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Rescuing the
Fringes Tom Higgins On Sunday, 10th June 1917,
four young baritones assembled at Sir Edward Elgar’s London Home, Severn House,
for Lunch. It was, no doubt a pleasant, social occasion, but, more
importantly, there was a professional reason for the gathering. They were there to rehearse The Fringes of the Fleet, a new work
by Elgar. This was one of the work’s final rehearsals and its premiere at the
London Coliseum on the following day - Monday 11th June - was
eagerly anticipated. It was programmed as part of a bill of twice daily
Variety Performances Chief among those looking forward to
that first performance must have been Admiral, Lord Beresford, to whom the
work is dedicated. The genesis for Elgar’s setting had come from a
publication in 1916 by Rudyard Kipling, also entitled, The Fringes of the Fleet – a collection of poems interspersed
with background prose all on the theme of life on board ship especially in
times of conflict. Elgar’s decision to set these poems
must have seemed particularly exciting at the time: Britain’s leading
composer and poet united in a work for the stage! Everything was in place for a notable
success and so it proved to be. Within weeks of the show’s opening the
Coliseum programme was announcing that The
Fringes of the Fleet was ‘The
Great ELGAR-KIPLING Success.’ It proved so popular that in quick succession
it was recorded for His Master’s Voice and then taken on a provincial tour,
eventually returning to the Coliseum later in the year. But within a few short months
Kipling, to general dismay, had forbidden further performances. He had, it
seems, become increasingly dissatisfied with the presentation of his work in
the music halls. Even at the outset he had not demonstrated much enthusiasm
for the project possibly because not long after writing lines such as these -
The ships
destroy us above And ensnare us
beneath. We arise, we lie
down and we move In the belly
of Death - Kipling’s only son had been
reported missing in action. To others, however, this poem designed as a
tribute to the men who fought in Submarines and the rest of the Fringes’
poems, all patriotic in character, must have seemed like a golden opportunity
to boost public morale. Eventually, Kipling reluctantly agreed and Elgar set
four of the poems in what he called, ‘a broad salt-water style.’ In essence they capture Kipling’s
descriptive turn-of-phrase excellently. In the first song, there is the
affability yet friction among the crew of the Lowestoft Boat – a motley bunch drawn from all ages and walks of
life. Fate’s Discourtesy comes next
with its emphasis on team-work. Curiously, it strikes an almost religious note. Submarines, as can be seen above,
paints a grim picture of life below the waves, while The Sweepers deals with
the horrors of locating and dealing with mines. Elgar’s Fringes was presented in a
staged fashion with the singer’s appearing in costume outside a pub. The
original four baritones were Charles Mott (the principal soloist), Frederic
Henry, Harry Barratt and Frederic Stewart. By 23 July George Parker had
replaced Charles Mott who had been called up for military service. The popularity of the Fringes was
immediate. The First World War was reaching its climax and Elgar’s new work
caught the public mood at just the right moment. Its fame was demonstrated
over and over again by the Coliseum management’s decision to extend its run
week after week. To understand how unusual that was,
we must remember how music hall or variety performances were presented 90
years ago. The bill of Variety acts or ‘turns’ as they were called changed
weekly. But demand for the Fringes proved so strong that it stayed on the
programme right through June until the end of July. Elgar conducted every
performance afternoon and evening ‘in person’. By 27th June he had composed one
more song (unaccompanied) for inclusion in the programme: Inside the Bar to words by Sir Gilbert Parker. In the normal course of events then
the Fringes would eventually have entered the circle of Elgar’s oft-performed
works. But no-one reckoned on the unforeseen intervention of Kipling. By the
end of 1917, to Elgar’s considerable distress, Kipling succeeded in preventing further
performances. While Kipling’s motives were personal
and should be respected, the result of his action was, unfortunately, to
air-brush an important Elgar work out of the repertoire. Apart from a few
sporadic performances it has lain virtually forgotten for nearly a century,
and I am proud to have been the conductor of this, the first fully
professional recording of the complete work since 1917. Like most Elgar devotees, I knew of
the work and upon acquiring a vocal score in a version for solo baritone,
formed the view that it was an important part of Elgar’s war-time
achievements. It may not be a work on the ‘grand scale,’ but ranks high among
his pieces of more modest proportions.
As always, Elgar’s inspirational enthusiasm is infectious and finds
its voice in an unexpected harmonic turn, a masterly stroke of orchestration,
or quite simply a memorable tune for the man-in-the-street. Happily, my determination to record
The Fringes was echoed by Siva Oke of SOMM Recordings and Michael Letchford,
who became our executive producer. From the various manuscripts I
studied and the original recordings of 1917 directed by the composer, I
prepared a performing edition, which stays faithful to the composer’s
original intentions while observing some performance practices that were not
always annotated at the time. This has now been recorded by SOMM. I am
confident it captures the spirit of the work and will assist in restoring The Fringes of the Fleet to its rightful place as an important Elgar
work. ~ Tom Higgins © This article first
appeared in the July 2009 issue of Musical Opinion and is reprinted here by
kind permission of the editor. |