Still Waters Run Deep: A Tribute to Elgar

Last week, I had the opportunity to lead the Orchestra Society of Philadelphia in a reading of three overtures, the most challenging of which was Elgar's robust Cockaigne.  Usually, when I approach a piece from a performer's standpoint, I not only try to internalize the music itself, but I deepen my acquaintance with the composer, how they lived, and with their external world; I feel that such a practice always to some degree informs the way I wave my arms around in front of the orchestra in hopes that they will follow me (also known as "conducting").


As I was preparing to conduct Cockaigne (often with a cup of fresh-brewed coffee at my side), my thoughts turned to Sir Edward Elgar (1857-1934), one of the last giants of Romantic music, and arguably the greatest composer England has produced.  Like the best in music, though, Elgar's musical output transcends its own time and place; it is not "English" music, or "music of the nobility", "idealized jingoistic propaganda music" to paraphrase some of the labels many a confused soul has slapped upon it.  So boldly original and profound is the music that it can be called, if we must resort to labels, "Elgarian" music.


Okay, you may be thinking, "If he's one of the best-known composers, how come I've never heard of him?"  For starters, Elgar's music is probably more familiar to you than you think.  Recognize this little ditty?  (Click the link and scroll to 2:00)


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7L6Kuv7mYlI

Sir Edward Elgar  (The Boston Globe)

For anyone who has ever had the bittersweet experience of participating in or attending an American graduation ceremony, the immortal strains of Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance March no. 1 should be recognizable.  Elgar himself was aware of the immense power of the melody, evidenced by what he once told his friend Dora Penny, “I have written a tune that will...knock ‘em flat.” Although many of Elgar’s most inspired works were yet to come, no melodic strain of his matched the memorability of the first Pomp and Circumstance March; he completed five by 1930 (sketches for a sixth were actually discovered and arranged into a performing version in 2006) but none of them come close.  And, dear reader, there is some truth in the inquiry as to why many have never heard of Elgar; his fame rests largely on this piece, which has more or less eclipsed the remainder of his output. As a result, Elgar is often dismissed as a one-hit wonder, and musical snobs regard his music as pompous and superficial (not to mention that his music is exceptionally difficult to play).

But that hardly gets to the truth about Elgar, whose music operates on so many levels that not only indicate a complete command of musical composition, but also a painful awareness of the world around him. All that appeared to be grand, prosperous and ordered in English society in the late 19th- and early 20th century concealed - just barely - the precariousness of a top-heavy socioeconomic structure, fueled by hubris and repressed human insecurities whose only outcome is an imminent, internal collapse of society.


And come the start of World War I in 1914, that is exactly what happened.  


Elgar was in the middle of all this, struggling to pour out his turbulent inner life through music, but perhaps on an unconscious level, he was successful in capturing the similarly turbulent essence of the British Empire at the turn of the 20th century: a toothless grin of hypocrisy and chauvinistic nationalism.  


Let's look at Pomp and Circumstance to clear that up. For all of its visceral power, this piece, when listened to on its own terms, possesses a curiously unsettling strain, a nervous energy hidden by the dignified demeanor of the musical foreground. If you listen to the opening of the entire piece, there is an unmistakably festive aura to the rushing intensity of the strings, but the snare drum gives it a tinge of militaristic authority.  


As for the famous tune, a glance at the score's Trio reveals an almost overwhelming marching beat that appears to overshadow the noble simplicity of the melody. If we look at this in light of Victorian England, we might be reminded that colonialism in Africa, Asia, and South America were at their peak at this time, England overwhelming the "less civilized" world of their military power and domineering presence. The thrilling return of the theme (complete with organ!) at the work's conclusion is tragically effusive; the orchestral masses singing their hearts out with such the poignancy indicates national pride, but there's a melancholic undercurrent that tells us that this is the last hurrah for the Land of Hope and Glory.

What I find the most fascinating about Elgar's music -- particularly Cockaigne, Pomp and Circumstance, the two symphonies, and his second-best known work the Enigma Variations -- are the hidden complexities that come together to create a whole, and how the music capture the entire being of the composer: a deeply passionate and troubled man crying out beneath dignified, stiff-upper-lip facade that he spent his adult life cultivating. Elgar's life behind the exterior was anything but serene, as he was plagued by insecurity, self-loathing, financial troubles, and possibly marital troubles (I have to research this more), finding their supreme outlet in music that is just as mercurial and difficult as the man himself. The obsessively nuanced details of Elgar's orchestration, harmony, phrasing, and especially dynamics suggest, if not a mistrust of musicians, that he viewed music as a living force that can only be brought to life by sensitive musicians who share in his view. For those who accept the challenge, the reward is some of the most heartfelt, passionate, and unsettling music one is likely to encounter

Elgar's music deserves an audience beyond Pomp and Circumstance and the Enigma Variations -- both deservedly popular. His symphonies get the occasional airing-out, which is more than can be said for his oratorios, but greater steps (and risks) must be taken for Elgar to be regarded as a composer of a caliber on par with Beethoven. I tend to avoid grandiose platitudes, but to call Elgar a poet of the human spirit is actually pretty spot-on. He was an artist -- that is, one who keenly felt that creative impulse that lurks within us all -- who aimed for no more (or less) than to uplift us with music, and make sense of the troubled world in which he lived.


I leave you with rare footage of the man himself conducting Pomp and Circumstance at Abbey Road Studios in 1931:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrzApHZUUF0


Also, as I was having trouble with formatting, here is a link to the written score of Pomp and Circumstance (the Trio, where we hear the famous "Graduation Song", is on pp. 138-143 of the score).


http://javanese.imslp.info/files/imglnks/usimg/6/6e/IMSLP24159-PMLP23738-Elgar_-_Pomp_and_Circumstance__Op._39__No._1.pdf


Recommended Works by Elgar:
Symphonies 1 & 2
Cockaigne Overture
"Enigma" Variations
Cello Concerto, op. 85
Piano Quintet, op. 84
Falstaff, symphonic study in C minor, op. 68
Land of Hope and Glory (a patriotic song that makes use of the Pomp and Circumstance Trio)