Released on 1 June 2007, to coincide
with the Elgar birthday weekend, this
set constitutes a handsome tribute to
the composer who many, myself included,
regard as England’s premier composer.
It marks the 150th anniversary
of his birth. Yet it was almost ‘The
Set that Never Was’ for the recordings
were originally intended for the Warner
Classics label and nearly fell victim
to that company’s decision in 2006 to
cease making new classical recordings.
Happily, the CBSO determined to press
ahead and they have made and released
the recording themselves. I hope that
their enterprise and dedication to Elgar’s
cause will be rewarded with strong sales
and that, thus emboldened, the orchestra
will go on to make further recordings
and issue these themselves.
Whether intentionally
or not, the choice of music on this
set is very clever and illuminating
for it gives us a snapshot of Elgar
at a creative crossroads. It’s not often
that the two works that really made
his name – the Enigma Variations
and Gerontius – are juxtaposed.
It’s valuable to have them gathered
together as here.
It’s also very revealing
that those two pieces are accompanied
by a minor but interesting novelty from
about the same time. This is Elgar’s
arrangement for chorus and orchestra
of The Holly and The Ivy. Since
this little piece will be unknown to
most collectors, as it was to me, the
story behind it, as related in Michael
Foster’s notes, is worth telling in
summary. It was one of several orchestral
accompaniments to carols that Elgar
wrote in 1898 for the Worcester Philharmonic
Society. He had been one of the Society’s
founders in the previous year and he
was their conductor. These arrangements
apparently used old French carol tunes
– so what we hear is not the traditional
English tune, which makes a very pleasant
change. In fact I have never heard this
lilting compound time tune before but
it fits the words very well. The carol
was performed in 1898 but the manuscript
was then lost and only came to light
quite by chance in 1970 when it was
discovered in an antiques shop in the
Worcestershire town of Bewdley. The
setting was revived by the CBSO at the
2005 Three Choirs Festival in Worcester.
The trouble with some
carols like The Holly and The Ivy
– and, even more so, The First Nowell
- is that they consist of quite a number
of verses and it’s difficult to leave
any of them out without destroying the
sense of the carol yet the piece can
be wearyingly repetitive. The problem
is surmounted here by skilful variations
in the orchestral accompaniment to each
verse. Thus the interest lies not just
in the unfamiliar tune but also in what’s
going on in the accompaniment underneath.
I think this is a charming little setting.
It’s light and fresh and I’m glad it’s
been rediscovered. One tantalising question
arises, the answer to which is not clear
from the notes: what were the other
carol arrangements and did they come
to light at the same time or are they
lost forever?
In his book Portrait
of Elgar Michael Kennedy poses the
question: What if Elgar had died
in 1898? As he reminds us, Elgar
was then beginning work on the Enigma
Variations but at that point
his reputation, had he died, would have
rested on works such as the overture
Froissart and cantatas such as
Caractacus and King Olaf,
works which have many merits but which
do not represent Elgar as the composer
of genius and great stature that he
became. The import of that question
is given additional force by hearing
The Holly and The Ivy next to
the Variations and Gerontius.
I mean no discourtesy when I say that
it reminds us forcefully of the quantum
leap that he made between 1898 and 1900
from the obscure provincial composer
to the great creative artist we so admire
and respect today.
Oramo offers a very
good performance of Enigma, which
has the twin merits of bringing the
various portraits to life while not
doing so through any egregious distortions
of the music. Though the members of
the CBSO must be able to play this music
in their sleep it never sounds hackneyed
or routine. On the contrary, there’s
a freshness about the performance that
I much admire. Thus the theme, which
represents Elgar himself is unfolded
nobly and the first variation, representing
Alice Elgar, comes across as the theme’s
"other half", as is right
and proper. The fifth variation, ‘R.P.A.’,
has a rich hue but Oramo never wallows
in the music, which he shapes quite
beautifully. ‘Troyte’ bounds along splendidly
and ‘W.N.’ is very gracious.
The great ninth variation,
‘Nimrod’, is ushered in by really hushed
playing. Oramo unfolds this piece with
warmth and nobility. But, crucially,
he keeps the music moving forward at
all times and it grows continually.
Despite the elegiac connotations that
have grown up around this movement it
is most emphatically not an elegy
– after all, Elgar’s great friend, Jaeger,
who is depicted here, was still very
much alive at the time it was composed.
