Elgar's Hillside

[knight66]

I heard the second movement of Elgar's First Symphony, conducted by Bryden Thomson with the LPO (Chandos) and was very impressed so I bought a very cheap second hand copy. It is the most lyrical and songful account that I have ever heard and strongly recommend it. The 1986 recording is equally impressive. I have many different versions (Boult x 3, Barbirolli, Solti, Tate etcetc) but this is my number one version at the moment. The slow movement sounds Brucknerian.

Thanks for the recommendaton. I have just downloaded the discs of Thomson conducting both symphonies and will listen to them on my long train journey home today.

Mike

[vandermolen]

Thanks for the recommendaton. I have just downloaded the discs of Thomson conducting both symphonies and will listen to them on my long train journey home today.

Mike

I'd be very interested to hear what you think Mike. No.2 was much more expensive on Amazon so I only bought No.1. I have rarely been so moved by a performance of a work that I am very familiar with. I hope that you enjoy hearing it. I think that Bryden Thomson was such an underrated conductor and sad that he passed away comparatively young.

Jeffrey

[knight66]

Jeffrey, I have only so far listened to the 1st Symphony and I enjoyed it a great deal The tempi feel natural and I sense more layering in the inner movements than I am used to. It is a moving performance. He really uses silences in the way I think of them in Bruckner, eg after the in initial statement of the opening theme in the first movement. The silence somehow means something; it is not merely an absence of sound. I do like the final movement with a bit more rip to the fast passages; but the performance really did engage me and I will be going back to it quickly for another listen. The quality of the sound is very good. I agree that Thomson is not remembered as he should be for his recordings.

Mike

[vandermolen]

Jeffrey, I have only so far listened to the 1st Symphony and I enjoyed it a great deal The tempi feel natural and I sense more layering in the inner movements than I am used to. It is a moving performance. He really uses silences in the way I think of them in Bruckner, eg after the in initial statement of the opening theme in the first movement. The silence somehow means something; it is not merely an absence of sound. I do like the final movement with a bit more rip to the fast passages; but the performance really did engage me and I will be going back to it quickly for another listen. The quality of the sound is very good. I agree that Thomson is not remembered as he should be for his recordings.

Mike

Mike, thanks so much for the speedy feedback and I'm delighted that you liked the performance. I found the coda even more affecting than usual in this performance. Let us know what you think of No.2 when you get there. I think that his Walton Symphony 1 is another top choice. My OCDCD means that I have 20+ recordings of it but Thomson rates very highly.

Jeffrey

[knight66]

I don't know the Second symphony anything like as well as I know the First. So, I doubt that my opinion is worth waiting for. I will look out the Walton to store for listening to. Again thanks.

Mike

[mc ukrneal]

Oramo's #2 is good and his #1 is great. I remember the EMI Jeffrey Tate recordings having pretty great sound?

So I ended up getting these (Tate) to supplement my Boult. And the sound on #1 is pretty phenomenal. The playing is great as well. It has a different sensibility than Boult, but what a sound Tate coaxes out of the orchestra. Will try #2 another day, but worked out well. I should mention that I went for this one, because it was at Berkshire for a pittance compared to Amazon prices.

[Elgarian]

I've been in Malvern the last couple of days, to do a bit of walking and pottering, and to attend a concert at the Malvern Forum Theatre: Elgar's Froissart, Brahms 3rd symphony, Elgar's violin concerto : English Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Kenneth Woods, with Alexander Sitkovetsky as soloist.

Froissart has never come even close to being among my favourite Elgar works, and on this outing it seemed less appealing than usual. The Brahms third symphony seemed wooden, and by the interval I was starting to wonder whether I really wanted to hear a dull and plodding performance of the violin concerto ...

But you know ... from the opening bars it was like listening to a different orchestra: thoroughly energised, off we went, and after we'd got to the magic moment when the violin first enters, I knew it was all going to be alright.

Well it was more than alright. It was stupendous. Sitkovetsky's violin seemed to lift the orchestra to the most wonderful heights of expression: his playing was quite beyond anything I've heard before. I can't comment on the technical side, but it seemed that the anguished longing of Elgar's music was bleeding from his playing.  So there I am, carried along, riding every note, eyes on the edge of tears, and sometimes over the edge, listening to the interplay of all the windfloweriness as if I'd never really heard it played before as it should be played.

