The German pianist Michael Korstick performs Liszt’s last major piano cycle, the Années de Pèlerinage – Troisième Année from 1883, written in the latter stage of his life when he visited Rome, Weimar and Budapest. Also featured on this disc is a supplement to Années de Pèlerinage II: Venezia e Napoli.

Classical Music

The Eskar Trio have established themselves as one of Denmark’s leading chamber music ensembles and Cpo are proud to present their interpretation of Johann Brahms’s Piano Trios.

In addition to the three well-known trios is the Piano Trio in A major, a work whose authorship continues to be a matter of controversy. The anonymous score from a Bonn manuscript collection of the nineteenth century was discovered in 1924 (now extant), and it is thought to be a sole survivor from collection of piano trios the self-critical composer withheld from publication.

ORFF Ein Sommernachtstraum • Christian von Gehren, cond; actors; Andechs Fest Ch; Munich Youth O; Munich Radio O Andechs ORFF Academy • CPO 777 657 (146:09) Live: Andechs 7/28–30/2010


Carl Orff’s incidental music for Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream grew out of the desire of the National Socialists—generally, but here specifically Frankfurt’s anti-Semitic Lord Mayor Friedrich Krebs—to produce an appropriately Aryan accompaniment to the play as replacement for the now inconveniently “Jewish” musical additions of Felix Mendelssohn. Orff, even as his scenic cantata Carmina burana was gaining popular acclaim in the new Germany, was concerned with his politically dubious reputation as a modernist and consorter with leftists during the Weimar years. So he took the commission despite warnings from his pragmatic publisher that he would never be able to “dispatch Mendelssohn.” In fairness, his interest in the Elizabethan comedy was real; he had been working on such incidental music since 1917. No doubt he also found the sizable advance attractive. But what had been politically expedient in 1938—he prospered during the Third Reich—was to haunt him after the war, however facile his explanations, and at the least diminishes any pleasure one might have in hearing what he has to offer.


Or maybe not. The audience certainly seems to enjoy this production from the 2010 Orff in Andechs Festival. It will be rougher going for anyone lacking fluent German. Though the story is well known, and the alert listener will be able to figure out what is happening some of the time, there is no text, translation, or synopsis, a serious failing shared with cpo’s other recording from this festival, the Orff/Monteverdi Orpheus . My admiration goes out to anyone who, textless, can happily attend for more than two hours and 20 minutes to heavily edited Shakespeare in German, with attractively dreamlike but inconsequential and repetitive music cues that cannot even be appreciated in context of the words they are to amplify.


Cynicism aside, one is left wondering what Orff did to earn his substantial commission. Many of the handful of independent pieces are adaptations of other compositions: The prelude is from Carmina burana (“Si puer cum puellula”) transformed into a fanfare, used again in full as a replacement for the wedding march. The Rustics are introduced (in this version of 1964) with music from the 1943 fairy tale opera Die Kluge, which, in this context, jars with its banality. Annotator Thomas Rösch suggests other sources: Carmina burana again (“Chramer, gip die varwe mir”) for Titania’s lullaby, and an allusion to the act II duet for Octavian and Sophie from Der Rosenkavalier for the moonrise scene. I suppose one could make a game out of identifying the remaining borrowed themes, but I’ll leave that to others.


There are magical moments; the playing of the trumpet to the moon has the same charm as the ending of Der Mond , the prelude to the ninth scene in Theseus’ palace recalls moments of repose in the famous cantata, and the wonderful midnight melodrama (though I would have wanted Puck’s speeches done less malevolently) and finale (name that source!) provide a fitting end. Would that it all had been so engaging. The youth orchestras, and the chorus in its brief outings, are able; the recording clear for those for whom German is not an obstacle. The birds chirping in the forest are a nice touch. In any case, though my curiosity has been only partly satisfied, at least now, thanks to cpo, the historical footnote is made tangible. You might want to check the samples online before buying. And find a translation.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

Classical Music

Classical Music

TELEMANN Funeral Music for Emperor Karl VII, Ich hoffete aufs Licht, TWV 4:13 • Michael Schneider, cond; Gabriele Hierdeis, Annegret Kleindopf (sop); Dmitry Egorov (ct); Ulrike Anderen (alt); Georg Poplutz, Benjamin Kirchner (ten); Nils Cooper, Stepha Schreckenberger (bs); La Stagione Frankfurt (period instruments) • CPO 777 603-2 (62:53 Text and Translation)


