Full marks to The Divine
Art for digging out and dusting down
this 1930 Elijah. There are cuts, it’s
true, the majority in the second part
but the words "substantially intact"
certainly cover it and the exigencies
were doubtless necessary at the time.
The recording, made on 10" discs
not 12", stayed in the catalogues
for the better part of two decades until
it was pensioned off in favour of the
new Columbia album directed by Malcolm
Sargent. Indeed whilst that recording
has garnered great praise over the years
and reissues – rightly so – this earlier
set, conducted by the young Stanford
Robinson, has been pretty well entirely
obscured. Obscured and also confused,
because the two principals, Harold Williams
and Isobel Baillie reprised their roles
seventeen years later for Sargent. Many
may be unaware of their earlier contributions
to the 1930 recording.
It’s a feature of Elijahs
that the best were invariably Australian.
Elgar always maintained that Horace
Stevens was the greatest he’d ever heard
but Harold Williams must have run Stevens
close. In the early post-War recording
he is in even greater form, utterly
commanding, fiery and sympathetic, an
assumption both noble and deeply human.
But his earlier recording finds him
only slightly less exalted. His recitatives
are commanding and perfectly judged,
Lord God of Abraham taken with
great understanding and vocal colour
and It Is Enough finds him contrasting
a hollow expressivity with a central
section of hardened determination where
the resignation and dynamism are held
in perfect equipoise.
Isobel Baillie is heard
in youthful voice but then, when wasn’t
her voice youthful and fresh? It’s a
relative matter with Baillie and I can’t
decide which of her performances, the
1930 or the 1947 I prefer; fortunately
we have both. Her crystalline, dead-centre-of-the-note
purity, with limited vibrato but compelling
musicianship is audible throughout.
She’s superb in duets, whether with
Williams or the other Australian cast
member - half the great singers in England
before the War were Australian - Clara
Serena. Baillie’s standouts are Hear
ye, Israel and the perfectly posed
blending of voices with her other principals.
Serena, an alto, has a voice that is
capable of some plangency but also relative
lightness. It’s certainly not at all
marmoreal and is a decided asset here
– try her Part One aria For He shall
give him Angels.
Parry Jones is the
tenor, Obadiah, and he makes a real
impression. He wasn’t a lyric tenor
in the Nash mould or a heldentenor à
la Widdop but he had something of Tudor
Davies’ passion whilst exercising greater
control over material. His If With
All Your Hearts is done with real
vibrancy and incision but also great
musicality. The little known Tom Purvis
also impresses in his short contributions.
The orchestra is anonymous but doesn’t
sound like a generic pick-up band at
all. In fact for London in 1930 it’s
pretty good, and the fiddles, whilst
not sounding numerous, are well drilled
and in the main abjure portamenti. The
Wireless Singers were one of the leading
choirs in the country; a select group
they belie the English Oratorio Tradition
of massed Henry Wood thousands and sing
with considerable nuance and commendable
control. Robinson shows, even in this
somewhat abbreviated fashion, just what
a dependable and adept conductor he
was. If some speeds seem on the frisky
side that may be a feature of the 10"
side lengths – but it’s also no bad
thing to hear Elijah chug along this
fluently.
Engineer Andrew Rose
outlines some of the difficulties he
encountered in the transfer and the
solutions he adopted to minimise them.
I don’t have the original 78 set nor
do I have any subsequent re-issue (if
there has been one) of parts of them
on LP; an EMI LP included part of Parry
Jones’ contribution in a tribute album.
What I do hear is a degree of shellac
crackle on some sides but uncompromised
upper frequencies; an open sound that
preserves treble but which extracts
some of the real dynamism embedded in
the 1930 grooves and moreover captures
the spectrum. It makes listening enjoyable
and shows what Columbia engineers of
that period could do. So, with biographical
details and texts and a sure sense of
style, I’d recommend this retrieval
with pleasure. Add it to the Sargent
and you’ll have a fruitful and complementary
look at a special lineage in Elijah
singing and playing. And above all else,
above even Baillie, you’ll have a double
dose of Williams, a magnificent colossus
of an Elijah.
Jonathan Woolf
Isobel Baillie (soprano) 
