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Various: White Nights - Viola Music from Saint Petersburg / Masurenko, Ishay
Profil · Nov 2021CD$24.99 -
SaleHagen: Shining Brow / Falletta, Orth, Harris, Frankenberry, Buffalo PO
Naxos · Mar 2009CD$29.99$14.99 -
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SaleBeethoven, R. Schumann, Saint-Saëns: Symphonies for Piano Duo vol. 2 / Uys & Schoeman
SOMM Recordings · Apr 2022CD$20.99$15.99 -
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Arise my love - Music for the Break of Day
Pictures of America / Dessay
I asked five incredible musicians to arrange them for the Paris Mozart Orchestra, thereby building a bridge between classical music, jazz, and musicals. I then worked to develop a new voice—a deeper and more intimate sound that would whisper into the listener's ear. It was a voice I had to learn to control, like a small, secretive wild animal. I wanted to open things up with "On A Clear Day", which serves as an introduction, and a promise. Next comes a self-deprecating and low-pitched version of "I Feel Pretty" in quintuple time that leads naturally into "I Am A Fool To Want You", a song about someone who is ready to do anything and everything to win over a lost love. "Send In The Clowns" marks the disenchantment of people whose paths cross, but never at the right time. Hope lies just beyond the next bend in the road with "Detour Ahead" followed by "Something's Coming…Maybe Tonight". Next is "Autour de minuit" based on the beautiful poem by Claude Nougaro, which rings with the promise of a brighter tomorrow and of luck that might finally go our way. But the memory of our beloved refuses to fade, and every night we find ourselves back at the counter of a café that echoes with happy memories with "I Keep Going Back To Joe's", except that now it's just us at the bar as we listen to "In My Solitude". It's times like these that make us want to settle down with "A Place You Want To Call Home", but in the end, as "The Two Lonely People" asks, won't we always wind up alone even when we think we have a special someone? What do we have left, then, if not show business? As "There's No Business Like Show Business" tells us, isn't the world just a stage filled? Enjoy your journey through music and paintings with these "Pictures of America"."
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REVIEW:
Dessay sounds in great form and uses every trick in the book. She takes aspects of a Streisand-inspired technique. Taking the cover off the voice mid-note and opening the tone right out to its full; or whittling it down to a sexy, Julie London whisper.
– Opera Now
Bizet: Carmen / Jordan, Von Otter, Glyndebourne Festival
CARMEN
Moralès – Hans Voschezang
Micaëla – Lisa Milne
Don José – Marcus Haddock
Zuniga – Jonathan Best
Carmen – Anne Sofie von Otter
Frasquita – Marty Hegarty
Mercédès – Christine Rice
Lillas Pastia – Anthony Wise
Escamillo – Laurent Naouri
Le Dancaïre – Quentin Hayes
Le Remendado – Colin Judson
Le Guide – Franck Lopez
Stoke Brunswick School Children’s Chorus
(chorus master: East Grinstead)
Glyndebourne Chorus
(chorus master: Tecwyn Evans)
London Philharmonic Orchestra
Philippe Jordan, conductor
David McVicar, stage director
Michael Vale, set designer
Sue Blane, costume designer
Paule Constable, lighting designer
Andrew George, choreographer
Nicholas Hall, fight director
Recorded live at the Glyndebourne Opera House, Lewes, Sussex, 17 August 2002
Bonus:
- Illustrated synopsis
- Cast gallery
- Costume design
- How to fight on stage
- Choreographing Carmen
- The music of Carmen
- The Gardens of Glyndebourne
Picture format: NTSC 16:9
Sound format: LPCM Stereo / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Menu language: English
Subtitles: English, French, German, Spanish
Running time: 220 mins
No. of DVDs: 2
R E V I E W:
Carmen can justifiably lay claim to be the world’s most popular opera. As director David McVicar points out in one of the revealing documentary extras on this excellent BBC release, it ‘is probably the first musical, with hit tune after hit tune’. He’s right, but as his own thought-provoking production makes amply clear, it is so much more than that, having deep psychological layers that he teases out very effectively. He has (rightly in my opinion) opted for a colourful, naturalistic production, with costumes and sets all conveying the correct period and general feel; no stylised or ‘concept’ nonsense to distract the viewer. This leaves him clear to get the cast to really act and get under the skin of the complex characters that inhabit the work. This makes for a riveting dramatic experience, with the many famous melodies and set pieces all in proper context. There is an erotic charge running through many of the exchanges of the principals, and McVicar sees sexual frustration as the key to many of these characters’ problems. This may have led to raised eyebrows at Glyndebourne, but it does make a lot of sense, given the ultimate events of the tragedy. He also opts to include the original spoken dialogue rather than the spurious recitatives, another aspect that works remarkably well. It fleshes the story out properly instead of holding up the action until the next big tune, as one might suspect it would.
