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Showing posts with label Edward Elgar. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Edward Elgar. Show all posts

Saturday, January 31, 2026

Jacqueline du Pré (Born on January 26, 1945) Beyond Elgar

  

At just 20 years of age, this electrifying performance secured her international reputation almost overnight, transforming her into one of the most celebrated classical artists of the 20th century. That single recording of Elgar’s concerto has remained in print for decades and, for many listeners and musicians, stands as the definitive interpretation of the work.

Jacqueline du Pré

Jacqueline du Pré

But to remember Jacqueline du Pré only for Elgar is to undervalue the breadth of her artistry. Though her career was tragically brief, curtailed by multiple sclerosis in her late twenties, she left behind a rich and varied discography spanning concertos, sonatas, and chamber music.

On the occasion of her birthday on 26 January, let’s explore Jacqueline du Pré’s artistry, which revealed the cello’s immense expressive range through her recordings of BrahmsBeethovenSchumann, and Haydn.   

Breathing Life into Schumann

SCHUMANN, R.: Cello Concerto / SAINT-SAËNS, C.: Cello Concerto, No. 1 (Du Pré, New Philharmonia Orchestra, D. Barenboim)

While Elgar remains the work most closely associated with her name, du Pré’s recorded output reveals a musician whose repertoire was both broad and engaging. And it is Robert Schumann’s Cello Concerto in A minor, Op. 129 that perhaps most closely aligns with du Pré’s romantic sensibility after Elgar.

Her recording, made with Daniel Barenboim conducting, captures the concerto’s sustained lyricism and conversational interplay between soloist and orchestra. Where some cellists approach Schumann with restrained elegance, du Pré brings a strong sense of emotional urgency.

Du Pré shapes phrases with a directness that turns inward moments of reflection and outward gestures of intensity into a single, continuous narrative. This approach gives the concerto a strong sense of forward momentum, making its episodic structure feel unified and purposeful rather than fragmented.

At the time, the concerto was still less frequently performed and recorded than it is today, and du Pré’s interpretation played a role in renewing interest in the work. It helped establish the concerto as a central part of the Romantic cello repertoire rather than a peripheral curiosity.   


Narrative and Nuance in Dvořák

Jacqueline du Pré

Jacqueline du Pré © Alamy

One of the greatest concertos in the repertoire, Antonín Dvořák’s Cello Concerto in B minor, Op. 104, is rich in folk-like pathos and expansive thematic writing. And to be sure, du Pré’s recording with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under Barenboim is another cornerstone of her discography.

Critics at the time and since have pointed to her warm, full-bodied tone, wide dynamic range, and instinctive grasp of the concerto’s large-scale structure. Rather than treating the work as a series of contrasting episodes, du Pré shapes it as a coherent narrative, allowing moments of lyric intimacy and heroic projection to grow naturally out of one another.

The result is a performance that many listeners and commentators continue to regard as both emotionally satisfying and artistically authoritative.

Recordings and filmed performances of this concerto still attract millions of listeners online, a testament not only to the enduring appeal of Dvořák’s music but also to du Pré’s ability to communicate it with uncommon immediacy and conviction.   

Smiling Vitality in Haydn

HAYDN, J.: Cello Concerto No. 1 / BOCCHERINI, L.: Cello Concerto, G. 482 (Du Pré, English Chamber Orchestra, D. Barenboim)

Du Pré’s concerto recordings were not limited to the core Romantic repertoire. Her performances of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C major  demonstrate her capacity for joyful, elegant playing in the Classical era, where clarity of line and rhythmic buoyancy are paramount.

Rather than imposing Romantic weight on the music, du Pré brings a lightness of articulation and a natural sense of forward motion that allow Haydn’s wit and formal elegance to emerge clearly. Critics have often noted this stylistic flexibility.

Reviewing her Haydn performances, one commentator remarked that du Pré played with “a smiling vitality and unfussy grace,” showing that her musical personality was not limited to intensity alone.

