Classical Music

Crawford Seeger's life reflects both the positive and the negative charges of a woman's life in music. There were burdens of raising a large family; the hovering presence of her husband, the composer Charles Seeger; the Depression; social activism (one of the song settings concerns the Sacco-Vanzetti case); and with it all, a tough-minded modernism and a muscular personality. All the pieces on this CD derive from the years 1924 to 1932, before marriage and its concerns more or less silenced Ms. Seeger's work until the 1950's. (She died in 1953.)
The early piano preludes (here Nos. 1 and 9) bear the fluidity and sensuousness of Scriabin, as Cheryl Seltzer's booklet note suggests. Pieces like the Suite for Five Wind Instruments have an assertive tang and an increasing distance from tonality that put them closer to the industrial-strength harmonic revolutions of the times. To this way of thinking also belongs the Violin Sonata, an original and confident work.
Exercises in spartan combinations include two Diaphonic Suites," for solo flute and for bassoon and cello. The three Carl Sandburg songs ride on a complex and dense instrumental accompaniment."
- Bernard Holland, NEW YORK TIMES

Bach wrote his six Suites for unaccompanied cello at C�then, about the year 1720. It is thought that the first four, at least, were written either for Christian Ferdinand Abel, bass viol player at C�then, or for Christian Bernhard Linike, more probably the latter. Abel, appointed to C�then in 1715 is not known to have been a cellist, while Linike was distinguished rather as a player of the cello and in this capacity had been appointed to the musical establishment of the court in C�then in 1716, thus rejoining former colleagues from the Prussian court musical establishment, disbanded in 1713 by Friedrich Wilhelm I on his accession to his father's throne. Both musicians were friends and colleagues of Bach. The original autograph of the suites is lost and the earliest copy is that made by the Gr�fenroda organist and composer Johann Peter Kellner in about 1726. This is followed by that in the hand of Bach's second wife, Anna Magdalena, made probably in 1727 or 1728 for the Brunswick-Wolfenb�ttel chamber musician Georg Heinrich Ludwig Schwanenberger, who had visited Leipzig at the time and taken lessons in thoroughbass from Bach, for whose daughter Regina Johanne he stood as godfather. Each of the six cello suites opens with a Pr�lude. Suite No. 1 in G major, BWV 1007, has an introductory movement in which the changing harmonies are made clear in arpeggiated form. The usual Allemande and Courante are followed by a slow Sarabande, with a repeated Menuet II framing a G minor Menuet II. The suite ends, as it should, with a Gigue. Suite No. 2 in D minor, BWV 1008, opens again with an elaborate Pr�lude, ending with a series of grandiose arpeggiated chords. Once again the Allemande and Courante lead to a Sarabande and a D minor Menuet I is repeated to frame a D major Menuet II, before a lively final Gigue. Suite No. 3 in C major, BWV 1009, has a Pr�lude that is marked Presto in a slightly later source. This opens boldly with a descending scale and an arpeggio that ends on the resonant bottom string of the instrument. A relatively elaborate Allemande is paired with a simpler Courante, followed by a stately Sarabande, a well-known movement that leads to the still more familiar pair of Bourr�es, the second in C minor. The suite ends with an energetic Gigue. The fourth of Bach's cello suites, the Suite in E flat major, BWV 1010, opens, like the others, with a demanding Pr�lude. An Allemande follows, paired with a Courante, leading to a contrasting slow Sarabande. A busier first Bourr�e is followed by a second that is simpler in texture and in the same key. The last movement is a lively Gigue. The fifth and six of Bach's cello suites differ in various ways from the first four. The fifth, the Suite in C minor, BWV 1011, was originally written in scordatura, a practice sometimes found in string music of the period, with the top A string of the instrument tuned down to G. The opening Pr�lude has a slower, embellished introduction before an extended faster fugal section in triple metre, it's fugal texture largely implied. An ornamented Allemande is duly followed by it's companion Courante and a slow Sarabande that strangely avoids the chordal pattern of it's predecessors. A first Gavotte is repeated after the unusual compound rhythm of the second Gavotte and the suite ends with a Gigue in dotted rhythm. The sixth of the suites, the Suite in D major, BWV 1012, is written for a five-string instrument, with an additional top string tuned to E. It has been suggested that Bach wrote this more difficult suite for the viola pomposa, a five-string viola that found occasional use from 1725 to about 1770. It seems, however, that Bach designed this work for the violoncello piccolo, a smaller form of cello, designed for more elaborate solo work and one that he uses elsewhere. The Pr�lude opens with the characteristic sound of bariolage, as the player repeats the note D on alternate strings. The Allemande has elaborate figuration and the companion Courante again exploits the wider possible range of the five-string instrument. A Sarabande is followed by a pair of Gavottes, played in alternation, and the suite ends with the customary and here demanding Gigue.

