drawback in another recording.
Dame Janet had, by
this time, over twenty years further
experience as the Angel and this shows
in a reading of great maturity. However,
there are trade-offs with the Barbirolli
set. To my ears her voice had darkened
over the intervening years and I also
find a greater degree of freshness in
her traversal of the role for Barbirolli.
Nonetheless her portrayal of the Angel
remains deeply satisfying and she has
a unique way of warming such phrases
as "You cannot now cherish a wish"
and "A presage falls upon thee."
The Farewell is once again a deeply
satisfying and consoling piece of singing.
If, for me, her earlier rendition for
Barbirolli remains preferable I still
wouldn’t wish to be without this marvellous
example of her singing what was a signature
role in the full maturity of her career.
John Shirley-Quirk
sings the bass roles with the eloquence
and dignity that one came to expect
from this fine singer.
All Simon Rattle’s
famed attention to detail is in evidence
on this set and, in fact, in terms of
sheer beauty and refinement of orchestral
sound this is probably the finest recording
the work has received. The CBSO is on
top form throughout, as is the CBSO
chorus, and in consequence all the Big
Moments make their full impact. However,
Rattle is equally successful in realising
the more intimate sections of the score,
such as a gossamer light account of
the Part Two Prelude. There are some
moments when perhaps I’d disagree gently
with his choice of tempo but overall
he seems to me to convey the shape and
sweep of the work. It’s a little while
since I’ve heard this performance right
through. Returning to it and hearing
it pitted against the competition, as
it were, I was agreeably surprised to
be reminded how good it is overall.
Another long-awaited
recording appeared in 1993 when Vernon
Handley’s interpretation was set
down. In a neat reversal of the Sargent
recordings the Huddersfield Choral Society
travelled to Liverpool to link up in
Philharmonic Hall with the RLPO and
its chorus. The soloists were Anthony
Rolfe Johnson, Catherine Wyn-Rogers
and Michael George. I commented in detail
on that recording when it was reissued
in 2003 (see review).
In summary, Anthony Rolfe-Johnson offers
an excellent portrayal of Gerontius,
albeit one that emphasises the lyrical
aspects of the role – without short
changing the dramatic moments. Catherine
Wyn-Rogers is, perhaps, a little understated
as the Angel and certainly doesn’t "do"
as much with the words as some of her
rivals – or, indeed, Rolfe-Johnson.
However, her portrayal is unaffected
and sincere. Perhaps her subsequent
appearance in the Andrew Davis DVD (see
below) does her greater justice.
Vernon Handley draws
marvellous playing from the Royal Liverpool
Philharmonic Orchestra and he’s very
well served by the combined Liverpool
and Huddersfield choirs – he probably
has the largest chorus on disc. And
the performance benefits hugely from
Handley’s own attention to detail and
his profound understanding of the work.
I bought this recording when it first
came out and I’ve always felt that it’s
been underrated. As the performance
is captured in very good sound, adding
to the attractions of the set, this
makes an excellent bargain recommendation.
Sir Andrew Davis
made a number of well-received recordings
of music by Elgar, principally for Warner
Classics, while he was Chief Conductor
of the BBC Symphony Orchestra. Sadly,
now that he has moved on to the Chicago
Lyric Opera and Warner Classics have
pulled out of new classical recordings,
it must be unlikely that he’ll add Gerontius
to his Elgar discography on CD. For
those who admire his work in Elgar that
makes all the more valuable a DVD of
a live performance given in St. Paul’s
Cathedral, London, in November 1997.
The recording is welcome also in that
it captures Philip Langridge’s Gerontius,
which is not otherwise represented on
disc. The other two soloists, Catherine
Wyn-Rogers and Alastair Miles have appeared
in other recordings – for Handley and
Sir Colin Davis respectively.
Again, this is a recording
on which I commented in full when it
was first released (see review).
Sir Andrew conducts a very convincing
account of the score and Philip Langridge
makes an excellent Gerontius. Catherine
Wyn-Rogers also has much to offer, though
I was a little less enthralled by the
contributions of Alastair Miles. I see
that the editors of The Penguin Guide
2008 rate this as "the finest recorded
Gerontius ever." I wouldn’t
go that far, but it’s a considerable
achievement – and a far safer all round
bet than the only other available live
recording (see below). As far as I’m
aware this is the only DVD release of
the work to date so it’s good news that
this is such a recommendable version.
In the last year or
so we’ve seen two new recordings come
onto the market, both on the own labels
of the orchestras concerned. The first
to appear, in 2006, was a live recording
by Sir Colin Davis and the LSO,
made in the previous December of one
of the concerts (see review)
from which this recording is taken.
The soloists were David Rendall, a very
late substitute for Ben Heppner, Anne
Sofie von Otter and Alastair Miles.
This reading need not detain us long,
I’m afraid. It gives me no pleasure
to say this as I admire Sir Colin greatly
and his live recordings of the three
symphonies for the same label confirm
him to be a fine Elgarian.
On this recording the
orchestra and chorus both perform superbly
and, one or two points excepted, I find
Sir Colin’s interpretation convincing.
What lets this performance down and
rules it out of court is the soloists.
Alastair Miles is a hectoring Priest,
projecting his voice too forcefully
and, in so doing, the dignity and prayerfulness
essential to the role elude him completely.
On the DVD discussed above, which I
saw before this CD came along, I thought
his stentorian projection of this role
might be explained by his positioning
on the platform. However, I doubt that
this applies to his performance in the
Barbican. The role of the Angel of the
Agony suits him better.
