Dating from his years of 'apprenticeship', these two works shaped Elgar's reputation as a leading orchestrator and most popular British composer of his time. The secular cantata Scenes from the Saga of King Olaf derives from Longfellow's epic poem about Olaf Tryggvason, who became King of Norway in 995. While the text was heavily adapted and augmented, the use of sophisticated compositional techniques, such as extensive motivic work, resulted in music of great power and solemnity. The ballad The Banner of Saint George is based on the story of Saint George of Cappadocia, as related by the Bristol poet Shapcott Wensley. It was commissioned by Britain's leading publisher, Novello, and composed in only one month in 1896. Elgar overcame the prescriptive nature of the words and produced a work of lasting charm, the music rising above the material to create atmosphere, momentum, and color.

Reviews:

What a nice idea it was to have a Norwegian choir and orchestra performing English music about a Norse hero. The combined Norwegian choirs sing very well indeed in both works, and the Bergen Philharmonic plays with verve and distinction. Sir Andrew Davis is just the man for these assignments.

– MusicWeb International

There's nothing stilted about Elgar's music: it crackles with confident vitality...the Norwegian choruses respond with crisp vigor and superb English diction, only faintly (and appropriately) Scandinavian-tinged. Davis's expansive conducting and the excellent Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra bring out Elgar's vivid orchestral textures.

– BBC Music Magazine

From Greensleeves to Jerusalem this selection of music in celebration of England's green and pleasant land will evoke fond memories of summer holidays, end-of-term assemblies and listening to the wireless alongside a nostalgic pride in our country and it's unique heritage.

Gentle lullabies and quiet music combine to form this special program of music to invite sleep. Unlike most calming programs, this release relies on real instruments and fine classical music, progressing gradually into calmer and quieter waters, growing slower and more repetitive, and eventually fading away into sweet rest for the listener!

Moran was commissioned by Trinity Wall Street (the 'Ground Zero' church) to write a Requiem for their youth chorus to commemorate the 10th anniversary of September 11, 2001. The result is a heartfelt and heavenly work for angelic voices with organ, harps and cellos. It's simplicity and direct appeal rival that of Faure himself and it is sure to become a standard repertory work. While many of the singers were barely born at the time of the attacks in New York, the composer found inspiration in the all-too common grief found in war zones around the world (such as Kosovo and London) when children suddenly lose their families to violence. Listeners will note the synchronicity recorded on tape during the Offertory; a siren passed by during the best vocal take and could not be edited out. It becomes a touching reminder of the context of this work and the personal authenticity of these fine musicians.

MENDELSSOHN Paulus • Richard Hickox, cond; Susan Gritton (sop); Jean Rigby (mez); Barry Banks (ten); Peter Coleman-Wright (bs); BBC Natl O & Ch, Wales • CHANDOS 10516 (2 CDs: 115:13 Text and Translation)


This is a rerun from 2001 on Chandos’ “Classics” series. James Miller reviewed it in Fanfare 25:1. I will refer readers to his review for more of the details of this production. Miller seems to prefer the Masur reading, not available then but reproduced now as an arkivmusic.com CD. Masur certainly deserves respect, and his cast is nothing to sneeze at, but I have come to prefer the Rilling recording on Hänssler to just about any other. His soloists, while less stellar than Masur’s, are every bit their equal, and Rilling gives us a highly charged, gorgeously sung performance of just about unequalled beauty.


Paulus only has about 10 readings currently available, and has been suffering from the equivalent of professional swine flu for many years—not many want to touch it. Soloists are certainly hard to come by, as the parts are just not that demanding. But—this oratorio is guaranteed a bright future as it remains, after Messiah , perhaps the most popular oratorio among American church goers and oratorio societies. The very lack of demanding solo parts makes it attractive to local ensembles, and the choral work is adventurous, yet attainable by lesser ensembles. Mendelssohn’s part-writing is easy to follow and logical to rehearse and teach, and he manages to get a consistently whopping sound out of his chorus while keeping well within the confines of the eminently doable.


