Elgar: Cello Concerto; Sea Pictures

THE MAN: SIR EDWARD ELGAR

It's probably futile for me to tell you who is Edward Elgar. To the British readers here he holds about the same position as Sibelius does for me as a Finn, being THE composer whose musical language captures the ideologies of the country, working as a kind of stereotypical signature for the people. Elgar was born in 1857 as the son of a music shop owner and through a course of self-instruction became a masterful ...
...with a great deal of choral works and other religiously titled pieces to his credit. However, it was not until 1899 that his reputation was sealed as a truly great composer when he wrote the masterful "Variations on an Original Theme 'Enigma'", which contained musical portraits of friends of Elgar and became an instant success. After this his reputation was upholstered even more with his openly patriotic and pompous music of the "Cockaigne ... more

THE MAN: SIR EDWARD ELGAR

It's probably futile for me to tell you who is Edward Elgar. To the British readers here he holds about the same position as Sibelius does for me as a Finn, being THE composer whose musical language captures the ideologies of the country, working as a kind of stereotypical signature for the people. Elgar was born in 1857 as the son of a music shop owner and through a course of self-instruction became a masterful orchestrator and soon found himself as a reknowned choral composer with a great deal of choral works and other religiously titled pieces to his credit. However, it was not until 1899 that his reputation was sealed as a truly great composer when he wrote the masterful "Variations on an Original Theme 'Enigma'", which contained musical portraits of friends of Elgar and became an instant success. After this his reputation was upholstered even more with his openly patriotic and pompous music of the "Cockaigne (In London Town) Overture," "In the South (Alassio) Overture", and the first of his five "Pomp and Circumstance Marches", the middle part of the first march becoming somewhat of an unofficial national anthem. He was even knighted in 1904. In this vein the composer continued until 1914 (his two symphonies, Violin Concerto, and numerous choral works being in roughly the same style) when suddenly thunder struck.

TONSILS, TO BRINKWELLS AND CREATIVITY

The First World War put an end to the militaristic and pompous music of Elgar of the past as inappropriate and he did little composing during the war years, with only a few songs, the rarely performed symphonic prelude "Polonia" and the cantata "The Spirit of England" consisting his largest output for these years. The Great War effectively put an end to the Romantic period and ushered in a new age which has been given, especially in English literature and poetry by the likes of John Galsworthy, Rudyard Kipling and D.H. Lawrence, a rosy tinted sense of nostalgia for a world gone by that is never coming back again. With the war dragging on, Elgar found himself reluctant to compose anything and even before the war there had been a slight decline in his popularity (the symphonic study "Falstaff" in 1913 had been a failure and his Second Symphony found little resonance with the public).

In 1918 Elgar had his tonsils removed and, as reported by his daughter Carice, was in great pains due to the lousy sedatives of the time. While recuperating in a London nursing home, he one day woke up, asked for a piece of paper and a pen, and wrote a melody in 9/8 time. In May, Elgar, his wife Alice, and daughter Carice went to their summer residence of Brinkwells, a cottage in Sussex, for some rural relaxation and healing (Elgar loved the countryside). Finally, in August, he suddenly was attacked by a great surge of creativity. He had his piano taken out of storage and wrote a Violin Sonata in E minor, Op.82, which was soon followed by the String Quartet in E minor, Op.83 and Piano Quintet in A minor, Op.84. This sudden surge showed a new streak of creative development in Elgar's music that was more elusive, economical and a million miles away from his bombastic past. The three works were premiered in May 1919, after which Elgar set out on his great summation of this new style (as well as career): the Cello Concerto in E minor, Op.85.

There is not much documentation of the work in existence, neither are there any sketches left, but there were numerous mentions of the work in letters and diaries, such as the note from Alice when the conductor Landon Ronald came to visit on Elgar's sixty-second birthday on June 2, that Elgar played large chunks of the concerto on piano and three days later the cellist Felix Salmond came to try the work out on his cello and was apparently "delighted and enthusiastic." Elgar was enthusiatic as well and often was seen waking up at early morning, adding passages and orchestrating the work, and by late July he told Sidney Colvin he had "nearly completed a Concerto for Violoncello: a real large work and I think good and alive." He dedicated the concerto for Colvin and his wife Frances, and after a couple of additions that Salmond came out to try at Brinkwells, the score was ready by early August and was mailed by Alice on August 8 to London.

