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Edward ELGAR (1857-1934) The Kingdom, Op. 51 – Prelude (1905) [9:31] Violin Concerto in B minor, Op. 61 (1910) [48:03] The Dream of Gerontius – Prelude and The Angel’s Farewell
(1900) [17:21]
Thomas Zehetmair (violin); Alice Coote (mezzo)
Hallé Orchestra/Mark Elder
rec. Bridgewater Hall, Manchester, U.K., 23 March 2005 (Kingdom),
3-4 May 2008 (Concerto) and 15-19 July 2008 (Gerontius)
HALLE CD HLL 7521 [74:54]
Those collecting the Hallé’s Elgar series will know that each
disc features at least one unusual item to set it apart from
its competitors. The present disc begins and ends, rather incongruously
some might think, with extracts from two of Elgar’s oratorios.
The prelude to The Kingdom opens with music almost as
impetuous as that of In the South, but later passages
bring significant contrast, with several, richly scored passages
of great lyrical beauty. The version given here features a concert-ending
by the composer that you won’t find in the oratorio score. It
receives a superb performance, one which has made me impatient
to hear the whole work again, something I haven’t done for many
years.
The extracts from The Dream of Gerontius came into being
as a result of requests from Henry Wood, amongst others, who
wanted to programme music from the oratorio in purely orchestral
concerts. Like Wagner with Tristan und Isolde, Elgar
chose to arrange the beginning and the end of his mighty work.
Michael Kennedy’s notes, which, as ever, get directly to the
heart of matter, tell us that Elgar worked on this arrangement
towards the end of 1900 and conducted a performance with orchestra
alone in February of the following year. Four days later, Wood
conducted the same arrangement but included the vocal part of
the closing pages. The choral parts are omitted, and to my ears
the orchestral parts seem to have been subject to relatively
little modification. Alice Coote is most moving as the Angel.
She sings with a calm radiance that would reassure – I think
– even the most timorous soul, with only the slightest trace
of vocal hardness on one or two high notes. The Prelude is sober
and serious. The recording dates given are identical to those
of Elder’s complete recording of Gerontius. For all I
know, the Prelude, at least, may simply be an extract from the
complete recording. I have not yet heard that performance, but
this disc has prompted me into action, and I have ordered it
today. With that in mind, plus The Kingdom, I clearly
have some large-scale Elgar listening to look forward to!
The orchestral introduction to the Violin Concerto, all three
minutes of it, is played with enormous conviction and authority
by the Hallé. Mark Elder’s mastery of the ebb and flow of the
Elgarian pulse now seems complete, albeit more Boult than Barbirolli
I would say. The soloist’s first entry is forceful, but leads
to a long, held pause which creates a strikingly powerful, sombre
atmosphere. The rest of the movement alternates between the
tenderness and forcefulness the score demands, but one is left
with the feeling that Zehetmair wants to bring out the violent
side of the work’s passionate nature rather than its inward
quality. This is certainly a valid view – this is a true, virtuoso
concerto – and many will be convinced by it. All the same, I
feel there is something missing here. It’s not that Zehetmair’s
playing lacks tenderness. The second subject, for example, is
beautifully done, and like all the lyrical passages, features
a kind of portamento playing which puts one in mind of
Menuhin. Elder certainly matches his soloist blow by blow: the
orchestral tutti half way through the movement is surprisingly
violent, and the closing pages communicate something close to
desperation, making the opening of the slow movement even more
a haven of peace than usual. Even here though, the soloist’s
entry, marked mezzo-forte and cantabile, is delivered
with an intense vibrato giving it an anguished quality. There
is a refusal to linger from all concerned throughout the movement,
and just as there are one or two rough patches from the soloist
in the more taxing passages of the work, so he shows himself
occasionally willing to sacrifice beauty of tone in favour of
a real fortissimo in this slow movement. His way with
the rapid semiquavers which open the third movement brings some
heaviness, despite the fact that it is marked to begin softly.
On the whole this finale is dispatched with great drama and
conviction, but then there is the famous cadenza to consider.
As we know, the score carries a inscription to the effect that
the work enshrines the soul of ….. - five dots being the only
clue as to the identity of the soul incarnate. Elgar revealed
that it was a “she”, but no more than that. Those amongst us
– the present writer included – who are irritated by this kind
of thing, readily admit, nonetheless, that there is something
intensely personal in this work, and in the accompanied last
movement cadenza in particular. Is it not here that the composer
is in closest communion with the soul in question? If so, the
performers must bring out the intimate nature of the discourse,
its almost secret quality. We might wonder if we aren’t intruding,
except that the thoughts and feelings the composer is communicating
are powerful and vivid without being explicit, which is, of
course, the great and glorious power of music. Zehetmair plays
this cadenza superbly, but just misses this mood, to my ears.
He doesn’t quite cast the spell, and overall this is what I
feel is lacking in an otherwise immensely fine performance.
Many will welcome the strong, virile approach, as I also do,
but it doesn’t seem to be the whole story. It is a reading I
will come back to often, but I won’t always want to hear Elgar’s
concerto this way. I admire Hilary Hahn’s DG reading very much,
and Pinchas Zukerman with Barenboim on Sony even more. Menuhin
never figured amongst my favourite violinists, and he is technically
fallible in his performance with Boult and the New Philharmonia
Orchestra, recorded by EMI in 1965. But I do think he comes
closest, in all the recorded performances I have heard – and
I haven’t heard them all – to penetrating the secret of this
wonderful concerto.
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