1.05 MB - E. J. Moeran Database

Orchestral music
Moeran's output for full orchestra spans his entire output, and yet the sum total is not a
huge amount of music. However, if it is lacking in quantity, it is certainly made up for in
quality. Moeran had a wonderful gift for orchestration, and in listening one detects an
easy, almost instinctive feel in the handling of the music. As such it may come as something of
a surprise that he worked often so slowly on his orchestral music, and rewrote, reviewed and
discarded ruthlessly anything he felt less than perfect.
Farrago Suite (1932) R64
Symphony (1924-37) R71
Violin Concerto (1937-41)
R78
Sinfonietta (1944) R83
Early works
During the 1920's Moeran produced several works for orchestra:
his first two Rhapsodies, the second of which was reworked nearly
twenty years later; The "Symphonic Impression", In The Mountain
Country, and "Two Pieces for Small Orchestra", Lonely Waters and
Wythorne's Shadow. Of these last two there is some doubt as to
the precise dates of composition, as they were published together
in 1935, although there is evidence to suggest Lonely Waters
perhaps dating originally from 1924.
Symphony in G Minor
Begun in 1924 but put to one side and not finally completed until
1937, the Symphony is regarded by many as the high point of
Moeran's output. It is often a dark, brooding work stretching over four
movements, yet contains a delightful Scherzo in the third movement in Moeran's own words: the sunlight is let in, and there is a spring-like
contrast to the wintry proceedings of the slow [second] movement.
Concertos
Moeran's Violin Concerto is, for me, one of the great works of this
genre. If there is one piece which justifies Moeran receiving
greater recognition it is surely this - a work which can swing you
from delight to tears in minutes. The Cello Concerto was one of
Moeran's last major works, written for his wife - the cellist Peers
Coetmore - in 1945, and stands as a robust and sweeping
confirmation of his compositional brilliance.
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Sinfonietta
Moeran referred to the Sinfonietta, written in 1944, as something of an experiment: writing
about the composition of the Cello Sonata perhaps two years later: I shall have to find a new
idiom, as I did temporarily when I wrote the Sinfonietta. It is a three movement work in
perhaps a neo-classical style, exuberant and brisk, with a degree of harmonic experimentation
which adds interest without detracting from the beauty of the work.
Cello Concerto (1945) R89
Serenade in G (1948) R95
Symphony No 2 (lost) R99
In The Mountain Country
(1921)* R10
First Rhapsody (1922)
R16
Second Rhapsody
(1924/41) R26/R77
Rhapsody for Piano and
Orchestra (1942-3) R79
(*included here as a
suggested "Rhapsody No. 0")
Lonely Waters (1924?)
R27
Wythorne's Shadow
(1931) R49
Overture for a Masque
(1944) R82
Nocturne (1934) R70
= Full page available
Other late works
The Overture for a Masque was written in 1944 for Walter Legge, who was at the time
commissioning works for wartime performances at concerts for troops. Despite Moeran's initial
dismissal of the work in progress as "Legge's Overture", he slowly came round to enjoying the
piece: I think it turns out to be quite a good little work - what you might call athletic in style...it
takes the devil of a time to write out. The Overture followed the Rhapsody for Piano and
Orchestra of 1942-3, where a pianist joins forces with the full orchestra for a single movement
requiring great virtuosity of the soloist. Again Moeran's opinion of this work grew, from it
contains more than its fair share of tripe to I find I was wrong, and I really think that after all it
is a very good effort on my part. Others seem to agree, as this is now one of Moeran's most
played works on the radio. The Serenade in G of 1947-8 was Moeran's last complete orchestral
piece, with sections partly reworked from an earlier work which he withdrew. Based around
Tudor and Baroque dance rhythms, it contains 6 or 8 short movements, depending on which
version you listen to!
"Lost" Works
Other orchestral works have existed or been worked on by Moeran. Into this fall the Farrago
Suite, part of which was to become integrated into the Serenade, a Fanfare for Red Army Day
for a Royal Albert Hall concert in 1944 which has since disappeared, and the Second Symphony,
fragments of which exist in various forms, but which he was unable to complete before his
death.
Farrago Suite (1932, withdrawn)
R64
Published
Withdrawn
1. Prelude
2. Minuet
the composer insisted: "it
doesn't exist..."
3. Rondino
4. Rigadoon
Moeran wrote his suite Farrago in 1932, probably in
response to Warlock's success with his Capriol Suite.
However, Farrago was soon withdrawn, despite several
performances at the time, including a BBC broadcast and a
1934 Proms outing. It sees Moeran writing in a pastiche
English Renaissance and Baroque style (Warlock's suite was
based on dance-tunes from 16th century composer Thoinot
Arbeau). However, Farrago did not disappear completely,
despite its composer later saying 'it doesn't exist' - two
movements make a reappearance in the Serenade in G of
1948.
Recordings
BBC Radio Broadcast,
1994
Reviews
July 1934
October 1934
Further Writing
Programme notes etc.
Serenade in G
Audio
Prologue Opening (MP3)
Actually, to be more precise, the whole work was
incorporated into the Serenade in its original
eight-movement form, but when Moeran's publisher insisted
he cut two movements out, Moeran decided to excise two of his Farrago movements,
rather than lose any of his new work. The irony is that this then leaves the Serenade as
perhaps a rather unsatisfying piece, somewhat more disjointed than Moeran originally
intended.
Fortunately for the Moeran listener, in 1990 Chandos decided to release a recording of the
original full version of the Serenade, on CHAN 8808, and when in 1994 the original scores
of Farrago were dusted off for an anniversary performance, it finally became possible to
make a direct listening comparison between the two works. This is something which has
eluded scholars for many years - no recording was ever made of the Farrago Suite, and
Moeran may have gambled on few people with memories long and astute enough to spot
his use of it in the new work. Whether there is any sleight of hand in the fact that the two
excised movements from the Serenade had been given new names is impossible to say,
though perhaps it is more than coincidence.
In his book "The Music of E J Moeran", Geoffrey Self not only skips rather lightly over the
Farrago, and also misses the fuller links between the two works. This is not surprising, as
he noted at the time with regard to the two 'missing' Serenade movements: "These two
movements are to be found...in the copy of the score deposited with the Grainger
Museum in Melbourne, Australia." Thus Self had access to neither the missing Serenade
movements nor to Farrago.
Superficially the four corresponding movements seem identical. It is only in the finer
detail and orchestration that one finds Moeran's revision, and a close score analysis would
be required to pin down the changes precisely. This is not something I intend to do here.
Instead, I offer you the chance to program your CD player to (almost) recreate the
Farrago Suite from the Chandos Serenade recording, by matching up the movements as
follows:
Farrago Suite
Serenade in G
1 - Prologue
1 - Prelude
2 - Intermezzo*
3 - Air
4 - Galop
2 - Minuet
5 - Minuet
3 - Rondino
6 - Forlana*
4 - Rigadoon
7 - Rigadoon
8 - Epilogue
*Note - the two movements which Moeran withdrew,
the Intermezzo and Forlana, both taken from the Farrago Suite.
These programme notes from the 1934 Proms performance serve to throw further light
onto Farrago:
This Suite owes its title to the fact that when it was written, close on two years ago, - it
was actually completed at the end of 1932 -, it was not originally the result of setting out
to compose a homogeneous work. The last movement was composed specially for an
amateur orchestra in Norwich who had asked Mr. Moeran for a piece of their own, and it
was laid out with a view to the orchestra's rather modest attainments. The Minuet was
not intended to be anything more than a pianoforte duet; it was composed in the first
place for a friend and neighbour with whom Moeran plays four-handed music on the
pianoforte. Although the Suite was written at odd times and with different purposes in
view, eventually the four movements were put together for the Hastings Municipal
Orchestra. It is scored exactly for their numbers, which accounts for there being only one
oboe and two of the other wood-winds. It did not have its first performance at Hastings,
however; an illness of Julius Harrison's had to postpone that. The first performance was
actually at the B.B.C. studio concert under Julian Clifford, last year, and it was repeated
there some three months ago. It was performed in Hastings, under Julius Harrison, in
February of this year. Laid out for the moderate-sized orchestra of Beethoven's day, with
only two horns and two trumpets and neither tuba nor harp, as the Suite is, the Minuet
dispenses with trumpets, trombones and percussion, calling only on strings, wood-wind,
and horns. Timpani are not used until the third movement, although in the Prelude there
are tambourine, cymbals, side drum and xylophone.
First Performance - Notes (1933)
Published
Withdrawn
FARRAGO 1932
Orchestral Concert Friday 21st April 1933 8.0 pm, National Programme, BBC Orchestra
(Section c) led by Marie Wilson. Conductor Julian Clifford.
Recordings available
[Suite Capriol - Peter Warlock]
Reviews
Farrago - E. J. Moeran
(1st Performance)
July 1934
October 1934
Further Writing
Serenade in G
The composer calls his work Farrago, which the Pocket Oxford tells us means medley or
hotch-potch - harsh words for what is really a sequence of four short movements:
Prelude, Minuet, Rondino and Rigadoon, joined together by association, but by no
particular spirit of affinity one with another; it is dedicated to D.B. Wyndham Lewis, and is
scored for a moderate orchestra.
[Puck's Minute - H. Howells]
[Procession]
[Suite "Facade" - W. Walton]
Audio Excerpts
Recordings
Proms - Programme Notes (1934)
PROM CONCERT Thursday, 6th September 1934
First concert performance in London of Suite FARRAGO
Programme note by D.M.C.
Reviews
Further Writing
Audio
1.
2.
3.
4.
Prelude
Minuet
Rondino
Rigadoon
E. J. Moeran began his first attempts at composition during his school days at Uppingham.
But although he left school in 1912, it was not until after the war that he seriously took
up the art of writing music, although he had spent a few months under the guidance of
Sir Charles Stanford prior to joining the army in 1914. Thus it was that at the age of
twenty-four he settled for a time in London and proceeded to study composition under
John Ireland.
Like many others others of the younger generation of English composers, his original
work goes hand in hand with an enthusiasm for native folk music, that of Norfolk, where a
good part of his life has been spent, has always attracted him specially, and much of his
best-known music has a distinctively English flavour. All his work, whether owing anything
to that influence or not, is instinct with the fresh wholesomeness which the rest of the
world recognizes as typically English.
This Suite owes its title to the fact that when it was written, close on two years ago, - it
was actually completed at the end of 1932 -, it was not originally the result of setting out
to compose a homogeneous work. The last movement was composed specially for an
amateur orchestra in Norwich who had asked Mr. Moeran for a piece of their own, and it
was laid out with a view to the orchestra's rather modest attainments. The Minuet was
not intended to be anything more than a pianoforte duet; it was composed in the first
place for a friend and neighbour with whom Moeran plays four-handed music on the
pianoforte. Although the Suite was written at odd times and with different purposes in
view, eventually the four movements were put together for the Hastings Municipal
Orchestra. It is scored exactly for their numbers, which accounts for there being only one
oboe and two of the other wood-winds. It did not have its first performance at Hastings,
however; an illness of Julius Harrison's had to postpone that. The first performance was
actually at the B.B.C. studio concert under Julian Clifford, last year, and it was repeated
there some three months ago. It was performed in Hastings, under Julius Harrison, in
February of this year. Laid out for the moderate-sized orchestra of Beethoven's day, with
only two horns and two trumpets and neither tuba nor harp, as the Suite is, the Minuet
dispenses with trumpets, trombones and percussion, calling only on strings, wood-wind,
and horns. Timpani are not used until the third movement, although in the Prelude there
are tambourine, cymbals, side drum and xylophone.
More than that the Suite cannot well need by way of introduction; the names of the
movements give sufficient clue to what an audience may look forward to hearing.
Reviews
There has been little to listen to lately, apart from public B.B.C. concerts and the opera
relays. As far too many concerts continue to be broadcast, most of them are routine
affairs, with rarely any distinction; sometimes even the orchestral playing is poor...
Moeran's Farrago Suite is good fun, though not his best work; too much playing about
the composer insisted: "it
doesn't exist..."
with a few patterns and those modalities which are still the bane of a lot of our native
music.
Wireless Notes by 'Audax' M/T July 1934
Critical attention tends naturally to be concentrated upon the work after the interval, for
on practically every evening something new or unfamiliar or difficult is provided for our
serious consideration after the unchallenging classics of the first part...
The actual works have all been slight: a tiny homely suite by Moeran with a captivating
finale.
F.H. M/T Oct 1934
Serenade in G (1948)
R95
Published
Novello, 1953
1. Prologue
2. Intermezzo*
"...the Serenade reminds
me of a set of variations
but with the theme
omitted..."
3. Air
4. Galop
Recordings
**Ulster Orch., Handley
)
(1990, CD
*Northern Sinfonia,
Hickox
)
(1989, CD
*Guildford Phil. Orch.,
Vernon Handley,
Concert Artist LPA 2002
)
(1966?, LP
**LSO, Basil Cameron
(1948 broadcast, CD
)
*Six movement version
(as published)
**Eight movement
version (as written)
Reviews
Further Writing
Audio
Available from Amazon
5. Minuet
6. Forlana*
7. Rigadoon
8. Epilogue
(*Withdrawn from published version)
Completed in 1948, the Serenade in G was the last piece of
orchestral music Moeran was to complete, and some cite it
as evidence of his gradual decline. Certainly the piece
shows little apparent effort to follow the innovations
explored in preceding works like the Cello Concerto and the
Sinfonietta - indeed four of the eight movements were
plundered from an earlier piece, Farrago, written in 1932
and later withdrawn.
It is important to point out here that the published version
of the Serenade was in six movements, rather than
Moeran's original eight - though not at the composer's
instigation.
After two initial
Piano Arrangement
performances of the full eight work (one of which was The composer and Oxford music
academic Francis Pott has
recorded by Lionel Hill and now appears on the
Symposium CD alongside the Sammons Violin Concerto transcribed and arranged the Air
from the Serenade for solo piano,
and the Goossens Fantasy Quartet), Moeran's
publishers insisted he removed two movements prior to and has kindly offered it to the
site for download as an Adobe
their accepting the work. Their feeling was that in its
Acrobat (pdf) file. If you don't
original form the work was simply too long (to quote
have acrobat reader, it's free
from another era - too many notes!).
download from www.adobe.com.
In my view this culling of the second and sixth
Here's the piano score:
movements, Air and Forlana, was detrimental to the
work as a whole, and we can be grateful for the efforts
Air (118 kb)
of Vernon Handley and Chandos Records for restoring
the Serenade to its full glory for their 1990 CD release. Lewis Foreman mentions in the
sleevenotes: "Unfortunately the deleted movements underline the work's personality, and
without them it is a much less characteristic score" - sentiments I'd wholeheartedly
endorse.
With four movements, the Intermezzo,
Minuet, Forlana and Rigadoon (II, V, VI
and VII), salvaged from the 1932 work
and the other four written around them
it's too easy to look for stylistic
inconsistencies and argue the work's
relative inconsequence. But perhaps in
doing so one misses the beauty of the
piece, especially in its full version. As
much as one might like, for historical
reasons, for Moeran to go out on a
stylistic high, the truth is that the
Serenade is not full of innovations. With
a backward glance to the Tudor
composers Moeran and Warlock had
been fascinated by twenty years earlier,
it is a work of lyrical beauty which
instead clearly demonstrates that, even
at this late stage in his life, and with the
relative difficulties of the two major
Cello works behind him, Moeran had not
lost his ear for a good tune. One might
even speculate that he wrote the
Serenade as a respite from the mental
struggles of the previous works.
