My colleague, Jonathan Woolf has already
appraised this set with characteristic thoroughness. Jonathan has the
advantage over me in that he has heard all these recordings before in
their Pearl incarnation, which I’ve never encountered. He is also
much more
au fait with acoustic recordings and 78s than I am.
So his review is required reading, not least because he comments in
some detail on the previous CD transfer of these recordings by Pearl,
which many collectors may already own.
EMI’s handsome three-volume edition of all Elgar’s electric
recordings
of his music has long occupied a place of honour on my shelves. How
fortunate
we are that, until Britten, no British composer - probably no composer at
all
- was given so many opportunities to record his own music. There have been
debates
as to whether, even in the electrical age, Elgar adopted faster speeds in
the
studio than on the concert platform simply to accommodate the restrictions
at
the time of the recording process. That’s a debate that, in all
probability,
can never be resolved to everyone’s satisfaction. However, Elgar was
an
assiduous recording artist and I think we can safely assume that he was
satisfied
with the results he achieved in the studio - speeds and all - or he would
never
have passed the records for issue. So we have a precious legacy and these
acoustic
recordings, despite their limitations, constitute a very important part of
that
legacy.
Before discussing the recordings I must congratulate Music & Arts on
the
splendid presentation. The substantial booklet contains all the recording
details
- dates, matrix numbers etc - that one would expect. One or two
corrections
have been noted in Jonathan’s review. What really distinguishes the
booklet,
however, is the detailed, authoritative and highly readable essay by
Andrew
Neill, past chairman of the Elgar Society. This is enhanced by a wonderful
selection
of interesting and evocative photos. For the Elgar lover this booklet is
invaluable
- and pure pleasure. The source for these new transfers will also be of
interest
to Elgar aficionados. All the records used belonged to Elgar himself but
the
collection was dispersed on his death among family and friends. A member
of
the Elgar, Society, Arthur Reynolds, led the work of painstakingly
tracking
them all down and Lani Spahr, another Elgar Society member, has
transferred
them to CD for Music & Arts.
Elgar re-recorded most of the pieces included here once electrical recording
became possible. However,
The Fringes of the Fleet and
Sea Pictures, were never repeated. To be candid, I’m not
sure the former is any great loss. These Kipling songs are very much
period pieces - and the singers here deliver them, obviously, in the
style of the time. Having said that, these 1917 recordings offer an
invaluable window through which we can glimpse an aspect of Elgar’s
world at the time and it’s poignant to hear the voice of Charles
Mott, the principal singer here, who was killed in action less than
a year after these sessions. Collectors wanting a modern version should
bear in mind the Somm disc that came out a couple of years ago (
review). If
The Fringes of the Fleet lies on the fringes
(sorry!) of Elgar’s output
Sea Pictures is
much more central and so Elgar’s sole recording of it is priceless.
The recordings, set down in 1922 and 1923, feature a singer previously
unknown to me, Leila Megane, a Welsh contralto. She’s pretty good;
her singing is notable for its clear diction and her firm, round tone.
She’s commandingly excellent at “These shall assist me to
look higher” in ‘Sabbath Morning at Sea’. Her voice
is recorded prominently, which is understandable, but as a result the
accompaniment is often heard but faintly in the background. What is
especially striking is the urgency of Elgar’s conducting. He dispatches
‘In Haven’ in a mere 1:39 and his basic tempo for ‘Where
Corals Lie’ is also pretty swift though he slows up appropriately
for all the slower passages. He’s particularly animated in ‘The
Swimmer’ and, to be honest, this feels rushed. However, it’s
invaluable to have a recording of Elgar at the helm in this score.
The two concertos feature in heavily cut versions. In each case Elgar
himself
did the pruning - willingly, it seems - so that the music could fit onto
four
78 sides. In the
Cello Concerto the second movement is scarcely cut
while
the serene
Adagio emerges completely unscathed. Beatrice Harrison
is
good, especially in the slow movement, and Elgar chose her as his soloist
again
nine years later, in 1928, when he recorded the complete score
electrically.
The
Violin Concerto is much more severely hacked about; a mere 16
minutes
of music survive in this 1916 account. Of special interest here is the
cadenza.
To accommodate the engineering, Elgar re-wrote the cadenza, giving the
famous
‘thrumming’ to a harp instead of the strings. This version of
the
cadenza was included on Tasmin Little’s 2010 recording - see
review.
