Here’s another CD from
the revitalised, rejuvenated Hallé.
Back in the 1980s, their fall from grace
in the post-Loughran years was viewed
with dismay in the musical world, rather
as if Manchester United had slipped
from the premiership. Now they’re back
with a vengeance, and these recordings
make it seem as though they and their
current maestro, Mark Elder, were made
for each other. Concert reviews have
been excellent, and their growing reputation
can only have been further enhanced
by the recordings that have emerged
on the new Hallé label. It was
heartening to hear the news that Elder
has signed a new contract which should
see him in Manchester at least until
the end of the decade.
This disc begins with
Falstaff, Elgar’s most important
contribution to the symphonic poem genre
– though he used the term ‘symphonic
study’. An apt description, for this
is a wonderful musical portrait of one
of Shakespeare’s most trenchant creations
– Sir John Falstaff, patron saint of
all fat men. His story is traced through
the plays Henry IV Parts I (where the
character appears as Sir John Oldcastle)
and II, Henry V and The Merry Wives
of Windsor. It’s a chequered tale, beginning
with his status as a roistering pal
of the young Prince Hal, but ending
in miserable obscurity after rejection
by the same when he is crowned King
Henry V. Elgar must have pondered the
irony that, once the darling of royalty
himself, and created Master of the King’s
Musick in 1924, he was out of fashion
and out of favour by the end of that
decade. Elgar’s Edwardian country gent
swagger concealed a chronic lack of
confidence (‘self-esteem’ it would now
be called), for he was ever the outsider.
So his portrait of
Falstaff is more, much more than an
opportunity for orchestral virtuosity
and a riot of descriptive effects. Though
little recorded until the 1960s, there
are now several fine versions available,
including Mackerras, Rattle, and of
course Barbirolli with this same orchestra
as this CD. Elder’s version is easily
comparable with any of these; indeed
I would be hard put to choose between
this version and Rattle’s. I suppose
I would always ultimately return to
Barbirolli; yet the characterisation
in Elder’s version is exceptionally
powerful. The grotesque humour and the
sheer disreputability of Falstaff and
co. comes through so well, with every
detail audible yet in its correct place
in the texture.
This is a masterly
reading of a great score, and Elder
has drawn stunning playing from his
musicians. Notable are the pianissimo
moments that make you catch your breath,
such as those murmurous muted strings
where the dying Sir John "babbles
of green fields". Soon after that,
the violas’ understated reminder of
the great Prince Hal theme is memorably
noble. The recording is quite outstanding;
touches like the little tambourine rattles
in the first Dream Interlude or the
baleful C major wind chord announcing
the moment of Falstaff’s death near
the end are perfectly captured.
The lovely Bassoon
Romance follows, and receives a
pleasant, if rather cool performance
from the orchestra’s principal fagottist,
Graham Salvage. Elgar played the bassoon
to a good standard in his youth. Even
though the violin was his main instrument,
he took up the bassoon as a way of wooing
the girls (yes, sadly wind players have
always had it easier in this respect
than their earnest string playing friends),
and the solo part is perfectly conceived
for the instrument.
Then it’s on to the
other major work on the disc, Heinrich
Schiff’s reading of the Cello Concerto.
Schiff is a magnificent instrumentalist
and musician, but I found this performance
of the concerto strangely uninvolving.
The second movement – the scherzo of
the work – is superb, with Schiff’s
fabulous technical control giving the
music whirlwind momentum. The Allegro
portions of the finale, too, are
splendid. Yet the heart and soul of
the piece are surely the introspective
passages of the first and third movements,
and of course the devastating coda of
the finale. Schiff plays with undoubted
beauty, but just misses the inward quality
that is needed. Perhaps the recording
– in the BBC music studio in Manchester
– is unkind to the cellist, for although
the balance in itself is good, with
all orchestral detail clear as a bell,
the close miking seems to give Schiff’s
instrument an almost unnatural resonance.
This makes it hard for him to achieve
the kind of intimate pianissimo that
characterises the best versions. In
the Adagio, another problem emerges,
which is Schiff’s difficulty in sustaining
a true legato line, of joining
up the notes to create those glorious
arches of melody on which the movement
is built.
This is, as with all
reviews, a very personal matter, and
it has to be said that Schiff’s reading
is powerful, individual and notably
different in approach from du Pré,
to name the inevitable comparison -
for one thing, Schiff’s is a very masculine
interpretation. And as vive la
difference is a favourite maxim,
I would urge listeners to hear the CD
and make up their own minds. After all,
you can’t go far wrong with such a rip-roaring
version of Falstaff in the bag
too.
Oh, and then there’s
the small matter of the Smoking Cantata;
very small, in fact just
51 seconds of it! Once heard, never
forgotten, and a welcome reminder, after
the gloom of the concerto, of Elgar’s
Pythonesque sense of humour. Andrew
Shore’s lungs, hopefully unsullied by
tobacco, hold up sufficiently for him
to do the work full justice.
Gwyn Parry-Jones
See also review
by Tony Haywood
Heinrich Schiff, cello, Graham Salvage, bassoon,
Andrew Shore, baritone 