It 
                is a tribute to Anthony Payne’s skill and sensitivity that 
                the ‘Third Symphony’ has grown in the estimation of a considerable 
                number of observers. Elaborated from Elgar’s sketches for 
                the projected Third Symphony the result has proven to be a work 
                of some stature. Payne captured the essence and spirit of Elgar 
                so well; you recognize all the Elgarian harmonies, density of 
                textures, dynamics, rhythmic patterns, turns of phrase and orchestration. 
                Payne imposed his own creations intuitively, sensitively and unobtrusively 
                and above all most appositely. This is, I believe, its fourth 
                recording. Following on from the original 1997 NMC recording with 
                the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by Andrew Davis, Naxos came 
                along with their recording made, in 1999, by the Bournemouth Symphony 
                Orchestra conducted by Paul Daniel. Then the London Symphony Orchestra 
                waded in with release looming on their own label. This latter 
                recording has not been reviewed on this site.
              
I 
                will not bore readers by reiterating the provenance of this symphony 
                or the controversy surrounding Payne’s elaboration. It was contrary 
                to the composer’s wishes but was made at the behest of the Elgar 
                estate who were concerned about the looming end of copyright and 
                the prospect of less sensitive elaborations.  
              
The 
                new recording has the benefit of the latest SACD technology. The 
                Chandos sound is spectacular with a wonderful sense of spaciousness 
                and transparency.  
              
Hickox 
                faces strong competition especially from Paul Daniels. Daniels’ 
                recording was the 2,000th release from Naxos. They 
                pushed the boat out not only by using the BSO with its solid tradition 
                of acclaimed Elgar performances and recordings but also the superior 
                engineering skills of Tony Faulkner. For this recording, Payne 
                made some revisions that added even more stature to his accomplishment.  
              
Hickox’s 
                opening is muscular and strident, brass blaring; Daniels impresses 
                strongly too. He arrests attention immediately with an opening 
                that has a scaldingly abrasive trumpet salvo. Daniels’ first movement’s 
                first subject has bite and heroic imagery while the second subject, 
                the theme associated with Elgar’s last love, Vera Hockman, is 
                more tenderly romantic and wistful than Hickox. The second movement 
                for Hickox is something of a return to the mood of the Andrew 
                Davis reading: it is more reminiscent of Elgar’s lighter salon 
                music. Hickox dreams softly and delivers music of delicacy, refinement 
                and femininity with only a brief broadening to a more aggressive 
                stance midway. Daniel, opting for a quicker tempo, invests more 
                depth and character. This movement, in his hands, sounds more 
                symphonic.  
              
The 
                Symphony’s Adagio solenne is the emotional heart of the 
                work. It has great depth and power. Andrew Davis’s reading, which 
                I still value highly, is profound and deeply disturbing. He is 
                more bleak than Daniel and Hickox. Daniel finds space for defiance 
                and some early heroic-assertive gestures. In addition he conveys 
                a touching vulnerability, an acute sense of loss, of bewilderment 
                and disorientation which is very moving. Hickox, too, finds all 
                this but adds a feeling of isolation and loneliness. It is as 
                if the composer, out-of-joint with the times is looking back sadly 
                but manfully without self-pity. It is an amazing musical statement 
                that moves me more and more every time I listen to it. In all 
                three conductors’ hands the coda, with its unresolved viola phrase, 
                is heartrending.  
              
The 
                final Allegro under Hickox is for me the most successful. Hitherto 
                I had regarded it as just a pastiche of the chivalric, martial 
                material associated with the second movement of the First Symphony 
                and the finale of the Second. Hickox’s reading goes further, investing 
                the music with a better sense of cohesion. It has the good old 
                swagger we have come to associate with the Edwardian Elgar. In 
                addition there is that sense of grandeur recollected in a nostalgic 
                glow shot through with regret at the passing of an era. Like Daniels, 
                Hickox’s final modulations are deeply affecting as they progress 
                through material from “The Wagon Passes” to those quiet resigned 
                snare-drum tappings and that soft gong-stroke leading “the music 
                away into some new visionary world”.  
              
So 
                Many True Princesses Who Have Gone 
                was composed for the unveiling of Sir Alfred Gilbert’s monument 
                to Queen Alexandra, widow of Edward VII, who had died in 1925. 
                Elgar’s setting of words by the then Poet Laureate, John Masefield 
                was for chorus and military band. It remained for many years in 
                manuscript: a vocal score with a keyboard reduction, the band 
                parts apparently lost. Anthony Payne’s orchestration of the accompaniment 
                was first performed at the 2002 Aldeburgh Festival. As Hickox 
                proves, it is an affecting work of simple dignity, especially 
                moving at the words “This lovely princess came from far away, 
                And won our hearts and lives within them still”, Elgar clearly 
                remembering, with affection, his friendship with Edward VII and 
                his Queen.  
              
The 
                existence of a Sixth Pomp & Circumstance March had been unsuspected 
                for many years. In 1996, however, sketches came to light in the 
                library of the Royal School of Church Music, complementing others 
                in the British Library.  The Elgar Will Trust asked Anthony Payne 
                in 2005 to examine this material with a view to assembling and 
                orchestrating a performing version.  It was premiered in a 2006 
                Prom concert. Its form is more complex than its predecessors alternating 
                between 2/4 and 6/8 metre. Until the appearance of the big tune 
                at about 3½ minutes in, this material is, to my ears, frankly, 
                empty bombast. This big tune may sound familiar; for it is the 
                same as that heard in the composer’s Empire March written 
                for the opening of the British Empire Exhibition at Wembley in 
                April 1924 (as it happened, a logistical oversight meant that 
                the first performance was not until that July). The CD notes inexplicably 
                make a connection between this Pomp and Circumstance No 6 and 
                the ‘first and most famous march in the series’? The Welsh players 
                turn in a thrilling enough performance, if you start it at 3:20; 
                but perhaps this is a case of it better to have left the sketches 
                in the archives?            
              
Another 
                noteworthy recording of the Elgar/Payne Symphony. My choice of 
                available recordings: Paul Daniels on Naxos. Pomp and Circumstance No. 6 disappoints; perhaps the sketches 
                were better left in the archives?
                  
                Ian Lace