Here is another of what seems like a flurry of Georg Philipp Telemann’s occasional music composed for the city of Hamburg during his long tenure there. In 1745 the Holy Roman Emperor of the German Nation, Karl VII, died in Vienna. Since Austria and Prussia were in the middle of both the Silesian War and the War of the Austrian Succession, Karl, the erstwhile non-Hapsburg Elector of Bavaria, had seemed a decent compromise, and even though Hamburg was technically not part of the empire, it was a protected city due to its strategic importance as a northern port not dominated by archenemy Prussia. Therefore the city father felt obligated to celebrate Imperial events, and Telemann was certainly willing to oblige. The text chosen was by the chief pastor of St. Catherine’s Church, Joachim Zimmermann, and Telemann wrote the work in his usual manner, that is, quickly and efficiently.


The work is written in oratorio fashion in two parts based upon a combination of quotations from the Bible, newly written poetry, and an appropriate selection of chorales, all part and parcel of the normal Hamburg sacred musical text. For the composer, this was not extraordinary, but the convoluted performance circumstances, wherein the work was mixed in with normal church services, required him to hire extra musicians and to make do with a small chorus musicus of only eight singers, who performed both solo and choral roles. The music itself is vintage Telemann on the cusp of Empfindsamkeit and with hints of the Baroque peeking through. Throughout the work are several “dicta,” commentaries and prayers, which Telemann often sets in homophonic fashion. The second, “Die Güte des Herrn,” has a stern set of dotted rhythms in the strings that make the sometimes strange harmonic modulations more apparent, while the chorale tunes are both normal four-part settings or, as in “Uns lässet zwar,” suddenly appear from within the recitative, here to a continuo line that begins to walk with a steady eighth-note pace. There are moments where Telemann’s use of the orchestra is masterly, such as the soft lyrical line for alto (with choral punctuations) “Lasst uns klagen” with the timpani beating a funereal comma even as the piece winds along in a major key. Telemann’s arias, such as “Die ihr auf unbekannte Wellen” with fits and starts, swirling strings, and clarion trumpets, or “Melde, gewognes Gerüchte,” which was reused in the oratorio Tage des Gerichts , are filled with the contrasting dynamics, rhythmic-motivic structures, and textures of the early Empfindsamkeit ; indeed, they could all have been written by Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, Telemann’s successor some two decades later. Even the recitatives weave in and out of accompagnato, making the text flow together. The final chorus, “O du Volk vom teutschen Samen,” is a verse and refrain, and although there is a chorale-like cantus firmus for one of the verses, the expected counterpoint is missing entirely, making the work more intimate.


Michael Schneider’s direction keeps the tempos moving along and the performance crisp. The eight-member soloist-chorus sounds at times much larger, but the voices are equally adept at their solo numbers. Nils Cooper’s bass, in particular, has that nice, light German sound that I find particularly attractive in Telemann’s (and Bach’s) music. The recording is, as always with cpo, well staged and the sound clear. This is clearly a work that anyone who fancies Telemann ought to have in their collection, for it shows that the composer was talented and able to bridge styles, occasions, and requirements with ease.


FANFARE: Bertil van Boer


La Stagione Frankfurt with Michael Schneider have a good history of inspiring, original and stimulating performances of music from the High/Late Baroque period - particularly that of Telemann. Here they are again with that composer's Trauermusic für Kaiser Karl VII [TVWV 4:13], 'Funeral music on the death of Emperor Charles VII'. The CD is part of CPO’s 'Musica sacra Hamburgensis 1600-1800' series; it's a rarity which has much to recommend it.

The emperor's death in 1745 was a significant event for (the citizens of) Hamburg … he had offered protection against a number of potential and actual enemies. Arrangements for formal and elaborate ceremonies marking his death were expedited quickly. So what we have on this CD is music originally written for a specific occasion in the middle of the north German eighteenth century. But its beauty, sobriety and delicate restraint can speak to us now. Especially when performers as experienced and insightful expose and embrace the idiom of Telemann so well.

The Hamburg City Council commissioned Telemann to write funeral music to texts by Joachim Johann Zimmermann (1710-1767), who had already proved himself with equivalents for the emperor's own coronation and his predecessor's funeral. What we have here is an amalgam of free poetry, Biblical material and hymns. It's divided into two parts of roughly equal length - one to be performed either side of a sermon. Its tone is as much about expressing concern for an uncertain future as a panegyric on the dear departed.