The first performance took place on October 27 with Elgar conducting the London Symphony Orchestra and Felix Salmond acting as soloist. The work, however, was not received very well, which was mostly due to the dismal time afforded for rehearsal of a new, large work and which came as a result from the concert manager's fixed importance in affording more time for the rehearsals of Mahler's massive Second Symphony that was to be performed around the same time. The eminent critic Ernest Newman also noted that the performance was atrocious, though the work itself was "lovely stuff…a fine spirit's lifelong wistful brooding upon the loveliness of earth." However, outside of this one performance, the Concerto was rarely performed. Elgar did a recording of it in 1928 with Beatrice Harrison as soloist, but it was never really taken on, and was often considered as being "ugly" and a "failure." It took nearly 50 years for the Concerto to re-emerge to the public consciousness when a young cellist by the name of Jaqueline duPré took up the work and made it a world wide sensation. After DuPré's classic performances of the work in 1965 and 1970, the Concerto finally ascended to its rightful place of the most magnificent Concerto for Cello and Orchestra ever composed, right beside Dvorak's respective masterpiece.

MOVEMENT BY MOVEMENT ANALYSIS
(Listened version: 1965 recording by Jacqueline DuPré with John Barbirolli and the London Symphony Orchestra)

I Movement: Adagio - Moderato

Four jagged, outraged notes from the cello alone open the concerto as if to ask "What is this?" The cello continues in similar manner of agitated questioning ("What do you want? What is happening?") with gentle string heaves trying to calm the soloist down. For a moment the soloist does calm down for a sorrowful refrain from the strings, clarinets and horns that tries to cry, but are too feeble, faltering down into sobs. The cello, now almost trying to comfort the orchestra with a hesitatingly rising scale allows the orchestra to form what it has been trying to say. The violas launch into the 9/8 lament Elgar wrote after his surgery, which has become the most widely known melody of the concerto. This is the first idea that Elgar came up with; it is this melody that most readily identifies the concerto's fame of "autumnal feeling and regret of a world gone away"; it is this melody Elgar hummed on his death bed to his friend and said: "If ever after I'm dead you hear someone whistling this tune on the Malvern Hills, don't be alarmed. It's only me"; it is this melody that playwright J.B. Priestley used in "The Linden Tree" to signify the nostalgic world that is gone forever; and it is this melody that every single time brings tears to my eyes at the end of the film "Hilary and Jackie." The cello then takes the melody with flutes and clarinets giving gentle, one-phrased support. The violins come over the cello that continues to expand the thought, the soloist finally reaching out with an anguished and crying take on the melody, reaching a see-sawing climax higher and higher, after which the full orchestra shouts out the entirety of their grief for all to hear in a tremendous crescendo. This passage over the cello quietly takes the theme down to a whisper, thus bringing the exposition to a close.

The development section hears a short, sad woodwind refrain, which brings the cello and orchestra quietly heaving with a gentle 12/8 subject that is happier, as if remembering the good times in a veil of nostalgia. There is constantly a certain feeling of agitation and sorrow trying to burst though, but the major-keyed little refrains from the orchestra always brings back the more pleasant thoughts. The second subject opening gesture then brings back the sense of sadness, and this in turn brings the main theme and its sense of impending sorrow and agitation back, basically being a reprise of the opening, but much more condensed with slight elaborations on both orchestra and cello. The movement ends with the soloist taking the melody down again, seamlessly merging with the orchestral cellos, after which three pizzicato's lead without pause to…

