BRUCH Symphonies: No. 1 in E?, op. 28; No. 2 in f, op. 36 • Michael Halász, cond; Staatskapelle Weimar • NAXOS 8570994 (61:07)

Max Bruch (1838–1920) continues to be known almost exclusively by three works that have virtually eclipsed everything else he wrote: the Violin Concerto No. 1 in G Minor, the Scottish Fantasy for violin and orchestra, and the Kol Nidre for cello and orchestra. Yet even at that he fared a lot better than the practically anonymous August Friedrich Martin Klughardt (1847–1902) who, after four operas, five symphonies, concertos for violin and cello, and a number of chamber works, has not one, let alone three, box-office hits to his name. As for Bruch, it’s possible that his most enduringly popular works may not even be his best works, for in my opinion, he was a far better composer than is generally acknowledged.

Of his three symphonies, the first two are presented here. Both scores were produced in rapid succession between 1867 and 1870, sandwiching between them the composer’s First Violin Concerto, which was first performed in its present form by Joseph Joachim in 1868. Bruch dedicated the E?-Major Symphony to Brahms and the F-Minor Symphony, not surprisingly, to Joachim, who had just premiered the revised G-Minor Concerto. There is little in either of these works, however, to suggest Brahms as a strong influence; for Bruch’s sin, if you wish to call it that, was his musical conservatism, at least insofar as content is concerned. Form is another matter, as is evidenced in the first two of his violin concertos and Scottish Fantasy , none of which conform to traditional classical models.

While the First Symphony sports a conventional four-movement layout, with the Scherzo placed second, there are some idiosyncratic Bruch oddities. The first movement, for example, even with its customary exposition repeat, wants to cast off its sonata-allegro legacy. The brief introductory statement becomes inextricably entwined with the main thematic material, the development section is not clearly differentiated from the exposition, and the recapitulation is a heavily modified version of its antecedent exposition. Also unusual, though not unprecedented for Bruch, is that all of this is compressed into nine and a half minutes, which, by later 19th-century standards, is quite short, though we see this same condensed brevity in the first movement of the First Violin Concerto.

As for content, Bruch’s models are obvious: Schumann in the first and fourth movements and Mendelssohn in the second and third. In fact, there are moments in the Scherzo and Quasi Fantasia: Grave where Bruch seems to be revisiting Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream music and the “Scottish” Symphony of a quarter-century earlier. But the sheer melodiousness of the music and the resplendent orchestration are irresistible.

Formally, the Second Symphony is even more unusual for its time. In only three movements (fast-slow-fast) instead of four, it more closely resembles a concerto than it does a symphony. Yet its three movements combined exceed the First Symphony’s four by six minutes. Content-wise, the minor key makes for a darker-hued, more somber-sounding work. But there’s more to it than that. Mendelssohn and Schumann seem to have faded into the background. The thematic material is not as immediately melodic in a hummable way. Lines are more chromatic, statements more stentorian, almost hectoring at times, and the orchestral fabric granitic. It’s hard to say if at this early date Bruch might have heard something by Bruckner or, if he had, what it might have been, for as of 1870, when Bruch’s Second Symphony was completed, Bruckner had only gotten as far as an early student symphony (1863), the Symphony No. 1 in C Minor (1866), and the Symphony No. 0 in D Minor (1869). But Bruch’s work does sound closer to early Bruckner than it does to Mendelssohn, Schumann, or to anyone in the Brahms orbit.

Bruch’s symphonies are not without prior representation on disc, but current choice is limited. The main competition to this new Naxos recording with Michael Halász and the Staatskapelle Weimar comes from the long-established Kurt Masur leading the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, originally and still available on mainline Philips, and reconstituted with a different set of works on a Philips Duo release. It was the Masur recordings through which I first became familiar with Bruch’s symphonies, and they still have a great orchestra and a celebrated conductor going for them.

Halász’s work on disc is well documented, with some 150 recordings to his name. The Weimar Staatskapelle, however, has a much smaller presence on the recording landscape, with some 10 entries currently listed. And its only other team-up with Halász, at least on CD, has been a recent Naxos release of Joseph Joachim’s violin concerto. Frankly, what the Masur/Leipzig performances do not have going for them are great recordings. I always felt the Philips sound was a bit woolly around the edges, taking the bite out of the trumpets and muddying the cellos, double basses, and timpani at the low frequencies. The Naxos recording exhibits wider frequency and dynamic ranges, and seems to have been captured from a mid-hall perspective, making for a very satisfying listening experience.