Miller says about this Hickox rendition, “I can certainly commend it to your attention as a worthy performance, probably at least as good as the competition.” I think this sums up the recording very well. In a detailed comparison with the Rilling, Hickox is actually about nine minutes faster in each part, though Rilling sounds quicker because of a tighter control over the ensemble and a tauter rhythmic approach. He also is more devotional, perhaps too devotional in some instances, while the Chandos recording delights in the early-Wagnerian overtones found in some of the brassier moments. The more I hear the Chandos, the more I like it, and I am finding the differences between Rilling and Hickox interesting enough to appreciate both equally, and it is difficult to choose one above the other.


Okay—if forced—I would still go for Rilling, but every collection deserves two recordings of Paulus , so I can rest content. As for Masur, he is still worth hearing, and many will prefer him, but not by much. Though there are not many recordings of this early oratorio, these three alleviate any need for concern.


Incidentally, in James Miller’s review he states: “‘Wie lieblich sind die Boten die den Frieden verkündigen’ is usually translated as ‘How beautiful are the messengers that bring the gospel of peace.’ In the Masur (Philips) libretto (and some other places) it is rendered, ‘How beautiful are the feet of them that preach the gospel of peace,’ which is, in fact, the way the verse goes in the King James version of the Bible (Romans X:15). But ‘Boten’ means ‘messengers’ in German. Did the King James translators get the original text wrong or did Martin Luther or other German translators get it wrong?” In the Chandos issue, “messengers” is given in the translation. After nine years, I think I can help—Luther got it wrong. The word pódeV (“feet”) appears not only in Romans 10, but also in the Septuagint version of the Old Testament in Isaiah and the book of Nahum, the books from which Paul took his quote. I can’t vouch for the Hebrew, but Paul would have taken his quote from a Septuagint source (the Greek translation of the Old Testament).


FANFARE: Steven E. Ritter

" This brilliant new recording of Orff's Carmina Burana is a tragic memento of conductor Richard Hickox, who died in Novemeber at the age of sixty. This is a vibrant, dynamic performance of Orff's masterpiece recorded live in London's Barbican Centre. As usual with Chandos, engineering is first-rate, with perfect balances and wide dynamic range." -- Bob Benson, Classical CD Review

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Recorded live at the Barbican Centre in November 2007, Richard Hickox conducts Carl Orff's immensely popular dramatic cantata Carmina Burana with the London Symphony Orchestra and Chorus and soloists, Barry Banks, Laura Claycomb and Christopher Maltman.

MusicOMH.com wrote of the performance, "The London Symphony Orchestra performed the work with all the commitment and exuberance that one expects from them... The three soloists were outstanding, singing with a unified dynamic power and depth of expression that is rare to find today...Christopher Maltman's baritone is large, and he dramatically projected every emotion and quirk in the text." Classical Source said "Hickox and his forces certainly conveyed an appropriate sense of the dramatic...Maltman had the sense of the music and histrionic demands down to a tee... Banks provided strong characterization in the high tenor writing... Claycomb conveyed the vulnerability of the soprano's music."

Orff is reputed to have declared around the time of Carmina's first performance, 'Everything I have written to date, and which you have printed, can be destroyed. With Carmina Burana, my collected works begin.' He had a strong interest in theatrical presentations and conceived the work as a pageant. The idea came to Orff in 1935 when he encountered an edition of medieval songs edited by the poet Johann Schmeller. The vivid and colourful songs were those sung by the goliards - hedonistic students and traveling monks who celebrated their riotous pursuits in bawdy and profane poetry. The 24 'cantiones profanae' chosen by Orff were translated and the composer set them to music for three vocal soloists, three choirs and a large orchestra featuring triple woodwind, two pianos and no fewer than five percussionists. The score's combination of gloriously infectious vulgarity interspersed with moments of genuine beauty has assured it an unquestionable position as one of the most popular of all twentieth century choral works.