Sea Pictures
Falstaff
Staatskapelle Berlin
Elina Garanca Mezzo-soprano
Daniel Barenboim Conductor
Decca 0002894509683
Full price
Sea Pictures
The Music Makers
Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra and Choir
Kathryn Rudge Mezzo-soprano
Vasily Petrenko Conductor
Onyx 4206
Full price
The Review
Sea Pictures has endured for more than a century as the most loved orchestral song cycle in English music and perhaps the only one that appeals consistently to continental audiences, so it is not as surprising as it might be to have two new recordings in as many months. In the early years it was championed by Clara Butt, who gave the first performance at the 1899 Norwich Festival. In the last 50 years it become cherished for Janet Baker’s extraordinary 1965 recording with the LSO and John Barbirolli. Since then any British mezzo with a bit of power has made sure it was in their repertoire.
Baker’s strength, though, was that she was able to combine vocal depth with a modicum of poignancy and innocent delight – not just brave the waves like the figurehead of a galleon. That’s the problem with Elina Garanca’s recording. The tone is luscious, Barenboim’s accompaniment from the Staatskapelle Berlin is silky, giving every note full value and balancing wind and strings deliciously, but Garanca is determined to carry all before her. When she does hold back, the attention is drawn to her English pronunciation, which too easily becomes unset fudge; fair enough, given what most English singers would do to Latvian. It’s a huge shame because her voice itself is an excellent fit to the songs and their period. She hits the notes magnificently. Elgar himself tended to take his music faster than he needed to and Barenboim sometimes follows suit, though he does give Garanca the chance to get close to Baker’s ability in Slumber Song to blend with the cellos, harp and timpani; such an astonishing depiction of the under the surface swell of the sea.
Kathryn Rudge starts Where Corals Lie quite at the same pace as Baker but she and Petrenko stick to that tempo more, whereas Baker and Barbirolli stretch and linger, happy to indulge rubato. her diction is superb, as good as and sometimes even better than Baker’s. Every word comes through, especially in Elizabeth Barrett Morning’s Sabbath Morning At Sea, the most operatic of the songs. There are moments, though, when Petrenko seems to be going his own way, either rushing her or not placing the orchestral notes accurately enough. I kept wanting to make him listen more carefully. Slumber Song, the first of the set, reveals two other problems; the ingrained tremolo that too often stops her sustaining a pitch, and the slight falling away of tone and cloudiness at the bottom of the register. Again, this is such a shame because so much is wonderful. She understands the poetry and caresses each phrase, like Baker compelling you to listen. She doesn’t quite have Garanca’s control and vocal variety but makes up for that with the strength of her affection. If you had never heard these songs before you would come away happy and glowing warm – carried away on her ‘brave white horses’.
Both conductors choose major works from just before the first world war for the rest of their records. Elgar at this time was very proud of his friendship with Richard Strauss and the two composers were happy to explore similar ideas. In Falstaff, despite occasionally debunking ‘programme music’, Elgar goes in for the sort of detailed scene painting that Strauss uses in Don Quixote. He was in his mid fifties, feeling the creep of middle age and not enjoying it much. Like Verdi, he saw in Falstaff the tragedy and absurdity of age. For all that, he shows Falstaff with relish as well as pathos and, close reader that Elgar was, let’s the orchestra tell the story with great theatricality. For a conductor it is a challenge because the music never settles, its composer determined determined to thread the score with detail, as if he was making the film as well as the score. Barenboim is the ideal conductor for this work, though. He has always been a glutton for detail but can also hold the escaping threads together better than most. For all that, there is always the suspicion that Falstaff has always appealed to the technician more than the listener.
A year Elgar, in very dark mood, had come close to his take on Ein Heldenleben with The Music Makers. He set Arthur O’Shaughnessy’s fairly ghastly piece of poetic pastry as his own statement of the composer’s place in society. It is rather splendid self-indulgence, with plenty of references to his greatest hits, including brilliantly integrated quotes from Gerontius, Nimrod (Kathryn Rudge is in her element here) and the First Symphony. Elgar may be dressed in tweeds, the music cries, but the real man suffers so that his art may triumph. Like Strauss the heroism lies in writing great thoughts, whatever the critics might say (actually, for the most part contemporary critics were reasonably kind to both of them). Elgar applies all the skill in writing for choir he learned in his oratorios to create what would in previous centuries have been an ode to St. Cecilia. As with Falstaff, though, there is a feeling that he’s trying to cram too much in.
The performance is generally convincing and it’s good to have a modern recording that shows real commitment to an underrated work. The RLP Choir could be more incisive and words are indistinct too often but the blend with the orchestra in the generous but accurate acoustic of Philharmonic Hall is well judged.
SM