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Edward Elgar
Cockaigne Overture, Op. 40
“...I call it Cockaigne and it’s cheerful & Londony – stout
and steak,” wrote Edward Elgar in a letter to a friend
in November 1900, describing his new overture; he also commented
after it was finished that “here is nothing deep or melancholy – it
is intended to be honest, healthy, humorous and strong but not
vulgar.”
Cockaigne is the medieval fabled land of luxury and idleness,
where the roasted birds wander around and wait to be eaten and
the rivers run with wine. Elgar applied the term to London, and
used it also as a play of words on the popular term cockney (which
actually means a foolish person in Middle English). He tried
to describe the vitality, self-confidence, rich variety and high
spirits of the prosperous city, then at the height of its power.
The Overture uses a fairly small roster of themes, developing
and combining them into moments of exuberance and passion. The
principal theme (with
echoes of Dvorák) is introduced rather quietly at the
beginning.  It
is followed by the romantic one (reminiscent of Tchaikovsky). Then
comes the British-brass-band bombast theme. Then
things quiet down to a more pastoral image. But
it is the first and second themes that undergo the greatest development.
And, of course, the piece ends with more blast from the brass.
Ironically, Elgar was at the time severely depressed. The premiere
of his oratorio The Dream of Gerontius failed dismally.
He felt unappreciated; his wife just had a serious operation;
he had little money and lived cheaply in a small flat in Malvern.
At the end of the score of Cockaigne he penned “meteless & moneless
on Malverne Hilles,” quote from Piers Plowman, a
fourteenth-century poem by William Langland.
Elgar was born to a lower middle class family with limited means,
the son of a music store owner. Because his family was in “trade”– as
the British so condescendingly put it – he always had a
chip on his shoulder for not being a gentleman and for not having
served in the army. He was nervous, insecure, hypochondriacal
and prone to depression; and he was a Catholic, which did not
help either.
His early career was a constant economic struggle to make ends
meet. He played and taught the violin and the bassoon and took
on such odd jobs as coach and conductor for the staff of the
County Lunatic Asylum at Powick. He also composed a number of
choral and orchestral works that had garnered a modicum of success
in the provinces. Another source of modest income was the composition
of a number of salon pieces. This all changed in 1899, when at
age 42, his Enigma Variations propelled him from parochial
obscurity to worldwide recognition.
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| Benjamin Britten |
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| 1913-1976 |
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Benjamin Britten
Serenade for Tenor, Horn and Strings, Op.31
Composer, pianist and conductor Benjamin Britten was one of the
musical giants of the last century. While still a toddler, he
showed exceptional musical promise, starting to compose and improvise
at the piano at a very early age. By age 12 he had already composed
six string quartets, ten piano sonatas, numerous suites of piano
pieces and many songs. From 13 he spent his summer vacations
as a composition student of composer and pianist Frank Bridge
and at 16 he was accepted as a student at the Royal College of
Music in London.
Britten was an excellent conductor, especially of his own works
and those of Bach and Mozart, and was well known as a piano accompanist.
As composer, his fame rests mostly on his vocal works. His output
included over a dozen each of operas, cantatas and song cycles,
most of which were written with specific performers or venues
in mind.
Britten composed the Serenade for Tenor, Horn & Strings in 1943,
in the midst of World War II shortly after he returned from America,
where he had exiled himself as a conscientious objector. It owes
its unusual instrumentation to Britten’s long-time partner,
tenor Peter Pears and to Britten’s admiration of Dennis
Brain, at the time principal horn player in the Royal Air Force
orchestra. Britten questioned Brain about the horn’s technical
characteristics, with the result that the Prologue and Epilogue
of the Serenade, which the horn plays alone, are entirely in
the instrument’s natural harmonics, without the use of
the valves.
The six poems of the Serenade range from the fifteenth to the
nineteenth century:
1. “Pastoral” by Charles Cotton (1630-1687)
has been compared to the autumnal qualities of a John Constable
landscape. The horn repeated four-note descending motive conjures
a bit of tone painting, as it imitates the slow movement of
the setting sun.
2. “Nocturne” by Alfred Lord Tennyson (1809-1892)
is another “painting” of nature, this time a more
romantic one. The horn’s four-note motto appears
now in the strings. The
tenor echoes the horn call “Blow bugle, blow,” which
plays an elaborated version of the motto of the Pastoral, slowly
dying off to the word “dying.”
3. Elegy” by William Blake (1757-1827) is a sinister
poem about death throes. Over the pulsing strings, the horn
introduces chromaticism for the first time in a phrase passing
through all twelve notes of the chromatic scale. Given
Blake’s short text, the horn dominates this movement
since throughout the Serenade, Britten chose never to repeat
words. When the tenor enters, he echoes the opening horn motive.
4. The anonymous medieval Yorkshire poem known as the “Lyke-Wake
(corpse vigil) Dirge” combines a spine-chilling folk
and Christian imagery of the soul’s journey after death.