II Movement: Lento - Allegro molto

The second movement is a scherzo in all but name. It has been suggested that it was inspired by Brinkwells where Elgar found the desire to compose again. The movement opening rises out of the ashes of the first movement to a large climax with soloist and orchestra. The ensuing introduction is hesitant and fantastically flitting as if not knowing what to do, layered with pizzicatos throughout. The series of single-worded exclamations give some sense of direction, but the cello still seems to ask what to do. A couple of notes from the flutes then launch the soloist into a quicksilver rhapsody that is almost pointillistic in not presenting a real melody, but jots down only points that create a bigger whole, that also highlights the cello very well. Despite the orchestra being in the background almost without interruption, the soloist is never obscured. There are couple of times where tremendous climaxes from the orchestra present some thicker ideas that are somewhat unnerving and strangely sinister, but on the whole the movement is one of life and energy, scurrying here and there almost without regard to any sadder thoughts. The movement ends interestingly in thinning down the music to an almost skeletal frame, ending in a mighty pizzicato snap.

III Movement: Adagio

The third movement is the second most well-known movement in the concerto. Set in B flat major (as was the slow movement of his Violin Concerto with its Mayflower-melody, a direct allusion to Alice) the feeling is calm and thoughtful throughout, like a love song or reverie of the past that comes to one after falling asleep. The music, soloist and orchestra, both shape the melody as if they are breathing in and out, making the whole music sound almost a lullaby. But whereas the violin is a more happy instrument, the cello in its warmness still brings a quiet sense of autumnal tragedy to everything, the happiness only expressing thoughts that are beyond tears unlike the first movement's main subject. The movement ends in a sighing dominant cadence, leaving the music hover almost in air for a conclusion that would otherwise be too happy.

IV Movement: Allegro - Moderato - Allegro, ma non troppo

The finale is the longest movement at over 10 minutes in length. Whereas the first three movements have been more intangible in a sense of fantasy, sorrow, or calmness, the finale places an out and out battle between soloist and orchestra in a terrifyingly fierce fight. The writing is made out more thick (it's an illusion, the writing is actually very sparse), that tumbles forward with an almost reckless abandon. Opening with a quasi-recitative on the cello with gentle support, it echoes the first movement's opening of tragedy and agitation. Before the main onslaught of the "Allegro ma non troppo", the orchestra quiets down, leaving only the soloist making some vague attempt to form a sentence, finally giving up in frustration to which the orchestra then answers with the finale's brusque main theme. The soloist tries to join with it, but can't hold its own with the orchestra's assertiveness and overbearing presence. The soloist then introduces a second theme that is less tangible in its purpose. The music even gets more romantic at moments, only to return to the jumping second subject, leading back into the first theme.

Some five minutes into the finale, the orchestra takes over, and the cello falls silent, with some deeply grinding textures, brass menacingly growling and cellos droning with deep ruminations, while the rest of the orchestra places a lot of power on its own thoughts. The second subject comes again with the soloist and the first subject trying still on the flutes and violins to continue, but the soloist drags everybody down into more tragic waters, causing the orchestra to die down in a whimper. Freed from the overbearing orchestra, the soloist makes the very difficult transition into an accompanied cadenza that is both anxiously meditative and tragically harrowing. Everything turns into ghostly hue as walls disappear and everything seems to be enveloped in darkness and insubstantial wonderment. This all of a sudden transforms into a rapturous re-statement of the Adagio's theme where even the brass is now allowed to take a awe-inspired glimpse they never got in the third movement. From here on the music seems to find peace and starts to wind down to a gentle conclusion (or death perhaps) that is reconciliatory and calm, the music constantly becoming more and more inaudible. But NO! Anguish! The soloist brings back the very opening four notes of the first movement. The orchestra is outraged. Sharp ejaculations to the soloist: "What are you doing?" The soloist continues a moment with the introduction's music, which finally ends with the orchestra's huge attack on the finale's main theme, ending the work in a shatteringly destructive note, as if trying to sound optimistic with life despite coming so close to death. It is as if that appearance of the Adagio almost revealed too much of something we are not allowed to know.