Another described her approach as “fresh, buoyant, and direct,” praising the way she combined technical precision with an unaffected sense of joy. Du Pré herself resisted being typecast as a purely passionate or impulsive performer, and her Haydn recordings beautifully support this view.


Dialogue and Balance in Beethoven

BEETHOVEN, L. van: Piano Trios Nos. 1-3 and 7 / Variations in E-Flat Major / Allegretto, WoO 39 and Hess 48 (Barenboim, Zukerman, Du Pre)

Du Pré was not only a concerto soloist. She was also a consummate chamber musician and interpreter of intimate works. Her collaborations with pianist Daniel Barenboim, her husband from 1967, produced some of her most sensitive and revealing recordings.

In the realm of chamber music, du Pré’s recordings of Beethoven’s Piano Trios, Op. 70 Nos. 1 and 2, made with Daniel Barenboim and violinist Pinchas Zukerman, reveal an important side of her musicianship. Freed from the heroic projection demanded by concerto repertoire, du Pré demonstrates an instinctive understanding of balance, proportion, and musical conversation.

Her cello line is never dominant for its own sake. Instead, it is woven into the ensemble texture with a natural responsiveness that allows Beethoven’s contrapuntal writing to speak clearly.

Contemporary critics frequently remarked on the sense of equality among the players. One reviewer described the trio as performing with “the alertness of three soloists listening intently to one another,” noting that du Pré’s phrasing seemed shaped as much by what she heard from her colleagues as by her own musical impulses.


Intimate Conversations with Brahms

Jacqueline du Pré and Daniel Barenboim

Jacqueline du Pré and Daniel Barenboim

The cello sonatas of Johannes Brahms reveal another layer of du Pré’s artistry. With Barenboim at the piano, these recordings are celebrated for their tenderness and depth by casting Brahms’ rich harmonic writing in a beautifully introspective light.

Her ability to shape phrases with both power and subtlety made these sonatas stand out as profound musical conversations, highlighting du Pré’s emotional range and artistic maturity.

From the mellow lyricism of Brahms to the fiery dialogue of Beethoven, and from the introspective sorrow of Schumann to joyous and agile Haydn, Jacqueline du Pré’s recordings are more than technical achievements. They are testimonials for an intensely felt musical life lived with passion and authenticity.

Though her career was brief, the emotional power, technical brilliance and spirited communication of her playing ensure that Jacqueline du Pré remains not just a historical figure, but a living presence in the classical music world.

Friday, April 25, 2025

10 Pieces of Classical Music About Childhood

 

Classical music sometimes has a reputation of being solely for elderly people. If that’s true (spoiler alert: it’s not), it’s certainly strange how many pieces of classical music are about childhood and youth.

Today we’re looking at classical music inspired by childhood.

music inspired by childhood

© soundgirls.org

Robert Schumann: Kinderszenen (1838) 

Robert Schumann’s Kinderszenen (“Songs from Childhood”) is a set of thirteen pieces for solo piano about childhood.

Robert was twenty-eight at the time he wrote these pieces, and he was dating the nineteen-year-old piano superstar Clara Wieck.

For a variety of reasons, Clara had always been mature for her age, and at one point she observed that Robert was “like a child.” Robert, amused, decided to embrace his childlike nature, took her idea, and ran with it.

The pieces in this collection include Blind Man’s Buff, Knight of the Hobbyhorse, and, most famously, Dreaming (better-known by its German title, Träumerei). 

Teresa Carreño: Mi Teresita (ca 1885) 

Teresa Carreño was one of the most famous women composers of her generation, and Mi Teresita (“My Little Teresa”) is one of her most famous works.

It’s a waltz that was written for her third child, Teresita, who had been born in 1882. (As a bit of trivia, Carreño had six children in all: one by French violinist Émile Sauret, three by Italian baritone Giovanni Tagliapietra, and two more by German pianist Eugen d’Albert.)

Teresita would become a concert pianist like her mother.

Amy Beach: Children’s Carnival (1894) 

In 1894, twenty-seven-year-old American composer Amy Beach wrote six charming piano pieces for young players. She called the works Children’s Carnival.

