Prokofiev's freewheeling Chout ballet, with its driving rhythms, highly virtuosic instrumental writing, and vivid and brilliantly varied orchestration, in many ways resembles his Scythian suite. Chout, or "buffoon", portrays the comic mishaps that occur when a husband concocts a scheme to swindle money out of seven clowns by faking his wife's death, and then selling his victims the magical whip that has restored her to life. For this scenario Prokofiev supplied music that is bitingly satirical (sounding close to the early ballet music of his contemporary Shostakovich) but also quite lyrical, even featuring some soaring Prokofievian tunes.


Yet for the most part the piece hustles along in a busy manner that at first seems chaotic but actually adheres to a larger thematic plan (each of the six Tableaux begins with the same material). Even so, it's the sheer sound of the music--and the amazing fecundity of Prokofiev's imagination--that make the greatest impressions, especially in this remarkable performance by Michail Jurowski and the Cologne WDR orchestra, which plays with marked precision and enthusiasm. CPO's recording, with its solid imaging and dynamic impact, no doubt enhances the music's overall effect. Neeme Järvi's Chandos disc is a safer bet for those who prefer just the ballet suite, but to experience the full effect of this striking score, this new version is the way to go. [12/15/2003]
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

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M. HAYDN Symphonies: in F; 1 No. 14; 1 No. 17; 1 No. 19; 1 No. 24; 1 No. 29; 1 No. 33; 1 No. 40; 2 No. 41. 2 3 Marches 2 • 1 Frank Beerman, 2 Johannes Goritzki (cond); Deutsche Kammerakademie Neuss • CPO 777 137-2 (2 CDs: 155:54)


It is a painful commentary on how badly skewed the standard symphonic repertoire is, that from it one would suppose the only worthwhile composers active between 1760 and 1810 were Mozart, F. J. Haydn, and Beethoven. We can therefore be devoutly grateful that recordings bring us so much fine music that seldom or never makes it into most concert halls, such as the present set of symphonies by Michael Haydn. While he was not blessed with the extraordinary genius of either his brother Joseph or of Mozart (his colleague in Salzburg from 1773 to 1781), lacking the astonishing sheer inventiveness of the former and supernal formal perfection of the latter, he was a first-rate composer whose works are of considerably higher stature than those of most of his confrères , and deserve regularly to grace our ears.


In style, Michael Haydn’s symphonies are poised almost exactly halfway between his two great contemporaries; they often demonstrate a wit akin to his brother (e.g., the opening Vivace of No. 33), but a melodic and harmonic palette nearer to his junior associate (e.g., the Andante of the unnumbered Symphony in F Major). Indeed, the kinship between Michael Haydn and Mozart is often so close that one might fool friends in a parlor game by cueing up a movement from a Michael Haydn symphony and asking them to identify which earlier Mozart symphony they are hearing. (And, given that the Symphony in F Major was written in 1760 when Mozart was but four years old, the influence clearly ran initially from the elder man to the younger adolescent, though later on an interchange doubtless ran both ways.) The chief difference is that Michael Haydn’s symphonies remain somewhat more old-fashioned in form, instrumentation, and style. A number of symphonies follow the older three-movement pattern; scoring never includes clarinets, and almost never a flute; an independent part for a pair of bassoons appears beginning only in 1779. Prior to that, only strings, oboes, and horns are present, with trumpets and timpani sometimes added. Written primarily in the gallant style, the music always winningly engages but never fundamentally challenges the listener.


With this set, the cpo series of Michael Haydn symphonies finally nears completion after almost 20 years; of the 41 enumerated works, only numbers 13 and 20 have not been committed to disc. The first batch, a six-CD budget-priced megaset of 20 symphonies with the Slovak Chamber Orchestra under Bohdan Warchal recorded in 1990–91, featured the kind of conscientious but rather pedestrian playing of numerous provincial ensembles and conductors that for all too long made an indifferent case for Classical era works outside the standard symphonic canon. That changed radically in 1994 with the subsequent CD issues, all recorded with the present ensemble under its founder, Johannes Goritzki, using modern instruments but thoroughly informed by period-instrument practices. The CD with symphonies 1C, 22, 23, and 33 received a glowing review from Barry Brenesal in Fanfare 26:5, and this set is of the same extremely high caliber. At every turn the performances are lively, pointed, and gracious, with elegant, crisp, spirited playing and excellent sectional balance. No indication is given as to why the last two symphonies and three marches (all charming miniatures) were recorded instead with Beermann, but I cannot detect any strongly distinct interpretive profile between the two conductors. One vainly wishes that the first set would be rerecorded to match the standards of its successors. The recorded sound is clean and clear, and the booklet notes are exceptionally informative. Enthusiastically recommended.


