The great composers, we know, are for all time, but there is still something special about them in their own era, especially if it should be close to that of the listener. Edwardian England was only a page or two of the photograph album away in my childhood. It lingered in cupboards and on shelves, was felt in the tassles of a velvet tablecloth, smelt in the homes of distant aunties visited once a year over the other side of town. Sounds of it echoed in old peoples’ voices, in snatches of song, in the crackle of the wireless or of gramophone records with dirty green labels. For many of my generation Elgar’s music will always evoke it even in modern performances (I never hear “and in the depth be praised” from Gerontius without some totally specific and totally unidentifiable moment in childhood clamouring for recognition). This wonderful collection of recordings, made for the most part in Elgar’s own lifetime, has not only authenticity of period; for those born into that time it is something to be played and savoured where no absurdity of unmeasured response will be wondered at, or, ever so kindly, derided.
The voices of the soloists, for instance. A snigger at Dame Clara Butt’s Angel in The Dream of Gerontius would incite thoughts of murder. Those five who sing the Beatitudes and commentary in The Apostles, they too are so wonderfully of their period, and fine singers too. Tudor Davies, fiery as a Welsh Martinelli in his declamation of Olaf’s saga, or Peter Dawson, exponent of “singing that was singing” in Caractcus: these also are part of the sacred book. Kathleen Ferrier’s test recording is movingly lovely to hear again, as, for that matter, is the Glasgow Orpheus Choir. In fact, not forgetting some of the less likely contents, this is an anthological treasure. Wondrously clean transfers have been mastered by Dutton Laboratories. Just hear that first track, the Crown of India March, and make a guess, without looking, at the date; or, listening with perfect clarity to that record from The Apostles, recall how the light blue label whizzed round amid the gunge and dust bequeathed by the second-hand shop whence it came. But everything is for congratulations here, including the admirable booklet-notes by John Knowles.'