New recordings of neglected but compelling piano works from the spring of Giuseppe Martucci's career. Martucci composed all the pieces on this album during the year 1876. As Ilaria Sinicropi observes in her booklet essay, Martucci was 'a composer in the making', in the first flush of his talent. In finding his own voice for instrumental composition, he looked naturally northwards, to the other side of the Alps, and in particular to Schumann and to Brahms, with their strong narrative arcs, their expansion of traditional models such as sonata form and their richly chromatic but disciplined harmony. The more adventurous language of the Capriccio e Serenata Op.57 was yet to come. Yet the first movement of the Piano Sonata - mysteriously neglected by pianists until now, with no other recordings in the current catalogue - already shows Martucci stretching his wings, and adapting the fantasy-style of Schumann to the ends of his own lyrical style. Sinicropi hears within it a powerful evocation of nature in the mould of Grieg's Lyric Pieces, and it prefigures the imposing intensity of expression in the third-movement Andante, with a scintillating Scherzo to serve as intermezzo and a Lisztian finale which synthesizes elements of chorale, fugue and rondo. The suite of Four Pieces Op.31 do not venture into the Sonata's ambitious terrain, cast by and large in a vein of gentle introspection, but they too reward close listening (which again is only now possible with Ilaria Sinicropi's recording). In fact the opening Nocturne is the most developed piece of the quartet, belying it's title with fiery outbursts and unexpected pauses. The following barcarolle and Romance may be heard as songs without words in a stylish emulation of Mendelssohn, before a final 'Dolce Ricardo's (Sweet Memory) returns to the tripartite but eventful form of the Nocturne. Finally, the Mazurka Op.35 makes a graceful encore, 'deeply rooted in the Italian tradition and the expressive style typical of mannerism,' according to Ilaria Sinicropi. Her affinity with this music is abundantly clear from her playing as well as her writing, and with this album she makes an auspicious debut on Piano Classics, which is sure to attract wider attention.
Sergei Taneyev's Piano Quintet, op. 30 is as passionate as you could wish; it's a huge piece, lasting nearly 50 minutes. The first movement alone lasts nearly twenty. The idiom is late-Romantic, owing something to Brahms but to my mind it is much closer to César Franck, as it is as passionate a work as Franck’s piano quintet. A sombre, very chromatic opening leads to an anguished allegro. The themes are good. The piano writing is very rich, almost in concertante style, often in opposition to the strings as a group. The first movement is long and strenuous but varied in texture and with moments of relief. It builds to a tremendous climax at the beginning of the recapitulation with a pounding bass in the piano while the strings cry out over it. There is a stretto coda full of dark imaginings.
The scherzo is lighter in mood, featuring a theme of repeated notes. In contrast to the first movement the players here have to be light on their feet. The trio section is slower and features long, winding lines in the strings while the piano writing is less full, almost Mendelssohnian. We return to the opening music, if anything even faster than before.
The slow movement begins with a powerful theme in the bass which turns out to be that of a passacaglia, repeating under a melody which gradually takes shape above it, increasingly decorated. Apparently this is the first passacaglia in Russian music; it is certainly impressive.
The finale features a vivid theme in jagged rhythms and another with a soaring lyrical line. After a good deal of strenuous writing there is a very quiet passage. We return to more energetic writing before the close, with restless modulations suggesting a search for a conclusion which finally arrives with an evocation of the pealing of bells.
The coupling is a song-cycle, Taneyev’s last, which sets poems by Jakov Polonski (1819-1898) who is apparently highly regarded in Russia. These songs all deal with love, but my appreciation was hindered by the fact that they are sung in Russian, while the booklet gives them only in German, with neither the original Russian nor an English translation. While Olga Gollej does sterling work on the piano both here and in the quintet, Marina Prudenskaya, basically an operatic mezzo, indeed a Wagnerian, seems to have some difficulty fining her voice down to the scale needed for songs with piano. There is also a slight edge to her voice and a certain unsteadiness.