Britten’s sets the singer’s refrains, “Every
nighte and alle… And Christe receive thy saule,” to
the same music, which recur so often as to create a funereal ostinato. The
refrain is, of course, made even more eerie by the chromaticism
and the tenor’s wailing at the top of his range. As the
verses progress, the orchestration becomes thicker and more
agitated in keeping with increasing terror inspired by the
apocalyptic scene. The solo horn, perhaps imitating call to
Judgment, appears only in the middle of the movement. Eventually
the ghostly tenor fades into the night.
5. With Hymn by Ben Johnson (1572-1637), the Serenade
changes pace. This is a scherzo,
a high-spirited homage to Diana in her role as goddess of the
hunt with some pretty fancy staccato hunting
horn motives – recalling Mozart’s Horn Concerti. The
four-note motto makes another appearance as well.
6. Sonnet by John Keats (1795-1821) tries to calm his
restless, guilty conscience in sleep. The
hushed strings appear to create a comforting lull – but
with a chromatic undercurrent of menace. The horn is silent
throughout this song so that the player can disappear offstage
to play the Epilogue, a repeat of the Prologue in distant loneliness.
Pastoral
The day's grown old; the fainting sun
Has but a little way to run,
And yet his steeds, with all his skill,
Scarce lug the chariot down the hill.
The shadows now so long do grow,
That brambles like tall cedars show;
Mole hills seem mountains, and the ant
Appears a monstrous elephant.
A very little, little flock
Shades thrice the ground that it would stock;
Whilst the small stripling following them
Appears a mighty Polypheme.
And now on benches all are sat,
In the cool air to sit and chat,
Till Phoebus, dipping in the West,
Shall lead the world the way to rest.
Nocturne
The splendour falls on castle walls
And snowy summits old in story:
The long (night) shakes across the lakes,
And the wild cataract leaps in glory:
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
(Bugle, blow); answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O hark, O hear how thin and clear,
And thinner, clearer, farther going!
O sweet and far from cliff and scar
The horns of Elfland faintly blowing!
Blow, let us hear the purple glens replying:
(Bugle, blow;) answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
O love, they die in yon rich sky,
They faint on hill or field or river:
Our echoes roll from soul to soul
And grow for ever and for ever.
Blow, bugle, blow, set the wild echoes flying,
(Bugle, blow) answer, echoes, dying, dying, dying.
Elegy
Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
That flies in the night,
In the howling storm,
Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.
Dirge
This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleete and candle-lighte,
And Christe receive thy saule.
When thou from hence away art past,
Every nighte and alle,
To Whinnymuir thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If ever thou gav'st hos'n and shoon,
Every nighte and alle,
Sit thee down and put them on;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If hos'n and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane,
Every nighte and alle,
The winnies shall prick thee to the bare bane;
And Christe receive thy saule.
From Whinnymuir when thou may'st pass,
Every nighte and alle,
To Brig o' Dread thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule.
From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pass,
Every nighte and alle,
To Purgatory fire thou com'st at last;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If ever thou gav'st meat or drink,
Every nighte and alle,
The fire shall never make thee shrink;
And Christe receive thy saule.
If meat or drink thou ne'er gav'st nane,
Every nighte and alle,
The fire will burn thee to the bare bane;
And Christe receive thy saule.
This ae nighte, this ae nighte,
Every nighte and alle,
Fire and fleete and candle-lighte,
And Christe receive thy saule.
Hymn
Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
Hesperus entreats thy light,
Goddess excellently bright.
Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heav'n to clear when day did close;
Bless us then with wishèd sight,
Goddess excellently bright.
Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short so-ever:
Thou that mak'st a day of night,
Goddess excellently bright.
Sonnet
O soft embalmer of the still midnight,
Shutting with careful fingers and benign,
Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light,
Enshaded in forgetfulness divine:
O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close
In midst of this thine hymn my willing eyes,
Or wait the "Amen" ere thy poppy throws
Around my bed its lulling charities.
Then save me, or the passèd day will shine
Upon my pillow, breeding many woes, -
Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords
Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole;
Turn the key deftly in the oilèd wards,
And seal the hushèd Casket of my Soul. |
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Ralph Vaughan Williams
Symphony No. 2, "A London Symphony"
"The first startling thing about our decision to do a VW weekend
was the blank looks when we mentioned it…But not as startling
as the reactions to the weekend itself. If I had a quid for every
time I heard someone say 'I never knew he wrote music like that'
I'd be as rich as…" writes Richard Morrison, chief music
critic of the Times (London) of a weekend commemorating the 50th
anniversary of the death of Ralph Vaughan Williams \x2014 and
this in the composer's own backyard.
Known primarily for his English pastoralism, the soaring violin
writing of The Lark Ascending and the Renaissance polyphony of
the Fantasy on a Theme by
Thomas Tallis, Ralph Vaughan Williams (or as the British write, "VW")
poured out some of the most intense and personal music in Britain's
history.
VW came from a distinguished family: his paternal grandfather
was the first Judge of Common Pleas. His maternal grandparents
were Josiah Wedgwood III and a sister of Charles Darwin. Although
the family encouraged his youthful musical talents, they later
disapproved of his choice of music as a career; VW prevailed,
graduating with a Mus.B from Trinity College, Cambridge, in 1894.
