Elgar's Hillside

[Mirror Image]

Re: Elgar's Symphony No. 2

I whole-heartedly love Symphony No. 2, which I posted a semi-lengthy post about why I love it many pages back, but I suppose whatever alleged weaknesses the music may or may not suffer from have never really occurred to me as this music, for me, shows a man who is bearing his soul for the world to hear and doing it in a completely honest and humbling way. There is some music whose excesses can way me down, but when it comes to Elgar, to put this quite directly, I'm all ears.

[knight66]

Okay, well I haven't been following too closely to the responses he's been given by other members as I've just been reading his posts. By all means, carry on!

That''s terribly generous of you.......now, on with the conversation.

Knight

[Hiker]

Is it safe to come back in? 

[TheGSMoeller]

Is it safe to come back in? 

What's the password?

[Mirror Image]

What's the password?

Windflower?

[Elgarian]

But is this your problem or Elgar's problem? For example, the nobilemente theme in the first symphony is incomplete, but is transformed throughout the rest of the symphony only to return at the very end. This seems to me to have a very clear and coherent purpose. I suppose if one doesn't understand that purpose (or see value in it) that one might find it repetitious and dull. But I think this might be an example of the dead end you refer to.

I've been thinking along similar lines myself, about the first symphony, and the way we get that glorious return at the end, bursting with optimism. And also, in the last movement, we get that astounding musical transfiguration of the 'military march' theme into something exquisitely beautiful that soars and heals and regenerates and inspires. I mean ... for me, that is one of the most fabulously unexpected transformations in the whole of music. What I don't get - really, really don't get - is how a symphony that culminates with such a transcendent hair-on-the-neck-prickling passage could be thought of as purposeless or 'unsustainable'. I get that not everyone may like it. [After all, I believe some people don't like single malt whisky - it's true, you know, some don't]. But surely to goodness, however many deliciously obscure paths promising 'something heard down by the river' are explored en route, this symphony oozes purpose.

[Hiker]

Elgar: Sonata for Violin & Piano in E minor, Op.82.

[asin]B00013QT42[/asin]

I first heard this sonata when it was discussed here some time ago. It was quite the revelation. Heard sight unseen, this driven performance from Maxim Vengerov and Revital Chachamov would have convinced me to bet good money that the composition sprang from the pen of someone "spikier" than dear old Sir Edward Elgar, such as Shostakovich or Prokofiev. But what do I know? This is a side of Elgar that almost never gets a public airing.

[71 dB]

Elgar: Sonata for Violin & Piano in E minor, Op.82.

[asin]B00013QT42[/asin]

I first heard this sonata when it was discussed here some time ago. It was quite the revelation. Heard sight unseen, this driven performance from Maxim Vengerov and Revital Chachamov would have convinced me to bet good money that the composition sprang from the pen of someone "spikier" than dear old Sir Edward Elgar, such as Shostakovich or Prokofiev. But what do I know? This is a side of Elgar that almost never gets a public airing.

Elgar has got too many sides to be comprehensively "aired" edited by Knight That said, I have heard Elgar's Violin Sonata played a few times on classical radio in Finland over the years. Perhaps someone in the radio thinks it's "similar" music to Salut d'amour. 

Edited for breaking the rules of the site with an insulting remark. Knight

[Elgarian]

Elgar: Sonata for Violin & Piano in E minor, Op.82.

[asin]B00013QT42[/asin]

I first heard this sonata when it was discussed here some time ago. It was quite the revelation. Heard sight unseen, this driven performance from Maxim Vengerov and Revital Chachamov would have convinced me to bet good money that the composition sprang from the pen of someone "spikier" than dear old Sir Edward Elgar, such as Shostakovich or Prokofiev. But what do I know? This is a side of Elgar that almost never gets a public airing.