Moeran in November 1947
Perhaps in the age of the CD, rather
than the 78 rpm disc, we are more
forgiving of length. If we take Handley's
Chandos interpretation as a guide, the
full eight movements last a little under
24 minutes, yet Moeran's publisher's
cuts remove seven and a quarter of this, almost a third of the whole. No wonder it has
been so regularly written off since publication!
The eight movements run through some quite different styles, sometimes clearly evoking
Elizabethan dances, sometimes pure Moeranite lyricism. Perhaps this is therefore the
greatest charge one can lay against the Serenade maybe it fails it is in the bringing
together as a whole such disparate styles. Yet in experimenting with bringing together in
one piece the Tudor-esque and the late Romantic, Moeran may have been trying to say
something quite different. Whether anyone was listening is another matter.
The full piece pans out as follows:
I Prologue Allegro (Tudor, stately style)
II Intermezzo Allegretto (total Moeran - bright, lyrical, into bittersweet, then jolly)
III Air Lento (contemplative, pastoral, nostalgic)
IV Galop Presto (galloping!, lively, vibrant)
V Minuet Tempo di Minuetto (Tudor-esque lyrical theme worked into romantic hue)
VI Forlana Andante con moto (gentle, pastoral, quite Moeranite)
VII Rigadoon Con brio, ma tempo moderato (almost military/nautical)
VIII Epilogue Allegro un poco maestoso (reprise of prologue)
Listening to this piece over and over again the thought that strikes me is that, with its
stylistic leaps and jumps, the Serenade reminds me of a set of variations but with the
theme omitted. Confused? Well if you imagine the wild changes that run through Elgar's
Enigma Variations, held together by that common melodical theme, you'll get a feeling for
the changes than run through this work. Now take away the melodic theme, replace it
with a themed opening and finish and 6 central movements that take a much more loose
stylistic influence rather than any specific melody or harmony, and there's your Serenade.
Each movement is short and sharp, each one fits within the boundaries of the piece, yet
each is quite different to the others.
I call it a kind of Theme and Variations, only one where the theme is merely the notion of
a style base, rather than a full musical idea in the traditional sense. It is written in a
popular idiom designed to go down well in the concert hall (as it initially did) - perhaps in
this way it was even a pitch for his own Enigma Variations, a work to finally launch him
into the mainstream as enigma had done 50 years earlier for Elgar, and surely coming
close to delivering.
So Moeran is perhaps playing with us with this piece to a degree. Certainly he has not
been served well by the loss of two of his 'variations' for over forty years. As a final
orchestral work to bow out with (unexpectedly, don't forget) the Serenade in G leaves us
with its own enigmas about Moeran's true intentions for the piece. and what might have
become of the major work he was working on concurrently, the elusive Second
Symphony...
How the Serenade and Farrago match up:
Farrago Suite
Serenade in G
1 - Prelude
2 - Intermezzo
1 - Prologue
3 - Air
4 - Galop
2 - Minuet
5 - Minuet
3 - Rondino
6 - Forlana
4 - Rigadoon
7 - Rigadoon
8 - Epilogue
Symphony in G minor (1924-37)
R71
Allegro
Lento
Vivace
Lento - Allegro molto
Published
Novello, 1942
Recordings
Ulster Orch., Handley
)
(1987, CD
New Philharmonia of
London,
Sir Adrian Boult,
Lyrita SRCS 70
)
(1975, LP
English Sinfonia,
Neville Dilkes
(1973, LP
)
Hallé Orch,
Leslie Heward,
(1942, 78s, reissued on
Dutton CDAX 8001
)
Reviews
Gramophone magazine
reviews
Further Writing
Moeran's own
sleevenotes
W H Mellers' attack
Moeran and
Stenhammer - two
Symphonies too alike?
Audio
At Moeran.com:
1st movt. opening
Available from Amazon
"contains some of
Moeran's darkest and most
brooding moments"
Moeran's only symphony was started in 1924, but abandoned
and only taken up again ten years later, being finally completed
in 1937. It contains some of Moeran's darkest and most
brooding moments, and despite the levity of his brilliant (and it
has been said, unique to British music) Scherzo, the final
conclusion is one of bitterness.
A variety of interpretation have been put on the symphony,
including many references to a perceived similarity to Sibelius,
and yet further examination by Geoffrey Self suggests Moeran is
also passing comment on works by composers as diverse as
Mozart, Brahms and Tchaikovsky. Ultimately, however, it is the
firm fingerprint of Moeran himself which defines his longest piece of work.
Unlike the Violin Concerto which followed it, and perhaps
Real Audio
offers answers to the questions posed in it, the evocations From the 1973 recording by
Neville
Dilkes
and the English
of landscape and mood are often so bleak as to suggest that
in this work Moeran is for the first time confronting some of Sinfonietta, the opening of
the first movement:
his own darkest ghosts, those he has apparently avoided
comment on in his music up to this point: his experiences of
Allegro (1'01")
the First World War. Without doubt Moeran had a
particularly bad time during the war, and was left with a
head injury which never allowed him to forget his trauma,
and which probably contributed to his untimely death in
1950. However, during his time in military service he was
also stationed in Ireland, and this gave him his first taste of the country he came to love
so much.
Thus the third movement, which itself is a brief interlude at less than half the length of
any of the other movements, may in some way be representative of Moeran's place of
escape during the war. Other pointers to this hypothesis can be heard in the end of the
first movement, where after a long, brooding section carried by the horns an almost
mechanistic rhythm breaks out, and the movement ends on a series of percussive strikes
which might surely be representative of gunfire.
During the second movement we hear an episode which, it has been suggested, is
reminiscent of rippling water, seemingly offering a moment of calm in this dark and
troubled music. Yet, if one is to push further the war idea, a re-examination of this
section can also suggest the freedom of air flight: the twisting this beautiful and light
section into something dark and sinister then becomes a commentary on humanity's
ability to take a wonderful new invention and turn it to destructive use. Moeran had a love
of all things mechanical, indeed, Lionel Hill described how Moeran could identify a steam
locomotive by its sound alone, and one can only wonder at his feelings when such
marvels of the age were put to wartime use.
This idea of flight returns in the final movement, where a bitter wind seems to blow
through the flutes, one which serves to heighten the tension slowly mounting in the
tympani before finally breaking into the six percussive cracks of the end of the work.
Geoffrey Self's analysis of the work in his book, The Music of E. J. Moeran comes to a
similar conclusion, albeit through a different and more thorough musical analysis. He
shows the use of a folksong, The Shooting of His Dear, to hold some of the melodic keys
to the symphony, and in particular homes in on the line "for young Jimmy was a fowler".
Self writes: "Could there not be a loose allegory here of a young soldier - Jack [Moeran}
rather than Jim - called by duty to the war, his illusions of military chivalry and nobility to
be shattered by the awesome reality of the sordid carnage and its bleak aftermath." In
addition he believes the Symphony to be "some kind of Requiem or In Memoriam".
Certainly its bleak outlook remains unresolved in this work, and perhaps one does need to
look to Moeran's next major work, his Violin Concerto, begun almost immediately after
the completion of the Symphony, to find Moeran's personal answers to the problems
raised here.
Click here for a print formatted version of this text
Violin Concerto (1937-41)
R78
Published
Novello, 1950
Allegro moderato
Rondo: Vivace - Alla valse burlesca
Lento
The Violin Concerto is without doubt one of Moeran's finest
musical achievements, a work which truly deserves a place
amongst the great works of history. And yet, its story is one
of sorry neglect, with the only known recording prior to
1979 a privately cut set of 78's owned by Moeran's friend,
Lionel Hill, recently made available on a CD transfer. One
can only speculate at the different course history might
have taken had a commercial recording been made during
Moeran's lifetime, with the composer around to promote it surely it would now sit beside Elgar's Concerto in the
repertoire.
Recordings
Albert Sammons,
BBC SO, Boult,
(1946 broadcast, CD
)
Lydia Mordkovitch,
Ulster Orch., Handley
)
(1989, CD
John Georgiadis,
LSO, Vernon Handley,
Lyrita SRCS 105
)
(1979, LP
Reviews
Gramophone Magazine
reviews
Further Writing
Hubert Foss's thoughts
prior to the premiere
Musical Times, 1942
(descriptive article,
August 1942)
Musical Times, 1943
(analytical descriptive
article, August 1943)
Audio
Albert Sammons full
At Amazon.co.uk:
1st movt
2nd movt
3rd movt
Moeran began work on his
Violin Concerto almost as
soon as the ink was dry on his Symphony, and it has been
suggested that the work is in some way an answer to the
questions raised in that work. It is certainly much lighter in
spirit, a deliberate evocation of Moeran's beloved west of
Ireland. Many commentators have drawn comparison with
Elgar's Violin Concerto, suggesting this as a reference piece
for the Moeran, and while there are parallels which one
might draw in detailed analysis, they remain two quite
different works.
The Moeran Concerto has a joy to it, particularly in the
evocation of Puck Fair in the second movement, a delightful
frolic through the sights and sounds of that most famous of
traditional Irish fairs. This is surrounded by two beautiful
evocations of the landscape around Kenmare, County Kerry,
with the first movement addressing Kenmare Bay, the last
an autumnal scene along Kenmare River. In all three
movements the clouds which gathered over the Symphony
are lifted, and we find Moeran's personal answer to his demons. The tensions he builds up
here do find resolution, in beauty, scenic grandeur (although not in the Elgarian sense at
all) and thrilling excitement.
MP3 Audio
First Movement
Lionel Hill's restored
recording of Albert Sammons With its soaring solo lines, the violin enters almost
and the BBC Symphony
immediately, and completely commands the movement. The
Orchestra under Boult in
tone is one of exploration, of powerful scenery, of quiet
1946, the full piece:
pools, rushing waterfalls, high peaks and gentle valleys.
Moeran's musical language is very much his own, with only
Allegro moderato
a brief incursion of a folk-like melody, and yet the evocation
of that area is near perfect.
Rondo - Vivace
Lento
Second Movement
From the opening fanfare we're immediately transported to
a different place, and the soloist introduces us on a merry
jig through the thrills and spills of the fair, with some
fabulous technical fireworks thrown in, and an unmistakable
See also full page item
Irish flavour to the melodies and rhythms. Moeran's mastery
of orchestral textures and possibilities is brilliant, as he effortlessly leads us from one
scene to another, and one pictures the freewheeling joy and chaos, the people, old and
young, the merry revellers, and the quiet corners, the beautiful people he loved so much.
Listen out for what Geoffrey Self described as the rather tipsy waltz which makes a brief
appearance towards the end of the movement!
Third Movement
The feeling here is often more of serenity, and although clouds appear to be gathering at
the start of the movement, small rays of sunlight break through from time to time,
sufficient to light the way, to pick out a path, holding our spirits up for a resolution of
almost heart-rending beauty and ultimately autumnal tranquility. Here is Moeran's answer
to life's problems, found in the country landscape he visited again and again, and where
he found the inspiration for so much of his work.
Click here for a print formatted version of this text
" a delightful frolic through
the sights and sounds of
that most famous of
traditional Irish fairs"
Sinfonietta (1944)
R83
Published
Novello, 1947
Allegro con brio
Tema con variazioni
Allegro risoluto
Recordings
"The first performance of the Sinfonietta is fixed for the B.B.C. Symphony Concert on
March 7th, with Barbirolli as guest conductor. Thank God we have escaped Boult for it!"
LPS., Beecham
(1946 broadcast,
Digital restoration to
)
download
Moeran,
Letter to Lionel Hill, 16th Dec 1944
The Sinfonietta, or "small Symphony" as Moeran
occasionally referred to it, was a product of his rush of
creativity in 1944 - his "bumper year" had also seen the
completion of the Overture for a Masque and the cycle Six
Poems by Seamus O'Sullivan.
Northern Sinfonia,
Hickox
EMI CDM 7 64721 2
)
(1989, CD
Bournemouth Sinf..
Norman Del Mar
Chandos CHAN 8456
)
(1986, CD
London Philharmonic,
Sir Adrian Boult
Lyrita SRCS 37
)
(1968, LP
Philharmonia Orch.,
Sir Adrian Boult
Carlton Classics
(1996, from a 1963 BBC
recording,
)
CD
Reviews
Gramophone Magazine
reviews
Further Writing
The Sinfonietta stands almost alone in Moeran's orchestral
repertoire, a piece in which he quite deliberately attempts
to forge new forms and develop new ideas - here more than
anywhere is Moeran as innovator. Geoffrey Self describes
clearly how at this stage in his life Moeran was somewhat
isolated amongst his contemporaries style-wise, as one of
the last of the 'true romantics', and suggests the Sinfonietta
is Moeran's push 'to get up to date'.
The Sinfonietta is scored for a small orchestra more akin to
Real Audio
From the Chandos recording
that of late Haydn than the full romantic battery, and
Moeran uses this comparitive leanness to achieve a sense of by Norman Del Mar and the
clarity and space. Where other composers, and Moeran
Bournemouth Sinfonia, the
himself elsewhere, might be tempted to fill out or even pad opening to the final
out their orchestration, Moeran frequently demands a
movement:
sparsity that illustrates true mastery of sonic space. Fifteen
years later Miles Davis's jazz recordings turned to the same
Allegro risoluto (30")
philosophy - here what is left out can be as telling and
important as what is played.
The Sinfonietta is quite a concise work. Moeran is frequently
notable for the economy of his developments and ability to
say what needs to be said in a relatively compact manner. Thus his 'small symphony' lives
up to this description not only in orchestration but also in duration, lasting a little over 20
minutes.
Musical Times - 1950
MP3 Audio
Lionel Hill's restored
recording of Beecham and
the London Philharmonic in
1947, the full piece:
Audio
Allegro con brio
Tema Con Variazioni
Allegro Risoluto
Robin Hull - 1948
Full recording
Extract
Composed largely in Kington, close to the Welsh borders,
the Sinfonietta also differs from Moeran's preceding major
works in its general lack of 'Irishness' - indeed, Lionel Hill
describes the first two movements as 'boistrously English in
feeling', though there is perhaps something Irish in the
liveliness of the third movement, which was mainly written
in County Kerry.
Lionel Hill recounts: "He took us out beyond Radnor by
train, and thence by bus to a spot fromwhich we climbed up
and up, seemingly aboove the world, until the ground
flattened out to give us superb views for miles around in all
directions. I remember Jack pointing and saying, 'Over
there is Elgar country, and there, Housman country... The
inspirations for my Sinfonietta came to me up here,
See also full page item
especially the middle movement, which should be played at
a brisk walking pace - as we are doing now."
Barry Marsh has suggested that further to this there is evidence in the final movement of
the type of encounter Lionel Hill went on to describe - to paraphrase, he and Moeran were
approached and wild mountain ponies, "prancing, frothing beasts", as he describes them,
with no place to escape to. Fortunately they were left alone - Moeran was unconcerned,
despite knowing of the deaths of previous walkers caused by these ponies, but Hill was
pretty shaken. Could there be evocation of these wild ponies in the last movement? Barry
elaborates and strengthens this thesis by bringing into play the bell-ringing figure heard
in the same movement as a nod to A E Housman's poem, 'Bredon Hill' from 'A Shropshire
Lad':
In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear. [etc.]
