Cello Songs After the War in Elgar's Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85
The Best Moments
Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85
I'm Elgar, and I'm glad to welcome you to the best moments of my Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85. You'll hear the lone cello open with its bold, weighty chords, then sing a long, sorrowful melody in a work that feels more reflective than anything I wrote before it. My fellow composers and I also teach you, here on this site, to recognize our pieces the moment they begin, so give it a go whenever you feel ready.
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A Throat-Clearing With Real Weight
I start the concerto with the cello alone, playing bold, heavy chords like a man clearing his throat before an announcement that really matters. The marking is Adagio – Moderato, so nothing hurries, and the story goes that I wrote down the main tune in 1918, the night after I came home from hospital.
Tiptoeing Past the Neighbours
I begin the second movement, Lento – Allegro molto, with a cello that seems restless and unable to settle, as if it can't decide where to go next. It lasts only about 4½ minutes, the shortest of the four, so it scurries past quickly and is gone before you've got comfortable.
The Part Where Nobody Shows Off
I keep the third movement, simply marked Adagio, very plain on purpose: the cello sings one long, tender line and the orchestra mostly just listens. At about 4 minutes 50 seconds it is a short, quiet pause in the middle of the work, and I think it's the most honest few minutes in the whole piece.
A Finale With Too Much to Say
I open the last movement with an Allegro that sets off briskly, like someone who has suddenly remembered an appointment. It's the longest movement at about 11½ minutes, and its marking lists five different tempos, so you can tell I had plenty to get off my chest before the end.
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I hope you enjoyed learning about the best moments of my Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85. When I look back at this piece, I think of a work written in quiet, reflective years, when the world around me had changed and my music was seen as old-fashioned. Perhaps that is why it speaks so softly, with more sorrow and contemplation than my earlier Violin Concerto. The premiere in 1919 did not go the way I had hoped, since the rehearsal time was cut short, and it took a while for people to come to love the work. I'm glad that it found its audience in the end, and that cellists and listeners still return to it today. There is still a good deal more to discover in this concerto. You could follow the story of how it was recorded, from the early attempts in 1920 to the famous performance by Jacqueline du Pré in 1965. You could also listen again to the slow third movement, or find out what happened when the concerto crossed the Atlantic. Please click on the links provided to explore the Cello Concerto in E minor, Op. 85 further. I'd love for you to hear it again with fresh ears, and to find your own favourite moments along the way.
Recording: Anthony Pini (cello), The London Philharmonic Orchestra, Eduard van Beinum, historical recording