Oh nicely said! The three chamber works - violin sonata, string quartet, and piano quintet - show a side of Elgar that is hugely rewarding and wholly different from most people's expectations. I like your description of the violin sonata as 'spikier' than one expects. Certainly it's a long way removed from the 'lighter' Elgar of the Salut d'Amour variety, or the opulence of the major orchestral works. In spirit I've always associated the chamber works with the Introduction and Allegor for strings. Not chronologically of course - but the Introduction & Allegro shows us a side of Elgar that seems (to me) to resurface (emotionally, if not musically) in the chamber works. They make me think of wind, and trees, and rough grass underfoot, and English weather, and a deep longing for something infinitely desirable but just out of reach. There's a windflowerish spirit in the violin sonata, too.

[revdrdave]

As I indicated in a post a couple of weeks ago (my first here on GMG), I've been collecting classical music for 40+ years but, to that point, had listened to very little Elgar.  I added some Elgar to my collection fairly early on, especially once I indulged my Anglophilia and really began collecting British composers.  But my motivation then was less a love for Elgar than an acknowledgment of his place in English music history, i.e. if you're going to have a reputable collection of English music, you have to include some Elgar.

So—as of two weeks ago, I hadn't listened to Elgar in, literally, years.  In the days since then, however, I've listened to nothing but Elgar—all Elgar, all the time.  Simultaneously, I've been working my way through the 140 pages of this thread (I'm up to about page 80)...it has been quite the education.  I want to share some reactions as a result of my Elgar immersion, not because I'm bold enough to think I have anything of particular consequence to add to the discussion here but because I'm hoping those of you with a far better/deeper/longer relationship with Elgar and his music can help me come to terms with what I think I'm hearing.

For some context, here's what I've been listening to:

     Symphony #1 (Barbirolli/Halle)
     Symphony #2 (a Proms performance with Daniel Harding/London SO)
     Violin Concerto (another Proms performance with Nigel Kennedy/Paul Daniel/BBC)
     Cello Concerto (Du Pre/Barbirolli/London SO)
     Spirit of England (Cahill/Gibson/Scottish NO)
     Piano Quintet (Ian Brown/Sorrel Qt)

1) I quickly realized the extent to which my expectations of Elgar were filtered through the Pomp and Circumstance March #1.  That's the Elgar I knew—the Elgar I think most people know—thus the Elgar I expected.  As I listened, my one-dimensional, one composition Elgarian history kept leading me to hear Pomp and Circumstance no matter what, musically, was actually happening.  The stately tread of the opening of the First Symphony is a good example: as I listened, my first thought was, "That sounds like Pomp and Circumstance."  In order to begin to really hear what Elgar was doing in any given piece, I first had to flush Pomp and Circumstance out of my ears, and that only happened as a result of repeated listening to his music that wasn't Pomp and Circumstance.   

2) Just as my expectations of Elgar were conditioned by Pomp and Circumstance, so, too, were they conditioned by my impressions of the point in English history of which Elgar was a product.  Elgar's life straddled Victorian and Edwardian England and, for better or worse, that conjures-up all manner of notions in my North American mind of empire, jingoism, and stiff upper lips.  Is that fair?  Absolutely not—no more than the assumptions of some of my British acquaintances that since I used to live in Texas, I must've owned a ranch, rounded-up cattle, and packed a pistol everywhere I went.  The point is not the accuracy of my assumptions but the fact that, accurate or not, they informed my expectations of what Elgar's music would be.  Like Pomp and Circumstance, my assumptions based on ignorance of the full picture of Elgar's life and music, had to be re-thought...and were, once again as a result of repeated listening.

3) Listening to Elgar requires work.  Let me explain.  Music of many composers—say, Tchaikovsky or Dvorak—can just sort of wash over me and I can still get something from the experience.  I can put it on and do other things...read, write, paint a room.  But I quickly discovered I cannot do that with Elgar.  Elgar does not (at least for me) give up his secrets easily.  I really have to listen, carefully.  This is not, I believe, a function solely of unfamiliarity with the music.  It is more a consequence of an unexpected profundity.  I say "unexpected" because two weeks ago, "profound" is not a descriptor I'd have used for Elgar.  But, for me, the Second Symphony, the Cello Concerto, and, especially, the Violin Concerto are among the most profound pieces I've encountered in a very long time.  There is an emotional, intellectual, and spiritual depth to Elgar's music that I simply did not expect.  My reaction to him is similar to my reaction to Bach.  When I listen to Bach, I can do nothing else because his music engages me totally, demanding my total concentration in return.  I'm experiencing much the same with Elgar.

