Edward ELGAR (1857-1934)
The Dream of Gerontius (1900) [89.56]
Severn Suite (1930) [19.28]
Robert Tear (tenor), Alfreda Hodgson (contralto), Benjamin Luxon (baritone)
Scottish National Chorus and Orchestra/Sir Alexander Gibson
London Collegiate Brass/James Stobart (Severn)
rec. Civic Centre, Motherwell (Gerontius); Rosslyn Hill Chapel, Hampstead, London (Severn), dates not given but originally released in 1976 (Gerontius) and 1985 (Severn)
CRD 33267 [2 CDs: 109:24]
As is well-known, the first performance of Elgar’s oratorio
The Dream of Gerontius in Birmingham in May 1900 was one of music’s
great disasters. Many of these catastrophes in history were due to incomprehension
or downright hostility on the part of the audience, but in the opinion of
those who were in Birmingham Town Hall the failure of Gerontius was
entirely attributable to the inadequacies of the presentation, despite the
stellar names in the roster of performers. It was not for some years that
Gerontius recovered from this inauspicious start, but it has to be
noted that the oratorio remains peculiarly difficult to bring off in live
performance and is probably the hardest single work still to feature regularly
in the repertory of amateur choral societies.
However the piece has been very fortunate on disc, with a considerable number
of studio recordings which rank high in the pantheon of fame, though at the
same time, none of them can lay claim to being the ultimate word on a score
which relentlessly exposes the slightest weakness in rendition. Despite their
many excellent points, neither of the mono sets conducted by Sargent can begin
to come to terms with the complexities of Elgar’s scoring. Of the studio
recordings in stereo, all have faults. The first stereo set under Sir John
Barbirolli has the supreme advantage of Dame Janet Baker’s young Angel,
effortlessly rising to the highest notes and at the same time breathing compassion;
but Richard Lewis is out of sorts in places as Gerontius (he was suffering
from a cold at the time of recording), and Kim Borg’s bullish bass and
curdled English accent are a severe trial. Benjamin Britten’s treatment
of the score is almost iconoclastic in places with his fast speeds in the
closing section of Praise to the Holiest; he has in John Shirley-Quirk
the most sympathetic exponent of the bass roles, but Sir Peter Pears is his
own idiosyncratic self as Gerontius and Yvonne Minton, although beautiful
in sound, lacks Baker’s passion. Sir Adrian Boult’s set is more
mainstream in conception, less wilful than either Barbirolli or Britten and
all the better for that. But Nicolai Gedda sounds unidiomatic as Gerontius,
and Helen Watts finds it necessary to take Elgar’s lower option in her
final Alleluia (which clearly was approved by the composer, but which
surely robs the moment of its sense of apotheosis). Sets later than the one
under review here also have their drawbacks: both Sir Simon Rattle and Richard
Hickox are nearly as fast as Britten in places, and the former suffers from
the fact that both Baker and Shirley-Quirk are in less reliable voice than
their earlier selves while John Mitchinson is nearly as unsteady as Pears.
Hickox has the most effective of all Gerontiuses in Arthur Davies, but Dame
Felicity Palmer is hardly soothing as the Angel. In recent years the only
new studio release has been that conducted by Sir Andrew Davis issued by Chandos
in 2014 where Stuart Skelton challenges Arthur Davies for virility of sound
if not for warmth, and Sarah Connolly is the only Angel to match Baker in
the role.
Nearly all other sets on CD or video seem to have derived from live performances
or sessions (those conducted by Vernon Handley on EMI and by David Hill on
Naxos I have not heard, although neither seem to have garnered much critical
favour), and although many of these have exceptional merit (notably those
conducted by Sakari Oramo and on video by Sir Andrew Davis) none of them can
claim the detailed exactitude of delivery which Elgar really demands, not
least in the difficult matter of balance between sections of the chorus which
at one point divides into as many as thirteen independent parts during the
closing movement of Part One. This finally brings us to the CRD recording
under consideration here, which has long been the subject of faint praise
from reviewers. The Penguin Guide describes it as not really competitive,
and Alan Blyth in Choral Music on Record (as also in his Gramophone
review) is even more dismissive: “the most dispensable of the complete
sets, because it misses individuality of utterance”.
Well, the set may not scale the heights of some individual elements in the
alternative studio sets, but at the same time it avoids almost entirely the
pitfalls. Let us look at the solo singers first.
