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NAXOS
8.554719 by Jonathan Yungkans Introduction
The sketches survived, locked in the British Library; however, it was assumed that all hopes of completing the symphony had died with the composer. Enter Anthony Payne, a British composer, writer and broadcaster. In 1972, Payne began examining the sketches of the symphony that had been published in W.H. Reed's Book Elgar As I Knew Him (ironically, a book that Shaw encouraged Reed to write after Elgar's death), and was impressed with the vitality and force of the music. At that time, Payne says, contemplating the sketches, and what Elgar would perhaps have done with them, were no more than an intermittent hobby; years at a time would pass without his glancing at them. However, in 1993, the BBC asked Payne to put the sketches together into some order for a broadcast lecture on them. The BBC sent photocopies of all the sketches, including those not published in Reed's book, and within a year, Payne had completed the scherzo and adagio. Meanwhile, the Elgar estate, which controlled the copyright to the sketches, became trepidacious about anyone continuing work on them, and thus violating their great uncle's deathbed wish. Gradually, however, the family eased its prohibition, saying that they had no objection to a radio program about the sketches as long as Payne's efforts were not alluded to. Accordingly, Payne recorded a talk for the BBC in March 1995, which was later released on compact disc as an attachment to BBC Music magazine. The talk proved that the sketches were perhaps not as "nebulous" or "woefully lacking in cohesion" as Reed had maintained in his book, stirring interest in what could be gleaned from them.
The bottom line about the new symphony is, how much does it truly sound like Elgar, and how much have the composer's intentions transcended the fragmentary nature of the material he left? Some reconstructions, such as Deryck Cooke's of Mahler's Symphony No.10, fulfill the job admirably. Others, such as Alexander Nemtin's work on Scriabin's Preparatory Act, are more debatable. Payne has done an incredible job of structuring the sketches and bringing to them a sound and form that Elgar himself may have approved - no mean feat, as Payne says Elgar's working method was to jump from movement to movement as the spirit took him, as though shaping the pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle, before assembling the whole composition. Some may debate that the symphony is not as memorable as its two predecessors, but there is still much that is striking and of great interest, and we would be much the poorer without it. Above all, the symphony illustrates that Elgar not only showed little, if any, diminution in creative powers at the twilight of his life, but that he was not afraid of letting his ideas travel new directions. Take, for instance, the opening theme - a series of driving open fifths in the lower strings that is very shortly echoed by the brass. It is bolder than what we have come to expect from Elgar, leaner and more athletic, but this is one of the few sections that the composer actually finished. (He had also commented that the new work would sound much different than the other two symphonies, so we can be doubly sure what we are hearing is authentic.) A lyrical second theme contrasts nicely, and is developed with the first theme in a more straightforward but no less compelling manner than either of the other symphonies - again, as Elgar had previously said he would do.
The music, almost Waltonian in its impact, carries the chill of a winter wind over a graveyard, and one could imagine hearing it accompanying the ghost of Hamlet's father as he tells his son about his murder. Bleak and searing in the depths it plumbs, this movement is the most visionary of the four, as well as the one that sounds the least traditionally Elgarian, but is no less affecting for that. With the finale, we are back on more familiar ground - a bold fanfare and rushing strings introduce a march, followed by one of the great striding themes for which Elgar was famous. In this movement, Payne says he faced his greatest challenge, as Elgar did not clearly indicate how the symphony would end. Payne decided to "dare all in honor of Elgar's unpredictability," using music from "The Waggon Passes" of the Nursery Suite. The effect is potent, haunting and, again, visionary. The
Recording In the Adagio, Davis is darker than Daniel but too static; Daniel becomes the clear winner here, keeping things moving while not slighting the expressiveness of the music. On the other hand, Daniel rushes headlong in the finale, losing much of the movement's majesty, especially in that striding second theme. Here, Davis gets the weight and grandeur just right.
There is also a companion disc to the Davis/BBC performance, issued separately as NMC 52, which presents the sketches as Elgar left them and gives a more detailed lecture than the BBC presentation. The Naxos recording, though excellent, and in many ways better than Davis and the BBC, should not be the last word on the Elgar Third. Leonard Slatkin has performed the work, and one hopes that Yan Pascal Tortellier, who conducted the orchestral excerpts with the BBC Symphony for Payne's radio lecture, would take a crack at it, as well as perhaps Vernon Handley or Andre Previn. Elgar himself told John Reith of the BBC, while working on the symphony, "… up to the present, the symphony is the strongest thing I have put to paper." And as Payne concluded in his BBC talk, "Can we really ignore this brave last testimony from one of our greatest creative artists?"
One of Jonathan Yungkans ' most pleasant and offbeat musical experiences was a nine-hour painting session accompanied by Haydn's string quartets
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12.7.2000 ©Jonathan Yungkans
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