As for interpretive disparities between Masur and Halász, they strike me as relatively inconsequential. Overall, Masur tends to adopt slightly broader tempos in most movements, but evens out the timings with slightly faster tempos in a couple of instances so that in the end both conductors come within seconds of each other. I think it’s the somewhat opaque sound of the Philips recordings that makes Masur’s readings sound a bit slower than they actually are. Halász, aided by an excellent recording and by very fine playing from his Weimar forces, would now be my first choice for these works. I would also expect that Naxos, not being averse to duplicating material already in its catalog, will soon give us Bruch’s Third Symphony with Halász and the Staatskapelle Weimar to complement its two-decades old version with Manfred Honeck and the Hungarian State Symphony Orchestra. Strongly recommended.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

"Braunstein infuses the opening [of the Fantasy] with a good sense of atmosphere and emotion. The Adagio that follows has an appealing melancholy, which Braunstein never over-sentimentalizes. He ensures the Scottish airs have a lovely lilt, and he sweetly captures the flavor of the Scottish countryside. Then he brings a zesty spirit to the central Allegro and a quiet longing to the Andante. While Braunstein and Maestro Ion Marin give us a grander Finale than we often hear, overall this is a relaxed, broadly comfortable reading, full of charm and good will. It’s quite delightful, actually...This makes a most congenial, most welcome addition to the catalogue."

-- Classical Candor

When Heifetz chose Bruch’s Scottish Fantasy, reportedly his favorite concerto, for his legendary appearance on TV, he had already recorded it twice; the later recording, with Malcolm Sargent and the New Symphony Orchestra of London, has sometimes been recommended as representing him at his best. Although the Fantasy hasn’t received the attention that the First Concerto had garnered even in Bruch’s own lifetime (sometimes to his chagrin), its popularity seems to run ahead of the Second Concerto (which Heifetz also championed) and to outdistance by far the nearly orphaned Third, a chip of Spohr-like granite that remains the province of the few. Maxim Fedotov doesn’t challenge Heifetz’s proprietorship—or perhaps even Michael Rabin’s suave mastery, or even Kyung-Wha Chung’s passionate electricity; if his relaxed meandering in the opening movement and his weighty deliberation in the following Allegro don’t suggest fierce warlords (the Russian Philharmonic comes closer in the final movement, an Allegro guerriero), he plays with a rich, glowing tone that recalls Oistrakh’s, although perhaps not veiled with that master’s mystery, and his portamentos occasionally suggest an antique (if updated and sanitized) expressive manner well suited to this sentimental, though not maudlin, work. How did Pablo Sarasate, to whom Bruch dedicated it, play this concerto? He concocted his own confection from Scottish airs, so he must have had some familiarity with, and interest in, the folk idiom. The engineers haven’t shone the spotlight on Fedotov in the way Heifetz’s and Oistrakh’s did.

Bruch also dedicated his Serenade to Sarasate; and, though the Spaniard didn’t give its premiere, it bears the impress of his personality. If the Third Concerto seems a relative orphan, this work has remained almost unknown; but Salvatore Accardo included it in his collection of Bruch’s works for violin and orchestra with Kurt Masur and the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra (originally on Philips 9500 590 and re-released on CD as Philips 289 462 167-2). While Accardo’s reading explored the work’s nostalgic sensibility, Fedotov’s takes a more muscular approach to its tangy, concerto-like virtuosity—Bruch had, after all, intended this work as a concerto-like serenade (he repeatedly wrote movements and works that he expected would turn out to be his Fourth Concerto—without losing touch with its brooding sensitivity. His tempos seem relatively leisurely in the opening movement and upon its return at the Serenade’s end (in an effective valedictory gesture, Yablonsky and the orchestra insinuate the Serenade’s returning opening materials with poignant subtlety and close with a serenely hushed cadence), as well as in the episodic passages of the fast movements; but he struts briskly, too, as in the second movement’s march. Perhaps decisively, though, he doesn’t seem quite so comfortable in the long second movement as Accardo did, and he wanders without a strong sense of direction—though with richly textured symphonic support—in the sprawling third.