I've since tried to work out just what made it so special, and I just can't figure it. Of course it was Malvern, so the Elgar link is always special there, but this ran far deeper than mere association between a man and a place. And it wasn't just me: we were all on our feet at the end, applauding with hands over our heads. It seemed that Sitkovetsky had got right under Elgar's skin, teasing out all that longing for something - something to do with a love of nature, something to do with his piercing yearning for some aspect of the eternal feminine that always eluded him, that always made him respond with an uneasy mixture of joy and pain. The emotional impact was physical (a knot of tightness and pain at the heart, coming and going as the music evolved) and exhausting.

I was left thinking that my collection of recordings of the violin concerto would be inadequate after this. They would just become reminders of this. The next day we walked up Midsummer Hill, at the southern end of the Malverns. The sun shone, and it was warm, and we sat on the grass with the whole of Worcestershire beneath us, and there was nothing really to say about it all. What can you say, the day after you've heard one of the two or three most inspiring musical performances of your life?

[mc ukrneal]

I've been in Malvern the last couple of days, to do a bit of walking and pottering, and to attend a concert at the Malvern Forum Theatre: Elgar's Froissart, Brahms 3rd symphony, Elgar's violin concerto : English Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Kenneth Woods, with Alexander Sitkovetsky as soloist.

Froissart has never come even close to being among my favourite Elgar works, and on this outing it seemed less appealing than usual. The Brahms third symphony seemed wooden, and by the interval I was starting to wonder whether I really wanted to hear a dull and plodding performance of the violin concerto ...

But you know ... from the opening bars it was like listening to a different orchestra: thoroughly energised, off we went, and after we'd got to the magic moment when the violin first enters, I knew it was all going to be alright.

Well it was more than alright. It was stupendous. Sitkovetsky's violin seemed to lift the orchestra to the most wonderful heights of expression: his playing was quite beyond anything I've heard before. I can't comment on the technical side, but it seemed that the anguished longing of Elgar's music was bleeding from his playing.  So there I am, carried along, riding every note, eyes on the edge of tears, and sometimes over the edge, listening to the interplay of all the windfloweriness as if I'd never really heard it played before as it should be played.

I've since tried to work out just what made it so special, and I just can't figure it. Of course it was Malvern, so the Elgar link is always special there, but this ran far deeper than mere association between a man and a place. And it wasn't just me: we were all on our feet at the end, applauding with hands over our heads. It seemed that Sitkovetsky had got right under Elgar's skin, teasing out all that longing for something - something to do with a love of nature, something to do with his piercing yearning for some aspect of the eternal feminine that always eluded him, that always made him respond with an uneasy mixture of joy and pain. The emotional impact was physical (a knot of tightness and pain at the heart, coming and going as the music evolved) and exhausting.

I was left thinking that my collection of recordings of the violin concerto would be inadequate after this. They would just become reminders of this. The next day we walked up Midsummer Hill, at the southern end of the Malverns. The sun shone, and it was warm, and we sat on the grass with the whole of Worcestershire beneath us, and there was nothing really to say about it all. What can you say, the day after you've heard one of the two or three most inspiring musical performances of your life?

More please?

Wonderful story. I had a similar experience with a Prokofiev Romeo and Juliet performance. I didn't listen to a recording of it for quite some time after that.

By the way, do you know if Alexander is related to Dmitry Sitkovetsky?

[Karl Henning]

Delighted to read that report (although too bad about the Brahms f minor symphony getting all stalk-ey).

[Elgarian]

I had a similar experience with a Prokofiev Romeo and Juliet performance. I didn't listen to a recording of it for quite some time after that.

By the way, do you know if Alexander is related to Dmitry Sitkovetsky?

I think (though it doesn't mention it in the programme) that Alexander may be Dmitry's nephew.

