ELGAR from America, Vol. 1 = Enigma Variations, Op. 36; Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85; Falstaff – Symphonic Study in C minor, Op. 68 – Gregor Piatagorsky, cello/ NBC Symphony Orchestra/ Arturo Toscanini/ New York Philharmonic Orchestra/ John Barbirolli (Op. 85)/ Artur Rodzinski (Op. 68) – Somm Ariadne 5005, 78:55 [Distr. by Naxos] ****:
This all-Elgar disc enjoys several unique qualities: first, it offers the only extant, error-free broadcast from Studio 8-H of Arturo Toscanini’s leading the Enigma Variations (5 November 1949), appearing on CD in its debut. Although five Toscanini recordings exist, various miscues and technical mishaps prevent their being accepted as anything “definitive.” No less rare, Artur Rodzinski chose Elgar’s Falstaff for his inaugural concert with the New York Philharmonic as Permanent Conductor (10 October 1943), and Elgar remained a composer usually outside the Rodzinski compass. Despite the heavy edits Rodzinski makes in the score, some 290 measures, the performance has a mystique of its own. Lastly, cello virtuoso Gregor Piatagorsky never made a commercial recording of the Elgar Concerto, so his appearance with John Barbirolli at Carnegie Hall (10 November 1940) marks a decidedly potent occasion in the history of the work’s American history, which began, well enough, in Philadelphia, 1922, with Belgian cellist Jean Gerardy under the baton of Leopold Stokowski.
The 1902 Enigma Variations with Toscanini receives a fleet, resonant performance, particularly potent in the famous “Nimrod” Variation. But the general pacing and instrumental execution remains at a distinctly high level throughout, with the Variation XII (B.G.N.) broadening the tempo and string sound in a lush meditation that too often the acoustic of Studio 8-H distorts. The eerie transition from Variation XIII (Romanza ***) proceeds rife with potentially explosive drama, with an attacca segue to the militant strokes in the violins, brass. and battery for the Finale (E.D.U.). Recent scholarship locates the “enigma” in the numerological references to Bach, that is, BACH, and its musical permutations. Toscanini’s driven impetus focuses on the majesty and warm, virtuosic power of the music as it culminates in a sense of Empire.
Edward Elgar
Gregor Piatagorsky (1903-1976) appears in especially plaintive guise for the Cello Concerto, whose performance has had prior incarnation on CD in 2010 (“The Art of Gregor Piatagorsky,” WHRA-6032). Barbirolli, too, injects a ferocious energy into the orchestral tissue, selling this passionate work to the New York audience hearing it for the first time at a Philharmonic concert. Mengelberg’s invitation to premiere the work in 1924 New York fell to suspected resistance to the composer, so the Dvorak had been substituted. The pregnant pauses here in 1940, in the dialogue between solo and strings in the Lento – Allegro molto section, become increasingly liquid and sheer, breaking off suddenly to transition to the thoughtful Adagio. The alert quickness of the Allegro of the last movement heralds a pungent, martial Moderato in which Piatagorsky’s singing legato has wide berth for expression. The finesse along the cello’s fingerboard provides an object lesson in itself. The arched militancy of the wind phrases in tandem with Piatagorsky’s melancholy, drooping figures suggests the passing of a way of life, the Robert Graves sentiment, “Goodbye to All That.” The harmonic rhythm slows down, the textures thicken, and the “Victorian” sound utters a touching, deeply-intoned swan-song.
The orchestral suite-in-one-movement Falstaff takes its cue from Shakespeare’s Henry IV, in which the lover-of-life and fertility, Falstaff, represents a phase of Prince Hal’s sentimental education that the Prince must disavow as a mark of maturity and responsible leadership. In six sections, the piece reveals a variety of moods and instrumental colors that test the Philharmonic’s deft level of response. The work’s own dedicatee, Sir Landon Ronald, disowned the music as incomprehensible. Elgar once argued that “the whole of human life is its theme.” The Boar’s Head revel demands some pungent counterpoint, graded in dynamics, that Rodzinski’s forces deliver with swift energy in transition. The Philharmonic bassoon has his work cut out, much in the character of the sleeping, corpulent Falstaff and his buffoonery. As one continuous movement, the music vaguely outlines the progress of a symphonic movement In sonata-form. The solo violin (Michel Piastro?) intones something like Falstaff’s winning charm in the “Dream Interlude.” The key of C minor marks Falstaff’s march, and the battle music in Shallow’s orchard shares much by way of Richard Strauss. Elgar will copy Strauss (in Don Quixote) by announcing Falstaff’s death in the solo clarinet. King Henry’s progress has the quality of a grand march, noble and resonant, one step away from the Op. 39 Pomp and Circumstance set. Like both Strauss and his own idol, Beethoven, the grand gestures fall into the “Eroica” key of E-flat Major. For Falstaff himself, foolish and frail in his dotage, like Don Quixote, there resounds a delicate, hazy sympathy, to which the New York audience responds with a vague sense of recognition.
–Gary Lemco
