Composed around 1915 and published in a set of fourteen songs with words by Pushkin, Polonsky and others, Vocalise is a song without words, or rather with one word – ‘Ah.’ When coloratura soprano Antonina Nezhdanova, a star of the Moscow Grand Opera and for whom it was written, complained that there was no text, the composer gallantly responded: ‘What need is there of words, when you will be able to convey everything better and more expressively than anyone could with words by the glory of your voice and interpretation?’ Vocalise has proved to be one of Rachmaninov’s most popular compositions and has appeared in transcriptions for a huge variety of instruments (for example, even before the official premier for soprano, Serge Koussevitzky, the great conductor and double bass virtuoso had, with the composer’s approval, played it in an instrumental arrangement for double bass and orchestra).  Vocalise is in a minor key and the opening phrase is a cleverly disguised take on the medieval Dies Irae plainchant which Rachmaninov was apt to quote almost obsessively. However, throughout its simple binary structure and short coda, the sheer beauty of the melody dispels any gloom.

Op 23: no.1, F sharp minor — Largo; no. 4, D major — Andante cantabile;  no. 5, G minor — Alla marcia; no. 6, E flat major — Andante;  no. 7, C minor — Allegro.

Op 32: no.7, F major –– Moderato; no. 10, B minor — Lento; no. 12, G sharp minor – Allegro

Apart from some early forays into the genre, unpublished in his lifetime, the first of Rachmaninov’s preludes for piano was the very popular C sharp minor, op 3 no. 2, written in 1892 as the second of the five pieces that comprise Morceaux de Fantasie.  When added to the ten Preludes op 23 and the thirteen Preludes op 32, this work became the first in his cycle of twenty-four preludes covering all the major and minor keys. Rachmaninov wrote the preludes in emulation of Chopin and the complete collection is in a direct line of descent from Chopin’s twenty-four Preludes op 28 and their pairings of major and minor keys. Chopin’s preludes themselves refer back to J. S. Bach’s Forty-eight Preludes and Fugues (the Well-Tempered Clavier) of 1722, although, for Rachmaninov, Chopin rather than Bach always remained the ultimate point of reference. Chopin obviously inspired Rachmaninov’s harmonic explorations and many aspects of his style which invariably looked back to nineteenth-century Romanticism and virtually ignored the changing musical aesthetic of the early twentieth century.

Rachmaninov knew the piano and its capabilities intimately and his compositions, including the preludes, make great technical and interpretative demands upon the performer. A familiar approach throughout the entire cycle of preludes is to open with a few notes or a short phrase and develop this simple idea through increasingly rich harmonies and exploration of remote keys, reaching a powerful climax which is then followed by a soft often wistful conclusion. A good example of this structural scheme is the B minor prelude, op 32 no. 10, said to have been Rachmaninov’s favourite, which almost exactly follows this pattern: a deceptively simple opening (with a hint of Schubert), a development leading towards a tremendous climax with crashing chords followed by a virtuosic cadenza and, eventually a quiet, reflective ending.

Salut d’Amour, Elgar’s first published work, has a strong Yorkshire connection. In 1882, when Elgar was still working in his father’s music shop in Worcester and trying to establish himself on the local amateur music scene, he met Charles William Buck, five years his senior, a GP and keen ‘cellist from Giggleswick. The two men would remain friends for the rest of their lives. Elgar loved the Dales. He and Buck visited Malham Tarn and the falls at Stainforth Foss and Scaleber and enjoyed a pint at the Naked Man in Settle (or the N-M-Hotel, as Elgar insisted on calling it). In 1932, when both men were nearing the end of their lives, Elgar recalled dining on grilled Ribble trout: ‘nothing so good in eating or company has occurred to me since 1882 … I feel there is small chance of my travelling north again but I still hope for it.’

As Elgar set off for another holiday in Giggleswick in the summer of 1888, he was handed a poem, ‘Love’s Grace’, written by Caroline Alice Roberts, one of his violin pupils, whom he had been courting for some months. He responded with a short piece of music, Liebesgrüss (Love’s Greeting), the title a tribute to Alice’s fluency in German. He gave it the punning dedication ‘To Carice’ (the name the couple would give their only child two years later). The gift obviously did the trick: shortly after, he was able to write: ‘22 September 1888. Engaged to dearest A.’

Elgar sold the rights of his new piece outright to Schott for 2 guineas. The publishers believed (rightly) that sales would improve by replacing the German title with French, so Liebesgrüss became Salut d’Amour. Elgar made three arrangements of the work in order to increase the prospects of performance – for solo piano, for violin and piano, and an orchestral arrangement. The gorgeous E major melody has remained popular ever since, particularly, as in Noriko Ogawa’s performance, as an encore.