In the present abridged version the focus of the recording is firmly on
the
soloist, Marie Hall - as is also the case in the Cello Concerto. She plays
well,
especially in the slow movement, but it does seem decidedly odd to hear
the
cadenza before the truncated finale - it almost turns the concerto into a
short,
four-movement work. Though this 1916 version is not without interest the
1932
Menuhin recording (
review)
remains
hors concours if you want to hear Elgar directing his great
concerto.
The 1917 recording of
Cockaigne is so brutally truncated
that
it is little more than a curiosity - Elgar recorded it in full in 1933.
In
the South, recorded in 1923, is a very different matter, however.
Yes,
it is cut but not disastrously so - this recording plays for 16:04;
Elgar’s
complete re-make of 1930 plays for 20:13. What’s most important,
however,
is that despite the primitive recording the sheer energy and surge of
Elgar’s
interpretation of his colourful score is plain to hear. Just as
interesting
is his handling of the
Canto popolare section. There are no cuts in
this
passage and it’s a delight. The viola solo is lovely and is most
delicately
accompanied and, indeed, Elgar’s way with this whole episode
(8:27-11:57)
is completely winning.
There’s much charm on display in some of the lighter works.
Carissima
may be a slight piece but it’s delightful. Here the bass line,
perhaps
reinforced by a tuba, sounds tubby but the recording is worth hearing for
the
way in which Elgar phrases the lovely violin melody. This recording has
the
distinction that it’s the very first one that Elgar made. Andrew
Neill
tells us that after the stage play
The Starlight Express was
a
failure Elgar was keen to rescue some of his incidental music from the
risk
of oblivion by means of a recording. HMV obliged by recording him in eight
numbers
in 1916. Charles Mott was the baritone - he’d sung in the theatrical
production
too - and if his over-expressive delivery of ‘To the Children’
is
a bit too much to take nowadays his voice falls much more pleasingly on
the
ear in ‘Curfew Song’, where his expression is appropriate and
where
he spins a good line. Agnes Nicholls is the soprano. She battles with the
accompaniment
and, frankly, sounds shrill in ‘The Laugher’s Song’ but
she’s
much better suited to the music of ‘Tears and Laughter - Sunrise
Song’
and her voice is better recorded too. Those who have recently come to this
magical
score through the fine recording by Sir Andrew Davis (
review)
will be particularly intrigued to experience the composer in some of the
numbers.
Elgar is also heard in all but three of the numbers from his two
Wand
of Youth Suites. He fairly rattles through some of the
items,
such as the ‘Overture’ in the Suite No. 1, but he gets the
orchestra
to phrase the ‘Serenade’ from the same suite with charm and
these
recordings are well worth hearing. He re-recorded the suites, in full, in
1928.
I can’t raise much enthusiasm for the
‘Pomp and
Circumstance’
marches. Both are heavily cut; in each case the priority seems to have
been
to play the big tune three times. March No. 1 suffers particularly
grievously
in this respect but matters are made worse by the fact that Elgar takes
the
whole thing
so slowly; it’s quite leaden and, to be honest,
pompous.
No, pass this by and listen to his 1926 re-make instead - where No. 4 is
also
given complete. The
‘Enigma’ Variations fare
much
better. This was the product of three widely-spaced sessions in 1920/21.
The
timings of the individual sections are not greatly dissimilar to those in
Elgar’s
electrical re-make of 1926, with the regrettable exception of
‘Nimrod’
from which about a minute of music was cut in 1920/1. The sound in some of
the
variations calls for tolerance. ‘H.D.S-P.’ sounds thin and
scratchy
while ‘G.R.S.’, which is taken at a frenetic speed, sounds
shrill.
However, despite the sonic limitations, sufficient emerges to give us a
fine
sense of the spirit of Elgar’s way with his first acknowledged
masterpiece.
Note that in ‘Nimrod’ he keeps the music moving forward well
and
invests it with the right degree of nobility. The finale, a self-portrait,
is
given with lots of energy though, be warned, some of the brass playing
near
the end sounds over-enthusiastic - at least as recorded - and therefore
ugly.
In 1924/5 Elgar made his last acoustic recording, and what a recording it
was!