So full marks for not messing with Bizet’s general instructions too much. Praise must also be heaped on the London Philharmonic, who respond magnificently to the flamboyant young maestro, Philippe Jordan (any relation to Armin, I wonder?). His energy and physical intensity, which is visibly there for all to see in the hectic, brilliant prelude (where he resembles Escamillo!), communicates through to the orchestra at every turn, and Bizet’s wonderful scoring is heard in all its glory. One could cite numerous examples, but hear particularly the characterful wind solos of the Act 2 Entr’acte, or the beautifully weighted brass chords that punctuate the famous ‘Toreador Song’, helping one to appreciate the harmony afresh. It really is a superb aural-only experience, the Gallic lightness making one understand why Richard Strauss once advised young composers learning orchestration to study Bizet’s scores, not Wagner’s.
So the reported controversy surrounding this production appears to be wholly related to the central casting. Here we have one of the world’s finest mezzos seemingly cast against type. Anne Sofie von Otter herself admits that she may not be everyone’s idea of the ideal Carmen – "too tall, Nordic and cool", as she puts it, and remembering great Carmens of the past (Berganza, de los Angeles, Price, Migenes etc.) she does have a point. All I can say is that she seemed to me wholly convincing, sporting a blazing auburn wig to help with the gypsy look (plus Sue Blane’s magnificent costumes) and acting and singing with such conviction that criticism was all but silenced. McVicar and von Otter have obviously worked on other aspects of the character, and rather than the smouldering wildcat, we get a more mature portrayal of a woman who can, as the director has it "eat men whole – and laugh while she’s doing it". She is a woman desperately seeking love, a free spirit that simply needs the right partner. This really does make the final tragedy all the more poignant, because we really believe that she has at last found the right person in Escamillo, but, as the cards tell her, fate has something else in store for her. The famous routines are all superbly choreographed, and she raises a laugh from the audience as she manages the second verse of her ‘Seguidilla’ while lighting a cigar, quite a feat!
Her Don José, American tenor Marcus Haddock, also gives a multi-layered portrayal, and his character probably develops more than any other. He constantly reminds us that this is a man hiding many demons, not least the fact that he killed a man in a duel, so we begin to realise early on what he is capable of. There is also the shadow of his mother, who we learn wanted him to become a priest (all this is in the invaluable spoken dialogue), so he is an unstable individual. His beautifully sung ‘Flower Song’ is not just a showstopper, but tinged with all the psychological baggage of a haunted man. The final confrontation with Carmen is riveting, with the fatal stabbing ghastly but not in the least melodramatic. This is believable verismo.
As Escamillo, Laurent Naouri is also encouraged to act with some subtlety, to enjoy his big moments but give us some character insight. Thus his oft-heard ‘Toreador Song’ is punctuated by glances towards Carmen, who responds with knowing eye contact (obviously the camera close-up helps here), and an immediate chemistry is established. His is less a testosterone-fuelled macho man than a virile counterpart to Carmen herself; one can actually believe they would have made a satisfied couple.
The Micaëlla, Lisa Milne, is a touch matronly for me, but I suppose we have to believe in her as the saintly sister figure, and while I miss some of the fragility of others in this part, she sings beautifully and makes a good contrast to Carmen. All the smaller parts are taken with real relish, and I particularly liked Jonathan Best’s Zuniga. Costumes, as mentioned, are stunning, with the stage for the final act dominated by black and a symbolic blood red. The dancing is a delight, sexy and energetic, and stage designs (by Michael Vale) atmospheric yet practical.
The extras on the double DVD set are worth having. There are revealing interviews with director and principals, as well as substantial individual features on music, costume, choreography and stage fighting. There is an illustrated synopsis, cast gallery and a ten-minute feature on the famous Glyndebourne garden. Having loaded the discs with the extras, the booklet is devoted to a specially commissioned reworking of the Carmen libretto by Jeanette Winterson, entitled ‘The World Beyond’, a moving and worthwhile updating of the basic story.
Whether you want to fork out for two full price discs may depend totally on your idea of the casting of the eponymous heroine. When this was broadcast last year, some of my colleagues thought von Otter so wrong they couldn’t watch it through to the end. While I accept she may not be what is expected visually, I think it is short-sighted to not see the whole package. Carmen does dominate, but there is an awful lot going on around her, and David McVicar has managed quite the most intelligent, believable opera production I’ve seen for some time. This is ensemble directing at its best. With von Otter (and everyone else, for that matter) in absolutely superb voice, accompanied by gloriously inspired orchestral playing, this is a musical and visual feast. Sue Judd’s subtle camera work helps the television experience. The BBC packaging is first rate, making an altogether outstanding record of a thrilling event.