Those hoping to explore Bruch œuvre at first cautiously, then with more abandon, should find the Fantasy and the Serenade a well-ordered program. Recommended as a digitally recorded alternative to Accardo’s readings.

Robert Maxham, FANFARE

Zemlinsky, A. Von: Trio for Clarinet, Cello and Piano in D M

"Sir Malcom Sargent generally plays the purely orchestral passages more swiftly than when he is accompanying Heifetz. This introduces an element of drama that is missing in performances that reduce the music to a syrupy wallow in slow romantic schmaltz...Despite the relatively rapid tempos, the music never sounds rushed. [T]his is the finest recording of Bruch’s masterpiece ever made in terms of both performance and sound."

-- Arthur Lintgen, Fanfare [7/2006]

"Except for the human voice itself, probably no instrument of music so intimately reflects the individuality of the musician as the violin. So this record gives us, in addition to the fabled Heifetz technical wizardry, the Heifetz personality. That personality is encountered here in its maturity—and in the A major Concerto perhaps something slightly beyond that. Throughout the D major, however, the justly famous powers of intonation are exhibited at their nearly supernatural best."

-- Gramophone [9/1972] Reviewing Mozart Concertos

Max Bruch was eighty years old when, in 1918, he decided to return to the chamber music genre he had frequented in his early years. Stimulated by the violin virtuoso Willy Hess, he composed two string quintets and an octet, monuments to beauty and harmony, at the end of a tumultuous personal life and in the midst of a western world on the brink of collapse. After an album devoted to Beethoven’s chamber music, the Chamber Players of the WDR Sinfonieorchester now tackle one of the last chapters of German Romantic music, with pieces that constitute Bruch’s swansong.

With Bashmet at his finest, and the LSO playing beautifully for both Järvi and Previn, this is a disc for anyone with a taste for romantic viola music.

This outstanding version of the Walton Viola Concerto from Yuri Bashmet, warm and intense, was recorded five years ago, presumably held up for lack of a suitable coupling. Having the three Bruch works may seem odd, but with the passionate Bashmet the mixture works well. After all, both composers are at their most richly lyrical, Walton in his sharp twentieth-century way just as much a romantic as Bruch. It is also worth noting that though in style they are worlds apart, the Bruch Double Concerto and the Walton Concerto date from successive decades, written respectively in 1911 and 1929.

Bashmet's Russian radio recording of the Walton, issued on Revelation in a coupling with the Britten Spring Symphony, is put out of court by the absurdly close balance of the soloist, which makes this studio recording doubly welcome. Like Kennedy, Bashmet adopts a very slow speed for the opening Andante, but is rather more adept than Kennedy in avoiding sluggishness in his subtle phrasing, with contrasts heightened. He is fast and incisive in the vigorous third subject, and the central scherzo brings a dazzling display of virtuosity, more sharply pointed than with Kennedy. In the finale too Bashmet finds more fun in Walton's scherzando writing, but then draws out the epilogue at a very slow speed, beautifully sustained, not just by him but by Previn and the orchestra, the ideal accompanists.

The rarely-played Bruch Double Concerto in three compact movements, slow, medium and fast, is better known in the version for clarinet and viola. As performed here by Bashmet with his pure-toned violinist colleague, Viktor Tretyakov, it gains in sensuousness from having the solo instruments closely allied rather than sharply contrasted. It is amazing what a fund of melodic invention Bruch kept into his seventies, not just in this concerto but in the Romance for viola and orchestra' of 1912, a glorious piece that harks straight back to the slow movement of the G minor Violin Concerto. Bashmet again gives a heartfelt performance, as he does of the well-known Kol Nidrei; with viola in place of cello, he conveys an extra poignancy in the hesitant themes of the first half, ripely leading up to the lyrical apotheosis. With Bashmet at his finest, and the LSO playing beautifully for both Jarvi and Previn, this is a disc to recommend to anyone with a taste for romantic viola music.