His progress was slow and uncertain. He went to Berlin in 1897
to study with Max Bruch, and to Paris in 1908 to take lessons
from Maurice Ravel. But he was drawn to English folksong and
Elizabethan and Jacobean music. His music became rooted in Tudor
polyphony, uncovering that rich heritage for contemporaneous
audiences. He also had a passion for English folk music; his
collection of over 800 folksongs, on which he worked between
1903 and 1910 and his selection of the songs for The English
Hymnal in 1906 set the stage for the future development of his
musical language.
In his long, productive life – his last symphony was premiered
just four months before his death at age 85 – VW practiced
what he preached. He wrote music for numerous instrumental and
vocal combinations, as well as for level of sophistication and
performing ability. Considered radical in his young days and
a lifelong agnostic (despite his contributions to religious music),
he believed that music was the birthright of every individual.
Vaughan Williams's nine symphonies, spanning over 50 years of
creative writing, reflect the composer's changing outlook on
life and the world around him. With text by Walt Whitman, his
early, cantata-like A Sea Symphony, started in 1903 and finished
six years later, reflected his liberalism and idealism. Later
he expressed a pastoral mood in the tone poem-like London and
Pastoral symphonies. His unsettling and dissonant Fourth was
his major experiment in musical modernism – quickly rejected.
By the time of the Fifth symphony and later he reached a kind
of tranquility and inner piece, in spite of the fact that its
composition, begun in 1938, spanned the most horrific years of
World War II. Witness to the human and territorial devastation
of World War I, he composed his choral masterpiece of 1936, Dona
nobis pacem, using the American Civil War poems of Walt Whitman,
as an anguished outcry on the eve of World War II. While his
older contemporary Edward Elgar was the musical spokesperson
for British imperialism, VW was the most quintessentially English
but "the least jingoistic" of composers.
One of Vaughan Williams' close friends was the composer George
Butterworth. He recalled that about the time of the premiere
of the Sea Symphony in 1910, "George…had been sitting with
us one evening, smoking and playing. And as he was getting up
to go, he said in his characteristically abrupt way 'You know,
you ought to write a symphony.' I showed the sketches to George
bit by bit as they were finished." The new Symphony was finished
in 1913 and premiered the following March. Sadly, Butterworth
was killed in France in 1916. Characteristically, the composer
polled his friends and colleagues for comments and criticism,
and in 1918 revised the Symphony extensively. It went through
a series of further revisions during which the composer cut out
about 20 minutes of music (there is a recording of the original
version).
A London Symphony is a fond salute to VW's adopted city. While
it contains actual musical quotes from city life – the
familiar Westminster chimes, as well as a lavender seller's cry
in the third movement – it is no mere potpourri of tunes.
Rather, it incorporates the unmistakable language of English
folksong, along with dramatic elements that suggest the complex – and
not always salubrious – life of the city. Critics and scholars
have conjured both landmarks and historical/literary imagery
to match the themes and overall emotive tone of certain passages – everything
from VW's own image of Bloomsbury Square on a November afternoon
(for the slow movement) to Dickensian horrors. It is a great
piece of program music – without the program.
A slow introduction on the cellos and basses suggests a murky
London fog that gradually adds the upper strings into the four-note motto for
the movement, and
finally by the familiar Westminster chimes. The Allegro begins
with a snarling motive (nicked
by Alfred Lloyd Weber for Phantom of the Opera). It
continues with another prominent motive but
then builds up to a typical jaunty VW folk theme, introduced
by the motto from the introduction. Considerably
later in the movement the composer introduces a sentimental section.
(ex 6) The variety of musical ideas drift in and out of the fabric
of the movement, a considerably varied sonata form.
The elegaic Adagio features a series of beautiful orchestral
solos. It begins with a three-note motive in the lower strings,
which is woven into a number of themes throughout the movement. Its
principal theme is introduced on the oboe but is completed late
by the strings. Like
most slow movements, this one is a ternary (ABA) form; the middle
section contains a series of melodies, including a lovely violin
solo and
a transformation of the three-note motive into a birdcall. A
variation of the opening theme concludes the movement.
The third movement generally follows the scherzo/trio pattern.
Underlying the scherzo is ostinato in
rapid triplets. It is a series of very short motives, beginning
with a clarinet solo. There
follow three more little figures that show up seemingly at random
in the fabric of the scherzo. & & .
The very short trio is
folkdance with "accordion" accompaniment. The
movement ends, however, on a pensive note as the scurrying scherzo
gives way to a forecast of the mood of the final movement.
The last movement is unusual for a symphonic finale, usually
a rousing, or at least optimistic affair. Instead, it is rather
funereal, opening with a grim harmonic progression that
leads into slow march, albeit with a British folksy air. The
movement is, however, cyclic, in the tradition of many nineteenth-century
finales, bringing back material from the first movement – first
a snatch of the folk theme. After
picking up the tempo of the march, the Westminster chimes specifically
recall London once again. At
last the four-note motive from the opening of the Symphony recurs
quietly to conclude it as it began.
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