"The inspirations for my
Sinfonietta came to me up
here, especially the middle
movement, which should
be played at a brisk
walking pace"
Pete Lopeman wrote eloquently about
the Sinfonietta on the Moeran mailing
list:
"The Sinfonietta's compact nature (in
both form and orchestra size) makes it
for me almost perfect (in a kind of
Mozart/Haydn way). The opening
movement's strong melody and rhythm
carries me along all the way. It is
landscape in music, it is colour in sound
- loads of green and orange. The second
movement is a brisk walk and even a
jog (didn't EJM mention that it should
be taken at a walking rhythm?) with the
The landscape around New Radnor
sights, sounds and open skies of
Herefordshire. The third movement is like coming down from a long hill walk - trotting
and tripping over one's feet when you can see the pub down below in the valley. EJM's
masterly use of timpani (to me his signature) gives it urgency and strength. The final few
bars which end the Sinfonietta have a comical sense which reminds me of Mozart's 'A
Musical Joke' K.522..
I'm not sure about it being EJM's masterpiece (although that tag is attached to it, I know)
but it's surely a beautiful piece which to me shows a mature and confident composer at
ease with himself and the world."
Cello Concerto (1945)
R89
Published
Novello, 1947
Moderato
Adagio
Allegretto deciso, alla marcia
In 1986, Lionel Hill wrote: "It is a complete mystery why
this splendid Concerto has not been gratefully seized upon
by today's cellists, whose repertoire is not extensive
anyway. The work is in conventional sonata form and is one
continuous paean for the cello, which is allowed to sing
through the expert orchestration from start to finish, and is
the final expression of all that Moeran had strived to say
throughout his life."
Recordings
Raphael Wallfisch,
Bournemount
Sinfonietta, Norman Del
Mar
)
(1986, CD
Peers Coetmore,
London Philharmonic,
Sir Adrian Boult
Lyrita SRCS 43
)
(1970, LP
Reviews
Premiere, Dublin (1945)
Hallé Orchestra (1946)
Gramophone Magazine
review
Further Writing
Moeran's Cello Concerto is without doubt one of his
crowning achievements, and yet it can be a difficult work to
get to love. It is one of those pieces which takes time to be
assimilated, time to be loved. Perhaps the opening theme is
less than welcoming? Or is it rather a work yet to be done
full justice on disc? For it is truly a work of great beauty, and one worth perservering with
if it does not initially appeal, for ultimately the rewards are fabulous.
Moeran opens the Cello Concerto with a grim, jagged
Real Audio
From the Chandos recording
melody which, if it lacks lyrical beauty, does suggest an
elemental harshness - one can imagine wild walks over
by Raphael Wallfisch and the
wintry Kerry Mountains in a torment of passions as he
Bournemouth Sinfonietta, the
contemplates and questions his marriage to Peers
soaring second movement
Coetmore, for whom the concerto was written. This is
theme:
indeed stormy stuff, and Moeran's exquisite control of his
orchestral forces allows the mournful cello to really sing out
Adagio (30")
its pain. And yet there is sunlight here, glinting occasionally
through his clouds, bringing brief, hopeful moments before
the clouds gather again, switching from the major back to
the minor and the tempestuous forces of the full orchestra.
From then on in Moeran's soloist is wracked with torment
and questions, sometimes introspective, sometimes thrashing out, always with the near
bitterness that cuts through this entire movement. The movement ends with a brush of
cold air...
Audio
At Moeran.com:
Excerpt
arranged.
This feeling is immediately picked up on the
brooding, threatening opening to the second
movement, which initally promises more misery,
but just as one buttons down and prepares for the
worst, Moeran's ability to bring light out of shadow
is called to play in a theme of heart-breaking
beauty. Geoffrey Self demonstrates in his book how
the melody here has its origins in the first
movement, yet the two could not sound or feel
more different- someone in Hollywood should be
using this to illustrate their great moments of
loving passion! Here is the tender reward for the
wild tempest of the first movement, music to melt
the coldest heart, and again brilliantly scored and
[Click on the picture above to enlarge the opening bars of the second movement, in
Moeran's handwritten short score]
The second movement ends with an extended section for
Interview
Read and listen to the
solo cello which, in true Moeran style, sounds just like an
interview
by
top British cellist
age-old Irish folk tune, but is probably original. This links
Paul Watkins on his own
seamlessly into the final movement, where the orchestra
picks up on the tune and lifts it into a rumbustuous theme recording of the Cello
Concerto commissioned by
for a constantly varied rondo finale. This Moeran
intersperses with a variety of ideas - he wrote to Peers on the BBC for their Composer
4th May 1945: "the very nature of the main subject seems of the Week programmes to call for an insistence on the Rondo scheme. One is, I feel, the first time Paul had
fully justified in interpolating all sorts of tunes provided the encountered the work:
movement in bound together by the main idea which in the
Paul Watkins
case leads itself admirably to the purpose." Thus he is able
to bring in all sorts of different meditations and episodes, and again the sun is shining - in
a later letter he states: "I am longing to see what other ideas crop up as I forge ahead. I
think working in bright daylight has more to do with it than anything, together with the
pleasant outlook from the window facing me to the green lawn."
Lionel Hill is correct when suggesting this is a wrongly neglected work. Geoffrey Self says
much the same thing: "Arguably it is a work of such quality as to place it with the
concertos of Dvorak and Elgar as the finest written for the instrument. Regrettably, it is
hardly known."
"Arguably it is a work of
such quality as to place it
with the concertos of
Dvorak and Elgar as the
finest written for the
instrument. Regrettably, it
is hardly known"
Perhaps the first movement is too unwelcoming at times? And yet who could fail to be
moved by the second? Here is a work which, perhaps more than any other (with the
relative paucity of great repertoire works for cello and orchestra), deserves its place on
the international stage and the radio playlists. And of course in your CD collection and
heart...
Symphony No 2 in E Flat (unfinished)
R99
Published
n/a
"The Symphony is the devil of a job: I shall get it done it time, but the question of form
and construction is causing me some trouble, as I am arriving at a single-movement
work, or rather a continuous piece having all the ingredients of the usual movements..."
Recordings
Reviews
Further Writing
Audio
Moeran
Letter to Lionel Hill
18th March 1948
Moeran went to his grave without completing the symphony
he'd been working on intermittently from 1945. After his
death there is come confusion as to quite what happened to
his remaining manuscripts, and it is quite possible that
many were lost or mislaid; there was certainly a period of
time where very little care seemed to have been taken over
preserving Moeran's work.
What does remain is largely held in an archive at the
Victorian College of the Arts, Melbourne, Australia, including
some sketches for the Second Symphony. Trying to piece
together information about the work is difficult, and what I
write here is largely assembled from the two currently
available books on Moeran rather than from any 'inside'
information.
It seems the work started as a three movement piece Moeran wrote to Peers Coetmore on 7th January 1946: "The
E flat Symphony progresses, but I am a bit stuck over the
slow movement also about the finish of the first. However, I
have all the material for it and it will only be a matter of
time working it out." By mid-1947, he was still stuck, as
L:ionel Hill recounted: "Jack and I were out for a
walk...when he said 'I'd like your advice. I'm having a lot of trouble with my new
Symphony, and its nearly driving me bats... It's the form of the work that worries me; the
three movements don't cohere, so to speak - there's a lack of unity between them which
is, to miy mind, artistically unsatisfying.' I thought for a minute and then said, 'Couldn't
you make a one-movement work of it, Jack, like the Sibelius 7th?' We walked on in
silence. I gave him a sidelong glance and saw he was deep in thought."
At around this time Moeran commented briefly on his new symphony in a radio interview listen here.
By September 4th, 1947, Moeran had a short score sufficiently advanced that he played
the opening to Lionel Hill on the piano. Hill noted that it was in E flat, "'As in Elgar's
Second,' said Jack, quietly. It began vigorously with high-flying trumpets, followed by a
syncopated strings divisi - the instrumentation was visible on the score. Even on the
piano it was breath-taking in its sweep, and I thought 'This will out-do the First
Symphony if it continues like this.' I cannot recall how much of the work had been
written, but I do remember what fine music it was."
A letter quoted by Geoffrey Self sent
from Moeran (working in Kenmare) to
Peers on 8th March 1948 suggests that
good progress was being made:
"I can't write much because I am at the
moment in a state amounting to stupour
[sic] at the point I have reached in the
symphony. It may be imperfect in its
present form but I think that in the last
pages which complete the first section, I
have reached my high water mark. It is
rather luscious and spring-like - or so I
hope it will sound on the orchestra. And,
incidentally, apart from the lovely
Southern spring here, your gorgeous
cello playing, on the instrument you are
now using which I listened in to last
week put me into such extasy [sic] that
the next morning I really got going with
a tune for cellos mostly in thirds and
sixths. I've tried it out on one or two
locals...they say it reminds them of all
the Kerry tunes put together. The
symphony is taking a peculiar form..."
A few days later he was noting to Lionel
Hill "P.S. New E Flat Symphony going
strong", but this appears to have been
"It began vigorously with
high-flying trumpets,
followed by a syncopated
strings divisi - the
instrumentation was visible
on the score. Even on the
piano it was breath-taking
in its sweep"
the last Hill heard from Moeran about it.
Hill recalled that by 1950 "I was now
becoming more worried about his
memory. He seemed to forget quite
recent event." In fact Moeran's physical
and mental health appears to have been
in decline for quite some time, probably
exacerbated by his drinking. A "state of
total breakdown" (Self) had been
reached by October 1948, and Peers
persuaded him to place himself under
the care of a Dr Hazlett in Cheltenham.
A proposed premiere of the Symphony
by the Hallé Orchestra in the spring of
1949 was postponed. A letter to Peers
from Cheltenham on 14th June 1949
suggests not only great compositional
difficulties, but also some sort of
commitment to continue medical care
until he was 'cured' of his alcoholism:
"...This symphony which I started
perpetrating in Eire, and which I have
been working on here, simply will not
stand...I am not inclined to let go what I
believe to be second rate. I shall have to
scrap this symphony as it is now, nearly
finished, and start again on something
different... the 'venue' is wrong. If I
were in Southern Ireland, I could work it
Jack and Peers Coetmore
out and finish is, but it is absolutely and
irreconcilably impossible to do it here. It started by being Irish, and if I try and put it right
here, it only ends up being pastiche Irish... There are only three alternatives, one is to
tear it up and abandon the E flat symphony and the other is to go to Ireland and complete
it, and the third is to write something else."
By late 1949 Moeran seemed to be suffering from another breakdown and by December
was receiving treatment from a Dr Groves. Work did continue fitfully on the symphony,
and in 1950 he did finally make it to Ireland. But by now, as Moeran's health continued to
deteriorate, it was too late, as Geoffrey Self sadly concludes: "He had achieved the
conditions he thought necessary for the work needed to complete the Symphony - but it
was too late, for he was now incapable of the sustained effort needed."
It is interesting that Moeran had considered the work very close to completion, something
confirmed by his close friend Pat Ryan, who discussed it with him at great length in the
last few months of his life, as searches for it after his death have found little. John
Ireland, examining the remaining sketches after Moeran's death, considered there to be
too little material to attempt any kind of a completetion, an opinion reached by others
since. It therefore seems that either a large amount has been lost, or that Moeran
decided to destroy it himself to make sure it never resurfaced, something he had done
throughout his life.
Writing in the Forum here at The Worldwide Moeran Database, Barry Marsh noted "Sadly
there can be no 'realisation' or 'completion', whatever the word for it these days. 550 bars
of music exists in short score, but after only 9 pages the sketches become disjointed with
little or no fragments to point a further way. The MSS that is now in the Victorian College
of Arts, Melbourne arrived there after a series of blunders and misfortunes...". And so it
seems we will never hear the music which, for a while at least, so enthused and fired Jack
and Lionel up all those years ago.
In The Mountain Country (1921)
R10
Published
OUP, 1925
Recordings
Ulster Orch., Handley
)
(1989, CD
Reviews
Further Writing
Audio
From Amazon.co.uk
Excerpt
In The Mountain Country was Moeran's first published
orchestral work, and, as far as can be ascertained, his first
attempt at writing any full orchestral piece. Remarkably for
a piece so early in Moeran's output there are definite links
to Ireland to be deduced, even if musically there are few
clues.
Moeran originally entitled the work "Cushinsheeaun:
symphonic impression", which even if it shows nothing on
the web search radar, if nothing else sounds Irish! (Actually,
further research suggests Co. Mayo, which he first visited in
1918 - see Chronology. He also dedicated the work to the
great Irish composer and conductor Hamilton Harty, whose
persistence with Moeran eventually resulted in the
magnificent triumph of the Symphony in G minor some sixteen years later.
In Geoffrey Self's view, "In The Mountain Country reflects that nature-worship
characteristic of other music of the period", citing Vaughan Williams' Pastoral Symphony
as a near contemporary work, and suggesting a titular affinity at least with his "In The
Fen Country", which one has to admit is pretty striking.
But looking beyond timing and
naming to the music itself we
find something of a paradox.
Moeran's two preceding
works, the Piano Trio and the
First String Quartet, are both
works bursting with exuberant
musical ideas and vibrant
melodies, yet the present
work shows none of this. As
Self says, "the crippling
handicap of the Moeran is the
dullness of its principal idea."
It's hard to put it any better.
This master of the lyrical
melody appears to come
seriously unstuck here.
And yet his orchestral writing
The Mountain Country of County Kerry
and textures, supposedly
those of a first attempt, shows an amazing degree of mastery. Both in texture, harmony
and counterpoint ideas it shows genuine invention and apparent expertise; if only the
core material had matched up to the technique.
Once again, Self puts this ultimately rather forgettable work firmly in its place: "...Moeran
aspires to mountain music and his earth-bound and wooden little tune does not have in it
the potential for ecstasy...and thus can never soar to reach that rapt contemplation of
nature in solitary splendour which we would reasonably expect from the title." Perhaps he
should have stuck to the more abstract Cushinsheean.
...his orchestral writing
and textures, supposedly
those of a first attempt,
shows an amazing degree
of mastery...
Rhapsody No. 1 (1922)
R16
Published
Hawkes, 1925
Recordings
Ulster Orch., Handley
)
(1989, CD
Reviews
Further Writing
Audio
After the brilliantly-orchestrated but somewhat tunefully
lacklustre first orchestral work, In The Mountain Country (a
piece, incidentally, which Lewis Foreman described as
"effectively Rhapsody No. 0") of 1921, Moeran really found
his stride the following year with his First Rhapsody. Not
only does this build on the technique of the earlier work,
but melodically it is streets ahead, and writers such as
Geoffrey Self feel it to be a superior work to the Second
Rhapsody which followed it. This implies that here we have
Moeran's finest orchestral writing prior to the Symphony of
1937.
Moeran was still studying under John Ireland when he wrote
the First Rhapsody, and it is to Ireland that the work is dedicated. Despite this, Self finds
more of the influence of Delius, in particular the First Dance Rhapsody and Brigg Fair, and
also that of Butterworth's Rhapsody A Shropshire Lad. Meanwhile, mining other
influences, Foreman adds suggestions of Ravel, Bax and Frank Bridge.