4) Another reason Elgar requires work, I think, is that his sound palette, to my ears, is dense.  I'm not a professional musician; I don't know music theory.  So, often, I don't feel I have the vocabulary to describe what I'm hearing.  That said, I wonder if the denseness, the aural thickness I often hear in Elgar is a function of his orchestration.  There's often a lot going on in Elgar—the development section of the first movement of the Symphony #1 is a good example—but I have to listen carefully to discern all the individual instrumental lines and what they're doing.  I wouldn't, in other words, describe Elgar's music as sounding transparent.  I appreciate this may be a function of interpretation—some conductors are better than others at maintaining an orchestral balance where individual instrumental lines are more audible.  But it can't be just interpretation.  A case in point is the cadenza of the Violin Concerto: it is remarkable on so many levels but isn't part of its communicative ability (I don't know what else to call it) because, in the orchestral accompaniment, Elgar, through what might be described as a "minimalist" orchestration, creates a sound world in that 10 minutes so very different from the rest of the concerto (the exception that proves the rule)?

5) I'm already thinking the Cello Concerto may well be the greatest cello concerto ever written.

Well, if you've read this far, my thanks for your indulgence and I look forward to any responses you may care to offer because I really do want to understand Elgar better.     

[Elgarian]

For some context, here's what I've been listening to:

     Symphony #1 (Barbirolli/Halle)
     Symphony #2 (a Proms performance with Daniel Harding/London SO)
     Violin Concerto (another Proms performance with Nigel Kennedy/Paul Daniel/BBC)
     Cello Concerto (Du Pre/Barbirolli/London SO)
     Spirit of England (Cahill/Gibson/Scottish NO)
     Piano Quintet (Ian Brown/Sorrel Qt)

1) I quickly realized the extent to which my expectations of Elgar were filtered through the Pomp and Circumstance March #1.  That's the Elgar I knew—the Elgar I think most people know—thus the Elgar I expected.  As I listened, my one-dimensional, one composition Elgarian history kept leading me to hear Pomp and Circumstance no matter what, musically, was actually happening.  The stately tread of the opening of the First Symphony is a good example: as I listened, my first thought was, "That sounds like Pomp and Circumstance."  In order to begin to really hear what Elgar was doing in any given piece, I first had to flush Pomp and Circumstance out of my ears, and that only happened as a result of repeated listening to his music that wasn't Pomp and Circumstance.

That Pomp & Circumstance business is the very dickens. As marches go, I'm sure they're very good, but it is very difficult to get past them to get at what I'd call 'the real Elgar'. Which is not to say the P&C marches are not him - we have to factor them into the overall picture - but they simply aren't representative, and they have nothing to do at all with my lifelong love of Elgar's music.

2) Just as my expectations of Elgar were conditioned by Pomp and Circumstance, so, too, were they conditioned by my impressions of the point in English history of which Elgar was a product.  Elgar's life straddled Victorian and Edwardian England and, for better or worse, that conjures-up all manner of notions in my North American mind of empire, jingoism, and stiff upper lips.

There's no gainsaying that Elgar was a man of his time - not a man ahead of it - but I've long felt that the way to get past that 'jingoistic' assumption is to think not in terms of crude nationalism, but of chivalry and brotherhood. Elgar was primarily an Imperialist in that latter sense. Think Arthurian Legends, think PreRaphaelitism, and you're getting closer to understanding where he comes from. The Spirit of England  isn't a paean of nationalism, or even of patriotism, but a requiem of remembrance for those who sacrificed their lives - who, in this case, happen to be English soldiers.

3) Listening to Elgar requires work.  Let me explain.  Music of many composers—say, Tchaikovsky or Dvorak—can just sort of wash over me and I can still get something from the experience.  I can put it on and do other things...read, write, paint a room.  But I quickly discovered I cannot do that with Elgar.  Elgar does not (at least for me) give up his secrets easily.  I really have to listen, carefully. 