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [3/1999]

Cho-Liang Lin; Chicago Symphony Orchestra/Leonard Slatkin. CBS MK 42315 [with Scottish Fantasy; also available with Mendelssohn: Concerto in E minor, and various encore pieces (CBS MDK 44902)] (recorded 1986). Lin’s is a straightforward, expressive reading of the concerto, distinguished by extraordinarily beautiful playing. Bruch was a melodist of the first rank, and the soloist emphasizes that aspect of the music in his warmly phrased account. Leonard Slatkin and the Chicago Symphony provide outstanding support, and the performance is captured in a recording of ideal depth and spaciousness. Two versions of the account are now available; the choice for most buyers is the mid-price recoupling that pairs the Bruch with Mendelssohn’s Concerto in E minor and encore pieces by Kreisler and Sarasate. – Ted Libbey, author of The NPR Guide to Building a Classical CD Collection.

Ofra Harnoy has caught a deal of unreasonable flak from certain quarters for herself ornamenting record front covers rather seductively. On this one she looks pensively over the bridge of her cello and no one could deny she is glamorous. But she is also a fine cellist and sustains this collection of rather sombre concertante works with some distinction.

She opens Bloch's Schelomo imaginatively and immediately creates the improvisatory response to its changing moods and colour that is essential in this piece. Mackerras is obviously strongly involved, and I have not heard the work's big, climactic orchestral tutti played with more passion. Again in the Kol Nidrei, with its noble Hebrew theme very sensitively shaped, the ruminative style is thoughtfully spontaneous, and the character of the music is so indelibly conveyed that it is difficult to believe that Bruch was not Jewish.

The Adagio on Celtic Themes has something in common with the Scottish Fantasia for violin and orchestra, and the performance here fully reveals its charm; again Mackerras's introduction has considerable fervour. Bruch's Ave Maria, although it has a firm melodic cantilena, brings more variety than the usual setting, and the cello is able to embroider the tune, before the hushed recapitulation, which is very gentle and tender. Excellent sound, made in Watford Town Hall: the climax of Schelomo (which is heavily scored) is as spectacular as any on record.

-- Ivan March, Gramophone [12/1991]

Sonoko Miriam Welde writes: “When you ask people which superpower they would choose if they could have only one, many answer that they would want the power of flight. Although I personally would prefer invisibility, I also think there is something enviable about the freedom of being able to fly... A lot has been said and written about how Vaughan Williams wrote The Lark Ascending during the 1st World War “when a pastoral scene of a singing bird on the wing seemed far removed from reality” (Betsy Schwarm, Britannica). I sometimes imagine people living through difficult times looking up at the lark, envying its life and freedom that they wish they had. It's a moving piece with soaring melodies and the lark's “silver chain of sound.” Soaring melodies are present in Barber's Concerto as well. Although it opens with a generous and warm melody, it doesn't take long for uncertainty to creep in, and large sections of the 1st movement are dominated by an “in-between” kind of feeling – in addition to the unbelievably triumphant and satisfying return of the opening theme of course! The 2nd movement is, for me, one of the most touching and heartbreaking pieces of music. It reminds me of "Somewhere" from West Side Story. Hope, pain and perhaps longing for something better. It is just endlessly beautiful... Bruch's Violin Concerto is a piece with its heart on its sleeve. The 1st movement is a very serious and dramatic introduction, the 2nd incredibly touching and sincere, and the 3rd so joyous and life affirming. This piece has accompanied me in many important and special moments in my life so far and I am so happy that it is with me in this one as well – my debut album with the Oslo Philharmonic, a fantastic group of musicians that I have loved and admired for many years!”

REVIEW:

This album is most definitely a fine showcase of Welde’s incredible artistry. Her energy, tone, even the skillful deployment of her vibrato (which is capable of both subdued and glowing hues) all speak to the years of study, practice, and work she has done. As a soloist of this highly emotive repertoire, Welde absolutely leans into the emotionality of these violin standards, but then again, she has earned that lean. My former violin teacher always reminded me that a violinist only earns this kind of emotional playing after first doing the enormous work of understanding the music and her instrument inside and out.