I know just what you mean about your Romeo and Juliet, and the inadequacy of recordings when you've just been shot between the eyes by the Real Thing. Also, I can't help wondering: suppose I had a recording of that performance: what would I think? I betcha I'd start niggling at it in the way we tend to here on GMG, you know - picking at this bit here and that bit there, and how Bean had got that bit right, and Little had maybe slightly missed it, and don't you think Kennedy is just a bit too much fireworkish sometimes ...? and so on and so on. But when it's the Real Thing, none of that stuff really matters. On Thursday evening we were all just hanging on to the ride, not wanting to miss a note, feeling the pain and the joy of it (and not being sure which was which), and wanting it never to end. There's this big symbiotic thing going on between audience and performer - no microphone can catch that - so it's so much more than a merely listening experience, and not amenable to much analysis.

After it ended, we just sat for ages as the theatre emptied. When we eventually left, I felt I needed to say 'thank you' to somebody - and spotted a horn player walking out onto the street, instrument hanging on his back. So I caught him up and said, 'Excuse me, but I need to thank someone for that miraculous performance. May I please thank you, as representative of everyone else?' He probably thought I was nuts, but he accepted the thanks with good grace, and seemed pleased enough.

[Karl Henning]

I know just what you mean about your Romeo and Juliet, and the inadequacy of recordings when you've just been shot between the eyes by the Real Thing. Also, I can't help wondering: suppose I had a recording of that performance: what would I think? I betcha I'd start niggling at it in the way we tend to here on GMG, you know - picking at this bit here and that bit there, and how Bean had got that bit right, and Little had maybe slightly missed it, and don't you think Kennedy is just a bit too much fireworkish sometimes ...? and so on and so on. But when it's the Real Thing, none of that stuff really matters.

Emphasis mine.  Absolutely right!  That is part of the beauty of live performance; then, in particular, we owe it to both the music and the performers, to live in the moment.

[mc ukrneal]

I think (though it doesn't mention it in the programme) that Alexander may be Dmitry's nephew.

I know just what you mean about your Romeo and Juliet, and the inadequacy of recordings when you've just been shot between the eyes by the Real Thing. Also, I can't help wondering: suppose I had a recording of that performance: what would I think? I betcha I'd start niggling at it in the way we tend to here on GMG, you know - picking at this bit here and that bit there, and how Bean had got that bit right, and Little had maybe slightly missed it, and don't you think Kennedy is just a bit too much fireworkish sometimes ...? and so on and so on. But when it's the Real Thing, none of that stuff really matters. On Thursday evening we were all just hanging on to the ride, not wanting to miss a note, feeling the pain and the joy of it (and not being sure which was which), and wanting it never to end. There's this big symbiotic thing going on between audience and performer - no microphone can catch that - so it's so much more than a merely listening experience, and not amenable to much analysis.

After it ended, we just sat for ages as the theatre emptied. When we eventually left, I felt I needed to say 'thank you' to somebody - and spotted a horn player walking out onto the street, instrument hanging on his back. So I caught him up and said, 'Excuse me, but I need to thank someone for that miraculous performance. May I please thank you, as representative of everyone else?' He probably thought I was nuts, but he accepted the thanks with good grace, and seemed pleased enough.

I think that the immediacy of the performance is part of it too (agree with Karl completely here). But I find that life-moving performances seem to have something more. It's like the performers (and composer) are speaking directly to you with no third-party involvement (if that makes any sense), which makes the performance more personal. More primal maybe? In any case, I'm glad you enjoyed it. And I'll bet that horn player will tell that story for years. It isn't very typical in my experience. 

[Elgarian]

A few photos from the top of Midsummer Hill - nothing special in the way of photography, but it's an afternoon I want to remember: 'The day after the night before'.

[Karl Henning]

Beautiful, thank you.

[Jaakko Keskinen]

It seems I'm currently having my Elgar phase...

[Karl Henning]

It seems I'm currently having my Elgar phase...

Great place to visit!  (Probably would not mind living there.)

[TheGSMoeller]

It seems I'm currently having my Elgar phase...

Whats the work that started this phase?

[Jaakko Keskinen]

^ Op. 59 songs, violin sonata and violin concerto. Not necessarily the easiest music (with the exception of op. 59) but careful listening paid off.

[Karl Henning]

The Violin Sonata convinced me of Elgar's greatness.

[TheGSMoeller]

^ Op. 59 songs, violin sonata and violin concerto. Not necessarily the easiest music (with the exception of op. 59) but careful listening paid off.

The sonata is worth starting a phase on its own. Thanks, Alberich!