There are less daunting easier works that are still lovely things: Chanson de Matin, Chanson de Nuit, Salut d'Amour, Serenade for Strings - and I never found the Enigma Variations difficult to get into myself - though of course they do constitute a major work.

But, for me, the Second Symphony, the Cello Concerto, and, especially, the Violin Concerto are among the most profound pieces I've encountered in a very long time.  There is an emotional, intellectual, and spiritual depth to Elgar's music that I simply did not expect. 

Sounds like the battle is won already, really ....

A case in point is the cadenza of the Violin Concerto: it is remarkable on so many levels but isn't part of its communicative ability (I don't know what else to call it) because, in the orchestral accompaniment, Elgar, through what might be described as a "minimalist" orchestration, creates a sound world in that 10 minutes so very different from the rest of the concerto (the exception that proves the rule)?

It is, and yet it isn't. The cadenza is intricately related to everything that went before and a crucial part of the emotional/musical coherence of the whole, despite the astonishing shift in momentum, orchestration, mood, etc etc.. At some point as you go through this thread you'll find lots of talk about the VC and the significance of the cadenza, and the windflower themes. I won't repeat it here for fear of putting everyone to sleep

I don't say all this with any kind of didactic impulse - just wanted to respond to your very thoughtful post in the best way I could.

[revdrdave]

There's no gainsaying that Elgar was a man of his time - not a man ahead of it - but I've long felt that the way to get past that 'jingoistic' assumption is to think not in terms of crude nationalism, but of chivalry and brotherhood. Elgar was primarily an Imperialist in that latter sense. Think Arthurian Legends, think PreRaphaelitism, and you're getting closer to understanding where he comes from. The Spirit of England  isn't a paean of nationalism, or even of patriotism, but a requiem of remembrance for those who sacrificed their lives - who, in this case, happen to be English soldiers.

Thank you, Alan, for your comments--very helpful, indeed.  You raise a point here that you've raised in the past, one that I'm anxious to have you explain further, namely the idea of Elgar and chivalry.  What do you mean by chivalry in this context and how, specifically, does it relate to better understanding Elgar's music?

[Elgarian]

Thank you, Alan, for your comments--very helpful, indeed.  You raise a point here that you've raised in the past, one that I'm anxious to have you explain further, namely the idea of Elgar and chivalry.  What do you mean by chivalry in this context and how, specifically, does it relate to better understanding Elgar's music?

There's no short answer to this one David. There's so much fog to clear away, largely because of what happened when Elgar began to be reassessed in the 1960s. The problem was that side by side with the Public and Imperialistic Elgar, there was a private Elgar - the Elgar portrayed in the famous Ken Russell film, who wandered the Malvern Hills as a lad and communed with nature and subsequently captured such experiences in music like Introduction and Allegro for Strings. The implicit argument ran that this was the 'real' Elgar and the pomp and circumstances side was just fluff and bluster. But it doesn't hold water. Elgar was that child of nature, yes. And he was also an Imperialist. However we approach him, if we want to understand properly what drove him, we have to find a way of taking in both of those aspects, rather than excluding one of them.

The best description of  how to go about this is found in a book by Jeffrey Richards called Imperialism and Music, in the chapter 'Elgar's Empire'. I'll quote a few key sentences:

"The problem is that people have misunderstood the meaning of Imperialism, equating it with jingoism and exploitation. To apply the term 'jingoistic' to Elgar's work is to misunderstand his view entirely. ... it is a vision of justice, peace, freedom and equality of the pax Britannica and of the fulfilment by Britain of its trusteeship mission, to see the countries in its charge  brought safely and in due course to independence - a far from ignoble dream. Elgar's Empire was a fusion of three other elements in his world view, his love of chivalry, his mystical Christianity, and his patriotism."