Lillian Fuchs (1903–1991) was considered the “first lady of the viola,” and enjoyed a very successful career as a performer, composer, and teacher. Her students at Juilliard and the Manhattan School of Music became the elite players of the viola in the US and her influence is still very much alive, 14 years after her death. The Bach suites that she recorded in the beginning of the 1950s were received with unanimous praise by her contemporaries, but since then they have disappeared from the market, and have become collectors’ items. So I was piqued to find out what the fuss was all about.

Yes, it is a dated performance in many senses. Fuchs plays with the kind of unrelenting legato that we would bash in any aspiring musician of today. Her interpretation is overly Romantic, phrases long, and breaths almost non-existent. Yet, I could not stop listening, and after the first CD ended, I was still curious to hear more. Why was that? Part of the reason is the lush, flexible sound produced by the artist, the interesting inflections, the unerring sense of direction, the overall technical achievement. Notable also is the very spare use of vibrato, pointing to a more “modern” conception (that is, one which is closer to our notions about authentic-performance practices) than was the norm at the time. But the main reason is that intangible charisma, the star quality that makes us follow every mood change, every nuance in dynamics, every twist in the musical plot.

...I was left with the sensation of having shared a unique moment, of the kind that transcends fashion or trends, and that can rightfully be called a legendary performance.

Laura Rónai, FANFARE

Here is a fine mixed assortment of music by Arnold Schoenberg. All of the performances are high quality, and two of them are now my reference recordings. Even if this were a full-price disc, the expert performances, clean engineering, and wide sonic range (including particularly solid bass) would make it a top choice.


The performance of Das Buch der Hängenden Gärten is notable for lovely, accurate singing by Jennifer Lane and sensitive, fluent support by pianist Christopher Oldfather. Lane produces a more beautiful tone, with more consistency between registers, than the major rival performance by Jan DeGaetani and pianist Gilbert Kalish on Nonesuch. But DeGaetani exploits register differences to create a wider range of effect and knows when some vocal harshness is called for. Lane may excel in presenting the love music's lyricism, but DeGaetani makes the loss and anguish more keenly felt. Although my reference here remains DeGaetani/Kalish, Lane's rendition is still excellent, and I dare say that some listeners will prefer hers because of its sheer vocal beauty.


The Piano Suite Op. 25 occupies a pivotal spot in music history as Schoenberg's first completely 12-tone work. Again the top contender is a classic Nonesuch CD, this time played by Paul Jacobs, who projects more angst. Oldfather presents a clarified, even witty approach that makes this music sound less "difficult" than usual while demonstrating that Schoenberg used neo-classical form and texture to support his radical melodic/harmonic technique. Since the Nonesuch disc's sound is a little fuzzy by today's standards, it's an easy nod for the new disc.

Lied der Waldtaube is a song from Schoenberg's Gurre-Lieder. Schoenberg stripped the original lush full-orchestral accompaniment down to a 15-piece ensemble to create the arrangement recorded here. Jennifer Lane returns as soloist, again displaying her creamy mezzo-soprano in particularly sensitive singing. This is definitely worth hearing--and acquiring as an alternative. In the end though, fans of this music will want the late-Romantic original orchestration for its stronger emotional punch.

Schoenberg, who was not a particular fan of Handel, felt free to mess around with the Baroque master's Concerto Grosso Op. 6 No. 7. Often altering Handel's harmonization, and with downright loopy "wrong" notes scattered around the score, this strange piece is Schoenberg's funniest composition. Robert Craft, a friend of Schoenberg's in his later days and a pioneer in conducting the composer's music in America, leads the Fred Sherry String Quartet (formed for the occasion of this recording) and the Twentieth Century Classics Ensemble in a recording of this piece that's unprecedented in clarity and wit, with full-bodied sound to match. The disc concludes with a rather charming 1949 interview of Schoenberg by American composer Halsey Stevens.
--Joseph Stevenson, ClassicsToday.com

Piazzolla, A.: Grand Tango (Le) / Bach, J.S.: Cello Suite No

A mid-price reissue of the popular 'Fancies' album, collecting together John Rutter's best-known concert works. As well as the virtuosic 'Suite Antique' (for flute, harpsichord and strings), this disc contains the three choral song-cycles 'Five Childhood Lyrics' (for unaccompanied choir), 'When Icicles Hang' and 'Fancies' (both for choir and orchestra).