There are no such reservations about the performance of the Piano Quintet. The Leipzig String Quartet is a well established group who apply themselves to Taneyev’s work with enthusiasm. The recording maintains a good balance between the piano and the strings, in an acoustic suggestive of a small concert hall. There are now several other versions of this work to choose from; however, if you want the songs, this is currently the only available recording, which might sway the balance for some listeners.
Georg Schumann: Symphony In B Minor; Serenade, Op. 34 / Gedschold, Munich Radio Symphony
CPO
Available as
CD
$18.99
Nov 13, 2012
G. SCHUMANN Symphony in b. Serenade for Large Orchestra, Op. 34 • Christoph Gedschold, cond; Munich RO • CPO 777464 (73:32)
Having struck pay dirt with another of its exhumations, Georg Schumann—see review of his piano trios in 35: 5—CPO, label of the Long Lost Composers Society—here resurrects Schumann’s Symphony in B Minor and his Serenade, op. 34. Georg Alfred Schumann (1866–1952) is yet another composer that can be added to the list of blue-ribbon winners produced under Carl Reinecke’s tutelage at the Leipzig Conservatory, and the term “blue-ribbon” is not used metaphorically. In 1886, still a student at the conservatory, Schumann composed this B-Minor Symphony, and when he entered it in an orchestral composition competition two years later it took first prize out of 57 entries. It’s doubtful that the award so swelled his head that he actually appended the subtitle, “Prize-winning Symphony” to his score, but CPO does, treating it as if it were a cognomen like “Pathétique” or “The Inextinguishable.” “Oh, have you heard my Symphony in B Minor, the ‘Prize-winning?’”
Schumann’s symphony lends itself to easy description; it’s the Sixth Symphony Mendelssohn might have written had he lived. No disparagement is meant by that. Mendelssohn is the score’s model and its main influence; as much is admitted by the liner note. Even though Mendelssohn was long dead by the time Georg Schumann came to compose his symphony, it’s no surprise that the young composer would pay tribute to the deceased master. It’s both a reflection of Schumann’s youth and the conservative musical training and values fostered by Reinecke and the Leipzig Conservatory, not to mention the reverence accorded Mendelssohn in the very halls of the conservatory he had founded.
While there’s little originality in its pages, Schumann’s symphony is a beautifully written score; its four conventionally laid out movements are filled with tuneful melodies and a mastery of harmony, counterpoint, and orchestration that confirm it as a composition of consummate craft, if not necessarily one of great art. Certainly it can give pleasure and be appreciated by anyone who enjoys mid-19-century Romantic period orchestral works.
The Serenade for Large Orchestra, written around the turn of the century—it was premiered in 1902—is, unsurprisingly, more venturesome in style and musical vocabulary. It’s also unusual in that while more or less adhering to the formal layout of a serenade, the piece is actually a tone poem in five movements, each movement depicting a tableau in the tale of a rejected lover. But if this leads you to expect music of a forlorn, downcast mien, you’re in for a surprise. Schumann’s model now seems to be Richard Strauss’s tone poems. The score is filled with what Schumann describes as “opponents” and “ridiculers” who chirp and chatter away apparently scolding and mocking the lover for whatever he did that got him booted out of the boudoir. The musical effect is not dissimilar to, though nowhere near as barbed as the carping critics in, Strauss’s Ein Heldenleben. Schumann was probably familiar with Strauss’s tone poems, but neither his talent nor his ambition rose to Strauss’s levels of orchestral extravagance and exhibitionism.
Christoph Gedschold leads the Munich Radio Orchestra in convincing performances. I wouldn’t call either the symphony or the serenade a deathless masterpiece, but if you’ve grown a bit jaded listening to the same Romantic period symphonies and tone poems over and over again, here are two new additions to the recorded repertoire that will temporarily relieve your boredom. Recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Georg Schumann: Symphony In B Minor; Serenade, Op. 34 / Gedschold, Munich Radio Symphony