The Carnival portrayed different stock characters often found in commedia dell’arte or pantomime, such as the meddling merchant Pantalon, the street-smart and gossipy maid Columbina, and her nimble, quick-thinking love interest, Harlequin.

Beach portrays each character with sweet and satisfying innocence.

Claude Debussy: Children’s Corner (1906-08) 

In January 1905, Claude Debussy’s married mistress Emma Bardac became pregnant. That spring, both Debussy and Bardac divorced from their respective spouses.

In October 1905, their little daughter Claude-Emma, whom they nicknamed Chouchou, was born. Debussy found Chouchou to be delightful beyond words.

Debussy with his daughter Chou-Chou

Debussy with his daughter Chou-Chou

To celebrate his love for her, he wrote a six-movement suite of piano pieces called Children’s Corner. The work’s translated dedication reads, “To my dear little Chouchou, with tender apologies from her father for what follows.”

Children’s Corner portrays various scenes from childhood, including a serenade for a doll, a lullaby for an elephant, and a portrait of dancing snow.

John Alden Carpenter: Adventures in a Perambulator (1914)  

John Alden Carpenter was a composer born in Illinois in 1876. He studied music as a young man but chose not to make his living in music, instead joining the family shipping business as vice-president.

In 1914, he composed an orchestral portrait of his baby daughter Ginny’s day, perhaps taking inspiration from Richard Strauss, who, in 1903, had immortalized his own wife and baby in a tone poem called Symphonia Domestica.

Baby in Perambulator

Baby in Perambulator

Carpenter provided an incredibly detailed description of Ginny’s day from her perspective:

Every morning – after my second breakfast – if the wind and the sun are favorable, I go out. I should like to go alone, but my will is overborne…

Almost satiated with adventure, my Nurse firmly pushes me on, and almost before I recover my balance I am face to face with new sensation. The land comes to an end, and there at my feet is The Lake…

We pass on. Probably there is nothing more in the World. If there is, it is superfluous. There IS. It is Dogs!

Read more about Adventures in a Perambulator.

Florence Price: “To My Little Son” (ca 1915) 

Sometime around 1915, composer Florence Price set a melancholy poem by Julia Johnson Davis to music.

In your face I sometimes see
shadowings of the man to be
And eager dream of what my son shall be
in twenty years and one…

This was an especially poignant song for Price to set, as she lost a baby boy in infancy.

Edward Elgar: Nursery Suite (1931) 

Nursery Suite is one of the last pieces of music that Elgar ever wrote. In 1930, a 73-year-old Elgar told a friend that he’d recently found a box of music in manuscript dating from his youth.

His friend suggested that he work them up into something to celebrate the recent birth of Princess Margaret. He agreed, and by the following year he produced a sweet little orchestral suite with movement titles like “The Sad Doll” and “The Merry Doll.”

Elgar expanded the dedication: the final work was dedicated to Princess Margaret, Princess Elizabeth (the future Elizabeth II), and their mother, the Duchess of York.

Sergei Prokofiev: Peter and the Wolf (1936) 

Peter and the Wolf was commissioned by the director of the Central Children’s Theatre in Moscow. She wanted Prokofiev to write a special symphony for children.

Peter, the work’s protagonist, plays in a meadow, listening to a whole menagerie of animals symbolised by various instruments.

Peter’s grandfather warns him of a gray wolf who might come to attack him. On cue, the wolf makes an appearance. Luckily, with the help of his animal friends, Peter is able to catch it.

Hunters come out of the forest, ready to kill the wolf, but Peter convinces them to put the wolf in a cage and bring it to a zoo instead. They do so in triumphant formation. At the last minute, a quacking comes from the wolf’s stomach: he has eaten the duck whole!

The work has proven to be incredibly popular and enduring, and it is often used even today as an introduction to the orchestra and orchestral instruments.

Benjamin Britten: The Young Person’s Guide to the Orchestra (1945) 

In the mid-1940s, composer Benjamin Britten was commissioned to score an educational documentary called Instruments of the Orchestra.