WALTON, W.: Henry V Suite / Cello Concerto / Violin Sonata /

Classical Music

Classical Music

A subscriber to Boston Symphony Orchestra concerts at the turn of the century would have known the name of Arthur Foote. A leading member of the group of composers called the Boston Classicists, Foote's works were programmed regularly in Symphony Hall and one of them, the genial E Major Suite for Strings, was recorded memorably there by Serge Koussevitsky. Derivative in nature, his music evokes comparisons with Mendelssohn, Schumann or Brahms. As Boston Symphony program annotator John Burke wrote: "his art has no concerns to shake the world. It no more than searches the beauties of certain tonal combinations within the suitable confines of an accepted form."
This is one of two discs of Foote's chamber music, part of Naxos' laudable American classics series. It includes his early G Minor String Quartet and C Major Piano Quartet as well as his most popular work, the mildly evocative "Night Piece" which begins his Nocturne and Scherzo for Flute and Strings. The performances feature the Colorado-based Da Vinci Quartet, recorded with varying ambiance at the University of Denver's LaMont School of Music.

Classical Music

Diamond dedicated his Symphony No. 8 to his friend and mentor, composer Aaron Copland on the occasion of his sixtieth birthday. The work was completed in November 1960 and received it's premi�re with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic on 27th October, 1961. While essentially tonal in harmonic language, Diamond incorporated highly chromatic elements and even a twelve-note tone row, not unlike what the Symphony's dedicatee was doing during this same period in his Connotations, though Diamond's work is far less aggressively dissonant in overall sound. The composer provided these notes for the premi�re performance: I. Moderato-Adagio-Allegro vivo. The basic row is proclaimed in the very opening bars of the introduction; it is in two halves. The first, a forceful rhythmic theme of five notes (4/4), is thundered out by the orchestra tutti. The second, a more lyric theme of seven notes (3/4), is sung softly by a single clarinet. Thematically, the second phrase is destined to be the more important; in fact, the row is immediately rearranged and presented by a solo horn, which starts with this second phrase in an even more lyric version, and concludes with a lyric transformation of the thundering five-note opening. The fast body of the movement, a free sonata-allegro structure, starts with a heavily syncopated version of the row as presented by the French horn. This is the principal theme; a contrasting second theme is presented at a more relaxed tempo by a solo clarinet, ben cantando, over a soft counterpart of strings. Both themes are developed, and return in very nearly their original form during the course of this long but highly concentrated movement. The conclusion is a stunning climax compounded of the essence of both themes. II. Theme (Adagio), Variations and Double Fugue. After a two-measure introduction, which turns into a sequential accompaniment, the first violins begin a high, flowing melody that is the theme (3/4). Soon the orchestral basses and cellos enter with this same melody, while the violins continue the forty-measure theme. Variation No. 1 is a canon, in which the violins lead and cellos follow with the same melody, always at a distance of one measure. There are seven variations in all, the last of which repeats a long section from No. 1, and then leads without pause into the lively double-fugue. The first principal theme of this is derived from the principal theme of the first movement. Other themes from the first movement make their appearance, too, as the Symphony moves on to it's climax and conclusion.

REVIEW:

Well, here we go again. Just a few issues back (Fanfare 27:6) I was reviewing an Albany Symphony miscellany in which by far the most interesting piece was the Second Symphony of Robert Kurka, making its first appearance on CD after languishing in oblivion for decades since its release in 1961 on a Louisville LP. In that review, I recounted the sad circumstances of Kurka’s short life: his death from leukemia in 1957 at age thirty-six, just as his music was beginning to engender widespread attention in auspicious circles. Then, of course, I went on to advocate a more comprehensive survey of his work, etc. Now, just a few months later, arrives a new, all-Kurka CD, courtesy of Cedille, the Chicago-based company whose mission seems to include highlighting the work of lesser-known composers from that part of the country. (It was Cedille that released Kurka’s last, largest, and best-known work, an opera, The Good Soldier Schweik—see Fanfare 26:1—in 2002.) Kurka was born and raised in the large Czech community of Cicero, Illinois, a suburb of Chicago.