RECORDINGS

If there is a single recording of Elgar's Cello Concerto you will ever need to hear, it is the classic 1965 recording of Jaqueline DuPré with John Barbirolli conducting the London Symphony Orchestra that single-handedly brought the concerto back from obscurity. DuPré is a very individualistic performer and her grasp of the concerto is almost outrageously rhapsodic and takes a lot of liberties. But there is an inherent sense of understanding in her playing that nobody has quite managed to achieve ever before or again. Barbirolli's accompaniment is likewise full of fire and the soloist and conductor complement each other to bring about a first class performance that still ranks as the supreme interpretation of this work. This version has been re-released on numerous occasions on EMI Classics and is now also available in EMI's Great Recordings of the Century series, which includes the classic pairing of the concerto with Dame Janet Baker's classic version of Elgar's song cycle "Sea Pictures", and a new addition of the Cockaigne Overture. Original album EMI Classics (5 56219 2); EMI Great Recordings (5 62886 2)

However, if clean recording quality of the "DDD" variety is what you are after, the best new recording would undoubtedly be Yo-Yo Ma's recording with Andre Previn conducting again the London Symphony for Sony. The recorded sound and performances are first rate, with Ma being very passionate about everything, showing his great technical prowess, and makes for a great addition to your collection, even if it doesn't quite overturn DuPré's account. CBS Masterworks (39541)

For those interested in history there is of course Elgar's own recording from 1928 with Beatrice Harrison, but recorded sound of course is not all that good. The performance itself is much leaner, grimmer and more stoic that DuPré, but is of interest since you don't often have composers recordings of their own works this old. EMI's Great Recordings of the Century (7 69786 2)

Another version that often seems to jump out is DuPré's second recording in 1970 with her husband Daniel Barenboim and the Philadelphia Orchestra. This however is nowhere near as good or inspired as her earlier take, being slower, more portentous, and tries to push its notion of excruciating sense of doom too far. Likewise, this being a live recording, there is a distinct presence from the audience audible and the recording itself has suffered from time. This version, however, was included in its entirety on the Hilary and Jackie soundtrack where it is perhaps most easily to be found for those interested in this version. CBS/Sony (60394 CD); Hilary and Jackie OST: Sony Classical (SK-60394)

On a budget front, there is the recording of Maria Kliegel and Michael Halász conducting the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra for Naxos. Don't even think about getting this. The recording of the concerto (as well as the Dvorak that comes along) is terrible. Personally I consider the RPO to be the best orchestra around, but in this instance they are unusually out of the music, the recorded sound is thin, the soloist is over-indulgent, and there is nothing really to find charm in the entire CD. There are way too many good recordings around for anybody to be stuck with this version, despite its affordability. Naxos (8.550503)

SUMMA SUMMARIUM

The Cello Concerto proved to be the last major work Elgar ever completed. It was only followed by the Severn Suite, the fifth and final Pomp and Circumstance March, and an Organ Sonata in B flat major. Apart from those there is nothing outside of sketches for some larger scale works, most notably a Piano Concerto, an opera "The Spanish Lady" and a Third Symphony (which has been masterfully elaborated by Anthony Payne to a full-length work). Apart from those works, Elgar was silent, and spent most of his time between 1919 and his death in 1934 in the recording studios, where he also gave the world the best performance of his Violin Concerto with the 15-year-old Yehudi Menuhin in 1932. As to the Cello Concerto, Elgar never lived to see its success, but perhaps he never needed to. Perhaps he already knew its value himself to care much. If anything, the Elgar Concerto is among my top ten all time favourite compositions ever, though it doesn't quite surpass the Dvorak Cello Concerto from being my most highly rated work of all. Still, this is a magnificent work, and offers a different look at the pompous Elgar of the military marches of which he is most probably know best from. And PLEASE! See the movie Hilary and Jackie. The usage of the Concerto in that movie is fantastic, and I challenge anybody to say they are not moved by the final scene of the two sisters hugging on the beach, while the orchestra swells with the gorgeous main theme.

This emotional review was brought to you by:
© berlioz, April 14, 2006
 

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