Somehow Telemann conveys the anguish relating to the threat which an uncertain future held as much as the grief at the emperor's death. He dos this not by writing music that's tentative or insipid. Instead this is achieved through using modulations of key and trills, specific voice and instrument combinations and musical phrasing that would perhaps indicate impatience in other contexts. Here they are somewhat unsettling … the soprano recitative, Du bleibst indessen [tr. 20], for instance. The contradiction between words ("you are constant") and melodic and textural wavering is an odd one; but it nevertheless successfully adds to the unpredictability of the situation.

Several aspects of the music stand out: the use of a rather prominent drum at key moments - recorded very forward; and some striking chromatic passages - in the Dictum for chorus, Meine Harfe ist [tr.13], for example. Instrumentation is interesting: muted, shady and reserved; not at all grand nor yet lugubrious. La Stagione Frankfurt respects and breathes full life into this highly nuanced set of atmospheres and allusive writing. They are aided by the variety of compositional forms - arias of types, chorales, recitatives and choral interpositions - which Telemann uses. Rarely do such contrasts really call for flourishes. When they do come - as in the short choral Dictum, Ach daß müssen [tr 25] - Schneider and his forces afford them all the more impact. Otherwise one is struck by the level, even-tempered, though no less vigorous and definite pace and 'attack' delivered by soloists, choir and instrumentalists.

The mildness and sense of having all expression, developmental lines and partnerships between text and music well within these musicians' grasp is matched by a quiet and purposeful energy throughout this hour long performance. There are single memorable moments - the final chorus, O Du Volk [tr. 29], for instance. But one is left with a more general feeling of music written for an occasion about which we cannot possibly have the strength of sentiment that contemporaries evidently did. Yet this touches us with its graceful observance of the complex public feelings and slightly suppressed hope for the future. This, by its very nature is more generalised, in music that's thoughtful, yet almost extrovert.

The booklet that comes with the CD contains much useful background information, the text in German and English, and details of the performers - though it is set in an almost impossibly small font size. The acoustic is clear and aids our understanding of the equally clean and unruffled articulation of the text by the eight soloists of La Stagione Frankfurt.

Each issue in the series, 'Musica sacra Hamburgensis 1600-1800', has been worth a close look. Ich hoffete aufs Licht is no exception. Schneider and his group make music with real style; yet never overstate their case. A rarely-heard work from Telemann's canon, of which there is no other recording available, this may not be ground-breaking Baroque at its unique best. Even so, it has a lot going for it.

-- Mark Sealey, MusicWeb International

A fine, virile and far from effete imaginative contribution to the two centuries in which this music was created.

Aulis Sallinen is a characterful composer, but these five discs leave open the question of whether or not he’s a true symphonist. The first three symphonies thrive on instrumental color and fascinating, often percussive sonorities. The Fourth seemed to be pointing in a new direction, but the Fifth and Sixth turned out to be episodic, even static. The Seventh, after Tolkien, returns to Sallinen’s coloristic roots to excellent effect (it was based on music for a projected ballet), while the Eighth has marvelous passages but a curiously unsatisfying conclusion.

The concertos (for violin, cello, and horn) are all excellent pieces, and so are most of the shorter works—Chorali and especially Shadows, which revisits music from the opera The King Goes Forth to France and contains one of the most haunting tunes in any contemporary work. Make no mistake: the music is personal, approachable, and atmospheric, and the performances uniformly splendid. Sallinen is well worth getting to know, but if you’re looking to sample, try to find the single disc containing Symphonies 1, 7, A Solemn Overture, and Chorali, and move on from there.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

------------

Which of Sallinen’s works/recordings made you mark his name for further exploration? For me it involved a Swedish LP and a radio broadcast. The album is predictable enough. It was the pioneering BIS-LP-41 of symphonies 1 and 3 (Okko Kamu) and Chorali (Paavo Berglund). The broadcast was of a performance of the stunning Cello Concerto by Arto Noras who already interested me because he had recorded with smoking fervour the Bliss Cello Concerto for EMI and the Klami Cheremissian Fantasy for Finnlevy.