Cardinal Newman’s Gerontius in his original poem is an old man who is
dying in Part One and then going to meet his Maker as a suppliant in Part
Two. The essential element is the fact that he is an old man, as
his Latin name indeed testifies. Elgar’s Gerontius is a somewhat different
character; the composer described him as a “worldly man” and his
music commands a sense of vigour and strength which is hardly justified by
the text but which is certainly necessary for the delivery of strenuous passages
such as I can no more or Take me away. Many of the Gerontiuses
in the studio recordings are (to put it kindly) veterans of many years’
experience, and only Arthur Davies and Stuart Skelton may be described as
in the flush of prime vocally. They alone can supply the Italianate warmth
needed for such a passage as Sanctus fortis while at the same time
being able to support the sense of still rapture at the beginning of Part
Two. Of their rivals Robert Tear in this recording is by some considerable
measure the youngest singer, and the one whose employment of full tone is
not undermined by a degree of unsteadiness (one forbears to judge Richard
Lewis, who was exactly right in his earlier but (alas) mono recording). Indeed,
in places Tear might be regarded as too healthy in tone and vigour.
By the same token Alfreda Hodgson as the Angel, while not matching the superlative
account of the young Baker, is a very considerable plus in this recording.
The part requires a warmth of tone and fullness in the lower register which
in the wrong hands can lead to the role sounding more like Gerontius’s
mother than his guardian spirit. Newman’s Angel indeed appears to be
masculine in gender; Elgar, doubtless with sheer practicability in mind, made
the role feminine but it should surely also have an other-worldly quality.
And although he made provision for the highest notes to be taken in a lower
register for the benefit of contraltos, for full effect the singer really
needs to be able to gleam above the stave; it is notable that Barbirolli insisted
on hearing the young Baker’s top A before casting her in his recording.
Hodgson can rise to all the high notes which cause problems to Watts, and
she sounds rather more involved than Minton as well as more womanly than Palmer.
The bass role in Gerontius has very occasionally been split between
two singers, as in Sargent’s 1945 set of 78s – Alan Blyth claims
that the baritone part of the Priest in Part One should be distinguished from
the basso cantante required for the Angel of the Agony in Part Two.
But the score clearly specifies one singer to undertake both roles, and that
is surely the way Elgar would have expected performances to be staged. Benjamin
Luxon is a baritone, but he can reach down effectively into the lower register;
Boult and Hickox with their heavier basses (Robert Lloyd and Gwynne Howell
respectively) find their singers can equally well encompass the higher register.
Lloyd and Howell are both steadier voices than Luxon’s, although the
loose vibrato that could afflict the latter singer in his later years is not
too evident here; but best of all is the young-ish Shirley-Quirk for Britten,
his voice like burnished gold without the slightest suggestion of hectoring
(the Angel of the Agony can sound ‘pushy’ if his supplications
are too forcefully delivered).
Which brings us to the matter of the conductor, chorus and orchestra. Sir
Alexander Gibson already had quite a reputation as an Elgarian in the period
before this Gerontius was released, and his recording of The
Spirit of England had helped to rescue a work that had been consigned
to outer darkness for years. The choir and orchestra both rise to the many
challenges of the score with enthusiasm and conviction. Gibson’s approach
to the work is dramatic and forward-thrusting, and the recorded sound has
a very wide dynamic range which can well encompass the extremes of Elgar’s
demands.
When reviewing
the latest Chandos release for this site John Quinn described it as “one
of the best on the market” alongside the Barbirolli recording and a
more recent live performance under Sir Mark Elder. But I would rank the Gibson
release here fairly highly too; it may not be the most enthralling in terms
of its individual elements, but it does not have any of the drawbacks that
vitiate so many other recordings. If that sounds like faint praise, it is
not intended to be disparaging in a work that is extremely difficult to bring
off as a whole. At the same time the new Chandos set under Sir Andrew Davis
may well over time establish itself as an even more complete revelation.
Whereas on LP Gerontius always fitted neatly onto a pair of discs,
for CD it has been usual to furnish a coupling of some description –
not always invariably music by Elgar. Although I would not argue that these
couplings, ranging from the brief to the generous, should influence a buyer,
the version of the Severn Suite here has more than a passing claim
on the potential purchaser. Elgar originally wrote the work for brass band,
but for many years both the original manuscript and the performing score by
Henry Geehl had disappeared. When the latter was rediscovered in 1980, it
was found to be a full tone higher than the published version (which Elgar
himself later orchestrated) and Geoffrey Brand produced a version in the original
key which also took note of changes the composer had introduced into the orchestral
score. The differences are minor but the presentation is obviously of interest
to Elgarians and the recording of the score, made in a resonant acoustic,
is superbly well assured. There are only three alternative recordings of the
brass band version shown in the current listings, all of them consisting of
miscellaneous concerts of music by various composers.
The booklet gives us the full text and translation of Gerontius,
but the tracks are supplied with a niggardly hand, seemingly corresponding
to those on the original LP release and presenting the whole of the Severn
Suite without any break between movements. Although Diana McVeagh’s
booklet note on the work remains, the analysis of the music by Jaeger (Elgar’s
“Nimrod”) which distinguished the original LP set has now vanished.
Oddly enough excerpts from the oratorio have also previously been available
at super-bargain price on Regis, which those who want a recording with these
specific performers will presumably already have. But a first-time comer to
Gerontius could do worse.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
Further reading: John
Quinn’s survey of Gerontius recordings
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