THE PREPARATION
Preparing these two concertos for a recording meant that I could study not only the scores but also the recordings of these pieces which had been conducted by the composers themselves. This was an obvious possibility for the Lutoslawski, but less so for the Elgar concerto, since Elgar's own recording with Beatrice Harrison has only fairly recently become available. It was also fascinating to have an undeniably legitimate alternative to the legendary, inspiring Du Pre-Barbirolli recording, sounding very different although both soloists were young and impassioned female cellists.
It is a great privilege and pleasure for a musician of today to be able to enjoy and analyze the innumerable recordings currently available of most muscial masterpieces. The only danger is that one might be discouraged from making the attempt oneself (not unimaginable in the case of the Elgar Concerto in the post Du-Pre era); but in general, ignoring the wealth of recordings would mean denying that one always has, in one way or another, been influenced (even by random sources such as one's grandfather's record collection). Therefore it is better to keep one's scope as broad as possible and simply hope that some traces of individuality will refuse to be denied.
Fortunately, good music is immortal and interpretation just a matter of breathing new life into music, retelling the story, and translating it for a contemporary audience. Of course, musicians do this with the idea that a given interpretation is most successful if as much effort as possible is made to achieve the style of performance in which one imagines that the composer expected the piece to be performed.
The results, particularly in the field of 'early' music during the pas 20 years, have benn incredible and imaginative, although, of course, the much discussed 'authenticity' is a relative quality. The intended authenticity, after all, can only have existed during the first week after the composition of a given work, or at most during the first 10 years (but in that case only in certain specific performances). Vivaldi performing new works with his Venetian girls' ensemble, the Schuppanzigh quartet premiering the late Beethoven quartets at the crack of dawn in a Viennese palace, and all the tens of thousands of premieres and authentic performances that will always be part of our fantasies. And what of Bach himself, who one day decides to play through one of his 20 year old English Suites? However much we would have liked to hear it, it would already not be authentic in the literal sense. With the passage of time, there disappears for ever that unique element of contemporary music for a contemporary audience, the element which, nevertheless is somehow still the point of departure and source of inspiration for the interpretative process of later generations.
Back to Elgar. His cello concerto, meanwhile, is more than 80 years old. All the more reason, then, to listen with avid curiosity to Elgar's own recording and compare it with famous existing recordings. So many generations of cellists, meanwhile, have delighted us with their interpretations! Great artists like Isserlis, Yo Yo Ma, and Schiff, to name only three in the last 20 years. Rostropovich and Du Pre in the 60's and 70's, Fournier and Casals in the 40's and 50's.
And then, 1928: Elgar and Harrison. Perhaps not the perfect chemistry between conductor and soloist, but how refreshing are Elgar's choices of tempo, how flowing the Moderato (and moving and magisterial and elegant), how playful and lively the fast movements and how natural the Adagio! It is intriguing that it appears to have been the influential Casals who, just as in the case of the Schumann concerto, in a certain way distorted the original tempi. Just as, in general, it seems as if after the 2nd World War, music making (both instrumental and vocal) all became somewhat weightier. (Think for example of the postwar phenomenon of old and very old conductors and their choices of tempo, while in his recording, age apparently had no musical effect at all on the seventy year old Elgar).
It is striking how Elgar's score is just as sparkling and expressive as his interpretation. I cannot resist giving a few examples of how subtly he expresses himself. For example, there is the unforgettable beautiful melody of the Moderato, which must be played four times by the solist. The first and last time pianissimo, the second time sung out mezzo forte, and the third time just piano. In particular, the pianissimo playing of the theme for the first time is a great challenge, specially when one is aiming to maintain a flowing 9/8 movement.
Another example illustrates Elgar's subtle musicianship (making one wonder about his Schumann and Brahms interpretations!). The recitative at the beginning of the 2nd movement, for which his indications are amusingly detailed: 5 times the same phrase, 5 times considerably differing indications. In particular the theatrical fermata on the 8th note of the second measure in the 4th version is amusing. It is also remarkable that, although the concerto's idiom is unambiguously late-romantic, there is such control. This is expressed, for example, in a term such as 'nobilmente', applied to the opening measures of the cello in the 1st and 4th movements. All the more overwhelming is the moment in the last movement where Elgar loses his gentleman's self-control and lets himself go in Wagnerian outbursts, leaving the cellist in harrowing isolation. Before he finds comfort in a quotation from the 3rd movement there are four measures leading to this moment which sound like Brunnhilde's gradual surrender to sleep at the the end of 'Die Walkure', underlining the valedictory atmosphere of the whole episode, and perhaps of the whole concerto.