While it can be both fun and instructive
to pick over the possible influences on
an early work of a young student
composer, it is important not to let this
overshadow the fact that the First
Rhapsody is very much a successful
piece in its own right. Beginning
somewhat mysteriously with a short
introduction throwing snippets of
melody around the wind instruments, a
sharp suddent chord interrupts and a
gentle rhythm starts underpin what is
still clearly an opening preamble.
Moeran seems to be warming us up for
the main body of music which doesn't
really get going until almost two
minutes in.
From here on we are into a set of
Ireland and Moeran, 1922
variations around a lyrical modal melody clearly evocative of English folk music, which are
the basis on which we are taken foward for a further ten minutes. That most diligent of
music detectives Geoffrey Self can find no identifiable folk tunes that have been used in
the piece - though the melodies Moeran creates were realistic enough to fool a Musical
Times reviewer in 1925.
Moeran was to become a master of exploring a lot in a relatively short time, as later
orchestral works like the Sinfonietta and its near-contemporary, Overture to a Masque
were to prove. Here he is quite successful in holding his ideas together, possibly more so
than in the Second Rhapsody, and though his build-ups and climaxes have great power
they can sometimes come more out of nowhere rather than out of a logical progression of
the preceding music.
Moeran is also keen to explore some of the more unusual time signatures, at one point
simultaneously pitting a 5/8 bass against a 3/4 orchestra in a way which, remarkably,
works quite brilliantly. As a showpiece for a young composer the First Rhapsody is a
triumph - engaging melodies, warm pasoral lyricism, thrilling climaxes, and mysterious
interludes. I leave it though to Peter Warlock, writing in 1924, to provide a final
alternative interpretation: "...the principal theme of his first orchestral 'Rhapsody' which presented by the bassoon in its upper octave - will always appeal to the ribald as the ideal
tune for all Limericks"
Beginning somewhat
mysteriously with a short
introduction throwing
snippets of melody around
the wind instruments...
Rhapsody No. 2 (1924, revised 1941)
R26/R77
Published
Hawkes, 1925
Chester, 1941 (rev.)
Recordings
Ulster Orch., Handley
)
(1989, CD
London Philharmonic,
Sir Adrian Boult,
Lyrita SRSC 43
)
(1970, LP
Reviews
Proms 1929
Further Writing
Audio
At Moeran.com:
Excerpt
Moeran's Second Rhapsody was commissioned in 1923 by
the Norfolk and Norwich Centenary Festival for 1924, and
received its debut performance under Moeran's baton just
two months after the composer had conducted his first
Rhapsody at the Proms, in October and August 1924
respectively. Yet the second Rhapsody was not heard again
for five years, and he came back to revise it in 1941.
This short history suggests that perhaps not all is right with
this work. indeed, Geoffrey Self goes so far as to say "It is a
flawed work. Its textures are crude...attempts made at
polyphony betray an uncertain apprentice hand". Yet in
1929 the Manchester Guardian was to write that it "made a
good impression on the Promenaders tonight...there is so
much to listen to in this work".
Well in both cases some selective quotation seems to
Real Audio
perhaps mask the truth - see the full reviews and you'll see From the Chandos recording
what I mean. The Second Rhapsody is a very interesting
by Vernon Handley and the
work for Moeran scholars, and contains some fabulous
Ulster Orchestra, the
writing and melodies for listeners. By the time of his mature wonderful central theme:
works, Moeran was a master at encapsulating broad ideas
and themes in a tight space, knitting together the logical
Rhapsody 2 (30")
threads of his musical argument in a way he explored in a
1931 article, John Ireland as Teacher.
But here we find the younger Moeran struggling somewhat.
In that article on Ireland he wrote: "All the music which has escaped consignment to the
shelf has been inherently logical. Music, without logical continuity and shape, is lifeless
from its inception." Perhaps this is a lesson he had already learned. Perhaps in learning
that lesson he realised the value of stalling work on the symphony he'd begun in the
same year as he'd premiered the Second Rhapsody, to return to it many years later,
ready at last to do his material justice.
As I said earlier, the Second Rhapsody
does possess some fine musical ideas.
The central, broad slow melody is
undoubtedly one of Moeran's finest, and
bursts from the surrounded music like
sunlight on a summer's day - a section
of this is illustrated here. The work sees
some of Moeran's earliest genuine Irish
influence, at times unable to stop itself
from leaping into a spontaneous jig.
And there's the Norfolk influence there
too.
It is a work bursting at the seams with
creativity - too much so. He's often so
keen to show us his next great idea that
we seem to say goodbye to the last idea
too quickly. Just as you're wondering
where one theme is going to lead
something else starts bubbling under
until it bursts through and shoulders the
last out of the way. In the push for each
idea to get to the front for a place in the
spotlight the joins start to show.
The Second Rhapsody is one of the
earliest examples of a musical form
Moeran was to make one of his
Jack Moeran, late 1920's
trademarks - the Rondo. Yet here he's
still wrestling with the idea, and it seems to have got the better of him somewhat.
In summary, the Second Rhapsody has all the ingredients the more mature Moeran could
have mixed to create a particularly wonderful musical cake. Yet the less experienced
hand, whilst making a fair stab at it, let it sink a little in the oven and singed the edges a
bit. It still tastes great, but lacks the presentation skills of the master chef. It would be
eleven years before he published another full orchestral score.
As a postscript, Moeran returned to the work in 1941 and revised it for a somewhat
smaller orchestra. Whether this was for musical or financial reasons (he was being
courted by another publisher at the time) is hard to say - perhaps he thought it had
enough in it to merit a second look.
The central, broad slow
melody is undoubtedly one
of Moeran's finest...
Rhapsody for Piano and Orchestra (1942-3)
R79
The Rhapsody in F sharp minor* for Piano and Orchestra is
almost, but not quite, Moeran's Piano Concerto, written
shortly before the Sinfonietta which wasn't quite his Second
Symphony. It was written as a Proms commission (following
an earlier suggestion from Arnold Bax that Moeran write
something for piano and orchestra) for the pianist Harriet
Cohen to play. It was first performed at the Royal Albert
Hall on August 19th, 1943, a concert later reflected on by
Lionel Hill:
Published
Chester, 1943
Recordings
Margaret Fingerhut,
Vernon Handley,
Ulster Orchestra:
"I waited impatiently until at last Miss Cohen entered to
applause and sat down at the piano, adjusted her stool,
looked to the conductor - and the Rhapsody sprang to life.
1 - c/w Symphony
2 - c/w Rhapsodies 1 &
2 & In The Mountain
Country
(1989, CD
)
John McCabe,
New Philharmonia
Orch., Braithwaite:
Lyrita SRCS 91
)
(1977, LP
Reviews
Further Writing
"New Music" by Robin
Hull (1946)
Audio
At Moeran.com:
Excerpt
"I had studied the piano reduction score of this work during
Real Audio
From the Chandos recording
previous weeks; nevertheless, I was captivated by the
triple-time entry of the cellos and double basses, followed by Margaret Fingerhut with
by the piano's dramatic statement of the first theme, and as Vernon Handley conducting
the performance continued I became enthralled by the spell the Ulster Orchestra, the
that this composer could weave. There was a juxtaposition opening:
of violence and lyricism that I was later to know was typical
of the man himself. There was also a pervading sense of
Piano Rhapsody (30")
nostalgia for the pastoral scene of long ago - something
whose roots lay deeper than folk music itself."
Geoffrey Self points out that Moeran, despite initial
scepticism, grew to quite enjoy the work himself - unlike
some of its contemporaries. Having writen in October 1943 "to my certain knowledge, it
contains more than its fair share of tripe", eleven months later he was to confess "I find I
was wrong, and I really think that after all it is a very good effort on my part. It seems
now so virile and logical."
Written with a wartime audience in mind, the piece is
both immediately accessible and requiring of
considerable showy virtuosity. Geoffrey Self calls it a
'large-scale waltz', albeit one for which the composer
claimed to have found the inspiration in the 'four-ale
bars of Kerry'. Certainly for an unchallengng,
attractive introduction to Moeran's music, this fifteen
minute piece is hard to beat. As Self notes: "for this
work and one or two others of about the same time,
there was to be a looseness of construction and
relaxation of manner which was not inappropriate to
the aim - a popular work for the delectation of Proms
audiences in wartime." This 'looseness' was to be
significantly tightened up when he came to the
Sinfonietta of 1944.
*Note - from Barry Marsh: "Barry Collett, conductor
of the Rutland Sinfonia, performed the Piano
Rhapsody with Margaret Fingerhut in Leicester in
Pianist Harriet Cohen
EJM's Centenary Year 1994. Both came to the firm
conclusion that the piece should be re-titled 'Rhapsody in F sharp minor' - indeed a study
of the score would seem to support this, that much of the music veers towards the minor,
rather than major keys."
"I was captivated by the
triple-time entry of the
cellos and double basses,
followed by the piano's
dramatic statement of the
first theme, and as the
performance continued I
became enthralled by the
spell that this composer
could weave"
Lonely Waters (1924/31?)
R27
Published
Novello, 1935
Recordings
*Ann Murray,
English Chamber Orch,
Tate
)
(1987, CD
Ulster Orch., Handley
)
(1989, CD
(*includes vocal coda)
Reviews
Further Writing
Audio
At Moeran.com:
Vocal coda
From Amazon.co.uk
Excerpt
Of Moeran's shorter pieces for orchestra it is Lonely Waters
which gets the rave reviews. Warlock described it as "a very
attractive piece for small orchestra", Geoffrey Self calls it "a
near-perfect miniature" and for Lionel Hill it was the spur to
his first making contact with Moeran and later became the
title of his book describing his friendship with the composer.
Hill wrote "In retrospect it seems poetically right that Jack
should have met his death in 'some lonely waters'. This
beautiful work was the cause of our friendship, and
somehow his end was foreshadowed in its dying cadence.
Of all his output this is the one work which I can only
occasionally bear to hear."
Lonely Waters has proved difficult to tie to any particular
date - thought Warlock refers to it in 1924 it has also been dated at 1930-31 by Hubert
Foss in his "Compositions of E J Moeran" of 1948. Geoffrey Self seems to plump for the
work being substantially revised at the later point from an earlier work, citing the
harmonic and structural treatments as being too advanced for Moeran's earlier style.
The piece lasts for around nine and a half minutes, and is built around a Norfolk folk song
already included in the 1923 collection Six Folksongs from Norfolk. Moeran wrote two
alternative endings for Lonely Waters, though made clear his preference for the solo voice
rather than cor anglais. Alas all too frequently it seems the latter is easier to get hold of,
though it is possible to find a recording with Ann Murray singing the unaccompanied lines
towards the end of the piece heard in the audio clip on this website:
So I'll go down to some lonely waters
Go down where no-one shall me find
Where the pretty little birds do change their voices
And every moment blow blustering wild
The song originated in Moeran's visits to remote Norfolk pubs collecting and notating the
songs still sung there in what was already a dying oral tradition. With this in mind Moeran
stated "...it should be understood that the singer need not be a professional
one...anybody with a clear and natural manner of singing may sing the verse."
For Self the music is in some ways reminiscent of the style of Vaughan Williams' Pastoral
Symphony of 1922. It certainly has an especially pastoral, romantic, almost tragic air to
it's nostalgic melancholy. It is easy to understand how hearing the music could bring a
tear to the eye of Lionel Hill as he recalled the loss of his good friend.
Lonely Waters was published alongside Wythorne's Shadow as Two Pieces for Small
Orchestra, despite having very little in common, either musically or in orchestral
requirements. One may wonder whether the association actually does each individual
work a disservice.
"somehow his end was
foreshadowed in its dying
cadence"
Whythorne's Shadow (1926-31?)
R49
Published
Novello, 1935
Recordings
English Chamber Orch,
Tate
)
(1987, CD
Ulster Orch., Handley
)
(1989, CD
Reviews
Further Writing
Audio
From Amazon.co.uk:
Excerpt
"This piece is based on a part-song by Thomas Whythorne published in 1571. The nature
of the present work cannot be better expounded than by quotation of the poem of
Whythorne's song.
As thy shadow itself apply'th
To follow thee whereso thou go
And when thou bends, itself it wry'th
Turning as thou both to and fro:
The flatterer doth even so;
And shopes himself the same to gloze,
With many a fawning and gay show,
Whom he would frame for his purpose"
from Moeran's preface to Whythorne's Shadow
According to Barry Marsh's meticulous chronology, Moeran
began work on a short piece for small orchestra in 1926
while living in Eynsford with Peter Warlock. The previous
year, Warlock had transcribed, edited and published
Whythorne's As Thy Shadow Itself Apply'th, reviving the
maligned Elizabethan composer's reputation, and providing
the inspiration for one of Moeran's few compositions of the
time.
Unfortunately we will never hear the original version written
at Eynsford. In mid-January, 1929, Moeran left England
with Warlock and a group of friends for France and an
expedition to visit Delius. According to Eric Fenby, however,
Moeran was 'mislaid' on the way, and almost certainly
never met his hero. He also managed to end up drunk in Brussels, as Warlock soon after
related: "his last composition...was unfortunately not picked up by the kindly Brussels
gendarme who found its composer in a state of beatific coma in the gutter some years
ago; and nothing more has been heard of it since that occasion".
Warlock did not live to see the resurrection of Whythorne's Shadow that emerged in
1931, and it is impossible to say how closely it resembles the original. If the
forward-looking String Trio might be seen as an elegy to Warlock, Geoffrey Self suggests
that Whythorne's Shadow is Moeran's almost nostalgic 'In Memoriam' to his friend. The
music begins gently in a very formal evocation of the original harmony, and moves
gradually through rondo form, to become what Self entitles "Warlock's Shadow", its final
chromaticism soaked in the harmonies both composer friends had loved in the 1920s.
Christopher Palmer, in 1976, wrote "What he does here, in fact, is to gather together in a
single brief movement the whole complex chain of technical affinities relating Delius, the
folklorists and the Elizabethans. Here is the English Delius movement in a nutshell."
The piece is coupled with Lonely Waters as "Two Pieces for Small Orchestra", and
invariably the two appear together in recordings. Yet there is little to link the pieces even the orchestral requirements are different - and it seems the association is one of
publishing convenience rather than musical affinity.
Here is the English Delius
movement in a nutshell...
Overture For A Masque (1944)
R82
Published
Joseph Williams, 1949
Recordings
Ulster Orch., Handley
)
(1987, CD
London Philharmonic,
Sir Adiran Boult
Lyrita SRCS 43
)
(1970, LP
Reviews
Further Writing
Audio
Blast Legge, his overture must wait... ...honestly, I wish the overture were finished with,
and I were onto something else... ...it is not my top notch... ...now that it's getting into
full score, it is turning out really well... ...I think it turns out to be a good little work what you might call athletic in style...
from Moeran's letters to Peers Coetmore, Nov. 1943 - Feb. 1944
Overture for a Masque was commissioned by Walter Legge
in 1943 for the Entertainments National Service Association
(ENSA), Moeran being one of several composers asked to
write music for performance at concerts for troops during
the Second World War. It comes at a time when Moeran
was at a musical peak, was falling in love with Peers
Coetmore (and consequently would rather have been
writing cello pieces for her), and was approaching a level of
output not seen since his earliest work some twenty years
earlier. It would be a mistake to suggest that he was
churning work out, but certainly this was a fertile and
productive time for him, coming hot on the heels of the
Rhapsody for Piano and Orchestra and immediately before
the Sinfonietta and Cello Concerto.