Anne Sofie von Otter
sings well enough but I find her approach
cool and objective and I really do wonder
how well she understands the role of
the Angel. However, the set’s real Achilles
heel lies in the singing of David Rendall.
Right from the start he sings with such
a very wide and pronounced vibrato that,
to be truthful, I often find it difficult
to be sure of the precise pitch of the
note he is singing. This applies at
all levels of volume and it makes listening
to him a real trial. Perhaps the microphone
was too closely placed, but if so all
that does is to exaggerate an unacceptable
flaw in his singing. One must make allowance
for the fact that he was a very late
substitute – but that applies only to
the first of the two concerts from which
this recording is taken. I didn’t see
Jim Pritchard’s concert review before
I acquired this set. However, I note
that he felt at the time that this performance
of Gerontius should not be preserved
on disc and I can only agree. In fairness
I should add that Jim clearly enjoyed
Miss von Otter’s performance more than
I did.
The most recent contender
was the Birmingham recording, released
to coincide with the Elgar 150th
birthday weekend celebrations in 2007.
Sakari Oramo led his CBSO forces
in a studio recording taped in Symphony
Hall, Birmingham in August and September
2006 (see review).
Oramo’s soloists were Justin Lavender,
Jane Irwin and Peter Rose. On listening
yet again for this survey I’ve come
to the conclusion that I’m reluctant
to recommend this set, though that’s
a pity given the excellence of much
of the enterprise. The playing and choral
singing are superb and the recorded
sound, which positively blossoms in
the spacious acoustic of Symphony Hall,
is easily the finest in any of the versions
considered here. I like much of Sakari
Oramo’s conducting too, though I do
part company with him over the choice
of tempi in "Praise to the Holiest".
Among the soloists Peter Rose is satisfactory
and my admiration for Jane Irwin’s assumption
of the Angel has, if anything, increased.
But I’m afraid the Gerontius of Justin
Lavender is a major stumbling block
for me. Even more than when I first
heard the set I miss any real sense
that he truly understands the spirituality
behind the role. His lack of sensitivity
is highlighted by his inattentiveness
to soft dynamic markings. I’m afraid
he simply won’t do. In the interests
of balance, however, I ought to say
that since I originally reviewed the
set a very experienced critic, writing
in another publication, has expressed
the view that Lavender "offers
nobility, variety, intelligence and
understanding of his difficult part:
he is always ‘inside’ it."
I concluded my review
of the Oramo performance by saying that
I felt the way was still open for a
first class modern recording of Gerontius.
Listening to all these versions yet
again hasn’t changed that view. I still
cling to the hope that Mark Elder, who
has so distinguished himself in Elgar
recordings and performances in recent
years, will set the work down with his
Hallé forces before too long.
I thought
that his 2005 reading at the Henry Wood
Proms was something special (see review).
The recent repeat broadcast on Radio
Three in mid-November simply confirmed
that view. If he could replicate that
in the studio then his would be a significant
contender in the Gerontius stakes.
Perhaps if Elder does make a recording
he could be prevailed upon to engage
Sarah Connolly as the Angel. I’ve heard
her take the role in concert on a couple
of occasions in recent years and I’ve
no doubt that her portrayal of the Angel
is urgently in need of preservation
for posterity while she’s at the height
of her powers.
Summing up
Does the ideal recording
of The Dream of Gerontius exist?
Is such a thing possible? The answer
to both those questions must surely
be in the negative for it’s highly unlikely
that a performance of any work of art
can achieve perfection. And in any event
one person’s "ideal performance"
will not strike another listener in
the same way. But that’s not to diminish
the achievements, both individual and
collective, that are enshrined in some
of the recordings discussed above. Indeed,
of them all there are only a couple
that I’d decline to recommend.
All the rest have much
to commend them. Britten’s version has
many penetrating insights, though Pears
as Gerontius will not be to everyone’s
taste. Boult’s performance exudes authority
but, as with the Britten version, he
has a controversial tenor in the title
role. Vernon Handley’s version is as
authoritative as Boult’s and I’m much
more attracted to both his Gerontius
and his Angel than some other commentators
have been. Of the modern versions I
think the Rattle set is the best
all-round choice.
But in the end one
comes back to Sargent and Barbirolli.
In the case of Sargent it has to be
the 1945 version, despite the many merits
of his later traversal. In fact, I choose
the Sargent version not so much for
the conducting as for the performers,
and Heddle Nash especially. No Elgar
enthusiast’s collection should be without
this performance: Nash is simply hors
concours. However, for vision and
inspirational conducting I keep coming
back to ‘Glorious John’. It’s true that
Kim Borg is a grievous disappointment
– a terrible piece of miscasting. But
Lewis is still a very considerable Gerontius,
even when slightly indisposed, and in
the young Janet Baker Barbirolli has
an incomparable Angel. When you add
to that a choir and orchestra that perform
as if their very lives depended on it
then you have a Gerontius that
is still unsurpassed. I confess that
it was this version that moved me the
most during my comparative listening
and, surely, emotion as well as objective
assessment is a major part of the evaluation
of any musical performance.
Listening to all these
recordings, each one of which has something
to say to us about the work, has reminded
me afresh how great a masterpiece is
The Dream of Gerontius.
On the manuscript full score of Gerontius
Elgar inscribed some lines from a poem
by John Ruskin. The quotation begins
‘This is the best of me; for the rest,
I ate, and drank, and slept, loved and
hated, like another." He also wrote
to a friend that he had "written
my own heart’s blood into the score."
Hearing music of such blazing conviction
and originality, particularly in Barbirolli’s
warm-hearted, dramatic and totally committed
performance, who could doubt him?
John Quinn