Things moved on from there. My interest increased in this Finnish composer from a generation born two decades before Sibelius’s death. He was modern yet definitely not a swooning post-romantic. His music was characterised by stubborn heroics, discontinuous triumphs, terse, expressive ideas and a real lyrical proclivity. Crucial discoveries for me included hearing his Dies Irae broadcast from the Three Choirs in 1981, Shadows conducted by Bryden Thomson and the first UK performance of the Violin Concerto in 1982 with the BBC Scottish and Maurice Handford conducting. In 1986 I encountered Symphonies Nos. 2 and 4 with the BBC Welsh Symphony Orchestra again directed by Thomson in 1986. I was hooked. The barb became more deeply embedded with Finlandia’s Meet the Composer volume (8573-81972-2 - issued 1997) which presented the truly magnificent and very memorable Cello Concerto (Noras) and Symphonies 4 and 5 (Saraste and Kamu) among other things. That Warner label 2 CD set just pre-dated the launch of MusicWeb International. I have previously reviewed several of the five Sallinen orchestral discs issued by CPO and have been more than impressed by this Rasilainen-conducted set.

The present Edition is the only game in town. There is nothing comparable. All eight symphonies are there, three concertos and clutch of smaller orchestral works. It’s a substantial set assembling five separately issued CDs released between 2002 and 2007 and housing them in a card sheath. The price ranges between £30 and £40 on Amazon representing some saving on the individual discs. The vertebra of these discs is Sallinen’s entire eight symphonies. The ‘missing’ concertos are the ones for flute (1995), violin, piano and chamber orchestra (2005), clarinet, viola (variant clarinet, cello) and orchestra (2007-8) and cor anglais (2010); all in due time though the flute concerto has been available on Naxos 8.554185 for quite some time.

I will not comment on every work featured beyond saying that this set of discs evinces a serious and brilliantly executed intent. This was evidently a project that mattered greatly. Its presence on the market should be capitalised on by all enthusiasts iof this composer and of Finnish music and indeed of 20 ^th century music at large.

Cellular construction and iterative development of ideas are Sallinen hallmarks. These are apparent in the tense Fourth Symphony which also makes distinctive use of bells and percussion. Other broadly referenced moments link with Arnold, Prokofiev and Alan Hovhaness – especially the tumultuously baleful brass writing in the Vishnu symphony. The single movement Second Symphony is less successful as a symphony than its extraordinary flankers (symphonies 1 and 3 first recorded by Kamu on Bis). It sports a wide spectrum percussion array: marimba, vibraphone, crotales, tom-toms, bongos, Chinese temple blocks and gongs, military drum, side drum, suspended cymbal and large tam-tam.

The Horn Concerto is subtitled Bells and Arias. It is classic Sallinen material with its frank lyric qualities, especially in the central movement, completely liberated by the decade's acceptance of melodic material. The horn sings autumnally as well as rasping and abrading in Britten-style fanfares. Everything is presented with a lucidity that is unafraid to reveal the work’s wonderfully engaging building blocks.

Mauermusik or Wall Music was written in Köln in 1962. It is to the memory of a young East German who was shot to death for attempting to cross the Berlin Wall into the West. The work was premiered in 1964, not by Berglund, but by Ulf Söderblom in Helsinki. Written before Sallinen fully found his own voice and amid a dominant atonal conformity, this is a moving and desolate piece that, in its string writing recalls, the Penderecki of the 1960s. This is not the Sallinen we know but a young composer paying his dues to the norms of the time.

The steely silvery awe of Shadows has a wandering Sibelian bass which transforms into a billowing cannonade of vehemently threatening sound. Symphony No. 8 – his last - speaks of anxiety-haunted exploration. The opening is spattered with sparse woodblock clatter under an awed brass-led largo. The bell finale is built from the notes of the name of the orchestra ConCErtGEBouw AmstErDAm. The title, Autumnal Fragments, relates to 9/11. The work ends in a calming yet stertorous funereal cortege that finally slides into silence.

Sallinen is also renowned for his operas: The Horseman (1975), The Red Line (1978), The King Goes Forth To France (1983), The Palace (1991-3), Kullervo (1988) and King Lear (1999). Shadows has its origin in The King Goes Forth while The Palace Rhapsody's operatic sources are self-evident. It is scored for winds, percussion, harp and orchestra. It has a more candidly Sibelian tang. This thoughtful, brooding piece lit with flashes of brilliance is a work of line and continuity much more than the Eighth Symphony.