Andrew Burn, in his sleevenotes for the Chandos release, suggests "It is first and
foremost a work designed to entertain...and with its exuberant syncopated rhythms and
sparkling orchestral textures it does just that", a sentiment Geoffrey Self appears to
agree with - it is, he says, "perfectly tailored to its function...[and] demonstrates...his
thorough professionalism." Self goes on to suggest the orchestration as a response to the
Russian school, particularly Tchaikovsky, and perhaps some Stravinskian rhythmic
syncopation, to which I might add the occasional fleeting shadow of Prokofiev.
The Overture is assembled as a Rondo, one of Moeran's favourite musical structures, and
this allows for a wide range of different musical emotions and textures to be explored in
its compact ten minute duration, from the majestic opening fanfare through the
inspirationally dramatic, hints of far away lands (my Prokofiev moment is followed by an
oboe which perhaps suggests the Orient), some defiantly pastoral English lyricism, a
vigorous march, and that's only the first three minutes!
Whether or not Moeran deliberately set out to invoke specifics images memories or
thoughts in the minds of his audience, most of whom would be fighting far away with little
chance of seeing home and their loved ones in the foreseeable future it's difficult when
listening to the Overture not to associate almost all of the music with a mental
progression of images. There's even a menacing central section which would perfectly fit
a reel of Hitler at his most menacing before the British boats, planes and troops march in
to sort him out...
Unlike contemporaries like William Walton, who became heavily involved in writing music
for propaganda films during the war, this was something Moeran never attempted.
Listening to the Overture for a Masque, one can only believe that film music would have
suited Moeran's style down to the ground, if not his temperament!
"It is first and foremost a
work designed to
entertain...and with its
exuberant syncopated
rhythms and sparkling
orchestral textures it does
just that"
Nocturne (1934)
R70
Published
Novello, 1935
Grez-sur-Loing 3.1.1935
My Dear Moeran,
The poem is beautiful and I am sure it must have inspired you to give the best and most
intimate and tender...you have in your heart. Please dedicate it to the memory of
Frederick, it is a tribute which I know would have given him great pleasure.
Recordings
Hugh Mackey,
Ulster Orch.,
Renaissance Singers,
Vernon Handley
)
(1990, CD
Reviews
Further Writing
Audio
Jelka Delius.
The Nocturne stands at a crossroads in Moeran’s career as a
composer. Before Delius died in 1934 Moeran had already
accepted a commission from the Norwich Philharmonic
Society, but seems to have been stuck for an idea until the
poet Robert Nichols gave him some lines from an unfinished
verse drama entitled ‘Don Juan Tenorio, the Great’. Why
this should have happened remains unclear, unless it is
reasonable to speculate that within the framework of Don
Juan’s ‘Address to the Sunset’ lies Nichols’s own eulogy for
Delius - he knew Delius well. It is essentially a poem of
twilight, evoking much of the atmosphere that is to be
found in Delius’s own settings of texts by Nietzche and Walt
Whitman. But how did Nichols want Moeran to respond? It
is indeed rare that any composer should so quickly put
aside work on a symphony in order to satisfy the plea of a
poet to set his words to music; yet throughout the late summer and autumn of 1934
Moeran took up residence in Nichols’s own Sussex home so that he might complete the
Nocturne. Once finished, he sent the piece to Delius’s wife Jelka, receiving in turn what
seemed to be the ultimate approval.
There is evidence to support the fact that it was much needed. From his student days at
the Royal College of Music Moeran had fallen in love with with the music of Delius and, in
the company of Philip Heseltine [AKA Peter Warlock], himself a Delius ‘disciple’, he had
the opportunity of visiting Grez on at least two occasions. It is, perhaps, a telling
reflection on Heseltine’s relationship with his friend that Moeran, always the less dominant
of the two but probably the one with more humility, was left to be ‘mislaid’ (Heseltine’s
own word) in a taxi and so never got to meet his idol. Fate was to deal a crueller blow in
1929, when, with the invitation to meet Delius at Beecham’s Delius Festival in London
accepted, Moeran suffered an injury which was to confine him to bed for the next
eighteen months. It became a time of self-appraisal, of realising that the years spent with
Heseltine, although fun, had rendered him creatively sterile.
The sudden death of Heseltine in 1930 was a bitter blow, but, in retrospect, the answer to
Moeran’s dilemma - how to go about re-establishing the reputation that he had made
over six years earlier on the British musical scene.
"Delius would have loved to set Robert Nichols’s poem. Moeran does not, however, try to
tell us how Delius would have done it", wrote the critic Basil Maine after the first
performance of the Nocturne in 1935. In the 1933 Songs of Springtime Moeran had
already written a kind of ‘choral chamber music’ but here the treatment is broader, the
canvas a larger one. Although the work is short, it encapsulates much of what was to
come - the Symphony, the two concertos and the 1939 choral suite Phyllida and Corydon.
In Moeran’s words, "The Nocturne should be regarded as a kind of tone poem evolved
around Nichols’s lines, from which both its form and inspiration have been derived. As a
preliminary to hearing this music, the listener is advised to read the poem carefully
through, allowing its mood and meaning to sink in, rather than to attempt to follow it in
performance as a literal line by line "setting" of the words."
Exquisite stillness! What serenities
Of earth and air! How bright atop the wall
The stonecrop’s fire and beyond the precipice
How huge, how hushed the primrose evenfall!
How softly, too, the white crane voyages
Yon honeyed height of warmth and silence,
whence
He can look down on islet, lake and shore
And crowding woods and voiceless promontories
Or, further gazing, view the magnificence
Of cloud- like mountains and of mountainous cloud
Or ghostly wrack below the horizon rim
Not even his eye has vantage to explore.
Now, spirit, find out wings and mount to him,
Wheel where he wheels, where he is soaring soar.
Hang where now he hangs in the planisphere Evening’s first star and golden as a bee
In the sun’s hair - for happiness is here!
Robert Nichols
"It is essentially a poem of
twilight, evoking much of
the atmosphere that is to
be found in Delius’s own
settings of texts by
Nietzche and Walt
Whitman"
(Address to the Sunset,
from ‘Don Juan Tenorio, the Great’)
Notes by Barry Marsh
Symphony in G Minor R71
www.gramophone.co.uk
There are four reviews of Symphony recordings in the Gramofile records on the net since 1983,
of which only the Chandos disc is currently in print. However, copies of the previous releases
may still be tracked down. Note that the two reviews of the Heward recording refer to two
difference transfers, before and after the introduction of digital restoration technology.
...tense anxiety that often
disrupts from beneath the
surface...
Chandos CD CHAN85770
(Ulster Orchestra/ Handley)
Published April 1988
With all its echoes of Sibelius and Vaughan Williams (even, in the finale, of Elgar), its fondness
for atmospheric episodes and its not-quite-symphonic form (a cruelly severe musical surgeon
could probably chop a couple of minutes from each of its movements; the main meat of the
opening Allegro is not so much a development of its material as a fantasia based primarily on its
first subject group), Moeran's Symphony ought to have faded long ago. This performance
proves that it has not, and suggests that its enduring strength lies not in its rich lyricism, nor its
vivid land- and seascape imagery but in the tense anxiety that often disrupts them from
beneath the surface.
...It scarcely needs me to
add that here is a
wonderfully vital and
heartfelt performance of a
fine symphony...
...an electrifying
It is a First Symphony by a composer in his forties who had not written a major orchestral work performance, recorded in an
before, and was rather unsure of his ability to write this one (it took him a decade to complete).
electrifying quality of
It is a flawed work, its recourses to Sibelian models are at times almost blatant, its changes of
richness and clarity...
direction can seem random, but in a good performance (and this is a very good one) the
violently abrupt closing chords of the finale sound like a culmination of those many earlier
moments of shadow, unease or apprehension, which can now be seen as far more essential than
the warm richness of the first movement's 'second subject' (deliberately under-used?) or the
Irish jig that seemed intended as the main matter of the finale itself (and besides, what a very
preoccupied jig it is). The Symphony is closer to school-of-Bax than to school-of-Vaughan
Williams, in fact, despite a franker use of folk-inspired or directly folk-derived material than was
generally Bax's practice, and it is a Baxian disquiet that gives the work its urgency.
MEO
HMV LP ED290187-1
English Sinfonia/Dilkes
Published December 1984
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At the time of the writing of this symphony the more familiar of Moeran's music (the Norturne,
the Songs of Springtime) was lyric, nostalgic, delighting those listeners who enjoyed 'evocations
of the English countryside', and arousing rather less interest among those who did not. New
worlds, for the composer, were disclosed by the symphony's first performance in 1938: here
was a new, powerful symphonic voice, and it was not for nothing that in 1942 the symphony
was chosen for the first British Council supported record (beating Belshazzar's Feast, no less, to
the post). I do not think I ever heard those early Moeran records (Halle/Heward—HMV
C3319/24, 1/43) at the time—though WRA's review of them fell out of my score just now. I do
know, though, that the newer recording now reissued expounds the symphony's breadth of
vision quite marvellously: an electrifying performance, recorded in an electrifying quality of
richness and clarity. Not quite of balance, the woodwind sometimes having difficulty in
projecting their solos.
This last detail is not the case at all in the two short pieces, I think with (very properly) fewer
strings used. These were among the Moeran music of the 1930's familiar to the original
enthusiasts; newer listeners will readily see how unprepared earlier audiences were for the
symphony. But Moeran's older and newer listeners alike must now rate this issue an entirely
treasurable one.
MM
HMV LP EM290462-3
Hallé Orch/Heward
Published August 1985
Heward had directed the first performance of the Moeran Symphony in 1938 and for years later
the work was chosen by the British Council for its first venture into the sponsorship of
recordings. Moeran himself attended the sessions and observed how ill Heward was in his last
work for the gramophone, but there is no sign of any weakness in a gloriously impassioned and
glowing account of the score.
AS
Dutton Laboratories CD CDAX8001
Hallé Orch/Heward
Published May 1993
In 1942 the British Council decided to sponsor recordings of British music, and Moeran's
Symphony was the first work to be chosen. Leslie Heward had conducted the first performance
in 1938, but at the age of 45 he was now mortally ill with tuberculosis, and time was running
short if his authoritative interpretation was to be preserved. At the autumn recording sessions in
Manchester both Moeran and the producer Walter Legge were alarmed by Heward's poor
physical condition, but somehow he fought off pain and fatigue to create a performance which
deeply impressed the composer. It became the most important recording left by a highly
sensitive musician of whom Sir Adrian Boult wrote, "There was no one to touch him, in my
opinion; he'd have gone a long way, if he had lived." Legge also admired Heward greatly,
describing him as "musically speaking, the most satisfying conductor this country has had since
Beecham".
It scarcely needs me to add that here is a wonderfully vital and heartfelt performance of a fine
symphony. Large-scale recordings had retreated to the provinces in the face of the enemy
bombing of London, and whilst it is true that the Halle were no longer quite the body they had
been under Harty, they played their hearts out for Heward. The original recording was dry and
lacking in range: EMI's own LP transfer (8/85—nla) was very serviceable, but Michael Dutton
has opened up the sound in a remarkable fashion. There is now increased tonal depth, more
warmth in the strings and a new solidity in the bass. Here is a case of new technology being put
to very best artistic use.
AS
All reviews ©Gramophone Magazine, Haymarket Publishing
Symphony Sleevenotes
Moeran's own sleevenotes from the HMV recording of the Symphony released in 1943:
Published
Novello, 1942
Recordings
Ulster Orch., Handley
(1987, CD)
New Philharmonia of
London,
Sir Adrian Boult,
Lyrita SRCS 70
(1975, LP)
English Sinfonia,
Neville Dilkes
(1973, LP)
Hallé Orch,
Leslie Heward,
(1942, 78s, reissued on
Dutton CDAX 8001)
Reviews
This symphony was completed early in 1937 and received its first performance at a Royal
Philharmonic Society concert at Queen's Hall, London on 13th January 1938 under the
conductorship of Leslie Heward. It may be said to owe its inspiration to the natural
surroundings in which it was planned and written. The greater part of the work was
carried out among the mountains and seaboard of Co. Kerry, but the material of the
second movement was conceived around the sand-dunes and marshes of East Norfolk. It
is not 'programme music'- i.e. there is no story or sequence of events attached to it and,
moreover, it adheres strictly to its form. It is scored for a moderate sized orchestra
(double wood-wind).
I Allegro.
The Symphony opens without any preamble with the
Real Audio
From the 1973 recording by
principal subject of the first movement, given out by the
Neville Dilkes and the English
violins. In the fourth bar of this there is a figure of four
Sinfonietta, the opening of
semiquavers which subsequently plays an important part.
Special notice may be taken of the downward leaps at the the first movement:
end of the theme. Presently there appears a fanfare-like
Allegro (1'01")
motive on the horns, with which is combined the first
subject fortissimo on strings. This very soon reaches a slight
climax, ending with the downward leap. The music gradually
quietens and slows down, a good deal being heard of the
semiquaver figure, and we arrive in B major for the second
subject. This is a long-drawn-out tune of lyrical character. It continues unbroken almost
to the double bar, just previous to which part of the first subject is alluded to on solo
violin and horn.
W H Mellers' attack
The development is ushered in by the semiquaver figure on a clarinet. The tempo
becomes Allegro molto, the pace is set by a rhythmic figure on the strings, over which the
semiquaver figure, now inverted, is treated at some length on the wood-wind, later in
combination with the first subject in augmentation on bassoons and horns. There is a big
climax leading to what amounts to the return and recapitulation. This is brief and quiet,
the component parts of the first and second subjects and the horn fanfare being
dovetailed in succession contrapuntally.
Audio
A lengthy coda concludes the movement, during which the rhythmic figure from the
double bar assumes importance on the brass, and the inverted semi-quaver figure now
augmented to crotchets is further developed by a solo horn over string accompaniment.
Further Writing
At Moeran.com:
1st movt. opening
Available from Amazon
11 Lento.
The slow movement, which is in B minor, is based entirely on four motives which are
given out at the start in quick succession. The first is an undulating one on cellos and
basses, the second follows immediately on low flutes and bassoons, the third in canon on
all four wood-wind sections, and finally a three-bar motive on divided cellos. The
foregoing material occupies the first seventeen bars. These four motives are subsequently
developed and combined in various ways until the second of them gradually attains final
supremacy in what may be described as a variation of it in the form of a broad twelve-bar
melody, appearing unostentatiously first of all on cellos and basses against running thirds
on the wood-wind. This is repeated on violas, cellos and horn, a climax is led up to by the
fourth motive, in which the first is thundered out by brass and wood-wind in combination
with the tail-end of the second on drums and brass instruments. The music quietens, and
once more the broad melodic variation of the second motive comes back into its own,
played by the upper strings with the first motive in the bass. The movement closes with a
brief glimpse of the third motive on the clarinets.
III Vivace.
The key is D major, the sunlight is let in, and there is a spring-like contrast to the wintry
proceedings of the slow movement. The construction is so simple that detailed analysis
would be superfluous. The main ingredients are the long oboe tune with which the
movement commences, and the subsequent broader melody for strings with its
appendage of a dancing or, more truly, jumping motive on wood-wind instruments.
Eventually, a burst of sharp crescendo chords on the brass leads up to a sudden brief
climax, after which the first oboe is left over and hangs on to recall a fragment of his
original subject over mysterious murmurings on muted violas and cellos, and the
movement comes to an end, 'snuffed out', as it were, by a passing cloud.