FANFARE: James A. Altena

Smethergell's Charming Overtures Vol. 1 – of the composers of the British kingdom who can be described as contemporaries of Joseph Haydn, almost all are largely forgotten today. Yet even before Haydn's arrival in 1790, not only was the study of his music flourishing, but above all, concerts of orchestral music had long been established in a variety of venues. For a long time almost nothing was known about William Smethergell. Baptized in London on January 6, 1751 in the church of St. Peter le Poer, he came from a family that was anything but wealthy, as Douglas Bostock suspects, originally of Danish origin. Smethergell spent much of his musical career as an organist, from 1770 at All Hallows Church in Barking-by-the-Tower, and from 1775 at St. Mary-at-Hill not half a mile away. When he applied for membership of the Royal Society of Musicians of Great Britain in 1779, he disclosed that he derived his annual income of about £200 from his two organist positions as well as his activities as a viola player in the Vauxhall Orchestra and from teaching. His Six Overtures in eight parts Op. V offer a thoroughly remarkable number of idiosyncrasies, though the first Overture in particular seems like a prototype of the genre in its clear three-movement form - with splendid opening movement, lively Siciliano with the dynamic indication sempre p, and a contrasting Rondo. Early on, Smethergell not only treats the winds to a colorful function, but also allows them to stand out as soloists. Enjoy also the other overtures with much charm and subliminal wit.

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Here, cpo’s complete edition of Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy’s string quartets in gripping interpretations by the Minguet Quartet continues with Vol. 2. At the young age of twelve Mendelssohn composed Twelve Fugues for String Quartet (1821), and in his String Quartet in E flat major composed shortly thereafter a fugue forms the finale. Such contrapuntal pieces pointing to Johann Sebastian Bach were regarded as proofs of compositional proficiency. However, this work was in no way an object of study merely copying classical models. The adagio alone with its melancholy, emphatically intensified melody and quartet texture finely spread over all the instruments radiates a new and very unique sound magic. What is remarkable about Mendelssohn’s Quartet op. 12 is the lyrical character of the first movement, which quite obviously engages in dialogue with Beethoven’s late Quartet op. 127 in the same key. Of course the individual tone of the composer, who was a mere twenty years old at the time, is also very clear. His Four Pieces for String Quartet are not a homogeneous work, even if after his death they came to be known as his String Quartet No. 7 op. 81. The four movements are from different periods of time: the variation movement and the scherzo from 1847, the year of his death, the capriccio from 1843, and the concluding fugue from as early as 1827. The stylistic aspect shifts from movement to movement.

Baroque master Telemann set the St. Luke Passion in 11 different versions. He did so because he composed for 5 of Hamburg’s principal churches and had the task of setting the passion narrative from the Gospel of Luke in alternation with those in Matthew, Mark, and John at regular y year intervals. He did not want to repeat himself in this performance series.

TELEMANN Violin Concertos: in C, TWV 51:C3 ; in g, TWV 51:g1; in b, TWV 51:h2 ; in G, TWV 51:G7 ; in a, TWV 51:a2 ; in B?, TWV 51:B1 ; in A, TWV 51:A4 • Elizabeth Wallfisch (vn), dir; L’Orfeo Barockorchester (period instruments) • cpo 777089 (64:21)


This is the second of what promises to be a three-CD set including all Telemann’s violin concertos, a body of works (21 in all, according to the revised New Grove ) rather less daunting in number than is the case with many areas of Telemann’s output. Equally, the concertos themselves are not especially daunting to a performer, since they adhere to the composer’s own philosophy and his professed dislike of ostentatious virtuosity. Those interested will find Robert Maxham’s review of the earlier volume in Fanfare 28:1; I reviewed it elsewhere, finding the performances of Elizabeth Wallfisch and the L’Orfeo players well nigh ideal.


