Elgar – The Music Makers op. 69

The Music Makers is a setting for mezzo-soprano, chorus and orchestra of Ode by Arthur O’Shaughnessy. The poem, first published in 1874, has nine stanzas and is set in its entirety by Elgar, who clearly strongly identified with the theme of the poem: the role of the creative artist, through his dreaming in isolation, is to shape the destiny of mankind. They are the ‘movers and shakers’ of the world, if you will – another line that appears in the text.

The opening line of the poem is itself strangely descriptive of Elgar:

We are the music makers, And we are the dreamers of dreams

Himself a ‘music maker,’ and much of his music alludes to dreams, either in title, such as The Dream of Gerontius, Dream Children, or Dreaming from his Nursery Suite or mood, such as Sea Pictures, the third movement of the Cello Concerto (although composed after The Music Makers) and much of the Violin Concerto. In his own words, taken from a letter to Ernest Newman, Elgar reveals that for him the music makers of which the poem speaks are “all artists who feel the tremendous responsibility to renew the world as of yore.”

By self-contextualising the message that the poem strives for, Elgar created a creative space where he could heighten an intended meaning of the words to a higher plain by using music, which is, in my view, the aim of any well-intentioned word setting. It is a fruitless endeavour for a composer to merely set words for the sake of doing so; sometimes, words alone are enough, and setting them to music would actually distract and take away some of their potency. But certain poems have within them an innate potential for a deeper meaning being drawn out of them by adding a musical layer, creating a symbiotic relationship. For Elgar, O’Shaughnessy’s Ode was just such a poem, appealing to his creative sensibilities.

The music of The Music Makers is very much a complex tapestry of changing moods – perhaps the extremes of mood experienced by many creative people (very much including Elgar, and we’ve already encountered this ‘trend’ among composers in Beethoven as mentioned in the previous note), and a leit motific- like treatment of quotes from Elgar’s previous works that appear at particularly poignant moments within the text. Quotations are taken from The Dream of Gerontius, the Sea Pictures, the Enigma Variations, the Second Symphony, the Violin Concerto, and Rule Britannia to a lesser extent.

The opening of this 40-minute work is intensely lyrical and vivid. A yearning sequential melody weaves its way through a gradual descent, accompanied by a restless chromatic line. This eventually gives way to a contrasting second theme that is more settled, and its trend is to rise rather than sink, setting up from the very start the role that contrast has to play in this work. After some tempestuous moments, the Enigma theme is introduced. These three strands of material are then heard in different combinations before the orchestral sound eventually evaporates, and gives way to the quiet opening from the chorus.

This first music that the chorus sings – the setting of the first two lines of the poem – appears throughout the work, no doubt acting as a reminder, and contextualising the later verses.

Elgar then deftly traverses a complex emotional journey. Whether you’re familiar with the pieces being quoted or not, he has created a structure that embraces quotation and continuous reinvention of the original material composed for this piece.

In terms of the emotional journey, as you experience text and music together, there is a noticeable connection between the two. Examples include the triumphant nature of Can trample a kingdom down from the second stanza, and the literally ‘thrilling’ music that accompanies And therefore today is thrilling at the start of the sixth stanza. Once more God’s future draws nigh from the eighth stanza is followed by a fiery version of the music that opens the work with a very prominent part for lower brass, no doubt in response to the weight of the text’s message at that moment. The final two lines of this stanza: And already goes forth the warning that ye of the past must die is arresting in its dramatic delivery. Slow descending whole-tone scales depict this twilight end, coming to rest with a soothing drum ostinato. In many ways, therefore, this is a reactive setting that very much incorporates an element of word painting on Elgar’s part.

Other examples of Elgar’s compositional ingenuity include the orchestral interludes that link the verses together that inject or remove energy depending on the intended amplification of the emotion conveyed by the text. Rhythmically vital passages recall militaristic imagery as well as elated dance. The orchestra, when drawing out meaning in parallel with the heard text ranges from restless and nervous, to energetic, to the most tranquil, settled and beautiful writing, to the very subdued – all to depict the complex emotional imagery inherent in the text.

Vocal contrapuntal imitation within the chorus is contrasted with gentle, soft choral moments that are in turn contrasted with the use of a solo mezzo-soprano – the soloist used at the most climactic parts of the poem’s message.

Indeed, the soloist is first heard during the fifth stanza of the poem – a moment of great poignancy, not least because it is some way into the piece. The latter half of this verse uses a very moving choral setting of Nimrod from the Enigma Variations that later segues into the finale of the Second Symphony.

After experiencing yet more contrasting emotional states, including a truly beautiful moment where he quotes his Violin Concerto during the words …[music makers] dwell, in our dreaming and singing, a little apart from ye, we reach the final stanza - the climax of the work in my view. The words of this final verse are given entirely to the soloist, who, towards the end, seems to be addressing the future music makers:

You shall teach us your song’s new numbers, And things that we dreamed not before

It is truly one of the most optimistic passages in the whole of this extraordinary work. Elgar takes words from the seventh stanza during this passage, and it is as though the soloist is addressing the chorus as if they are the music makers, giving a certain theatrical quality to this work.

The ending is rather subdued, marking, in my view, the fact that all things end and that all things change: in spite of a dreamer who slumbers, and a singer who sings no more. But in the closing moments, during the final contemplative repeat of the opening choral line, there is a certain cyclic feeling to this work that gives, at least to the truth it represents, a timeless quality to the original spirit behind the poem.

Dr Maxwell Davies