Recording the elgar Cello Concerto
By Terry King
With the discovery of the 1928 recording session of the Cello Concerto, a whole new world is revealed. One senses the presence of soloist and conductor as never before. We can “see and feel” the room with a deeply committed soloist and an alert but imprecise composer-conductor. The full emotional range of expression emerges with the immediacy of a live concert, not a restrained recording session. There are orchestral details not heard in past releases. Their interpretation is more “Romantic” in the tension and relaxation of lines than in 1919.
Their earlier account is a bit quicker, but even though the Gramophone Company insisted that the recording take up only two discs, there is no sense of rushing to manage it. Elgar gave it careful consideration and had special parts made for the session; no disc reaches its time limit. The cuts made are as effective as can be for the time limit. The third movement was left untouched while the outer movements sustained significant abridgement. The fourth movement was the most severely cut—a total of 221 bars out of only 352 bars total.
The orchestration was slightly altered, most notably with the addition of the tuba doubling the bass line, a common feature of acoustic orchestral recordings. The resultant intonation is unfortunate however. At the close of the first movement, six bars from the end, Elgar adds the flute line from the parallel phrase (3 bars after No. 14) and composed a bassoon inflection complimenting the seconds and violas.
To compare both the old and new recordings, it is useful to see Elgar’s 1919 cuts:
I—Adagio: Moderato 4:10 [34 bars cut]
From No. 7 to No. 8 (8 bars)
From No. 10 to No. 12 (8 bars)
From No. 14 to No. 17 (18 bars)
II—Allegro molto 3:52 [6 bars cut]
From bar 3 to No. 19
IV—Allegro, ma non troppo: Poco più lento: Adagio: Allegro molto 4:08 [221 bars cut]
Begins at No. 44 to
7 bars after No. 46, downbeat (first 19 bars cut) to
5 bars before No. 62, second beat (183 bars cut) to
2 bars before No. 67, 4th beat to
5 bars after No. 67, 4th beat (6 bars cut) to No. 68
3 bars before No. 69 (5 bars cut)
From No. 73 to No. 74 (8 bars cut)
The 1919 recording was done on one day, as Alice Elgar notes in her diary 22 December, “E left for studio before 9 and was home by 3—quite a nice day—Mr Gaisberg drove back in the car with him.” Elgar, upon listening to the playbacks on 19 January 1920 determined that the Adagio had to be re-recorded; this took place on 16 November that same year.
With the 1928 recording we have the benefit of several years together on the platform—there is an atmosphere of high energy in Kingsway Hall. It is easy to see why Elgar preferred to conduct the concerto with Harrison after their completed recording in 1920. Though a more precise performance could be achieved through the perfection of details—the orchestral intonation, the lagging bass section, precision in the flexible areas as well as a few notes from the soloist—but emotionally and sympathetically a model.
Harrison relates the composer’s mood before the 1928 recording: “I remember he was very gay, and he told me it really did not matter what happened to the orchestra as all the faults could be put onto the soloist! How we laughed (at least I did not laugh as much as he did!)” The composer was overheard saying to her, “Give it ‘em, Beatrice, give it ‘em. Don’t mind about the notes or anything. Give ‘em the spirit.”
It is telling to observe the differences these performances have as opposed to what is written and not written in the score. The first to consider is the solo part. Harrison plays different rhythms in cadenza passages, and is rather consistent between 1919 and 1928. At bar 7 in the first movement, the ad lib. is treated as an accelerando and the rit. observed later as augmentation. The example below shows this tighter view:
The second movement Lento at bar 9 also moves along, almost twice as written but pulls back:
The fourth movement cadenza at No. 43 (bar 18) again almost doubles speed as well as contradictory dynamic at the a tempo (piano vs. fortissimo)
Pianist Ivor Newton recalled when he and Menuhin played the concerto for the composer. “There was a passage at the beginning of the finale that prompted Menuhin to ask Elgar, ‘Can I make a slight rallentando where I go into octaves’ the soloist asked. ‘No,’ replied the composer. ‘No rallentando; the music must rush on.
‘If you want it to rush on, why did you put it in octaves?’ asked Yehudi. Most of the time Elgar sat back in a chair with his eyes closed, listening intently, but it was easy to see the impression that Yehudi had made on him. I remember, however, that he referred to the punctiliousness with which he had written directions into his scores. ‘Beethoven and Brahms,’ he said, ‘wrote practically nothing but allegro and andante, and there seems to be no difficulty. I’ve done all I can to help players, but my efforts appear only to confuse them.’” There seems to be some truth to Elgar’s observation as illustrated below. There may be too many specific indications of pace. Tempo fluctuation and conflicting directions abound. Here are some general observations, to wit:
I
rit. at bar 65 becomes a subito meno mosso then rit.
one bar before No.16 is definitely in tempo (no traditional ritard)
bass plays arco at bar 104
II
second bar downbeat and parallel bars are treated as fermata
luftpause to bar 38, then largamente at No.22 and molto rit. (almost twice slower than written) before a tempo, etc.
molto allargando at bar 75
No.29 timpani plays D
III
tempo starts faster than marked but becomes slower at bar 9.