Vaughan Williams’s The Lark Ascending offers a nice sort of pause between the big emotions of Bruch and Barber. Welde’s harmonics are absolutely perfect—bright and breathy and sustaining the tension of the piece—and again, she is very comfortable deploying the tools at her disposal: her clean articulation, consistent and dynamic bowing, her anticipation of the overall structure of the solo part within the grander work. Welde’s extreme tonal control—perhaps on full display in the Bruch second movement—in her seemingly effortless movement from pianissimo to forte, feels as though she is able to shift dynamics within a single bow.

This is, overall, a really lovely album.

— Fanfare

Previous Brilliant Classics albums by this Dutch string orchestra, based in The Hague, have focused on late-Romantic ‘American Pioneers’ (96086) and composers in early 20th-century Paris (95734). Under their founder-director Dick van Gasteren, they now turn to the rich history of Rhineland music from the high-point of its immortalisation in operatic culture as the bedrock of Wagner’s Ring cycle. Das Rheingold itself is present by implication in the cycle of Wesendonck-Lieder which Wagner composed on the shore of Lake Zurich, initially as sketches for Tristan und Isolde, which he had embarked upon as a venture to drum up interest and capital for the larger project of the Ring. Inspired by his intimate association with as well as the poetry of Mathilde Wesendonck, the wife of a wealthy silk merchant who was underwriting the composer’s sojourn in Zurich, Wagner then developed the songs into a self-contained cycle which throbs with transfigured desire much like the opera. The cycle is sung here by the mezzo-soprano Karin Strobos, whose career was launched by singing Octavian in Der Rosenkavalier at the Netherlands Opera under Sir Simon Rattle. She also sings the album’s notable rarity: a setting of Heine’s Loreley text, which describes the mythical creatures who lure unsuspecting Rhenish sailors to their doom like Greek Sirens. Originally composed as a male-voice partsong by Friedrich Silcher (1798-1860), the song has been transcribed by Dick van Gasteren for Strobos and La Ciconia. Complementing the songs are two unfamiliar but attractive examples of late-Romantic German string music: the Serenade Op.242 by Carl Reinecke, and the Concerto for String Orchestra by Max Bruch. Neither work enjoys more than a toehold on the record catalogue, and this engagingly vivid new recording makes the most persuasive case for them.

REVIEW:

Somehow this quartet of pieces brought to my mind the old wedding saw of “something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.” For “something old” there is this Serenade of Carl Reinecke (1824–1910). Although I certainly recognize his name, I cannot recollect ever having heard any of his music before now, but this thoroughly delightful six-movement work shows that his oeuvre warrants further investigation.

For “something new” we have a work by Max Bruch (1838–1920) — the string octet he wrote in 1920, only a few months before his death. In the score, Bruch indicated that the piece was also suitable for performance by a full string orchestra, and upon publication of that version his publisher Simrock attached the title “Concerto.” While the octet has enjoyed no less than six previous recordings in its original form, this is the first one for full orchestra, and thus makes a welcome addition to the Bruch discography.

“Something borrowed” comes in the guise of Wagner’s Wesendonck Lieder, in a 2006 reduction for string orchestra by Gerhard Heydt. Frankly, I’m not certain what the point of this exercise is; certainly Wagner is hardly in need of reorchestration, and a good degree of tonal color is lost in subtracting woodwinds and brass. Mezzo-soprano Karin Strobos has a reasonably attractive and well produced but not exceptional voice; she sings with sincerity, but not the degree of subtle inflection these texts and settings require. This was by no means unpleasant to listen to, but there is no strong incentive to return to it.

Finally, for “something blue,” Strobos sings a setting by Friedrich Silcher (1798–1860) of Heinrich Heine’s famous poem of the original Rhine Maiden, whose beautiful appearance and singing lure ships and sailors to destruction. Silcher’s Lied is a bit peculiar in that it’s a lilting, waltz-like ditty, devoid of any darker undertones. Here Strobos and the ensemble are in their proper element.

The Ciconia Consort is further identified as being a nom de guerre for The Hague String Orchestra. Dick van Gasteren directs the players with a sure hand. The recorded sound is warm, with a certain degree of plush resonance. The booklet provides brief notes and song texts in German without translations. Although I would have preferred a full disc of lesser-known German string serenades, this definitely makes for enjoyable listening; cordially recommended.

-- Fanfare (James A. Altena)