We have to beware of regarding Elgar and his time through a lens of historical snobbery. Elgar was essentially and inescapably a late Victorian, steeped in Romantic literature: Scott, Legends of King Arthur etc. Some of his music is directly inspired from those kind of sources: the Froissart overture (Scott), with the inscription on its score: 'when chivalry lifted up her lance on high'; The Black Knight; Arthur, etc.. Suddenly I'm reminded of another recent book (Elgar and Chivalry by Robert Anderson) which traces out all these chivalric threads, and draws out Elgar's personal associations with a kind of mythic, mystic England: Albion, the England of Arthur. In this way Robert Anderson links Elgar with the preoccupations of people like Tennyson and the PreRaphaelites (his close friend, the 'Windflower' - Alice Stuart Wortley - was the daughter of John Everett Millais, the PreRaphaelite painter). Elgar's chivalric Imperialism was not one of oppression, but a mystically flavoured call to duty and brotherhood. Think 'King Arthur's Camelot', and you're getting close.

So any accurate understanding of Elgar and his music has to encapsulate these two factors - (1) the private Elgar, the child of nature, the dreamer by the river; and (2) the public Elgar, the chivalric Imperialist lover of his country. And so finally to return specifically to his music, and the effect of all this on the way we listen to it (in answer to your question): nowhere, in my view, do we find these two polar opposites brought together so perfectly, so heart-rendingly, as in the violin concerto, with its private, pastoral, feminine windflower themes wringing out the heart of its bluff broad-shouldered public optimism and almost-bravado. It's almost as if he understood these two aspects of himself and wrote the violin concerto as a means of exploring their relationship musically. You know that famous enigmatic inscription he wrote on its score - 'Herein is enshrined the soul of ....' [five dots], often thought to relate to Alice the Windflower? Well, maybe. Or maybe it was the soul of Elgar himself?

[knight66]

Alan, Thanks for your many insights on this thread. For myself, I never did worry about whether he was old fashioned, jingoistic etc; I listen and let the music do its work. But for sure what you bring is very interesting and does deepen my understanding of both the music and the composer.

Mike

[mc ukrneal]

There's no short answer to this one David. There's so much fog to clear away, largely because of what happened when Elgar began to be reassessed in the 1960s. The problem was that side by side with the Public and Imperialistic Elgar, there was a private Elgar - the Elgar portrayed in the famous Ken Russell film, who wandered the Malvern Hills as a lad and communed with nature and subsequently captured such experiences in music like Introduction and Allegro for Strings. The implicit argument ran that this was the 'real' Elgar and the pomp and circumstances side was just fluff and bluster. But it doesn't hold water. Elgar was that child of nature, yes. And he was also an Imperialist. However we approach him, if we want to understand properly what drove him, we have to find a way of taking in both of those aspects, rather than excluding one of them.

The best description of  how to go about this is found in a book by Jeffrey Richards called Imperialism and Music, in the chapter 'Elgar's Empire'. I'll quote a few key sentences:

"The problem is that people have misunderstood the meaning of Imperialism, equating it with jingoism and exploitation. To apply the term 'jingoistic' to Elgar's work is to misunderstand his view entirely. ... it is a vision of justice, peace, freedom and equality of the pax Britannica and of the fulfilment by Britain of its trusteeship mission, to see the countries in its charge  brought safely and in due course to independence - a far from ignoble dream. Elgar's Empire was a fusion of three other elements in his world view, his love of chivalry, his mystical Christianity, and his patriotism."

We have to beware of regarding Elgar and his time through a lens of historical snobbery. Elgar was essentially and inescapably a late Victorian, steeped in Romantic literature: Scott, Legends of King Arthur etc. Some of his music is directly inspired from those kind of sources: the Froissart overture (Scott), with the inscription on its score: 'when chivalry lifted up her lance on high'; The Black Knight; Arthur, etc.. Suddenly I'm reminded of another recent book (Elgar and Chivalry by Robert Anderson) which traces out all these chivalric threads, and draws out Elgar's personal associations with a kind of mythic, mystic England: Albion, the England of Arthur. In this way Robert Anderson links Elgar with the preoccupations of people like Tennyson and the PreRaphaelites (his close friend, the 'Windflower' - Alice Stuart Wortley - was the daughter of John Everett Millais, the PreRaphaelite painter). Elgar's chivalric Imperialism was not one of oppression, but a mystically flavoured call to duty and brotherhood. Think 'King Arthur's Camelot', and you're getting close.

