A LARGHETTO FOR FEBRUARY AND SIR JOHN'S SERENADE

'Why, what's the matter,That you have such a February face, So full of frost, of storm and cloudiness?' William Shakespeare, 'Much Ado About Nothing'

Thursday

Can anyone make a defence for the month of February in England? I find it just sort of sits there like the calendar version of a broken down tractor in the rain. I suppose I've just never known a February in this country to encourage inspiration for me personally. It really seems to be more of a bridge between winter to spring and a pretty rubbish bridge at that, one where the deck beneath your feet seems all wet and spongy and fails to fully guarantee a feeling of safety crossing it for fear one might slip from all the rain that finds its way into every particle of the surrounding environment and atmosphere. They say the average human body roughly contains 60% water. Well, I'm certain the average month of February contains 80% rain .

So, what does one do with this miserable month except count the days down until March? I might humbly suggest finding a copy of both Elgar's Symphony No.2 (Warner) conducted by Sir John Barbirolli and 'Barbirolli Conducts English String Music' (also Warner) and make a cup of tea whilst staring at the grey skies, contemplating existence while the raindrops hit the window pane like transparent kamikaze tadpoles, slowly sliding into shapeless fluid.

"I want you to imagine a great crowd of silent people, watching the passing of a beloved sovereign. Strings, you must play those semiquaver figures of yours like the sigh of an immense crowd ... Oboe, I want you to play your lament entirely free, with all the expression you can get into it ...It must sound as if it belonged outside somewhere." - Sir Edward Elgar on his Larghetto from Symphony No.2

Yesterday, meditating on the state of the weather and the state of the nation which seem wholly symbiotic these days, I played the Larghetto from Elgar's Symphony No.2 and reflected how well Elgar expresses listless melancholy in the orchestration of his music. It was widely believed that the second movement of this majestic symphony was, in fact, an elegy to Edward VII just after his death. Given King Charles III's recent cancer diagnosis it seemed congruous to the perpetually grim psychodrama of the royal family over the past few years which is starting to resemble something of a Von Erich-like family curse (I've just watched 'The Iron Claw' (2023) which deals with this very topic). There's a mood in this music of Sir Edward's that feels subtly oppressive, akin to time and history weighing down on society like a collective strait jacket where the only freedom is found in a sigh. In fact, much of Elgar's music reminds me of musical sighs - the emotional exhalations from the stresses of life with all of its many challenges. To drive this point home even further, there is an actual 'sigh' motif repeated throughout this entire movement.

Still, all hope is not completely lost as a resurgent and rousing brass section brings with it a sense of stoical courage, the musical equivalent of the 'stiff upper lip' around half way though the movement, complete with defiant timpani before Elgar returns us to the more sombre, elegiac mood like the musical equivalent of clouds passing over the weak, winter sun.

Friday

As sort of counterpoint to the funereal mood of the larghetto, I just played another one of the greatest classical recordings of all time. 'Barbirolli Conducts String Music' is a genuine miracle of a recording and one that seems to defy time - the recording is so warm and vivid that it feels as if the players are right there in the room with you. Recorded between 1962 and 1966 in both Temple Church and Kingsway Hall, London, it's hard not to think of this civilised pastoral music being recorded at a time of great cultural and social change. There's something subversive to my mind these days about the notion that these immortal compositions travel through the various decades, ultimately undisturbed by the cause and effect of world karma, like memories preserved by a protective shield of invisible musical structures, spinning on our record/cd players like the Norns' golden rope. Also, with my cultural referencing mind, I find myself recalling Ken Russell's beautiful 1962 'Elgar' documentary (BFI) that is a black and white masterpiece of montage and narration. It's impossible not to remember those glorious scenes of the young Elgar riding his pony all the way to the top of the Malvern Hills while listening to the 'Introduction and Allegro' where it appears all of the seasonal elements are at play as we are only too well accustomed to in England.

Somehow, playing this stunning record this morning, I notice a slight change in the weather, a lightness in the sky, a warmer sun. Maybe I'm hallucinating or drunk on the 'Barbirolli' sound, but I can sense Spring is not so very far away and February will soon be nothing more than a forgotten bridge that helped us reach happier and (hopefully) warmer days.