Essential Music of England

One of those little gems from Decca. CD 1 is called The Spirit of England; CD 2 is The Pastoral England. Performers include: Sir Georg Solti, Sir Adrian Boult, Sir Neville Marriner, Benjamin Britten, Joseph Cooper, Sir Winston Churchill and Dame Vera Lynn.

You can stop laughing now. At the Winston/Dame Vera, I mean, the rest are gods and not to be laughed at under any circumstances.

The composers include Elgar (x8), Holst, Britten (x2), Walton (x2), Alford (Bridge on the River Kwai aka Colonel Bogie), Coates (Dambusters), Parry (Jerusalem), Vaughan Williams (x5), Grainger (x2), Delius (x2), Warlock and Butterworth. Probably music for my parents' generation.

And yet - Elgar is fixed in my pantheon of heroes; Britten, Walton and Vaughan Williams are at least hon menshes. And Britten's Playful Pizzicato is one of the Great Tunes of all time. I listened to Disc One the night before England played Switzerland, and it fair stirred the soul, especially to hear Walton's "The Battle of Agincourt" - with an actor (sadly not Kenny Branagh nor dear Larry) reciting:

Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close the wall up with our English dead!
In peace there's nothing so becomes a man
As modest stillness and humility;
But when the blast of war blows in our ears,
Then imitate the action of the tiger...
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot!
Follow your spirit; and upon this charge,
Cry, "God for Harry! England and Saint George!

Although, I have to say I prefer

That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse:
We would not die in that man’s company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call’d the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam’d,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say, ‘To-morrow is Saint Crispian:’
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say, ‘These wounds I had on Crispin’s day’.
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he’ll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words,
Harry the king, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester,
Be in their flowing cups freshly remember’d.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne’er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered;
We few, we happy, few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother’ be he ne’er so vile
This day shall gentle his condition:
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed,
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.