The main theme comes from another famous British composer: Henry Purcell‘s incidental music to Aphra Behn’s Abdelazer.

Each section shows off a different part of the orchestra, helping young listeners (of all ages!) to appreciate the uniqueness of each one.

Interestingly, there is a version with narration and another one without.

Samuel Barber: Knoxville: Summer of 1915 (1947) 

Samuel Barber’s Knoxville: Summer of 1915 is for orchestra and soprano soloist. It is a nostalgic portrait of the narrator’s childhood.

The lyrics are from a 1938 prose poem by James Agee, describing the summer before his father died in a car accident:

On the rough, wet grass of the back yard, my father and mother have spread quilts. We all lie there, my mother, my father, my uncle, my aunt, and I too am lying there….They are not talking much, and the talk is quiet, of nothing in particular, of nothing at all. The stars are wide and alive, they seem each like a smile of great sweetness, and they seem very near…

Barber’s music beautifully captures the uneasy poignancy of Agee’s words.

Conclusion

So there you have it: ten pieces of classical music about childhood and youth.

Did you have a favorite piece of classical music as a child? Is it still a favorite now? Let us know!

Friday, February 28, 2025

Edward Elgar: 10 Famous Quotes and Thoughts

 

As a musician and composer, Edward Elgar was largely self-taught, learning through experimentation and playing in local ensembles. His music is characterised by its emotional depth, rich orchestration, and a sense of nostalgia that captures a time when the British Empire was at a peak.

Edward Elgar

Edward Elgar

During his later years, a period of personal struggles and the changing musical landscape, Elgar’s music endured by evoking a sense of pride and the pastoral beauty of England. Blending English elements with a personal, sometimes melancholic style, Elgar left behind a legacy that continues to resonate with audiences around the world.

Edward Elgar was reserved and private in his personal life, and he often felt like an outsider in the social circles of the time. While he did engage with the public through his music, Elgar was not known for making bold or controversial public statements. Later in life, Elgar became even more withdrawn and moved to a quieter part of England where he could continue composing in relative solitude.

On the occasion of Elgar’s passing on 23 February, let us offer some insight into his personality by exploring 10 of his most famous quotes and general thoughts.

Edward Elgar: Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1 “Land of Hope and Glory” 

“I always said God was against art, and I still believe it”

Attributed to Elgar, this quote is not tied to a specific documented event or piece of correspondence, and it might have been said in private conversation or during a moment of reflection. To be sure, Elgar’s statements often carried a tone of introspection or philosophical musing about the nature of art and life.

In this case, however, we get a clue from the second part of this quote when Elgar said, “Anything obscene or trivial is blessed in this world and has a reward, I ask for no reward, only to hear my work.”

Elgar had a complex relationship with his own creativity, experiencing periods of great success but also times of deep personal and creative depression. And during his early career, Elgar faced great challenges in getting his music recognised. He certainly believed that the divine forces were not necessarily on the side of the artist.

Edward Elgar: Salut d‘Amour, Op. 12 

“The music is in the air. Take as much as you want.”

This particular quote encapsulates Elgar’s philosophy on creativity, music, and its omnipresence. Throughout his life, Elgar spoke about music as something that was not just created but discovered or captured from the environment around him.

Edward Elgar

Edward Elgar

Elgar implies that there is no limit to the inspiration one can draw from the world. It is a democratic view of the arts, where inspiration is not in the exclusive domain of the professional composer but available to all.

It aligns with the ideas of the Romantic movement and its emphasis on emotion, nature, and the individual’s experience. In Elgar’s mystical view of creativity, music does not need to be laboriously contracted but exists all around us. It’s simply an invitation for everyone to engage with music. In a sense, it also expresses Elgar’s idea about the universal nature of music and its ability to transcend cultural and linguistic barriers.

Edward Elgar: Sea Pictures 

“I believe in the power of music to bring people together, to heal, and to inspire.”

Not directly attributed to Edward Elgar, the above statement does encapsulate sentiments that align with Elgar’s known views on the role of music and society and personal life. Elgar expressed his strong belief about the communal and therapeutic aspects of music throughout his life.