We also hear what is the third recording of the Violin Concerto – this time from Jaako Kuusisto – a stalwart of Bis’s now completely achieved Sibelius Edition. There’s one on Campion coupled with the Sibelius and the irresistible but reactionary Janis Ivanovs' concerto; don’t miss it. The recording here is much more refined and also has greater grip at every dynamic level. This early work predates the wonderful Sinfonia which was his First Symphony. It is an intense song, very romantic in a modernist sense, somehow Sibelian without replicating the language. It is not 12 tone but feels modern and the zither and harpsichord encapsulate this at the start of the second movement. Its flood of incident and imagination certainly fascinates.

Chorali dates from 1970 and was conducted by Berglund on that first Bis LP. It sounds just as vivid here. The Seventh Symphony The Dreams of Gandalf predictably owes its inspiration to Tolkien. It recycles material from an abortive The Hobbit ballet Sallinen once had in hand. The composer says that the music is an expression of literary atmosphere and poetry: heroic and legendary, mysterious and meditative – I have appropriated Hubert Culot’s apposite words here. This fantastic music ends in calm. The King Lear piece draws on material from the opera and is completely in keeping with its sombre, tragic and minatory subject.

I would also refer you to Hubert’s review of Sallinen’s The Barabbas Dialogues. It is on a separate CPO which is not included in the present set.

Recording and production values throughout are excellent: open, vital and lively. Rasilainen and his orchestras and soloists appear confident and virtuosic and their fidelity to the composer’s vision is suggested if not guaranteed by the supervising presence of the composer during these recordings.

The annotation is in the stylish and well-informed hands of Martin Anderson. It runs counter to CPO's tendency towards a congealed dissertation style - an effect usually exacerbated by translation into English.

These eight symphonies form one of the building blocks of Finish and world culture. Far from being merely significant they also deliver a fine, virile and far from effete imaginative contribution to the two centuries in which this music was created.

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Telemann impresses once again with this Kapitänsmusik - the characters are perfectly portrayed.

One of the many duties of Georg Philipp Telemann as Musikdirektor in Hamburg was the composition of the Kapitänsmusik. This was to be performed every year during the convivium, the festive banquet of the sixty-seven members of the officer corps of the civic guard. This event took place on the first Thursday after St Bartholomew's Day (24 August). The Kapitänsmusik consisted of two parts. It started with an oratorio which was performed during the midday meal; the serenata was played in the evening. Telemann composed 36 such works, of which only nine have survived.

In the (sacred) oratorio the many blessings of Hamburg are spelled out, mostly by a character called Hammonia (Hamburg). She calls on the citizens to praise God for his blessings. Here this is expressed, for instance, in a chorus of Hammonia with her children: "Holy being, you source of good, blessing and prosperity issue forth from you. You make sure that Hamburg's wall forever stand. Take from us the thanks for this." allegorical characters turn up which declare their bond with the city: Die Andacht (Devotion), Die Gerechtigkeit (Justice), Die Wahrheit (Truth) and Das Vertrauen (Trust). As in most such pieces there is an opposing character: Die Unachtsamkeit (Negligence). He acknowledges that there is much to enjoy in Hamburg, but for him the blessings are rather the earthly pleasures, like food and drink: "I look forward to the oyster season". He doesn't want to waste any time thinking about "the source of the blessing and its surplus". The other characters react with abhorrence, as Negligence "forgets that our God is the origin of good", as Devotion says. Hammonia then says he should "avoid my domain". The oratorio ends with the last stanza from the hymn 'Herr Gott, wir danken dir' (Johann Franck, 1618-1677).

The serenata is quite dramatic. This is to be expected because Telemann was a successful opera composer; from 1722 until its closure in 1738 he was the director of the Oper am Gänsemarkt. But this serenata is more dramatic than those in other Kapitänsmusiken in that its central subject is war. There was a historical reason for that. Hamburg was part of the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation, and its emperor, Charles VI, had been involved in a war against the Ottoman empire since 1737. Although Hamburg was not directly struck by the war, it was part of the empire and therefore involved in the conflict. The serenata begins with a 'Chorus of the Heroes' in the form of a battaglia: "The drum calls with rolling beats, the mortars roar, the swords flash - this brings joy to our brave hearts". The warriors are encouraged by Der Kriegsgeist (The Spirit of War), the Elbe asks the shepherds to end their joy and "lay down your gentle flutes". It is then Die Zaghaftigkeit (Timidity) who describes the horrors of the war: "My heart beats in my horrified breast to think of the ominous gloom of signs of misfortune. (...) O who, who will save us from ruin?" Then Der Friede (Peace) enters and declares that "I am the one who watches over you". This gives Timidity new strength.