It’s salutary to read the reaction of
Dora Penny – ‘Dorabella’ of the very
next variation – when Elgar played her
the score at the piano and she heard
the music for the very first time. Of
‘Nimrod’ she said: "That must be
a wonderful person, when am I going
to meet him?" To which the response
was: "Oh, you will like
him, he is the dearest person
…" No hint of mourning there and
there’s no hint of it in Oramo’s reading
either. In fact for me this ‘Nimrod’
is just right.
He brings out nicely
the charming little hesitations in ‘Dorabella’,
aided by great delicacy in the CBSO’s
playing. ‘G.R.S.’ is properly headlong
and then the strings really sing out
in ‘B.G.N.’ What a wonderful line Elgar
gives them! The one little disappointment
is that in the ‘Romanza’ I can’t
hear the evocative distant timpani roll,
even through headphones, which is a
pity since the reading is otherwise
most atmospheric. Then, to conclude,
Oramo treats us to a bracing, surging
‘E.D.U.’ with a splendidly telling contribution
from the Symphony Hall organ to enrich
the final pages. In this finale the
work is not exactly brought full circle
but we see the other side of Elgar.
Here all is confidence, in sharp contrast
to the uncertain melancholy of the theme
at the very start. It’s as if Elgar
is saying to us, "look what strength
I get from ‘my friends pictured within.’"
This is a very satisfying and faithful
performance. I like Oramo’s Enigma
very much.
I find parts of his
reading of Gerontius a bit more
problematic. I should say at once that
there’s a great deal to admire. The
CBSO’s playing is just as accomplished
and rich-toned as was the case in Enigma.
In both works the orchestral sound is
securely founded on a bass that is deep
and full but never overpowering. The
CBSO chorus also sing splendidly and
they make a very satisfying contribution
to Part One. In Part Two, supported
by some splendidly incisive playing
from the CBSO, they produce a very exciting
sound in The Demon’s Chorus. My one
reservation is that in this section
they don’t sound nasty enough most of
the time. This is music depicting unpleasant
beings and I think a touch of nasal
roughness and a willingness to snarl
is very much in order but we don’t quite
get that. When they do snarl
– for example at the words "and
pious cheats" – the effect is very
good: I’d have welcomed a bit more of
this during this section. I’ll comment
on ‘Praise to the Holiest’ in a moment.
For now, suffice to say that the choir
makes a sterling effort in that chorus
and meets all the demands placed on
them. Finally, they play a full part
in the very successful realisation of
the ‘Angel’s farewell’.
In that last scene
of the work the mezzo-soprano, Jane
Irwin, is to the fore, of course. I
was very impressed with her contributions
to Oramo’s recent concert performances
of Apostles
and Kingdom.
Here, with a much larger part to sing
she amply confirms those favourable
impressions. Miss Irwin has a lovely,
rich tone, which is well nigh ideal
for this role. Wisely she doesn’t attempt
to over-interpret the role. Instead
she sings simply, directly and with
great sincerity and puts her own individual
stamp on the performance.
She impresses right
from the start. Her first phrases are
lovely, culminating in a hushed "Alleluia",
at the bar after cue 15, which is seemingly
delivered on a thread of breath. Her
singing of "There was a mortal"
is dedicated and, like all the rest
of her singing, extremely communicative
and the passage in which she leads up
to the appearance of the Angel of the
Agony is tremendously expressive. Then
"Praise to His Name" is exultant,
climaxing on a thrilling top A. Finally,
she caps a splendid performance with
a lovely account of the Farewell. Here
she’s consoling and reassuring and little
details like the gentle emphasis she
places on the words "most loving
arms" typifies the care and thoughtfulness
of her approach. In summary, this is
a moving and dedicated assumption of
the role and I admired and enjoyed it
in equal measure.
Justin Lavender in
the title role doesn’t quite match Miss
Irwin’s achievement. He has much going
for him. He has a strong, clear, ringing
tone and his vocal production is very
even throughout the whole compass of
the voice. He has lots of power, the
top notes come easily to him and he
seems to have an almost inexhaustible
supply of breath, which allows him to
sing in splendidly long phrases. Thus,
for example, "Take me away",
though taken very broadly by Oramo,
is accomplished without a break.