Elgar lived through turbulent times in history, and his music was often seen as a means to foster national identity. His saying possibly reflects his understanding of music’s role in bringing people together during times of national crisis and war.

Elgar's Dream of Gerontius

Elgar’s Dream of Gerontius

Music therapy had not yet been a formalised practice during Elgar’s time, but the therapeutic qualities of music were something Elgar might well have appreciated personally, especially considering his bouts with melancholy. To be sure, the idea that music can soothe the soul or help with emotional recovery would have strongly resonated with him.

Edward Elgar: The Dream of Gerontius (excerpt) 

“Music has the power to express the deepest emotions when worlds are insufficient.”

Elgar was known for his introspective nature, and he certainly felt that music was his most effective means of communication. That was particularly true for complex or deep emotions that he found difficult to articulate in words.

For Elgar, music had the ability to transcend the limitations of verbal language. When words fail to capture the nuances of emotion, music can step in to express what is felt but not easily said. As such, music does not simply function as surface-level communication but reaches into the depths of human experience.

Elgar also seems to acknowledge music’s universal appeal. The world of emotions is part of the human condition across cultures, and music’s ability to express these emotions can connect people universally.

Edward Elgar: Enigma Variations 

“The object of art is to give life a shape.”

According to Elgar, art reflects the human condition, capturing moments, emotions and concepts that might otherwise be fleeting or inexpressible. For Elgar, art had a higher purpose, offering a lens through which we can view our existence.

For Elgar personally, this quote reflects his own composition process, in which he turned his personal experiences, like his love for his wife Alice or his contemplation of death and afterlife, into musical expressions that shaped his life’s narrative.

While he was speaking from the perspective of a composer, Elgar’s ideas resonated across all art forms. He strongly believed in the transformative power of art, not merely mirroring life but its ability to actively shape our perception, understanding, and experience of it.

Edward Elgar: Symphony No. 1 

“Music is like a dream. One that I cannot hear.”

Later in his life, Elgar suffered from hearing loss. His hearing began to deteriorate around the time of World War I, but by the end of his life, his ability to hear was significantly impaired. His personal struggle with hearing loss reflected the irony of a composer who could no longer fully experience his own art.

Elgar's Enigma Variations

Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations

As Elgar aged, his composition took on a more reflective and sometimes melancholic tone. Music, which he spent his life creating and his means of expression, was becoming inaccessible to him in its most literal sense.

Elgar often spoke of music in terms that suggested it was something one could feel or sense beyond just hearing. In that sense, it aligns with the idea of music being dreamlike or existing on a plane beyond the physical. This quote, not explicitly attributed to Elgar, tells of the joy of creation juxtaposed with the personal tragedy of losing one’s ability to hear. 

“This is what I hear all day, the trees are singing my music. Or have I sung theirs?”

Edward Elgar was born in Worcestershire and lived in and around Malvern and the Malvern Hills for many years. He was routinely seen cycling around the surrounding countryside and village lanes, and the natural landscape inspired many of his well-known compositions.

His music often evokes the pastoral, serene, and melancholic beauty of nature. But Elgar is also musing on the origin of music. Is it his own creation, or is he merely channelling something that already exists in nature?

Elgar seems to suggest that by expressing his intimate experiences with nature, his music is not just a scenic backdrop but an active participant in his creative process. There is a great sense of humility in this quote, as Elgar acknowledges the fact that his music might be part of something larger than his individual self. 

“I never thought I was a genius. I knew I was a composer.”

Despite his eventual recognition as one of England’s greatest composers, Elgar’s early career was marked by struggles for recognition. In fact, he did not gain significant acclaim until much later in life, specifically after the premiere of his “Enigma Variations” in 1899.

His ideas of genius are often associated with Romantic idealism, the idea of an artist as someone touched by divine inspiration. Elgar certainly felt that way and accepted a sense of isolation and of being misunderstood.

Despite his achievements, Elgar was known for his humility. He often felt out of place among the more formally educated musicians of his time as he learned his craft through personal study and practice rather than academic training.