So any accurate understanding of Elgar and his music has to encapsulate these two factors - (1) the private Elgar, the child of nature, the dreamer by the river; and (2) the public Elgar, the chivalric Imperialist lover of his country. And so finally to return specifically to his music, and the effect of all this on the way we listen to it (in answer to your question): nowhere, in my view, do we find these two polar opposites brought together so perfectly, so heart-rendingly, as in the violin concerto, with its private, pastoral, feminine windflower themes wringing out the heart of its bluff broad-shouldered public optimism and almost-bravado. It's almost as if he understood these two aspects of himself and wrote the violin concerto as a means of exploring their relationship musically. You know that famous enigmatic inscription he wrote on its score - 'Herein is enshrined the soul of ....' [five dots], often thought to relate to Alice the Windflower? Well, maybe. Or maybe it was the soul of Elgar himself?

Very interesting. Of course, some/a lot of this is captured in the word 'nobilmente'. But do you know, there is no good definition to be found on the internet. Most seem to dance around it or use the word noble/nobility, which is not entirely the meaning of the term (and in any case, using the root to explain it is almost useless). Have you found a good explanation for this term in any of the books on Elgar? It is a difficult word to explain on the fly.

[Karl Henning]

Thanks, as ever, Alan.

[André]

Very interesting, gentlemen, bravo !

I agree that the cello concerto is the greatest ever written 

For addiitonal works to explore, Enigma is an obvious choice. I never tire of listening to its crossection of glorious themes and whiffs of melodies. Then there is The Music Makers, where Enigma makes fleeting appearances, and where Janet Baker (go for that version, accept no substituress) contributes the most idiomatic elgarian vocal outpouring.

[mc ukrneal]

Then there is The Music Makers, where Enigma makes fleeting appearances, and where Janet Baker (go for that version, accept no substituress) contributes the most idiomatic elgarian vocal outpouring.

It's a great work, I agree. But the Andrew Davis recording is outstanding as well (with Jean Rigby).

[revdrdave]

"The problem is that people have misunderstood the meaning of Imperialism, equating it with jingoism and exploitation. To apply the term 'jingoistic' to Elgar's work is to misunderstand his view entirely. ... it is a vision of justice, peace, freedom and equality of the pax Britannica and of the fulfilment by Britain of its trusteeship mission, to see the countries in its charge  brought safely and in due course to independence - a far from ignoble dream. Elgar's Empire was a fusion of three other elements in his world view, his love of chivalry, his mystical Christianity, and his patriotism."

I see the point, Alan, that the author is making.  At the same time--and I say this as an American acutely aware of the foreign policies of my own country--some would question the veracity of any claim by an Imperial power that its overseas policies are pursued in the interest of "trusteeship" and seeing "countries in its charge brought safely and in due course to independence."  Is that, I wonder, how Elgar himself understood what the British Empire was doing?  In any event, I find this comment of yours to be extraordinarily helpful: "Elgar's chivalric Imperialism was not one of oppression, but a mystically flavoured call to duty and brotherhood. Think 'King Arthur's Camelot', and you're getting close."  That makes a great deal of sense to me and helps me better hold in tension what you call the private and public Elgar.  You mention the Violin Concerto, and I understand exactly what you're describing.  I hear it, too, in both symphonies and, perhaps most poignantly, in The Spirit of England.  Would you go so far as to say that there is evidence of Elgar's struggle to reconcile (or at least deal with) his public and private sides in most all of his music to one degree or another? 

[Elgarian]

Very interesting. Of course, some/a lot of this is captured in the word 'nobilmente'. But do you know, there is no good definition to be found on the internet. Most seem to dance around it or use the word noble/nobility, which is not entirely the meaning of the term (and in any case, using the root to explain it is almost useless). Have you found a good explanation for this term in any of the books on Elgar? It is a difficult word to explain on the fly.

If I have, I've forgotten it, and I'd be as hard pressed to describe it as you would - except by pointing to my last post and saying 'a musical equivalent of all of the above'.