Elgar - Cello Concerto

Many column inches in the classical music press have been devoted to this iconic recording since its 1965 release. Hyped and hammered in equal measure, it’s as much criticised for its idiosyncrasies as praised for the intensity of Jacqueline du Pre’s playing. Certainly, it brings heart-on-sleeve emotion to one of Sir Edward Elgar’s last masterpieces. Some argue this classic recording is itself a masterpiece – a view that won’t be shared by those wanting a less indulgent approach.

Dark beginnings

From her opening notes, du Pre gives everything she has. Unleashing a dark-hued tone, she digs deep with her bow in those ominous and sombre first few bars, her cello sobbing and sighing. The orchestra’s lower strings creep in and out of this mournful introduction, as though trying tentatively to console the soloist.

The bittersweet first theme is announced by the violas (T1-1:01), taken up tenderly by du Pre then repeated by her more vigorously, before being flung into an orchestral swell (T1-2:29). Tender also describes the way du Pre carries forward the cello’s painful song in this searing first movement – her committed, richly sonorous playing coloured by vibrato and watermarked with something of her own soul.

A foreboding transition

There’s a seamless glide from the emotionally overwrought first movement to the fidgety, hyperactive second. The low, portentious strings that carry us across the index point on the CD are punctured by three forcefully plucked cello chords, followed suddenly by a rising orchestral blast (rawness of sound here being a rare but not intrusive reminder of this recording’s age).

Swift bowing from du Pre gives way to cautious pizzicato, then a restlessness ensues (T2-1:28). This agitated solo writing urges us to the movement’s close, with support from Barbirolli and the London Symphony Orchestra that’s playful and infectiously excitable.

The concerto’s third movement, lush and romantic, seems a backward glance at a half-remembered, half-imagined England. Here, du Pre is almost wistful. Her cello sings out this movement’s aching, heartfelt melody, while Barbirolli keeps a tight reign on the orchestral accompaniment, ensuring his players whisper their parts so as to cushion, not crush, the soloist’s soliloquy.

Power and pain

As the final movement opens, du Pre is passionate and pleading. She attacks notes, pours out her heart and wrings maximum emotional intensity from phrases. The music sounds at times like a reminder of the Elgar of Edwardian pomp, circumstance and imperialism: a musical memory of a prouder Britain. Yet the writing in this finale leaves us in no doubt that these shades of glories past can’t disguise their author’s obvious sadness at the end of an era.

Finally, when we think Elgar will go out quietly, with du Pre and the orchestra sustaining what sounds like it might be a serene, almost pastoral ending, we’re hit again by that tragic theme from the work’s opening – hit home by du Pre with such deliberate force, it feels almost like anger.