Edward Elgar: Piano Quintet in A minor, Op. 84 

“It is curious to be treated by the old-fashioned people as a criminal because my thoughts and ways are beyond them.”

Elgar’s innovative musical style often clashed with the more conservative tastes of his contemporaries. He lived during a transitional period in history when music was transitioning from the Romantic era into 20th-century modernism. As his work spanned both periods, his music was somewhat of a bridge between the traditional and the new.

Elgar's Cello Concerto manuscript

Elgar’s Cello Concerto manuscript

His music was often seen as both traditional in its beauty and innovative in its orchestration and harmonic language. As he was writing during a time when a significant portion of the British musical establishment preferred music that adhered strictly to classical norms, he wasn’t appreciated by those with a more conservative musical palate.

While his music was rooted in tradition, it also pushed boundaries. Elgar’s music, which was controversial in his day, is now celebrated for its originality and depth. Elgar was well aware of the fact that in the evolution of culture, what was once avant-garde can become mainstream over time.


“I have no regrets, except that my music is not better known.”

Primarily known for his orchestral works, and despite significant contributions to music, Elgar long felt that his work did not achieve the universe recognition he believed it deserved. This quote likely stems from a period when Elgar was reflecting on his career, possibly near or after his retirement from active composition.

While his music was celebrated in Britain, it did not enjoy the same level of international fame accorded to his contemporaries Richard Strauss and Gustav Mahler. Elgar lived a life largely filled with personal satisfaction and acceptance; however, his deep-seated desire for broader recognition of his musical legacy did not come to pass during his lifetime.

While he initially lamented a lack of broader appreciation for his artistic vision, history has somewhat alleviated Elgar’s regret. His compositions are now seen as emblematic of English music, greatly influencing subsequent generations of composers and remaining a significant part of the classical music canon.

Elgar’s music continues to captivate audiences worldwide as an embodiment of English musical identity at a pivotal time. His music is now universally recognised as a testament of his genius, resonating through time and cementing his status as a musical icon whose impact is profound and enduring.

Friday, July 19, 2024

Moved to Tears

by Frances Wilson, Interlude

tearsMusic has the power to tug at the heartstrings, and evoking emotion is the main purpose of music – whether it’s joy or sadness, excitement or meditation. A certain melody or line of a song, a falling phrase, the delayed gratification of a resolved harmony – all these factors make music interesting, exciting, calming, pleasurable and moving.

Tears and chills – or “tingles” – on hearing music are a physiological response which activates the parasympathetic nervous system, as well as the reward-related brain regions of the brain. Studies have shown that around 25% of the population experience this reaction to music. But it’s much more than a pure physiological response. Classical music in particular steers a mysterious path through our senses, triggering unexpected and powerful emotional responses, which sometimes result in tears – and not just tears of sadness.

Tears flow spontaneously in response to a release of tension, perhaps at the end of a particularly engrossing performance. Certain pieces of music can remind us of past events, experiences and people, triggering memories and associated emotions. At other times, we may feel tearfully awestruck in the face of the greatness or sheer beauty of the music.

This last response has a name – Stendhal Syndrome – and while the syndrome is more commonly associated with art, it can be applied equally to the powerful emotional reaction which music provokes.

A psychosomatic disorder, Stendhal Syndrome, or hyperkulturemia, causes rapid heartbeat, dizziness, sweating, disorientation, fainting, tears and confusion when someone is looking at artwork (or hearing a piece of music) with which he or she connects emotionally on a profound level. The phenomenon, also called ‘Florence Syndrome’, is named after the French author Marie-Henri Beyle , who wrote under the pen-name of ‘Stendhal’. While visiting the Basilica of Santa Croce in Florence, he became overcome with emotion and noted his reactions:

“I was in a sort of ecstasy, from the idea of being in Florence, close to the great men whose tombs I had seen. Absorbed in the contemplation of sublime beauty … I reached the point where one encounters celestial sensations … Everything spoke so vividly to my soul.”