In the last part of the serenata the enemy is specifically mentioned. The Spirit of War says: "The eagle leads the legions before Istanbul's now horrified gate. He displays in sharpened talons, the sword drawn for Turkish ruin". He is encouraged by the Elbe: "Go, let German courage accustom the wild Saracens even more to servitude". This is followed by an aria which has again the form of a battaglia. As in the oratorio there is an opposing character. This time it is Der Neid (Envy) which expresses his "pleasure in Germany's misfortune". "I even see now with happy eyes the whole burden and your demise coming". But then Der Schutzgeist Deutschlands (Germany's Guardian Spirit) turns up and declares: "Germany is loved by heaven itself. Up, heroes, up to the fight". The serenata ends with a chorus: "Germany's glory shall always stand, and your happy prosperity, Hamburg/Schwerin, is ordained by God".

Considering that Germany was no political unity, but a patchwork of largely independent territories the use of the term 'Germany' is remarkable. It was hardly used in those days, and in his liner-notes Eckart Kleßman sees it as an expression of the wish "to put an end to the notorious threat posed to the practically defenseless German states, to strengthen their self-confidence, and to reinforce this self-confidence with military security". Whatever the reason may be, this aspect and the pronounced treatment of the subject of war makes this Kapitänsmusik rather unique in this part of Telemann's oeuvre.

One of the dramatic features of the serenata is the representation of the characters. In particular The Spirit of War and Timidity are remarkable, as well as Envy. The characteristics of these protagonists are impressively explored by the singers. In the oratorio it is the role of Negligence which attracts attention. Here Immo Schröder shines in his humorous portrayal of this character. Veronika Winter gives an immaculate performance of the role of Hammonia. As Germany's Guardian Spirit she sings the last aria of this work, 'Ergreifet den Degen' (Grip the sword) which is quite virtuosic. But most arias are pitched at a considerable technical level, and Telemann again shows his creative spirit, not only in the vocal parts but also in the instrumental score.

This Kapitänsmusik was first performed in modern times in 1965 in the former GDR, but its text had to be changed in many respects, for political reasons. Therefore the live performance in 2007 in Knechtsteden which was recorded by the German classical channel WDR Cologne and released by CPO, is the work's first modern performance in its original state. Hermann Max and all other participants deserve our gratitude for bringing this very fine piece of music to our attention. I am looking forward to the Kapitänsmusiken which are still waiting to be recorded.

-- Johan van Veen, MusicWeb International

August Enna (1859-1939) was entranced by the stories of Hans Christian Andersen, as both the eponymous overture and his "Fairy Tale" Symphonic Pictures show. Actually, the identity of the fairy tales is never revealed in what essentially is a four-movement symphony (or "symphonic suite") somewhat akin, in spirit if not actual sound, to Rimsky-Korsakov's Antar or Scheherazade. The music, as you might expect, is tuneful and attractive, though both here and in the Second symphony there's rhythmic stiffness, a "four-square" quality to Enna's writing that prevents the music from achieving an effortless feeling of movement in its quicker sections. Still, if you're attracted to traditional Romantic music then these works by a minor but nonetheless appealing composer are worth sampling. Certainly the performances under Michael Hofstetter lack nothing in energy and commitment, the orchestra plays quite well, and the sonics are up to CPO's usual high standard.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com


As is not unusual with CPO this fully-loaded disc breaks new ground.

The Danish composer August Enna was something of an old-fashioned romantic; rather backward-looking but with some fresh ideas melodically and in his use of the orchestra. His music – on this showing - veers around Mendelssohn, Berlioz and Tchaikovsky. Yet he also remind you at times of Sibelius and Nielsen (both pre-1900).

Among major non-vocal works he wrote just two symphonies (D minor, 1886 and E major, 1908) and a violin concerto. His main commitment lay in the field of opera two of which have been recorded by CPO: Heisse Liebe (1903) on CPO777 250-2 and The Little Match Girl (or Das Streichholzmädel) (1900) on CPO999 595-2. The latter is based on H.C. Andersen whose writings inspired him more than once. The first two works on this disc owe their origin to Andersen. The overture to The Little Match Girl or The Little Match Seller could once be heard on a long-gone Unicorn disc DKP(CD) 9036 recorded in May 1986 in Odense by Ole Schmidt with the Odense Symphony Orchestra.