As with the first disc, the remarkable thing is the sheer variety Telemann introduced into concerto form. That range includes his interest in the Corellian type of concerto, as is the case with the B-Minor Concerto, with its four brief movements, although Telemann springs a surprise in the last of these by reverting to a lively dance in the typical Polish style he made very much his own. The Concerto in C, on the other hand, is a thoroughly modern Italian concerto that also includes elements of the sinfonia. It was in fact composed as the overture to the opera Der neumodische Leibhaber Damon (Hamburg, 1724), the first of its three movements having a Vivaldian drive and energy, the second a transitory passage, while the third is an elegant minuet in which the soloist is featured only in two episodes. After opening with an innocent, song-like Andante, the G-Major Concerto maintains a bucolic dance spirit throughout, the exception being the third of its four movements, a hauntingly lovely siciliana that hovers enigmatically between major and minor modes.


The really outstanding concerto here is TWV 51:B1 in B?, a work written for the Dresden concertmaster Johann Georg Pisendel, while the most original is the A-Major, TWV 51:A4. The former, another four-movement work, was for long known in an incomplete state, part of the MS of the final movement being missing. Its opening movement displays Telemann’s contrapuntal mastery and adaptation of ritornello form to a degree of formal sophistication rarely found in contemporary Italian concertos, with fragments of the ritornello worked into exchanges with the solo part. At the heart of the concerto is an exquisite Andante in which the soloist’s aria-like cantilena is supported by a gently throbbing accompaniment. The A Major is one of the more familiar of Telemann’s violin concertos, a descriptive work sometimes known as “Die Relinge,” a kind of tree frog. In the opening movement, the soloist is called on to imitate the call of the creatures with tremolandos close to the instrument’s bridge, while the central Largo is a beautiful evocation of drowsy, soft song in the stillness of a warm summer’s evening. A gracious Minuet finale (with a string trio central episode) returns to the formal world of man.


The performances again seem to me near ideal, with tempos that simply sound unerringly right, and the spirit of the music captured with impeccably idiomatic style. These may for the most part not be flashy concertos, but they demand a considerable level of technical skill and agility from their performer, in addition to an ability to draw pure, unmannered cantabile lines. On both counts it would be difficult to fault the experienced Wallfisch, who is again admirably supported by the L’Orfeo Barockorchester, one of the most improved ensembles in the field. Given that when complete this will stand alone as a complete set of the violin concertos, alternative versions are not really relevant. In any event, several of the concertos are otherwise unavailable, making this brightly engineered disc and its predecessor obligatory for all Telemann collectors; it also makes for a highly desirable acquisition by anyone else.


FANFARE: Brian Robins

From today's perspective, Florian Leopold Gaßmann (1729-1774) falls into one of those time gaps that, like black holes in the universe of art, threaten to swallow up everything that cannot be easily assigned to an era in retrospect. And this despite the fact that the German from Bohemia was anything but a minor master of music notation during his lifetime and for several decades thereafter, both in Italy, where he began his actual career, and in Austria, where shortly before his untimely death he was appointed imperial court conductor: his operas were in such demand on both sides of the Alps that Gaßmann really did not have to worry about making a living, and his instrumental music was also distributed widely, mostly in the form of copies.

This production cleverly combines the two main areas of his activity, for the two quintets for oboe and strings recorded here are arrangements of some particularly popular arias from the successful opera Amor und Psyche, while other light music undoubtedly belonged to the "occasional works" that the "court and chamber composer" of Joseph II. These are all extremely beautiful-sounding, imaginative and varied creations, which are coming to life under the umbrella of the now legendary master oboist Lájos Lencsés and, thanks to their colorfulness, will no longer have to fear a black hole.

The cpo label’s third release featuring orchestral works by August Klughardt (1847-1902) again “represents an impressive case on behalf of a composer to whom one cannot listen uninterestedly.” (klassik-heute). The Symphony No. 4 in c, op. 57 according to a review of an 1893 NYC performance, “is a thoroughly noble work, solidly constructed, clear and easy to grasp thematic structure, rich in its melodic invention… not a dusty product of pedantic erudition… Klughardt has astonishing contrapuntal skill”. Klughardt’s Three Pieces, op. 87, his last orchestral work, rounds off this CD.

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Although the music of Karl Goldmark eventually fell into obscurity, the composer enjoyed a successful career during his life. Goldmark has been admired by some of the greatest names still remembered in music. Brahms was a personal friend of his, who believed that his Wedding Symphony was perfect in form, and Sir Thomas Beecham and Leonard Bernstein frequently conducted his music. Along with his Wedding Symphony, his output included other works that premiered to much acclaim such as his opera The Queen of Sheba, his outstanding violin concerto, and Overture to the Prometheus Bound of Aeschylus.