bar 15 moves forward to opening tempo.
molto ritard bar 19 and bar 20 is almost twice as slow as written (ditto bars 23 and 24…)
No.38 appassionato is actually “molto più mosso”
IV
No.42 is faster than indicated and the 1919 recording even faster
bar 34 animato becomes accelerando
No.44 strings seem to be mostly pizzicato then arco one bar before No.45 [1919 is much faster than written at No.44]
Gradual slowing to No.47
strong forward motion starting at No.49
Largamente two bars before No.50 is only a continuation of allargando
no tempo changes from No.50, only a slight ritard before bar 108 (bar 98 no allargando at all)
accelerando begins at No.52, no animato bar 115
allargando at bar 118 continues to No.53
bar 195 poco rit. becomes molto rit.
bar 252 accelerando to No.64 (no poco rit.)
calando stops at bar 277 (no rall.)
No.66 is the same tempo as bar 277 (faster than the written poco più lento))
[bar 286 first violins slide down with Beatrice. The following solo glissandi are quite heartfelt, especially her touching shift up the D string just before No.72.]
(Elgar sings with Beatrice just before No.68 (on CD 2 alternate stereo, take 1)!
bar 295 faster, not più lento
No.69 “subito molto meno mosso” rather than molto allargando and the orchestral responses, “poco più mosso”
bar 343 “subito molto meno mosso” rather than rit.
The tempo fluctuations they explore always heighten emotion. Had these variants been printed one wonders if the music would have had the same meaning—spontaneity and communication. All too often a composer’s instruction can become a commandment of biblical import, sometimes losing its natural simplicity and sensibility. Though the cello and piano reduction was published only a month after the premiere and the orchestral score by four months, their performance proves that the score is a living thing, as if the ink was still wet (to quote composer Lukas Foss).
Background—
The idea of a cello concerto emerged after the successful premieres of Elgar’s String Quartet and Piano Quintet with the British String Quartet on May 21 1919. The opening melody had already come to him in March 1918, following a tonsillectomy operation in London. Upon awakening from sedation, he asked for pencil and paper, and wrote down first theme from the concerto. The composer was on the lookout for a cellist and heard Suggia on May 31, but was unimpressed. Conductor and pianist Landon Ronald came by Elgar’s secluded cottage, Brinkwells, near Fittleworth, Sussex just as he began the work. Ronald had recently conducted the Brahms Double Concerto with May and Beatrice Harrison and recommended the cellist to him.
However, Elgar decided to invite the British String Quartet’s cellist, Felix Salmond to work with him that summer. They began in early June and by the end of the month most of it was completed. Salmond was immediately taken with it and returned to Brinkwells on July 31, after Elgar had completed the orchestration and the piano reduction. They played the work after tea and after dinner. (Elgar mentioned to his handyman, “Mark, that gentleman who came to-day with the big case is a very famous musician, a great ‘cellist, a very important person, you know.”) Salmond was thrilled to premiere the piece and could not sleep that night. On August 1 they again played it after breakfast. Feeling joyous about their work, they went fishing, and played the piece once more after dinner. On August 2 they had more walks and felt that they had polished the concerto.
The premiere was slated for October 27 with the London Symphony. The conducting of the concert was shared with conductor Albert Coates and Elgar. On October 26th Elgar, waiting off stage to rehearse his own work, uncharacteristically exploded when Coates consumed an hour of Elgar's rehearsal time. Elgar said later that had Salmond not have been conscientiously working on the concerto for months, he would have withdrawn the work from the concert. Alice Elgar wrote, “Wretched hurried rehearsal. An insult to E. from that brutal, selfish, ill-mannered bounder A. Coates. E. wanted to withdraw, but he did not for Felix S’s sake.”
Unfortunately for Salmond, executives from the Gramophone Company were present at the ill-prepared premiere, and in less than a week following the concert decided to engage Beatrice Harrison for the recording. She had already made recordings in New York for Victor beginning in 1914 while Salmond did not until much later. (Suggia was briefly considered but they determined that her fee was too high.) Salmond also gave the work its second performance, with the Hallé in Manchester on 20 March 1920—even though he must have known that the concerto was basically recorded, but had not been released. Despite the rocky start, performances followed by Harrison and others including a young cellist and future conductor who had been in the orchestra at the premiere, John Barbirolli. The work soon became part of the repertoire and today competes with the Dvorak concerto as the most beloved.
Had Elgar refused to go on with the performance, perhaps Salmond would have been the concerto’s champion. But Salmond’s performance must have suffered along with the poor orchestral playing, as it would have only been sensible to continue what had been up to then, a most cordial and friendly collaboration. The shame of the incident must have scarred him for life for he never mentioned or taught the work. However, Salmond went on to a fine performing and teaching career, establishing a legacy of great cellists in America at the Curtis Institute. Among his pupils were Orlando Cole, Leonard Rose, and Channing Robbins, Bernard Greenhouse, Daniel Saidenberg, and Frank Miller. Cole, Rose and Robbins became highly influential teachers as well, having taught, among others, Yo-Yo Ma and Lynn Harrell.