IV Lento - Allegro molto.
The Finale is preceded by a slow introduction of twenty-four bars in which the downward
leap from the beginning of the Symphony is much in evidence. The germ of the second
subject of the Finale is heard on the horns and there is a serene and peaceful melody on
the strings which provides complete contrast to the sudden wild mood of the ensuing
Allegro molto.
Here the tempo becomes a quick three-in-a-bar, and violas give out the first subject
proper, which is in the rhythm of a triple jig. This is worked up to a climax on all the
strings, underneath which the trombones come in with a short passage of sharp rising
"It may be said to owe its
inspiration to the natural
surroundings in which it
was planned and written"
chords of the sixth, at the close of which the downward leap appears for the last time, to
be swept aside by the subsidiary first subject. This is a soaring motive on violins and
violas treated canonically with its second half on cellos, bases and tuba, which
last-mentioned instrument now makes its first appearance in the Symphony.
A rhythmic bridge passage makes way for a climax in which the jig-like first subject is
heard in two forms of augmentation, first on horns against staccato chords and then
further stretched out on trombones against rushing scales on the strings and wind.
Another climax heralds the second subject, given out on oboes and bassoon over a
monotonous pedal figure on drums, harp and basses. This alternates with a broad,
march-like theme for strings and an attendant canon for horns and basses, but eventually
tails off on violins and violas, the concluding harmonic progression forming the germ on
which is built up a long, rushing string passage. Over this appears first the jig-like tune,
then a persistent development of the subsidiary first subject, which now assumes
ascendancy. Presently the second subject makes several tentative experiments and
eventually, after what has been a combination of working out and return from preceding
material, appears in its final recapitulatory position, now in seven-four time.
The tempo slackens and the coda or, more properly, the epilogue, takes place for forty
bars, all of which, except the last two, are on the tonic pedal of G.
Here there is quiet retrospection of the march-like theme on the violas, introduced by its
attendant canon on the upper wood-wind. The semiquaver figure from the first movement
is recalled in its inverted form, a final crescendo leads to the conclusion, and the
Symphony ends with a series of six crashing chords.
Click here for a print formatted version of this text
Wilfred Mellers - not a fan...
I am grateful to Pete Lopeman for not only digging out and typing up
"...the chaos of
these two articles, but also providing linking commentary. W H Mellers E. J. Moeran's Symphony..."
was not a great lover of Moeran, and these are certainly the most
hostile criticisms I've seen yet. Yet with almost sixty years gone since
the later article was written, are his arguments still relevant? You
decide.
"... composers like Moeran
succeed only in writing pretty
Pete Lopeman comments: They are both written by W. H. Mellers, a
pretty pastiche..."
music critic for Scrutiny. It is worth noting that Scrutiny was founded
and edited by the great English literary critic and Fellow of Downing
College, Cambridge University, F.R.Leavis - one of the great
supporters of traditional culture and high art and fervent opponent of
popular ephemeral arts. Scrutiny ran from 1932 until 1953, and was
very much in the editorial grip of Leavis (a right-of-centre Liberal) who
was following in the cultural tradition of Wordsworth, Matthew Arnold,
W H Mellers
and T.S.Eliot who all opposed the erosion of fine culture by mass
culture in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.
There are two articles by Mellers whose extracts are below; the first is a general criticism of the
Moeran/Warlock/Delius influences.
'Delius and Peter Warlock' Scrutiny, Vol V, No 4, Cambridge, March 1937.
'Delius has nothing whatever to offer to the composer of the future those composers who, like
E.J. Moeran, try to follow him succeed only in writing pretty pretty pastiche - and the last thing
one would say about Delius's best and most typical music would be that it was pretty pretty.
The only composer who is supposed to have derived from Delius and who has composed music
of any lasting significance is Peter Warlock.' (p.390)
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So now we know what Mellers thinks about Moeran's general
On Mellers now
abilities as a serious composer; what is his opinion of the then
Pete
Lopeman:
" I think in
newly-released Halle/Leslie Hewerd/HMV recording of the G minor
hindsight, as it were, that
Symphony? This extract comes from:
maybe Mellers was swept
along by the tide of
`New English Music' Scrutiny Vol. XI, No 3, Cambridge, Spring
Modernism and expected
1943. p. 174.
Moeran's music to either take
up the blatantly Modernist
`How impossible it is to merge so restricted a dialect [Mellers'
dialect refers to Finzi's use of folk-song which he acclaims] either cause or keep itself firmly in
the Finzi/
into a vitally contemporary speech or into the main European
Rubbra/RVW camp, which
traditions is revealed clearly in the chaos of E. J.Moeran's
obviously it did neither, much
Symphony - the lack of adequate formalization and the
intermittency of its textural interest - for while this work no doubt to Mellers' annoyance."
contains material for three or four rural elegies of about four
minutes each it is as a "modern" symphony an anachronism. The Dr Bruce Polay: "Mellers'
kind of success that is possible for a contemporary composer in writings ARE dated and
certainly not amongst the
this vein is indicated by the yearning anguish which is given to
most authoritative -- at least
the first movement's modal, folksong first subject by a sinuous
twist of rhythm and tonal centre at the end of the phrase; but it that was my view from the
historical research I did in
is not the kind of virtue that can be developed to symphonic
proportions. This first movement has climaxes in plenty, it stops prep for my analytical
and starts with no doubt all kinds of thematic inter-relations, but research."
it has no emotional growth because there is a fundamental cleavage between the folksong and
Delian elements and the attempt at modernity - a cleavage still more patent in the ostensibly
"tragic" finale with its melodramatic metrical ferocities out of Walton's Symphony, its canon on
the brass from Vaughan Williams's Fourth. Potentially the most interesting movement is the
lento, which begins well in the Baxian manner, a wild "celtic" lament with surging strings and
chromatically gurgling woodwind; but here again it lacks direction, and it takes Delius at his
best to doodle around and get away with it. Nothing could be further from either the
concentrated evolution of a lyrical idea in Rubbra's symphonies, or the sharp lucidity of the
articulation of the sound pattern in Copland's sonata, than this verbose, opulent, wailing,
provincial music.'
One wonders what Peter Warlock would have made of his friend's music being described as
`opulent, wailing, provincial music'!
Who was Wilfred H Mellers? Find out more here.
(Sample quote: "Rarely has such erudition been joined with such a degree wisdom and insight."
Hmmm...)
Moeran and Stenhammer:
Two Symphonies too alike?
An article drawn from the
Moeran mailing list.
It's a question which has dogged Moeran's music for many years - is it too derivative? Is
Moeran's own voice sometimes lost beneath his influences? Does he wear his heart too much on
his sleeve?
One case in point is the apparent similarities between Moeran's Symphony and Wilhelm
Stenhammer's 2nd Symphony. Stenhammer (1871-1936) was a Swedish composer who owed
something to Sibelius, as did Moeran. His Second Symphony, written in 1915, was in G minor,
as is Moeran's. And even the most untrained ear can hear immediately the four note motif from
Moeran's Symphony (Self's Cell A) occur prominently in almost exactly the same rhythm
towards the beginning of Stenhammer's 2nd.
Moeran's 4 note motif in isolation...
...and in context (from Geoffrey Self's "The Music of E J Moeran")
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Yet looking beyond this particular motif, other striking similarities in the two pieces have been
detected, especially in the two respective opening movements. Taking part in a debate on the
Moeran mailing list, here is composer and Oxford academic Francis Pott discussing the
Symphonies and more:
To name but a few 'coincidences':
(a) Stenhammar fig. 1 (Gehrman score): woodwind figure strongly resembles ostinato patterns
in Moeran's development.
(b) repeated quaver G minor triads at fig. 16 (Stenhammar), plus inversion of his initial rising
fifth so that the theme now matches the opening of Moeran's...
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©2001 Andrew Rose
(c) leading up to fig. 29: reduction to a double bass quaver ostinato: see -very curiously,
though this time coincidentally! -figure 29 also of Moeran... This leads back, in both cases, to
development of the ostinato figure.
(d) Stenhammar at fig. 36 (recap. of main theme) plonks in a sudden resounding tonic major
chord. Moeran does it first time around, at bar 8 of figure 2, to inevitably similar effect.
These are just a few. I make no suggestion of a close stylistic affinity (Stenhammar's overall
conception owes plenty to Bruckner's Fifth, especially in the finale, and that's a long way from
Moeran). The veneration in which Stenhammar held Sibelius MIGHT be significant: while one
has to believe that Moeran's innocent perturbation was genuine when ('pace' Bax's obit.) told
that he'd cribbed from Tapiola (which Bax does no less obviously, and consciously as well, in his
Sixth Symphony, scherzo reprise), the possibility must remain that if he DID ever hear the
Stenhammar it might have been the Sibelian tendencies in it that filtered selectively through to
him, without his
necessarily even realizing that's what they were?..
You can't ignore Moeran's own Sibelian tendencies (see also Symphony/slow movt), and they
are strikingly at odds with most other composers in Britan at the time in their personal effect
(though I've often wondered whether he knew and was symphonically influenced by Hadley's
'The Trees So High' - many similarities, including taste for the minor root chord with added
sharpened sixth - see first 'big'
thematic development in Moeran's slow movt).
No, Stenhammar is not lightly dismissed, however hard you try! If coincidence, it's a big one.
No true composer models himself entirely - sometimes even consciously - on one thing or
person. Who knows how much undiagnosed effect there is in Moeran's Symphony - or other
works - of his enthusiasm for Haydn, for example? But I bet it's there. My old composition
Stenhammar is not lightly
dismissed, however hard you
try! If coincidence, it's a big
one...
teacher Robin Holloway used to say that composing was a matter largely of 'digging into what
you already have': the fact that it's been sloshing around in your head with everything else, like
several lunches in your stomach, will mean that what eventually gets regurgitated (excuse
horrible image!) will have your stamp on it, if you're worth your salt (which EJM definitely is
-and so for that matter is Stenhammar: still much underrated). People are too black-and-white
about influences, and I tend to trust fellow composers on the subject because they usually seem
to have learnt by experience not to be!
Finally, just as a real bit of mischief, try comparing the oboe themes
(both in A minor) from the slow movt of Stenhammar's FIRST Symphony and the
Minuet from EJM's Serenade... Coincidence? Probably this time, yes, and the
resemblance is not THAT close: but if an influence IS conscious - as it may
be - then decency requires at least a judicious amount of disguise... People
bang on about EJM's Cello Concerto slow movt being so close to Brahms 2nd
Piano Concerto, Elgar's Cello Concerto, etc (not to mention Dvorak in the
Finale). Not many seem to have commented that the slow movt theme's first
seven principal notes exactly shadow the slow movt of Elgar's VIOLIN
Concerto. How conscious/subconscious/judiciously or injudiciously
'disguised' is that? Influence is a very slippery subject. Dismiss
Stenhammar and others at your academic peril!
Continuing on this theme, Jonathan Cook went on to make the following comments:
After spending 2 years contemplating the subject of Moeran and his influences whilst at Oxford
in the early nineties, I can honestly say there are reams to be written on the subject. Francis
has mentioned Elgar and Stenhammer, there is also Walton (Portsmouth Point as I recall), of
course Sibelius and most importantly for me the whole area of Moeran's relationship with
folksong.
I partly subscribe to Self's ideas of there being 'cells' in Moeran's compositional style, but take
this proposition further (more when I have had chance to revisit my earlier work) tracing
motivic constructs through folksong and into other's compositions.
It is easy to see the folksong link as 'quaint' but not 'real' music. The effort Moeran invested in
the Folksong & Dance Society and work he did for their publications, let alone his exposure to
the medium in his formative years in Norfolk (and later in Ireland), to me justify this subject for
serious discussion alongside proper comparisons with the works of Elgar, Bax, Sibelius etc etc.
So is there a conclusion to be drawn from this? It seems impossible to prove absolutely one way
or another that Moeran knew the Stenhammer 2nd Symphony. Francis Pott's arguments do
seem pretty convincing and watertight, yet others have rejected the idea outright: in his book
"The Music of E J Moeran", Geoffrey Self reduces the whole idea to a footnote where he
mentions a letter on the subject from Colin Scott-Sutherland. In conversation with me in 2000 it
is still a connection he vehemently rejects, as does Barry Marsh.
So for now I'll take the easy way out and reserve judgement - I really don't know the
Stenhammer well enough to comment. You could try getting hold of a copy of the Stenhammer
and draw your own conclusions - click here - and then join the debate on the Moeran Mailing
List - see the links above left.
Violin Concerto R78
www.gramophone.co.uk
There are two reviews of Violin Concerto recordings in the Gramofile records on the net since
1983, both of which are currently in print. Not included is a review of the excellent John
Georgiadis recording with the LSO under Vernon Handley on Lyrita vinyl - an LP well worth
tracking down.
Chandos CHAN8807
Mordkovitch/Ulster Orch/Handley
Published September 1990
I still have a clear recollection of hearing the Prom broadcast of the first performance of
Moeran's Violin Concerto in July 1942 when Arthur Catterall was the soloist. It swept me off my
feet and for days afterwards I was haunted by it. The spell, I fear, has not survived the passing
of nearly 50 years, in spite of my hearing several excellent performances by the Halle in the
Barbirolli era. Today I would rate the Cello Concerto much higher among English concertos and
in Moeran's own works.
What captivated me at first, of course, must have been the finale and in particular its last five
minutes, a most moving elegy which Lydia Mordkovitch plays very beautifully on this excellent
new recording. Generally, though, the work is too long and diffuse and there is too much rather
self-conscious Irish-jiggery. But if this doesn't worry you and you can surrender to its rhapsodic
musings and gusts of passion and forget its obvious debt to Elgar and Delius, then this is as
good a performance as you could wish, recorded with the clarity and fidelity that are the
hallmark of Chandos recordings. The Ulster Orchestra plays superbly, so that Moeran's attractive
and colourful scoring gets its full due; and, of course, Vernon Handley is a sympathetic
interpreter.
MK
Symposium mono (Full price) (CD) SYMCD1201
Sammons/BBC SO/Boult
Published May 1999
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We owe a huge debt of gratitude to Lionel Hill (from whose private collection the present
triptych was quarried) that he managed to persuade his father-in-law, the great Albert
Sammons, to take up a work he was surely born to play. For those who love Moeran’s Violin
Concerto as much as I do, hearing this glorious broadcast performance with Sir Adrian Boult and
the BBC SO from April 1946 will be an intensely moving experience. Sammons plays with great
poetry and sweetness of tone, while Boult’s masterful accompaniment is a model of enviable
cogency and scrupulous sensitivity. In his booklet-essay, Hill (whose close friendship with
Moeran is touchingly annotated in Lonely Waters; Thames: 1985) describes how ‘over the
following months I moved Heaven and Earth to get HMV or Decca to record a performance with
Sammons and Barbirolli – all to no avail.’ That same year, Sammons gave his last concert
performance ever (of the Elgar) before he contracted the Parkinson’s disease that was to blight
the remaining 11 years of his life.
AA
All reviews ©Gramophone Magazine, Haymarket Publishing
...It swept me off my feet
and for days afterwards I
was haunted by it...
...Moeran's attractive and
colourful scoring gets its full
due...
...Sammons plays with great
poetry and sweetness of
tone...