SCHACHT Symphonies: in C; in E?; in E?, “Echo” • Gernot Schmalfuss, cond; Evergreen SO • CPO 777 737-2 (79:33)

CPO’s liner notes for this release are typically long, but surprisingly focused entirely on music-making in the Perpetual Diet of Regensburg. Nothing about Schacht, and none of the musical analysis CPO typically offers. The latter is most surprising, given that two of the works on this record are truly imaginative examples of the Haydn symphony’s further development.

Let’s start with a brief note about the composer. Theodor von Schacht (1748–1823) was a pupil in Stuttgart of Jomelli, between 1766 and 1771. His subsequent career centered almost entirely around Regensburg: appointed musical intendant and creator of the Court’s Italian Opera in 1774, of its German Singspiel company in 1778, and of a renewed Italian Opera in 1784. He became musical director of the Court’s orchestra in 1786. Schacht was well regarded both at home and abroad, and decided in 1805 to try his luck in Vienna. There his sacred music proved very popular—popular enough, at any rate, for Napoleon in 1809 to commission six solemn Masses from Schacht. He moved to Württemberg in 1812, and back to Regensburg in 1819. I’ve found no indication as to when he was ennobled and acquired his von, but presumably it was achieved either from Prince Karl Anselm during Schacht’s first lengthy stay in Regensberg, or from Austria’s Archduke Rudolf, who gave Schacht his protection while the latter was in Vienna. (Rudolf was a great patron of Beethoven, and received many dedications from the latter. Yes, including the so-called “Archduke” Trio.)

The symphonies are remarkably inventive. While presenting a Haydn-like synthesis of Italian, German, and French traits, they display a richer chromatic harmonic and thematic vocabulary. (The Regensburg rulers had family ties with the Esterháza, and there was a lively exchange of musical materials over decades. One symphony of Schacht’s was actually credited for a while to Haydn.) The Andante of his Sinfonia in C jumps at one point directly from a passage in F Major to one in A? Major; and the trio in the same Sinfonia’s minuet explores a modulating chain from its home key of C Major—by way of delicately handled solo and paired winds—through B Minor, A Major, A? Minor, E? Major, D Major, etc. The effect in retrospect is Schubertian, and not merely here, for short bursts of wide-ranging harmonic progression occur in most of his movements. This isn’t to suggest that Schubert was influenced by Schacht, but that the latter was a composer with an ear to the latest musical developments, and the skill to capitalize on them in ingenious ways.

If these works are typical of his symphonic output, then Schacht, like Haydn, had a love of the theme and variations form. Both the undated symphonies on this album (the sinfonias in C Major and E? Major; the Sinfonia con Eco in E? Major is credited to 1775, and sounds earlier than the others) employ this for their slow movements. He not only varies the entire theme, but suddenly expands short motivic sections of it, either after a fashion that extends the theme when it returns, or moves it in an entirely new direction. Once again like Haydn, his rondo finales play games with meter, accent, rhythm, postponed cadences, false final cadences, and sudden expressive, harmonic shifts. Grove I notes that Schacht’s instrumental music was less notable for its contrapuntal interest, but in fact his two- and three-part writing is often striking, made more so by his sensitive orchestration. I shouldn’t be surprised if these works begin to make their ways into concerts.

Gernot Schmalfuss doesn’t lack energy, nor the Evergreen SO of Taiwan lack precision, discipline, and color. I would have preferred more attention spent on phrasing in the warmer galant material—Schacht has a gift for ravishing bel canto melody, which he rightly rations for a few special moments—and Schmalfuss takes the Andante movement of the C-Major Symphony at 114 bpm, which vitiates some of the composer’s sensuous writing. But overall, these are good readings, especially tight in the bustling finales, with careful attention paid to dynamics. CPO’s engineering is less distant than in some of their releases, and does a good job of catching Schacht’s bright, frequently shifting orchestral palette.

As charming as Weber’s symphonies, Schacht’s are considerably more substantial than his. And since this is labeled “volume one,” we can look forward to future installments. Meanwhile, don’t miss this.

FANFARE: Barry Brenesal