The Passionate Pilgrim: Elgar at the Brangwyn Hall

Rarely, rarely comest thou, Spirit of Delight

     To the Brangwyn Hall last night and a concert by the BBC National Orchestra of Wales under their Conductor Laureate Tadaaki Otaka. Three items on an all British programme: Elizabeth Maconchy's 'Nocturne for Orchestra', Benjamin Britten's Violin Concerto and, in the second half, Edward Elgar's 2nd Symphony. The orchestra played wonderfully as did the soloist Simone Lamsma.  All together a night to remember.

     Maconchy's Nocturne was a revelation, beautifully orchestrated. Strange and brooding, occult. Britten's violin concerto was interesting; the solo writing for violin was a revelation it was so virtuosic, however the outer movements seemed to lack structure, but the middle movement was intense and concentrated. The influence of Shostakovich was self-evident. That influence was there too in Maconchy's Nocturne, but was less obvious; it seemed in retrospect more integrated within her musical language. The Violin Concerto was written when Britten was 25 and not quite reached his mature style. Moments of brilliance none the less.

     And so to Elgar's 2nd symphony. And finally I got to hear it in the flesh. It is a work that apparently puzzled critics when premiered. And it is still for those who expect the public Elgar. Although a stronger work then the 1st symphony, it isn't so readily comprehensible. That first listen can be quite baffling, the listener being jerked in all directions it seems, but it is a work that rewards repeated listening.
     It is a deeply interior work, as Elgar wrote to a friend 'I have written out my soul in the concerto, Symphony no 2 and the Ode and you know it....in these three works have I sewn Myself'.  Rather introspective, then, complex and, perhaps paradoxically, full of dazzle - the most wonderful orchestration and orchestral effect. The Elgarian sound world is lush and rich. He called the symphony 'the passionate pilgrimage of the soul' and the first three movements are correspondingly  intense and changeful, quixotic even. Uneasy and restless.  Passionate indeed. One would, judging by this work, believe (correctly) Elgar to be a man of great sensitivity. And it is only the last few minutes of the work is there peace. There were tears in my eyes last night.