So there’s quite a
bit on the positive side of the ledger
for Lavender. However, other aspects
are not quite so satisfactory. To be
fair, Elgar sets his tenor an almost
insuperable challenge. The soloist needs
at times the vocal amplitude of a heldentenor
but, equally, long stretches of the
role, in Part Two especially, require
the subtlety and intimacy of a lieder
singer. Unfair the challenge may be,
but several other tenors have met it
successfully on disc. Justin Lavender
sometimes seems a bit lacking in the
subtle aspects of the role.
So, for instance when
we first encounter Gerontius on his
deathbed Lavender doesn’t really suggest
to me that he is "near to death".
There’s no real evidence of fear or
physical pain in the voice. Just to
check I listened to Richard Lewis in
the 1964 Barbirolli recording and at
once one hears a singer who is much
more hushed and inward and one who convinces
as a dying man. He finds - and conveys
- more in the text than does Lavender.
At "Rouse thee my fainting soul"
Gerontius gathers himself, and here
the virility in Lavender’s singing is
appropriate. Similarly, he begins ‘Sanctus,
fortis’ in a big, manly fashion, which
is fine, but after a while I found his
timbre and volume in this solo were
a bit unvaried though Elgar often asks
for more dynamic contrast. He’s very
good in the anguished cry of "O
Jesu, help" and gives us a superb,
ringing top B flat at "in Thine
own agony" but there are other
passages in the ‘Sanctus, fortis’ where
Richard Lewis offers much more – for
instance at "in that manhood crucified".
A cruelly demanding test comes at "Novissima
hora est". Lavender is satisfactory
but he lacks the eloquent head voice
of Heddle Nash or the sweeter-toned
frailty of Lewis. I should say straightaway
that some listeners may find those two
singers of an earlier age too emotional,
in which case Lavender’s more direct
style may appeal.
In Part Two he sings
the opening soliloquy well enough but
I don’t sense sufficient mystery or
wonder in the singing. Nor does he impart
the sense of wonder that there should
surely be at the soul’s first glimpse
of the Angel – "It is a member
of that family of wondrous beings".
However, at the end of the dialogue
with the Angel, when the singers combine
in duet at cue 27, the balancing is
very good and Lavender’s strong, even
tone falls pleasingly on the ear. He
has just the right timbre and power
for the brief solo phrase "the
sound is like the rushing of the wind"
but, sadly, I hear no sense of awe or
trepidation at "I go before my
judge". I’ve already mentioned
his superb, elongated phrasing at the
start of "Take me away" and
the way he lets the last note of that
phrase die away gradually is absolutely
ideal. His account of this last aria
is generally good. I’m sorry to express
these reservations about Justin Lavender’s
performance. Others may respond much
more positively because, as I hope I’ve
shown, there’s a lot to appreciate in
his performance but I just think he
could have found even more in the role.
The bass Peter Rose
has two very contrasting solos. It seems
to me that the role of the Angel of
the Agony suits his sonorous voice and
his style more than does the part of
the Priest. As the Priest I think he’s
a bit too emphatic – he sounds to command
the soul of Gerontius rather than commend
it. He has an unfortunate vocal mannerism,
which I found irritating on repeated
hearings, in that he has a tendency
to add an "a" sound at the
end of some words. Thus in his second
solo we hear – or I do – "and-a
bid them-a come to Thee." There
are several similar examples in each
solo and it’s a pity - but it may not
bother other listeners.
And what of the conducting
of Sakari Oramo? Well, this too must
be a slightly mixed report. He’s evidently
thought very carefully about this score
and he has the advantage of coming to
it unburdened by the English Tradition
of playing it. The performance has been
scrupulously prepared and he clearly
loves the music very much. The opening
Prelude is very well shaped and he gets
the orchestra to play it superbly. The
moderato at cue 9 sounds somewhat
brisk and I think that there’s something
of a loss of grandeur as a result. But
perhaps Oramo doesn’t think this passage
should sound grand and he may have a
point for, as best as I could measure
it, his speed is crotchet = 104, which
isn’t that far above the marked 92.
