Ralph VAUGHAN WILLIAMS (1872-1958): The Lark Ascending: Romance for Violin and Orchestra (1914, rev. 1920)
Europe's self-destructive implosion between 1914 and 1918 provoked a widespread reaction against direct emotionalism, particularly in music. A 'Romantic' approach was now felt to be out-of-place, a worn-out and decadent product of the blinkered nationalism that was regarded as the root cause of the First World War. The place of art in society was also under scrutiny, and many felt an 'Art for All' mentality was sweeping in, led by the democratising influence of trans-Atlantic popular and jazz cultures.
Vaughan Williams was, in this sense, a man 'outside' of his time. His pre-War style was rooted in British culture and folk music traditions, but never in such a way that his music was protectively, exclusively or jingoistically British. His expressive voice was never extroverted or emotional; it was lucid, calm and circumspect. He was neither visionary towards the future, nor reactionary to the present, nor nostalgic towards the past.
The Lark Ascending bridges this turbulent period, having been written before war broke out, but revised afterwards and not performed publicly until 1920. It is one of Vaughan Williams's most attractive pastoral landscapes, the hazy opening chords and continually shifting orchestral colours all the more wondrous because they are so unobtrusive.
The almost-immediate introduction of the soloist generates all of the musical material for the piece, most noticeably the falling major-third that recurs throughout. Never at ease with showmanship for its own sake, Vaughan Williams emphasises the solo instrument's expressive qualities, which is not to say that the soloist has an easy time of it; technique and sensitivity are equally tested, as the violin revels in the limelight, without being an overwhelming presence.
While the solo part is surely intended to mimic the lark's song and flickering wings, it is far from a literal caricature; its effect is to evoke a more-general atmosphere. There is a possible loose narrative to be found: if the little bird were flying over woods and fields at the opening, in the more dance-like middle section it seems to be looking down on human activity - perhaps suggesting the frivolity of a country fair. As the bird flies on, man is reduced to his true proportions, and at the close the lark can be imagined fading to a tiny speck on the horizon.
As the bird vanishes from view in the final cadenza, this is perhaps not only a farewell to the imaginary Lark, but maybe also to the pre-War world - a loss with which Elgar never truly came to terms. There is an interesting personal link with Elgar: The Lark Ascending's dedicatee, Marie Hall, was his violin pupil.