While there is some debate as to whether the syndrome actually exists, there is no doubt that music (and art and literature) can have a very profound effect on our emotional responses.

Certain pieces are well-known tear-jerkers, including:

Mahler: Adagio from Symphony No. 9 in D

Schubert: Winterreise


Personal tragedy portrayed in hauntingly beautiful music.

Elgar: Cello Concerto

Wistful soaring melodies and a sense of hope and anguish, particularly in the final movement, this is Elgar’s tragic masterpiece. 

Allegri: Miserere

Ethereal chords combined with plainchant, the exquisite simplicity and beauty of this music is guaranteed to set the tears flowing. 

Rachmaninoff: Slow movement, Piano Concerto No. 2

Put simply, this is sublimely beautiful music.

Friday, July 12, 2024

At the Piano With Sir Edward Elgar

by Hermione Lai, Interlude

Edward Elgar

Edward Elgar

On the other hand, Elgar made his money from lighter and less significant works. He certainly received a steady income from royalties on short pieces composed for publication and sale in the form of sheet music for the home market. And not surprisingly, the most common instrument for home entertainment was for the upright piano. But before we get into the solo piano pieces, here is a delightful Romance for piano and violin, published as Elgar’s Op. 1. 

The majority of Elgar’s compositions for solo piano stem from the early part of his career, or the very end of his life. As a child, Elgar was praised for his piano improvisations, but he claimed “that playing the piano gave him no pleasure.” And while he did take some violin lessons, he was certainly a proficient pianist.

Edward Elgar: Chantant

Let’s not get distracted, the majority of Elgar’s works for solo piano were composed specifically with that instrument in mind. Take for example Chantant of 1872, a work written at the age of fifteen in the style of a Mazurka. It features all the rhythmic aspects of that particular dance, with Elgar repeating the principle theme with slight changes of colour. A rather interesting “chorale” serves as a type of interlude with the main theme rushing to a dramatic conclusion.

Edward Elgar: Douce Pensée

A good many of these early pieces were probably composed as musical gifts for friends and relatives. Although similar in style and simply in structure, they all contain a certain gaiety and rhapsodic charm. Just listen to Douce Pensée, composed during a visit to Yorkshire in 1882. Originally, the piece was written as a trio for Elgar, his friend Dr. Buck and his mother.

Elgar met Dr. Charles Buck, a member of the British Medical Association in Worcester in 1882, and that meeting became the start of a life-long friendship. Elgar was invited to Dr. Buck’s house in Giggleswick, Yorkshire, and since the good doctor was a competent amateur cellist and his mother played the piano, Elgar expanded a trio he had started the previous year. He later arranged the trio for solo piano and called it Douce Pensée (Gentle Thought). It eventually also became a piece for violin and piano renamed “Rosemary,” and carried the subtitle “That’s for Remembrance.” 

Edward Elgar: Presto

Isabel Fitton

Isabel Fitton

As a birthday present for the twenty-first birthday of Isabel Fitton, Elgar composed a delightful “Presto.” Isabel was the daughter of one of Elgar’s greatest friends, the splendid local pianist Harriet Fitton. Maybe you know that name from another context? Isabel was a viola player, and her name and instrument appears in the sixth Enigma variation dedicated to “Ysobel.” That variation begins with a viola figure that Edward had written for her earlier. The Presto, dating from 1889, however, is all Chopin. After a great opening flourish, we find a short Chopin-like episode, with both sections repeated. Elgar then writes one of his lovely sequential sections, and once the original theme is re-introduced it quietly sings to slightly different harmonies before the piece comes to a quiet close. 

Edward Elgar: Sonatina

Elgar in Turkey

Elgar in Turkey

Elgar was working on a Sonatina in 1889, originally composed for his 8-year old niece May Grafton. She was the daughter of Elgar’s favourite sister, Pollie. May was actually living in the Elgar household in Plas Gwyn, their Hereford home. She helped to run the household, and she was particularly important to Edward once Alice died. May was a keen photographer, and many of the images of the composer were taken by her.