Where I do think he’s
a little hasty is at "Be merciful"
(cue 34) where he’s well above the marked
speed of crotchet = 54. As a result
what should be an implacable tread in
the bass line doesn’t make the proper
effect. However, I like the clarity
he achieves in the preceding chorus,
"Holy Mary", where every choral
strand can be heard. Oramo achieves
wonderfully luminous textures in the
short prelude to Part Two. He handles
the dialogue between the Soul of Gerontius
and the Angel very well, achieving a
good sense of fluidity. The Demon’s
Chorus is, on one level, tremendously
exciting but the pace is hectic. Frankly,
I think it’s just a bit too hectic,
especially in the fugal episode at "Dispossessed,
aside thrust, chuck’d down". Tellingly,
for all the clarity of the choir’s singing,
they can’t articulate clearly the words
"despot’s will" and that suggests
to me that the pace is just a notch
too brisk. And when Jane Irwin sings
"It is the restless panting.."
in the middle of this chorus she sounds
rushed and a bit discomfited by the
pace.
A little later, at
the start of the build-up to ‘Praise
to the Holiest’ Oramo gets some marvellous
singing from the ladies of the choir.
Once again, every strand of the music
is clear and although some passages
sound a bit fleet he conveys a splendid
air of innocence and purity, which is
just right. But his treatment of the
big chorus itself will be, I think,
the most controversial aspect of this
performance. A lot of it seems impossibly
fast to me. I think he misses some of
the grandeur in the opening shout of
praise (cue 74) but on the other hand
he doesn’t pull the music back at this
point so much as to distort it, in the
way that his predecessor in Birmingham,
Sir Simon Rattle, did on his EMI recording.
However, parts of the chorus that follow
are disconcertingly – indeed, startlingly
- fast. Comparative timings may be instructive
here, covering the music from "And
now the threshold" to the end of
the chorus. Oramo gets through this
in 5:44. Elgar himself, in his live
1927 recording (EMI, The Elgar Edition,
Vol. 1) takes 6:54. Among more recent
comparators Rattle takes 7:20, Barbirolli
(EMI, 1964) 8:57 and Sargent (HMV, 1945,
now on Testament) 8:19.
I guess that what Oramo
intended to convey is a headlong, onrushing
paean of praise. It’s certainly a fresh
perspective on the score and in a sense
it’s exhilarating but with the best
will in the world I have to say that
I feel the music is rushed off its feet
at times. The choir and orchestra respond
to these extraordinary demands tremendously
and Oramo always maintains control but
I can imagine a listener who doesn’t
know the words having trouble knowing
what the choir is singing about. On
balance I think several of the speeds
for this chorus are misjudged.
So, how to sum up this
new Gerontius? Well the orchestral
playing and choral singing are as good
as you could wish to hear. The performance
boasts a very fine Angel and there’s
much to admire in the conducting of
Sakari Oramo, who demonstrates a tremendous
grip on the score. Against that must
be set one or two instances of controversial
speeds and a Gerontius who delivers
some thrilling passages but who, one
thinks, could have dug a bit more deeply
into the role. I much prefer this recording
to the recent Colin Davis/LSO Live version
but in the end the hegemony of the Heddle
Nash/Sargent and Lewis/Barbirolli versions
is not challenged. The way is still
open for a first class modern recording
of this wonderful score. Based on his
superb Proms performance in 2005 – with
an outstanding Gerontius in Paul Groves
and the Hallé Choir and Orchestra
giving their all – Mark Elder could
well be the man to deliver that.
I should add that the
recorded sound for this set is magnificent
– and much to be preferred to the LSO
Live recording. The engineers have used
the resonance of the empty Symphony
Hall to excellent effect and have captured
the performances in realistic, clear
sound. The great crash immediately before
‘Take me away’ is absolutely thrilling
– but make sure the neighbours are out!
The documentation, including the full
texts is first rate.
Notwithstanding the
reservations I’ve expressed about aspects
of Gerontius this is a noteworthy
set and a handsome 150th
anniversary tribute to the man who was
the first conductor of what was then
the City Of Birmingham Orchestra. My
reservations about Gerontius are
subjective, inevitably, and if collectors
have the chance to sample before purchasing
they may find that they don’t share
them. I hope this enterprising CBSO
own-label release will be the first
of many for those who don’t live close
to Birmingham should have more opportunities
to sample the fruitful partnership between
Sakari Oramo and the CBSO.
John Quinn.
City of Birmingham Symphony Chorus 