From The Listener, July 3rd, 1942
Moeran and the English Tradition
By HUBERT FOSS
The first performance of Moeran's Violin Concerto will be broadcast on July 8 at 8.0 p.m. (Home
Service)
THE second phase of what we might call 'the English revival' in composition kept very closely to
its own lines of development. The Russian ballet might reveal new exotic charms, Stravinsky
could thunder his practical theories of aural values across a world willing for novelty. Schönberg
from another angle of approach could attract attention for the very unattractiveness of his
intellectual sounds But the still young - at least not more than partially adult - spirit of English
musical composition was affected by two quiet separate elements - English folk-song, and what
is called too vaguely 'old music'.
There is room for a study in detail of how English movements in music have nearly always
followed, and neither kept pace with nor anticipated, the literary movements of the country. For
example, into this second phase we are discussing, there came a new Wordsworthism: a spirit
of nature that is not in the least naturalistic. It is a form of musical contemplation from the soil
upwards: the peaceful growth of the plant is philosophically as important as its flower, and
indeed it might be said that English music has not been content, not even sometimes willing, to
pluck the flowers and make them into a lover's garland. There has been a neglect of the very
thing which by his mastery of it made Stravinsky successful: effect. For effect is (dare I say?)
effective and so successful, catching, compelling. To read the scores of Cowen and Mackenzie,
Stanford and Parry, alongside the scores of Warlock, Vaughan Williams, and Butterworth, is to
read two groups of completely different prose styles. The later group shows no more sincerity of
intention, but it shows a far greater critical sense of musical values, and of the absolute truth of
the musical phrases it writes down. From phrase-making in a conventional manner we proceed
to the delicate management of a pithy and flexible language. The English musical tongue has
become a real national medium again; but from its very truthfulness it is not compelling. And, in
the state of apathy towards native-born music which has been our musical heritage since
Purcell, this music, lacking compulsion, has no chance of attack, adopting a defensive, almost
entrenched position, while frequently the international battle has moved its centre to another
front. The result is for the English composer disastrous: his virtues are not noticed, his existence
not believed in. He is hard put to it to get a hearing, much less a living, and as Alan Bush points
out in the current issue of The Author, the English composer is the last person recognised by the
English concert-goer.
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I do not for one moment accept this popular neglect as a slur on English composition. I have my
own beliefs, but they do not permit me such perspective of eye as will tell me whether the forty
years of this century will live or not. I am convinced that musically, for England, they are years
of splendid composing: and I am equally convinced that a majority of those who do not think so
have not taken the trouble to know the music which they decry.
Moeran's music has the firm, growing attractiveness of a tree. It is not difficult to neglect its
existence for it does not command one's attention. The fault is not the composer's, for it is
there, this music. The reference books say that Moeran's music is indebted to folk-tunes.
Perhaps: but far less than Grieg's, or Falla's, or Dvorák's, whose local colour we extol. And as an
actual fact, to what extent? There is the pentatonic scale, a scale without semitones. Moeran's
harmony is in general based upon the tone, as Walton's finds its characteristic flavour from the
semitone. Thus Moeran's dissonances are of mellower sound than Walton's; his harmonic
scheme never deviates far from the pentatonic scale - he startles us by richness rather than
surprise of sound. The English folk-idiom has persisted more in song than in dance, and the
older instruments of the dance have not survived in their original shape - the rebeck is now the
violin and the tabor is a charming archaistic revival. Moeran's music is therefore infected by
song rather than by instrumental music. I personally perceived an advantage here. Years ago I
pointed out that the viola part of 'Flos Campi' by Vaughan Williams is vocal, whereas the voice
part in Hindemith's 'Marienlehen' derives from the viola. The opening of the second movement
of Moeran's String Quartet is a song: it speaks from within, as song must. Not paradoxically, it
may be said that to discover how small an extent Moeran's idiom is influenced by folk-song, the
best way is to examine closely his folk-song arrangements: in particular 'The Little Milk-maid'
and 'Down By The Riverside'. Here, with reverence, he makes the songs his own: they do not
absorb him. And, in his original works, there is more trace of Irish influence than English in the
dialect.
Moeran's output is not very large. There are three outstanding chamber works of the early
1920's - a String Quartet, a Violin Sonata, and a Pianoforte Trio. The first two have moments of
great noisiness, of a passionate and even violent statement. The Piano Trio comes from the time
when Moeran was a prolific and continuous writer, of a flow that dried up as he matured: it
represents in its published form a very reduced version of the original conception. The String
Quartet does not fade in beauty by one shade of colour. The slow movement is as beautiful as
ever, inspired by pure musicality of conception, expressed in a medium of lyrical style and
precision of phrase very like that of the verses of A. E. Housman. The Violin Sonata is more
rugged: it opens with what appears to be an epigram and turns out to be a dramatic speech:
and in its last movement there is a variety of rhythmic excitements which are almost too much
for the slender instrumental forces. Then Moeran gives us a number of lovely songs, where, for
example in 'Come Away, Death', he shows that, though his technique is not creative but based
on a traditional language, he has a precise and delicate ear for original sound and for exact
"Moeran's music has the
firm, growing attractiveness
of a tree"
registration. Perhaps his most perfect song is ' 'Tis time, I think, by Wenlock Town'. In a more
dramatic way, the four James Joyce songs are of outstanding interest: they epitomise this
philosophic attitude towards musical expression. Moeran is not a miniature painter: but he
excels in swift development of big ideas in a small time-space.
The contemplative Moeran, the composer who dreams his music irrespective of life's conditions,
dreams it for long periods and writes it with 'emotion remembered in tranquillity', is seen again
the the String Trio and the Duo for two violins. This management of stringed instruments dates
from Moeran's schooldays at Uppingham. He revels in these difficult mediums: but he is
nowhere trying to startle us with them. Yet the technical skill is such that one is agog to hear
how he will treat the solo part in a violin concerto. Of the orchestral pieces, I like best the quiet,
tender 'Thomas Whythorne's Shadow'. The Symphony has been played too seldom for me to
know it: there is always in it, as there is in all Moeran's music, a purely musical, touching
quality which defies analysis. It has the human tenderness of the country people, and a sense of
the long endurance of the countryside. I have not assimilated it as a symphony: on another
performance, I hope I should. And later there came two groups of part-songs, in longish cycles,
'Songs of Springtime' and 'Phyllida and Corydon'. They have a strange individuality: there is a
personal flavour about them. I have often wished to get to know them by conducting them,
which would be the way of finding out their worth.
As English as this land, Moeran's music has, as Hadow said of Schumann, the power to make its
hearers go on dreaming after the music has stopped. The nostalgic quality is healthy. It must be
sought before it reveals itself. It does not display its charms in the limelight of the day. It is
neither topical or fashionable. It does not shout. I would not call it masterly, certainly not
masterful. But its singing quality is undeniable, something to treasure.
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Moeran's Violin Concerto
Mr. Moeran has pleasing
THE general plan of E. J. Moeran's Violin Concerto is somewhat unusual. After the first
things to say, and says them
movement there comes a scherzo, and after the scherzo a Lento, with which the composition
with a graciousness that is all
ends. This is unusual but not revolutionary. As the most popular symphony of our time, the
too rare in modern music
Pathétique, ends with a slow movement there is no reason why a concerto should not follow so
attractive a precedent. Indeed, Mr. Moeran is wise in refusing to write a final rondo if he feels,
as a composer does feel, that he has said all that for the time he wants to say. The Concerto is
also unusual in the construction of the first movement, and this innovation will not be accepted
without some reservations. One of the themes, for instance, appears in the orchestra but not in
the solo instrument, which is in keeping with the modern notion of a concerto as a composition
not written solely to display a player's skill, but one in which the solo instrument is a very
important, though not the only important, part.
But if the plan implies a loss on the swings it provides compensations with the roundabouts. The
limelight may not be constantly on the soloist, but that means not that it is dimmed; it means
that it is shifted on to some other feature. In any case the solo is conspicuous enough and, as
the exceedingly fine playing of Arthur Catterall showed the other night, as grateful to the player
as it is satisfying to the listener. Mr. Moeran has pleasing things to say, and says them with a
graciousness that is all too rare in modern music. He is modern enough in his technique but
does not make a parade of modernity; he has the gift of lyrical expression, but does not make
lyrical expression the sole aim of his composition ; his treatment of the orchestra is that of an
expert but he doesn't make the orchestra ' dance,' as Verdi expressed it.
The outcome of this happy combination of generous gifts and strict control, of a natural instinct
controlled by knowledge and experience is very gratifying. For one thing it gives the Concerto a
very original turn - not less original or striking because of the Irishness of the Scherzo and
concluding Lento. The programme notes told us that the work was conceived in Ireland and that
it might, therefore, bear the influence, conscious or unconscious, of Irish folk-song. That
influence is felt but does not intrude. The music is not based on folk-song, and one is aware of it
only as one might be aware of national characteristics in any other work which does not
deliberately imitate a foreign idiom.
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The brilliance of the Scherzo and the graver lyrical beauties of the last movement are
significant, pointing to an artistic temper that is neither easily led into wild experiment nor
afraid of novelty. The violin is an instrument that lends itself better than most to the mood of
the scherzo. The comparative ease with which it can perform tricks, the variety of its 'coups
d'archet,' open up great possibilities in that direction. Yet no concerto has ever tried to exploit
them with the single exception of a Concerto of Vieuxtemps which is still taught to
students-often omitting the Scherzo. Now moderns are showing a desire to explore this field. A
few months ago Sir George Dyson charmed an audience with the Scherzo he had provided for
his Violin Concerto, and now Mr. Moeran repeats the experiment with equal felicity.
But above all things the violin is a lyrical instrument, and Mr. Moeran never allows himself to
forget it. He has some very fine lyrical passages in the first movement, and the last abounds in
phrases which have a most fascinating eloquence.
Lastly his Concerto seems exceptionally well written for the soloist. The general tendency today
is to write extremely difficult passages which never make the effect they should. Composers
may say that the effect intended is, in fact, achieved and, of course, if the composer is satisfied,
the critic should be silent, while players possessing a great technique will probably support the
composer because they will be stimulated by the challenge to their powers. Thus all in the
garden would seem to be lovely-but it isn't. The system is simply uneconomical. It predicates a
maximum of effort with a minimum of effect. Such a combination has always been and ever will
be uneconomical. Now there is nothing of the kind in the Moeran Concerto. The writing does
here and there presume an unusual degree of ability in the player, but the reward is
commensurate with the effort. After all, the greatest skill of the player is not apparent in
triumphant progress through awkward double stops (of which the listener is totally unaware),
but in the treatment of a noble passage. The greatest difficulty in Beethoven's Concerto is not in
its scales and arpeggios but in the realization of the grave beauty of some extremely simple
phrases of the Larghetto.
F. B.
Moeran's Violin Concerto
By EDWIN EVANS
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MOERAN is essentially a lyrical tone-poet. Whatever the degree of constructive skill displayed in
his major works he is invariably at his best when moved to song. At such moments one forgets,
as being of little importance, whether he has or has not satisfied all the postulates of musical
architecture, in the sheer beauty of the lyrical expression. It is so, for instance, in the lovely
concluding pages of his Symphony, in which one is content to be swayed by lyrical exaltation
alone and cares little by what logical process that stage has been reached, though it will bear
examination from that angle if one is that way inclined. It is in the very nature of such music to
be, if not actually induced, at least profoundly affected, by the conditions under which it is
created. This lends more importance than usual to the circumstances of time and place of
composition. His Violin Concerto was begun on Valentia Island in 1938, the year after the
completion of his Symphony, but whereas much of the latter was composed during the stormy
winter months the first movement of the Concerto was written during the summer calm. The
rest of the work was composed at Kenmare, South Kerry, which lies at the landward end of a
long fjordlike inlet of the Atlantic. It was occasionally set aside while the composer was engaged
on other work, notably the choral Suite 'Phyllida and Corydon' (1939), some songs, and the
planning of instrumental works to follow, and was not completed until the end of 1941. So far as
the composer is aware, no use is made of actual folk-tunes but, as he explains, he was living in
the midst of a community where, apart from the radio, little else was to be heard. He was
actually taking advantage of the opportunity to collect folk-songs in the district. It would
therefore appear almost inevitable that the influence of folk music should assert itself, and
unnatural on the composer's part to strive against it-for which, as we know from other works,
he would have had little inclination. This influence is felt especially in the second movement, a
Rondo, which expresses the spirit of the summer fairs of Kerry, and particularly of the famous
Puck's Fair of Killorglin, which lies to the north, near Castlemaine Harbour and Dingle Bay. The
retrospective third movement originated during the autumn of 1941. In its concluding pages it
reflects the calm experienced in Southern Ireland at this season, before the gales begin to burst
in from the Atlantic.
The first movement, Allegro moderato (4-4) in G major, opens with:
on the strings, joined at the third bar by clarinet. This short phrase, which is reserved for the
orchestra and never given to the solo instrument, recurs frequently in the course of the
movement, and returns to preface the epilogue which concludes the work. At the sixth bar the
solo violin presents the main subject of the movement:
In modified form this same theme is also the basic subject of the last movement. At its
conclusion Ex. 1 is heard a tone higher, followed by a brief lyrical phrase which, although it is to
recur at the very end of the movement, has otherwise no individual thematic importance, but
like some others in the course of the work, may be considered an indication of mood. This leads
immediately to a new subject:
So far as the composer is
aware, no use is made of
actual folk-tunes but, as he
explains, he was living in the
midst of a community where,
apart from the radio, little
else was to be heard...
in the continuation of which, after a recall of Ex. 2 by the orchestra, occur dance-like figures
foreshadowing a mood which is to assert itself before the exposition is completed. After a
cadenza based on Exx. 3 and 2, and ended by the orchestra with Ex. 1, a modulation to B minor
introduces the second subject:
This is followed by the anticipated change of mood in a tripping, dance-like, non-recurrent
episode (12-8) , first on the wood-wind in imitation, then on the solo violin, towards the close of
which Ex. 3 reasserts itself on the orchestra, to be extended in imitation in a tutti, concluding
the exposition. As frequently in the works of contemporary composers, development and
recapitulation are virtually one. The solo instrument muses rhapsodically, molto rubato, on Ex.
2, the orchestra interpolating Ex. 1, and continues to elaborate until the oboe interposes with a
new non-recurrent lyrical phrase which the solo violin imitates an octave higher. This leads to a
variant of Ex. 1 on the orchestra, followed by a cadenza and the return of the second subject,
Ex. 4, on the clarinet, the solo violin taking over its second phrase. Ex. 1 in its original form and
the lyrical phrase which preceded Ex. 3 bring the movement to a very quiet conclusion.
The Rondo, Vivace in D (2-4, 4-4, 3-4) is largely based on various dance-rhythms all worked out
to the unit of the quaver, which remains constant in spite of many changes of time-signature,
and rhythmic combinations. It opens with the strings indicating the initial rhythm in triplets,
trumpet and wood-wind adding a rising figure. At the seventh bar the horns give out
marcatissimo a vigorous theme in a counter-rhythm:
the strings continuing their figure. The solo violin then enters with a short bravura passage
leading to:
which is quickly carried to a climax. A more flowing theme in E minor, mostly in sixths, is
presented by the solo violin against string tremolos, but otherwise the buoyancy continues.
