S2.E34. Full throttle with Elgar's Cockaigne, a glorious Massenet melody from Werther, a one-off take of Bocherini, and crisp, exuberant Mozart in the Hafner symphony.

Welcome back to Perfect Pitch with Nick Healy Hutchinson and his fresh approach to the world of classical music. Whether you're an expert or a beginner, old or young. Perfect Pitch has something for everyone.

Flushed with the success of the Enigma variations a couple of years previously, Elgar received a commission from the Royal Philharmonic Society in 1900, the result of which was to overture in London town, more widely known now as the Cocaine. Cocaine, by the way, was a light-hearted nickname given by some to London at the time, as a place representing utopia. Utopia being a non-existent location where anything goes, where loafing about and indulging in all manner of debauchery or revolt, and generally anything that makes you feel good, is allowed to thrive. It's spelt differently, of course, to another word pronounced in the same way, the use of which may or may not result in a utopian state, I absolutely wouldn't know. But the piece is bursting with everything you might expect in Edward in London, be it cocknies, lovers' romps, brass bands, and church bells, all of which culminates in a typical Elgard triumphant finish. Here he is with the BBC Symphony Orchestra. Only two of them find their way to be performed these days, Manon and Wertha. The main reason for this seems to be that the critics of the day felt that his talents were wasted, and that he was rather stuck in his ways and reluctant to digress from his romantic approach. That may well be true, but there's no denying that Massine had a gift for melody. Werther's plot about a young man's obsession with another man's fiancé, ending with imputing himself out of sheer desperation, was unsurprisingly altogether too grim for to be premiered at the Opera Comique. So that honor went to Vienna in 1892. The most famous aria in the work, and the fairly demanding one too, is Poi Mir. Why should I wake up? Wetter is in the depths of despair. And after a brief introduction, it's sung here by the Mexican teller, and this is one heck of a voice, Rolando Villason, accompanied by the Orchestre Philharmonique de Radio France, conducted by Evelino Pito. The Italian Luigi Boccherini, born in 1743. The man wrote over a hundred string quintets, nearly a hundred string quartets, and a good deal more chamber music besides, in addition to some 30 symphonies. As an accomplished cellist, he can take credit for giving the cello more prominence in chamber music than it had received up to then, rather than its supportive underline. And yet, despite all this, Boccarini is only really known these days for two works, his B flat cello concerto and his string quintettie. More specifically, the minuet from that piece. But it's a passage which sums up his eternal optimism. So let's listen to it now. Everybody knows this, so finding something distinctive is difficult. But I tracked down this encore given by the Bavarian radio orchestra under Maurice Janssen. You may think you know it, and I'm sure you do, but not played like this. Never could I have imagined that something so familiar could have so much colour. The piece got its name from the Hafner family to celebrate the ennoblement of their son Zygmunt in 1782. The first of the two movements is a minuet, with a traditional trio in the middle, by way of contrast, before it returns to the main theme at its conclusion. A trio, by the way, as its name suggests, was originally for three instruments to accompany a dance. But it just kept that name, even with the introduction of more instruments. The minuet and trio was widely used by the classical composers like Haydn, Mozart, Schubert, and Beethoven, until things got a little bit more adventurous in the mid-19th century, with the introduction of a schedule, meaning joke, which in fact it hardly ever was. The minuet is followed by a presto, which Mozart wanted to be played as fast as possible. It starts quietly, but then launches into this thrilling statement. Charles McCarras and the Scottish Chamber Orchestra produced this really exuberant and crisp sound with Mozart, which I think stands well apart from so many others. Just like the end of his clarinet concerto, where the opening theme returns for the last time, Mozart alters it ever so slightly. It's a tiny detail to bring a smile to your face. But my goodness, does it ever show how the man was never predictable? Thank you for listening wherever this finds you. If you haven't acted on Nicola's message after the music, please try and find a few minutes to do so. It really does make a difference.