Only in 1932 did Elgar work on these old piano sketches and he completed the Sonatina, which was published in the same year. The Sonatina is a short work in two movements. According to notes from the Elgar Society, “it contains a sentimental, gently rocking melody that gives way briefly to a tiny contrasting section before reverting to the repeated first section.” The second movement is a more cheerful movement that happily dashes to the finish. 

Edward Elgar: Minuet

Nicholas Kilburn

Nicholas Kilburn

Nicholas Kilburn was an iron merchant in Sunderland who was also an amateur conductor and an early champion of Elgar’s work. In fact, he directed all of Elgar’s choral works after 1887 and Elgar referred to him as “The Saint.” Kilburn almost made it into the Enigma Variations, as there is a fragment of a variation that is headed “Kilburn.” In the event, it was Nicholas’ son Paul that the Minuet of 1897 was written for.

This charming piece of music unfold in the form of an arch, as the opening musical turn of phrase keeps returning in the form of a refrain, with a gentle and pastoral melody as the central pillar. Elgar later orchestrated the piece and it was published in its orchestral form in 1897. In the same year, it also appeared as a piano work in “The Dome Magazine,” a publication advertised as “An Illustrated Monthly Magazine and Review of Literature, Music, Architecture and the Graphic Arts.” 

Edward Elgar: Concert Allegro, Op. 46

Fanny Davies

Fanny Davies

The concert pianist Fanny Davies was a student of Clara Schuman and a friend of Johannes Brahms. For many years Elgar had been thinking of writing a piano concerto, but this project never went beyond some sketches. Davies wrote to Elgar in 1901, “I am so disappointed if you can’t let me have just a wee ‘little Elgar’ for my recital on Dec. 2nd … I could learn it very quickly if I had it – and the Concert is not till December 2nd.”

Elgar went to work and produced the Concert Allegro, originally titled “Concerto (without Orchestra) for pianoforte.” Critics were not enthusiastic, and there seems to be the suggestion that Davies played the piece as “anything down to half speed.” Publishers also didn’t want to take on the piece, and many adjustments and amendments were made, including pasting over some original ones. Fanny Davies did continue to perform it, and Richter exclaimed that the work was “as if Bach had married Liszt!” There was some talk of an orchestral arrangement, but the score disappeared and was only rediscovered in 1968. 

Edward Elgar: In Smyrna

In the autumn of 1905, Elgar took his friend Frank Schuster on a Mediterranean cruise on the Royal Navy ship HMS Surprise. Elgar went as a guest of the Navy, and he was hosted by Vice-Admiral Beresford. In his diaries Elgar described the journey in great detail, and he was enthused by several places he visited. Among them was the ancient Greek city of Smyrna, currently the Turkish city of Izmir. Elgar noted in his diary, “drove to the Mosque of dancing dervishes … music by five or six people very strange & some of it quite beautiful – incessant drums and cymbals (small) thro’ the quick movements.”

Elgar’s music for “In Smyrna” does not reflect the dervish dances, but rather mirrors an earlier diary entry where he wrote, “Rose late. Very, very hot & sirocco blowing-peculiar feelings of intense heat and wind…” The shimmering qualities are beautifully transferred to the piano and since there are no major climaxes, the work ends quietly. Elgar used some of the materials in his “Crown of India Suite” in 1912. 

Edward Elgar: Dream Children, Op. 43

The two movements of “Dream Children” were written in 1902 for either piano or for orchestra. These pieces suggest a strong nostalgia for childhood, as the score is headed by a quotation from Charles Lamb’s Dream-Children, a Reverie. “And while I stood gazing, both the children gradually grew fainter to my view, receding, and still receding till nothing at last but two mournful features were seen in the uttermost distance.”

Capturing wistful innocence was one of the hallmarks of Elgar’s compositional style, and the composer’s DNA is readily found in these piano miniatures. Elgar did produce a piano arrangement of the famed Enigma Variations, but I decided to focus on smaller pieces instead. Of course, Elgar also wrote a number of songs for voice and piano. Would you be interested to have them featured? Please let us know in the comments.