This Somm disc usefully gathers together a number of pieces composed by
Elgar
during the First World War. One or two of these, such as
Sursum
Corda,
don’t quite fit that bill and neither does
Carissima which,
although
written in 1914, pre-dates the conflict; it’s a peacetime work. No
matter,
each in its different ways -
Sursum Corda noble and ceremonial and
Carissima
an innocent little charmer - is well worth hearing, especially when it is
as
well played as here. Incidentally,
Carissima merits a significant
footnote
in Elgar lore; its first performance took place not in a concert hall but
in
the recording studio on 21 January 1914 when it became the first among
many
of his own pieces commercially recorded by Elgar in a long and fruitful
relationship
with HMV.
There are three understandable absentees from this collection of
Elgar’s
wartime music. One is
The Fringes of the Fleet, which SOMM have
already
recorded (
review).
Another is
The Starlight Express, which would have been far
too
substantial to include here and which, in any case, has recently been
served
superbly by Sir Andrew Davis (
review).
One can’t help feeling that Sir Edward may have undertaken that
project
as light relief during the dark days of the war. The third is
The
Spirit
of England. Again, that work would have been too long to include on
this
programme. I hope that the forthcoming centenary of the outbreak of the
Great
War will quicken interest in this moving work, which I regard as one of
Elgar’s
finest choral works; too little known, even now, it is, arguably, his
hidden
masterpiece. Though the works has been well served by David
Lloyd-Jones’s
Dutton recording (
review),
I live in hope of a recording from Sir Mark Elder and the Hallé.
SOMM’s programme is dominated by Elgar’s three settings
for speaker and orchestra of poems by the Belgian, Emile Cammaerts (1878-1953).
The first of these was
Carillon. This was written in late 1914
and struck an immediate chord with the British public, among whom there
was great sympathy for the plight of ‘gallant little Belgium’.
If Cammaerts’ verses strike us today as somewhat ‘purple’
one should remember that they are very much of their time and that they
were penned by a man whose country was being ravaged by war. Ian Lace’s
comment about the style of Simon Callow’s narrations in his
review of this disc occasioned some interesting
Message Board
comments by our colleague, Nick Barnard. Unlike Nick, I have not
heard the earlier versions of Elgar’s three Cammaerts scores in
which Richard Pascoe was the narrator. It has been interesting to listen
recently to Elgar’s own 1915 recording of
Carillon, newly
transferred on Music & Arts, on which the narrator was Henry Ainley
review.
His way with the words, though perhaps a little less colourful than
Callow’s, seems to buttress Nick Barnard’s approval of Callow’s
style and I have to say that, even before hearing Ainley, I found myself
convinced by Callow’s declamation of the text. Actors, by definition,
have to adapt, chameleon-like and I think it’s relevant to point
out that Simon Callow adopts a much less rhetorical approach in narrating
The Starlight Express for Sir Andrew Davis (
review) and I liked his contribution to that recording very
much.
Carillon is essentially a rousing patriotic rallying cry.
Une
Voix
dans le Désert is very different in tone, a statement that
applies
both to Cammaerts’ words and to the way in which Elgar set them to
music.
By 1915 the war was perceived very differently. It was no longer a
glorious
campaign which, it was hoped, would be over fairly quickly; rather Britain
and
her allies were becoming resigned to a long haul - and mounting
casualties.
Much of
Une Voix dans le Désert is subdued, even dark in
tone
and Simon Callow adapts his style of delivery to suit and, once again, is
convincing.
In the middle of the work comes an extended soprano solo. This is quite
touching
and Susan Gritton’s tone falls pleasingly on the ear. Unfortunately,
as
I’ve found before with this artist, her words aren’t very
clear
but since the words themselves aren’t exactly gilt-edged in quality
perhaps
one shouldn’t regret that on this occasion.
Elgar’s final Cammaerts setting was
Le Drapeau Belge. By the
time
of this composition in 1917 the mood had definitely changed, as Andrew
Neill
points out in his notes. It was not so much that the British had tired of
the
plight of the Belgians but more that there were many other priorities in
the
nation’s collective mind as the war - and the slaughter - ground on.
Consequently,
this work failed to catch the popular imagination and, to be honest, it
fails
to engage my sympathies either. It’s something of a tub-thumping
piece
and despite the best efforts of the performers here it does little for
me.
Polonia, however, is a different matter. This was written for a
Polish
Benefit Concert in London in 1915 and into his score Elgar wove some
Polish
musical motifs, including a couple of traditional Polish tunes and
fragments
from pieces by Paderewski and Chopin. Andrew Neill’s booklet note is
outstandingly
helpful here in identifying all the themes in the piece, including those
by
Elgar himself, and detailing precisely at what timing during the
performance
each occurs. With such a thematic
mélange and given the
occasion
for which the piece was composed one might be forgiven for expecting
something
that’s rather empty and tub-thumping. Not so. I suspect one reason
that
the piece works so well is that Elgar shrewdly chose Polish material that
chimed
very well with his own style. That’s especially true of the melody
‘With
the smoke of fires’, first heard at 1:30. This sounds positively
Elgarian.
Even if the very end of the piece is somewhat grandiose this is a far from
negligible
score and much more than a
pièce d’occasion. John
Wilson
does it extremely well. Incidentally, Elgar thought sufficiently highly of
the
piece that he recorded it himself in 1919, though this is an abridged
version
- it plays for 8:20; it is included in Music & Art’s set of
Elgar’s
acoustic recordings. (
review).
The other sizeable piece on this disc was written in war time but, like
The
Starlight Express,
is far removed from the horrors - or
patriotism
- of war, though it was written for a war benefit event.
The Sanguine
Fan
has a mythical plot concerning lovers and Greek gods. I wouldn’t say
the
score is Elgar at his strongest - but, then, the plot isn’t
desperately
inspiring - however, much of the music is charming and graceful and
it’s
a pity that after Elgar recorded a brief extract in 1920 it remained in
total
neglect until Sir Adrian Boult revived it in 1974 and made the first
recording
of the complete score. In June 1978 this was the last music that Sir
Adrian
conducted in public when, unannounced, he conducted a performance for the
London
Festival Ballet at the Coliseum Theatre after which, without any fuss or
announcement,
he gave no further public performances. The score is a very good example
of
the lighter side of Elgar, as expertly crafted as any of his more profound
works.
John Wilson has a good feel for it and directs a performance that is
affectionate
and sprightly.
This is a rewarding disc, giving us opportunities to hear some Elgar
scores
that rarely see the light of day. John Wilson is in evident sympathy with
the
music and secures consistently fine playing from the BBC Concert
Orchestra.
The recorded sound is very good. The documentation is outstanding. The
texts
are included - though you won’t need them to follow Simon
Callow’s
speech, so clear is his diction - and there’s a marvellous,
authoritative
note from Andrew Neill. No Elgar fan will want to miss this disc.
Incidentally,
anyone wishing to explore the story of Elgar’s wartime music in more
detail
should consult the volume edited by Lewis Foreman,
Oh, My Horses! Elgar
and
the Great War (2001) (
review).
John Quinn
See also review by Ian Lace