The Violin Concerto (1897) can be heard as part of the Kai Laursen project on Danacord DACOCD466 or as part of the ten disc set on DACOCD461-470. One reviewer commented on its modest charms and drew parallels with the Godard concertos. I related it to the Gade and Mendelssohn school: another singing display piece but with the emphasis on heart rather than obviously flashy pyrotechnics. It’s all over and done with in 22:57. Agreed the 1966 vintage recording does not help its cause.

The other Enna operas of which there are about twenty include Heksen (The Witch), 4 acts (1891), Cleopatra, 3 acts after H Rider Haggard (1893), Aucassin und Nicolette, 4 scenes (1896), Die Erbsenprinzessin, comic opera, 1 act after H.C. Andersen (1902), Gloria Arsena. 4 scenes after Alexandre Dumas (1916), The Comedians, 3 Acts (1921), and Don Juan Mañara, in 3 acts (1922). This is not to forget other non-operatic yet vocal works such as Die Schäferin und der Schornsteinfeger (The Shepherdess and the Chimney Sweep) after H.C. Andersen. (1902), Mutterliebe, Legend for soli, choir and orchestra (1907), Sancta Cecilia's Guldsko (Golden shoes), a pantomime-ballet, 1 act (1905) and Bellman – A Fantasy, 4 scenes (1907).

The score for the 32 minute, four movement Fairy Tales does not identify any particular stories. The movements carry standard tempo markings; that’s it. The first begins imposingly in a tempest - but soon sighs romantically before returning to the storms. The Andante and the Allegro Vivace are stirringly big-hearted and brilliant affairs with Tchaikovskian resonances - an echo also shared by Haakon Børresen, Louis Glass and Levi Madetoja. That smiling Tchaikovskian wraith also hangs benevolently over the last few pages of the finale. After a long cello solo-led foreword we have a soulfully pulsating finale with a grand melody of Tchaikovskian pathos. This transforms into a jingling alla turca fantasy which must surely have left its imprint on Nielsen for his music for Oehlenschlager’s Aladdin. The Hans Christian Andersen Overture at first roars with the defiance of Egmont and Eroica and something of the tragedy of Tchaikovsky’s Hamlet but soon relaxes into a sumptuous smooch. It then finds a chatteringly propulsive tempo which recalls Le Corsair and Carnaval Romain. The Second Symphony is in four sumptuous movements and combines a Tchaikovskian manner (Fifth Symphony) with an folk-idyllic and sometimes Delian pulse. The music is playful and jolly without being simple-minded. The reins are held with due tension for which credit must go to Hofstetter who will, I hope, become a CPO stalwart. The third movement uses a chattering folk-like dance with a lightly applied dash of fugal paint. The two outer movements are big structures and in the case of the finale combine folk-dance with grandeur and at the end bristling drama. There’s a touch of Svendsen and Alfvén here too but the Scandinavian accent is not all that assertive.

The strings are not quite as juicily ‘fruity’ and resilient as I might have hoped but not sufficient to detract; just something to be aware of.

Liner-notes from CPO can at times be rather congealed; not this one - which is by Jens Cornelius.

I hope that CPO will let us have the First Symphony in due course. Of the stage works I am most intrigued by the Rider Haggard opera Cleopatra – did any other composer write anything inspired by Haggard?

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

Postscript from Holkger Sambale
I have this disc and quite like it, too - really nice and appealing music. What I want to make you aware of is the following: as far as I am informed, Enna's Symphony No. 1 is lost - so there is no chance for a release. At least that is what MGG (= Musik in Geschichte und Gegenwart, a huge music encyclopedia which is best described as the German equivalent of New Grove) tells us. HS

Classical Music

Johann Mattheson (1681-1764) was a German musician, teacher, music theorist, diplomat and composer who lived his life in Hamburg. He composed mainly vocal and some instrumental works. Johann Mattheson was a contemporary and personally knew composers George Frideric Handel, Christoph Graupner and Reinhard Keiser.

Almost all of Mattheson's music vanished during World War II and was presumed lost, however missing scores and copies were discovered in 1998 in Yerevan, Armenia and were returned to the city of Hamburg. The rediscovered scores included four operas and most of the oratorios. The manuscripts are now located at the Staats und Universitätsbibliothek Hamburg, the former Hamburg Stadtbibliothek.