He conducted an orchestra numbering fifty players - a large band for
acoustic
conditions - in his
Second Symphony. This symphony was also to be
one
of his first electrical recordings, in 1927, and I find it interesting
that
he should record - and be allowed to record - this work, which had not
been
overwhelmingly received when first performed, in preference to the First
Symphony,
which had attained such a runaway success when Richter unveiled it in
1908;
the First had to wait until 1930 for a recording. Elgar’s acoustic
recording
presents the Second Symphony uncut and what stands out more than anything
else
is the sheer energy in this performance. Indeed, at times in the first
movement
Elgar whips up some of the faster music in the way that a jockey would
encourage
a thoroughbred in Elgar’s beloved sport of racing. That’s not
to
say for a moment that the composer skates over the more reflective
passages
of this wonderful score; he doesn’t and it’s especially moving
to
hear his noble, unaffected reading of the second movement. He brings great
vitality
to the Rondo while the finale is magisterial. Here, once again,
there’s
lots of energy in the first half of the movement and then he finds all the
poetry
in the gorgeous Brahmsian coda - not for nothing was the Brahms Third
Symphony
a favourite work of Elgar’s. What a pity that the original recording
cuts
off so brutally as soon as the last note has been played. Despite the
constraints
of acoustic recording techniques - and the need to reduce Elgar’s
opulent
scoring to a mere fifty players - all the main strands of the music are
there
to hear and it’s amazing how much detail comes through. As with so
many
other performances in this set the
spirit of Elgar’s
conducting
triumphs over the limitations of early recording techniques.
All collectors who want to hear Elgar conducting his own music will
obviously
- and rightly - gravitate firstly to his electrical recordings. However,
these
earlier, acoustic forays have their own rewards and interest. Elgar
deserves
acknowledgement as a recording pioneer, one of the first great composers
to
record significant amounts of his own music. We should doff our hats to
him
for having the vision to embrace the new technology so readily and to see
its
value as a way of disseminating his music.
It seems to me that Lani Spahr has done a splendid job with these
transfers,
breathing new life into recordings, the oldest of which is now 99 years
old.
One takes it as read that the sound is limited but the spirit and
character
of the music comes across loud and clear. Impressively documented and
presented
this set is a major document, invaluable as part of our appreciation of
one
of England’s greatest composers.
John Quinn
see also review by
Jonathan Woolf
Masterwork Index:
Cello concerto
~~
Enigma variations ~~
Symphony 2 ~~
Violin
concerto
Track listing
CD 1
Carissima (1914) [3:48]
The Sanguine Fan, Op. 81 (1917) [4:28]
The Fringes of the Fleet (1917) [17:38]
Frederick Stewart (Baritone), Harry Barratt (Baritone),
Frederick
Henry (Baritone),
Charles Mott (Baritone)
Carillon, Op. 75 (1914) [7:06]
Polonia, Op. 76 (1915) [8:20]
Starlight Express, Op. 78 (1915) [30:05]
CD 2
Cockaigne Overture, Op. 40 "In London Town" (1900-01) [4:12]
In the South, Op. 50 "Alassio" (1903-04) [16:04] ¹
Royal Albert Hall Orchestra
Concerto for Violin in B minor, Op. 61 (1910) [16:01]
Marie Hall (Violin)
Concerto for Cello in E minor, Op. 85 (1919) [16:10]
Beatrice Harrison (Cello)
Salut d'amour, Op. 12 (1889) [3:51]
Chanson de nuit, Op. 15 no 1 (1897) [4:10]
Scenes from the Saga of King Olaf, Op. 30 - A Little Bird (1894-96) [3:23]
¹
The Dream of Gerontius, Op. 38 (1900); Prelude and Softly and Gently
"Angel's
Farewell" [4:40]
The Light of Life, Op. 29: no 1, Meditation (1896) [4:50] ¹
CD 3
Sea Pictures, Op. 37 (1899) [18:15]
Variations on an Original Theme, Op. 36 "Enigma" (1899) [26:15] ¹
Pomp and Circumstance Marches (5), Op. 39: no 1 in D major (1901) [4:32]
Pomp and Circumstance Marches (5), Op. 39: no 4 in G major (1907) [3:53]
Bavarian Dances (3) Op.27 (1895) [9:47]
Fantasy and Fugue in C minor, Op. 86 (Bach, BWV 537) (1922) [7:59] ¹
Chandos Anthems: no 2, In the Lord I put my trust, HWV 247 by George
Frideric
Handel (1717-18) orchestrated by Elgar [4:32] ¹
CD 4
The Wand of Youth Suite no 1, Op. 1a (1907) [9:45]
The Wand of Youth Suite no 1, Op. 1a (1907) unpublished takes [7:40]
The Wand of Youth Suite no 2, Op. 1b (1907) [8:40]
The Wand of Youth Suite no 2, Op. 1b (1907) unpublished takes [3:22]
Symphony no 2 in E flat major, Op. 63 (1911) [45:44] ¹