Although Kurka’s current reputation—such as it is—rests chiefly on Schweik, the opera suggests a direction in which the composer may have been going, but it is not really representative of the music he had been writing up to that time. Kurka is one of those composers with such a strongly individual voice that his music is instantly recognizable as his own. The most obvious influence on his style is Prokofiev, whose musical fingerprints are often clearly apparent. However, equally obvious is Kurka’s fascination with clashing major and minor thirds. This mitigates Prokofiev’s looming presence somewhat, while giving Kurka’s music a superficially American sound, leading some commentators to describe his style as “jazz-influenced.” However, there is an obsessive quality to Kurka’s attraction to this modal ambiguity that makes it seem more personal than a “national” trait. Take these two factors and distill them into the rhythmically vigorous, exuberantly optimistic generic language of American symphonic music of the 1950s and you have a good idea of “the Kurka sound”—except for one rather ineffable element: a most distinctive melodic/harmonic synthesis that is startling at first encounter and unforgettable forever after. (Two examples of this phenomenon found on the recording at hand: Symphony No. 2, third movement, second theme; Serenade, first movement, second theme.)

As with all composers whose lives have ended prematurely, one wonders what further accomplishments might have lain before him, in what directions his style might have evolved. Of course, such speculation is idle and fruitless. However, on the basis of what he did accomplish, Kurka stands as one of the leading contributors to the American orchestral repertoire of the 1950s, an enormously fertile decade for American composers. (I can cite more than 25 American symphonies composed during that one decade that qualify as works of the highest merit.)

The earliest work on this CD is called Music for Orchestra, and dates from 1949, although it was not heard until June 2003, when Kalmar and the Grant Park Orchestra performed it in conjunction with this recording. Predating the emergence of Kurka’s personal voice, it is a tight-fisted work in one movement of about 15 minutes duration. Far more fiercely aggressive and dissonant than the composer’s later works, the piece calls to mind the Bartók of, say, The Miraculous Mandarin and the Dance Suite. Although some passages are a little dry and uninteresting, for the most part it is quite compelling, and brilliantly performed here.

Kurka’s Symphony No. 2 dates from 1953. This was the first work of his that I heard, more than 40 years ago, and it made an immediate and powerful impact on me. These two new recordings—the recent Albany SO performance and this even more polished and tightly focused reading with the Grant Park Orchestra—have rekindled my enthusiasm, as they reveal subtle details barely audible on the old LP. As I wrote in the Albany review, Kurka’s Symphony No. 2 falls right into the mainstream style of the mid-century American symphonic genre: “conventionally classical in form, brash and assertive in attitude, propelled by energetic rhythmic syncopations, which are offset by more subdued, nostalgic passages. Fresh and exuberant, it reveals a certain naiveté, both compositionally and emotionally, and the influence of Prokofiev weighs heavily. . . . And yet, from the moment I first heard it, I was struck by both the authenticity of its expression and the strength of its unmistakable personality. . . .”

In four movements, the Serenade for Small Orchestra appeared the year after the symphony, and bears the following opus number. That it is the work of the same composer is unmistakable from the first phrase, although it is, on the whole, a more relaxed, somewhat less driven work. Each movement is associated with familiar lines from the poetry of Walt Whitman, although—as is typical of composers with strong personal styles—the result is far more Kurka than Whitman. This work was also first recorded—a year or two after the symphony—by Robert Whitney and the Louisville Orchestra. Although it always sounded a little lame in their rather scrappy performance, the Serenade sounds fresh and bright in this new recording.

The latest work on the recording, composed the year following the Serenade, is Julius Caesar, subtitled, “Symphonic Epilogue after Shakespeare.” Once again, only by the greatest stretch of imagination might one infer a connection with either Caesar or Shakespeare—but Kurka is everywhere apparent, notwithstanding an especially strong whiff of Prokofiev. The piece is notable, however, for a stronger sense of drama than one notes in the previous works, and a less obviously American flavor. It is also structured quite tightly, so that its nine-minute duration passes by disappointingly quickly.

Featuring little-known music of distinguished merit, meticulously performed and superbly recorded, this recording meets my Want List criteria, as one of the most rewarding releases of the past twelve months. I recommend it strongly and without hesitation to all enthusiasts of mid-20th-century American orchestral music—I’m tempted to offer a money-back guarantee!

--Walter Simmons, FANFARE

HARRISON: Suite for Symphonic Strings / Strict Songs for Eig