Soon, against the resumption of the initial rhythmic figure by the strings, the violin gives out:
When this has been extended Ex. 6 returns in 3-4 time on tutti, followed by a new dance-figure
which, when it reaches the solo violin, is completed as:
There are references to material previously heard, notably Ex. 5. Then the flowing theme in
sixths is extended by tutti with a lyrical continuation on the solo violin ending in another
resumption of the initial rhythm. After a short cadenza the solo violin introduces yet another
dance-rhythm, Alla Valse Burlesca, which is a variant of Ex. 7, and begins a coda based mainly
on the initial rhythmic figure with Exx. 6 and 5.
The last movement, Lento (3-4) in F sharp minor, concluding in D, is largely based on Ex. 2,
which, however, is at first so modified that its identity is only gradually made clear as the
movement proceeds. First the strings, joined at the third bar by clarinet, announce a theme
over which solo violin and clarinet alternate with soaring phrases derived from Ex. 2. Then a
modulation to C minor brings another theme in sixths on the solo violin, but before long the
influence of Ex. 2 reasserts itself, in D minor, in a form appreciably nearer to the original, with
counter-phrases on the cor anglais. All the foregoing may be considered the first subject-group
of the movement. The second subject-group follows, in D major, cantabile a molto tranquillo.
First the orchestra unfolds a suave theme the initial phrase of which still retains a kinship with
Ex. 2 ; then the solo violin re-enters with:
After a climax an elaborate passage on the solo violin subsides pp into Ex. 1 on the muted
strings, and the epilogue begins in autumnal calm. Against a murmuring background of strings,
still muted, the solo violin resumes Ex. 9 and continues it with Ex. 2, which is now brought
nearest to its original shape. The conclusion thus accords with the opening; but this appears to
come naturally, as it were, without any deliberate restatement of the kind that is sometimes
resorted to in the hope of establishing formal unity.
The first performance of the Concerto was given at a Promenade Concert, July 8, 1942, the
soloist being Arthur Catterall, to whom the work is dedicated and who has edited the violin part.
Owing to the success of the Symphony, and perhaps also to curiosity having been stimulated by
those who had had access to the score, it had been awaited with much interest. For once such
anticipations were not disappointed and it was warmly welcomed-as well it might be, for the
qualities it displays are never too prevalent in music generally, and solo concertos in particular,
with their inherent temptation to virtuosity for its own sake, rarely prove so congenial to them.
Sinfonietta R83
www.gramophone.co.uk
There are three reviews of Sinfonietta recordings in the Gramofile records on the net since
1983, all of which are probably currently in print, though not all easily found. Not included is a
review of the excellent Boult recording with the LPO on Lyrita vinyl dating from 1968.
...the diminutive title belies a
work which is quite
large-scale...
Chandos CHAN8456
Bournemouth Sinfonietta/Del Mar
Published September 1986
In the Sinfonietta the playing is again first rate, but the diminutive title belies a work which is
...It's a delightful work,
quite large-scale, and which needs a bigger body of strings than the Bournemouth Sinfonietta
eclectic like most of Moeran,
possess. On Boult's 1967 Lyrita recording, with its pleasing Kingsway Hall acoustic, the LPO's
but tautly and expertly
full complement of strings makes a better effect and Sir Adrian's objective approach works well
composed...
in a delightful work which has a well-contrived blend of high spirits, charm and warmth of
feeling. Del Mar points the reflective passages with his usual skill and sympathy: his tempos are
on the whole faster than those of Boult and it is possible to think that he presses too hard in the
lively episodes, which in the slightly over-reverberant acoustic become rather blurred and too
much dominated by the Timpani. The new record is most welcome, however, for another
viewpoint on the Sinfonietta and for the revelatory account of the Cello Concerto.
AS
EMI CDC7 49912-2
Northern Sinfonia/Hickox
Published February 1990
A very pleasant disc of orchestral works by Moeran and Finzi, sensitively played by the Northern
Sinfonia, and recorded straightforwardly, with no quirks, although the resonance of All Saints'
Church in Newcastle upon Tyne sometimes blurs the timpani rolls. Richard Hickox has flair for
this vein of British music and brings out both composers' considerable skill in the application of
orchestral colours, mostly pastel shades in Finzi, but bolder in the Moeran pieces, which are
among his more extrovert compositions.
Moeran's Sinfonietta has been brightly recorded by Norman Del Mar for Chandos and anyone
who possesses it needn't look further. It's a delightful work, eclectic like most of Moeran, but
tautly and expertly composed in an honourable tradition of lighter music by British composers. I
can't think why we don't hear it more often in the concert-hall—well, of course, I can think why:
the chronic timidity of audiences and managements.
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MK
EMI CDM7 64721-2
Northern Sinfonia/Hickox
Published August 1994 (Reissue, mid-price)
In the case of the Sinfonietta, Hickox's comparatively bluff way with the outer movements has
much in common with Del Mar's 1986 Bournemouth Sinfonietta version; the former is, however,
more acutely responsive to the chimerical mood-changes of the central Theme and Variations.
Let us hope that this, Moeran's centenary year, sees the restoration of Boult's pioneering Lyrita
account (11/85—nla) of this lovely score (coupled, ideally, to that great conductor's superb
recording of the Symphony in G minor).
AA
All reviews ©Gramophone Magazine, Haymarket Publishing
Notes by Robin Hull
Penguin Music Magazine (1948)
Few orchestral works of recent times have enjoyed a more well-deserved success than E J
Moeran's Sinfonietta, of which an excellent near-miniature score is now published. The score
provides a capital instance of a work that won cordial opinions at the outset, and whose
significance has been confirmed in the light of later performances.
It was widely recognised from the first that what seemed to be occasional (though of course
unconscious) echoes of Sibelius are purely incidental to a composer whose cardinal individuality
is beyond dispute. Still, it is a point of elementary fairness to pin down what may strike the
listener as Sibelian affinities, even if these amount to singularly little, and then give the chapter
and verse to which any composer is entitled.
It must suffice here to mention two examples. The first comes at Fig. 12 (1st mvmt.) where the
woodwind phrases, whose material has already been introduced, crystallize in a manner which
Sibelius has certainly made familiar. The second occures at Fig. 56 (3rd mvmt.) where the
following run of semi-quavers may bring to mind a feature of the Sibelian method, though, one
need scarcely add, nothing of any manner or matter except Moeran's own.
The cumulative effect of such affinities strike me as almost negligible, and worth mentioning
only because these points, if evident at first hearing, require that the perceptive listener shall
place them in the correct perspective. For the rest, there is little need to stress the resounding
originality of a work whose fame has become established far outside our own country.
The 'Theme and Variations' (2nd mvmt.) have a richness and resource whose imaginative
eloquence has seldom been exceeded by any composer in recent times. And the score, taken as
a whole, proves yet again that, in the expression of sheer beauty, Moeran can bring to bear an
inspiration reaching supreme heights.
Penguin Music Magazine No. 5, 1948
New Music - Robin Hull
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...a richness and resource
whose imaginative eloquence
has seldom been exceeded
by any composer in recent
times...
Moeran's Sinfonietta
...the harmony is active and
This work of 1944 has taken some time to reach the high places, but may be said to have
modern-sounding in a way
arrived on January 25th when it was admitted to the Royal Philharmonic itself, with Sir Thomas
that does not depend on
Beecham conducting. It entered under a certain disadvantage, for the works to which it bore
company were Berlioz's overture 'King Lear', Sibelius's fourth Symphony and Delius's first Dance manufactured discords; its
resources are more varied
Rhapsody, each an extreme example of individualism and remoteness from ordinary contacts;
than that...
whereas Moeran's work makes its communications on a plane we all know.
Its originality is what may be called short-termed, and lies in the way things are kept going
rather than in the shape and size of the things themselves. Sprightliness and colour can be
simulated, and frequently are; to Moeran they come spontaneously. He has his own brisk gait
and, especially in the variations of the second movement, his own intricacies of harmony and
colour. Further, the harmony is active and modern-sounding in a way that does not depend on
manufactured discords; its resources are more varied than that.
Well invested incidents abound; and if they sometimes seem to hustle each other, that is a rare
form of excess. From the manner of the scoring it was a likely guess that the players of the
R.P.O. enjoyed their parts; and something to the same effect seemed to come from Sir Thomas,
the conductor. His was indeed a remarkable evening's work, for he attended to each of the four
works as if his whole career depended on it.
W. McN. Musical Times Feb 1950
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Cello Concerto Premiere - Reviews
Irish Times, November 26th 1945
Yesterday’s symphony concert in the Capitol Theatre, Dublin, included the first performance of
Moeran’s cello concerto. The soloist, Peers Coetmore, gave a superb performance. Her tone was
of an amazingly rich quality, and her expressive playing was exactly right for this lovely work
with its delightful, almost song-like melodies woven into a pattern of rich colour.
Irish Independent, November 26th 1945
A new work by E.J.Moeran was performed for the first time by Peers Coetmore, with the Radio
Eireann Symphony Orchestra, in the Capitol Theatre. The composer has appreciated that the
‘cello is heard to best advantage in broad and flowing melody, and in the first and second
movements the soloist was given many opportunities to display power, beauty and a variety of
tone in smooth melodic playing. There is a fine cadenza at the end of the second movement,
well in character, which was excellently played.
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...this lovely work with its
delightful, almost song-like
melodies woven into a
pattern of rich colour...
Cello Concerto Hallé Review, 1946
THE HALLE CONCERTS
It is possible that the bright young people of our time, or at any rate those queer souls who are
known (strangely enough) as the intelligentsia, would deny that composers who are so
impulsive as to allow emotional feeling an equal place with intellectual effort when they write
their music are modernists in the strict sense of the term. If that notion prevails Mr.E.J.Moeran,
whose Violoncello Concerto was played at last night’s concert in the Houldsworth Hall,
Manchester, would no doubt gladly disavow any connection with modern fashions in musical art.
He is frankly and unashamedly prone to spontaneous emotional feeling and it is obvious that his
impulses are never cooled down or diverted from their natural expression by anxiety about
whether he is or is not true to up-to-date style. Yet it is no less obvious that Moeran has the
modern harmonic technique at his finger-ends and when he likes, can be as free, daring, and
ingenious in its use are most of the younger men. Whereas many composers who during their
early years lived in the midst of the romantic movement in art reacted against the spell and
sought to prove its illusoriness, Moeran is among those richer natures who combine present-day
ideas with undisturbed attachment to and real feeling for traditional views. The occasional
complexities of the ‘Cello Concerto which is highly original in thematical material and in the
treatment of it, offer more difficulty to the performers than to listeners. As Mr.John F.Russell
suggests in his analysis in the programme, Celtic influences as well as meditations on the
English countryside have apparently had their effect on the work, though the composer perhaps
remains sceptical about that matter. A deeply expressive adagio and a varied and picturesque
finale are movements that will, we think, appeal to all tastes, and both these sections of the
work show an inward cohesion which, in spite of rhapsodic passages, binds image to image in
logical sequence.
The soloist last night was Miss Peers Coetmore (Mrs.Moeran, the composer’s wife), and she
gave us a delightfully spirited performance of the ‘cello music. The solo frequently explores the
highest positions on the strings, and once or twice a slightly doubtful intonation was heard, but
the general firmness and fluency of Miss Coetmore’s playing were as admirable as its
interpretative range. Under Mr.Barbirolli’s sensitive direction the orchestral parts were finely
suited to the work’s texture and to the style of the soloist.
G.A.H.
[review of the first Manchester/Halle performance
of the Cello Concerto, 30 Oct.1946]
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...composers who are so
impulsive as to allow
emotional feeling an equal
place with intellectual effort
when they write their music
are modernists in the strict
sense of the term...
Cello Concerto R89
www.gramophone.co.uk
There is one review of Symphony recordings in the Gramofile records on the net since 1983,
which is currently in print. The only other commercial recording, on a 1970 Lyrita LP, is by Peers
Coetmore with Boult and the LPO. This is perhaps of historical interest only - there are severe
flaws in the performance which make it an almost painful experience to hear.
Chandos CHAN8456
Wallfisch/Bournemouth Sinfonietta/Del Mar
Published September 1986
Written at the end of the Second World War, Moeran's Cello Concerto is a dark, sombre work, in
which the prevailing feeling of sadness and regret is relieved only at the beginning of the last
movement by an Irish reel-like tune, whose jauntiness soon however gives way to a more
introspective mood similar in feeling to the material of the first two movements. It's an elusive
piece, but repeated hearings reveal many passages of exquisite beauty, and it is good to have it
in such a sympathetic and well-played performance as this. This 1969 Lyrita recording, by
Moeran's wife Peers Coetmore, for whom the Concerto was written, gives an inadequate picture
of the work, since her insight is not matched by playing of sufficient strength or skill. Raphael
Wallfisch, on the other hand, plays with much beauty of tone and phrasing and Norman Del Mar
obtains eloquent, high-quality playing from the orchestra.
The new record is most welcome...for the revelatory account of the Cello Concerto.
AS
All reviews ©Gramophone Magazine, Haymarket Publishing
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...a dark, sombre work, in
which the prevailing feeling
of sadness and regret is
relieved only at the
beginning of the last
movement...
Reviews for the Second Rhapsody
Proms Performance, 1929
Manchester Guardian 13/9/29
Mr. E.J.Moeran’s Second Rhapsody, which was heard at the Norwich Festival five years ago but
has never been done in London, made a good impression on the Promenaders tonight, in spite
of the fact that the composer is not a practised conductor. The work does not strike one as
being firmly enough knit. It contains two kinds of music which will not quite blend into unity,
though both are distinctly congenial to Mr.Moeran. At one moment he loves to be alone with
nature and far from the tranquil places where Delius loves to linger; at the next he is eager to
be in touch with the rich humanity that sings its chanteys in country taverns. The hearer is
tossed from one mood to the other and back again until he feels the title of "rhapsody" to be an
apology. But there is so much that is good to listen to in this work that one forgoes good form
without insisting on excuses.
E.B.
Sunday Times 15/9/29
Mr.E.J.Moeran’s Second Rhapsody does not seem as well knit as some of his earlier work; its
looseness of articulation was all the more evident in comparison with the Elgar violin concerto
and the Introduction and Allegro for Strings. But Mr. Moeran has genuine imagination and a
vision of his own.
Daily Telegraph
Mr.E.J.Moeran, whose Rhapsody No.2 also had its first concert performance in London, has won
an established position amongst our younger composers, who are definitely English in outlook.
This Rhapsody has a strain of originality differentiating it from other musical bucolics.
H.E.W.
The Times
E.J.Moeran’s Second Rhapsody...owes its inspiration to folk-song. Its interest is melodic; the
melodies are original, neo-modal, and beautiful. The work is of considerable length and has the
strength of nationally tinged music. It ought to be heard again soon.
Daily Mail
The other new work was a rhapsody by Mr.E.J.Moeran, a much more serious aspirant, for his
joking, what there was of it, was sad. If there is a human story behind his patchwork poem it is
one of far-away things.
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Observer 15/9/29
Mr.Moeran’s Second Rhapsody shows him continuing further on the same broad lines as in his
former works. The themes of this Rhapsody are definitely in the folk-music language, and his
treatment of them is definitely expressive, perhaps romantic, though with little or no rhetoric. It
should at least be heard again.
Reviews compiled by Barry Marsh
If there is a human story
behind his patchwork poem it
is one of far-away things...