-- Tony Haywood, MusicWeb International
, Reviewing original release, Opus Arte 868
Various: White Nights - Viola Music from Saint Petersburg / Masurenko, Ishay
Hagen: Shining Brow / Falletta, Orth, Harris, Frankenberry, Buffalo PO
Now in his late forties Daron Hagen has been eminently successful for many years in a wide variety of musical genres: orchestral, concertos, chamber music, vocal and opera. He has received commissions from leading American orchestras like the New York Phil, the Philadelphia and the National Symphony and from numerous instrumentalists. He numbers among his teachers Ned Rorem, David Diamond, Witold Lutos?awski and Leonard Bernstein. With such diverse musical influences it's no wonder that his own compositional style is eclectic, a remark that is in no way deprecating. It only denotes that he is at home in a variety of styles and is able to adjust to the requirements for each specific composition. I have listened to excerpts from a number of his compositions and the remaining impression is that here is basically a warm romantic with ability and willingness to write gorgeous melodies. Romeo and Juliet for flute, cello and orchestra is a splendid example and the second movement from his third piano trio Wayfaring Stranger (2007) is extremely beautiful. He is just as adept at writing rhythmically fresh and rather naughty music for brass - the Invention from Concerto for Brass Quintet!. He is also accomplished when writing for the human voice. I haven't heard any of his solo songs - of which there are a lot - but his choral writing is extremely affecting. The Waking Father for six male voices is music to return to. His musical idiom is largely tonal though he employs various modern techniques for expressive reasons. Mixing styles - high and low - is one of his hallmarks and he is a splendid communicator, which his first opera Shining Brow aptly demonstrates.
It was in July 1989 that Daron Hagen was asked by the Madison Opera to write an opera about the famous architect Frank Lloyd Wright. Together with the chosen librettist, Paul Muldoon, Hagen worked out a synopsis and set to work with the first act, which fizzed along without problems. The second act was tougher and he met Leonard Bernstein several times for guidance. Bernstein died in October 1990, before the opera was finished, and it is dedicated to his memory.
Frank Lloyd Wright fell in love with a client's wife Mamah while outlining their house. They left their respective wife and husband, went to Europe. Eventually returning to the USA, they built a house in Wisconsin, Taliesin, which is Welsh for 'Shining Brow'. In 1914, when Wright was in Chicago, his manservant murdered seven people in the house, including Mamah and her two children and then set the house on fire. Two survivors managed to put out the fire but the house was seriously damaged. This is essentially the story of the opera. Frank Lloyd Wright lived until 1959 and probably his most famous creation is the Guggenheim Museum in New York.
Musically Hagen's score is a conglomerate of the manifold styles I referred to in his other works, but wholly efficient and personal. Shining Brow is a number opera with arias, choruses, orchestral numbers and ensembles. The music is very varied to mirror the dramatic and emotional contents of the story. The chorus of draftsmen (CD 1 tr. 2) has 'go' and makes me think of Orff and Carmina burana. Wright's arietta (CD 1 tr. 5) is melodious and agreeable and his wife Catherine's aria (CD 1 tr. 6) has echoes of Broadway musical. The Sullivan Variations (CD 1 tr. 8) is hymn-like brass music and there is another chorus with plainsong character. In act II there is a barbershop quartet (CD 2 tr. 8) and the Canapé Variations (CD 2 tr. 9) is a long gossip scene at a cocktail party played against the waltz from Der Rosenkavalier. Initially there are quotations from the Presentation of the Silver Rose from the same opera. Symbolically this 'theft' of another composer's music is a parallel to Wright's 'theft' of another man's wife. Sullivan's arietta (CD 2 tr. 15) is a song that should be on many opera-lovers' list of the most beautiful opera arias. It is followed by an a cappella chorus that nods in the direction of Bernstein's Candide (the Westphalia chorus). The rhythmic elements are often very much in the foreground and there are no longueurs. To my mind this is a truly inspired and dramatically convincing opera and readers who prefer operas with melodies should know that there is a wealth of melodic inventiveness.
The cast is a good one and several of the members have taken part in earlier productions, including Robert Orth as Frank Lloyd Wright and Brenda Harris as Mamah. They are both excellent and Robert Frankenberry as Wright's one-time mentor and friend Louis Sullivan sports a fine lyric tenor. The Buffalo forces are splendid and JoAnn Falletta brings out the dark dramatic side of the work as well as the lyrical music of which there is also a lot.
The recording can't be faulted and the few stage noises only enhance the feeling of a real occasion. While writing the final paragraphs of this review I have been listening again to large portions of the opera and can report that it grows further with renewed acquaintance. The orchestration stands out as superbly varied, brilliant and expressive and the melodic material is organically interwoven with the story. The only regrettable thing is that there is no libretto available. We get only a synopsis that gives the outline but leaves you in limbo as far as detailed understanding is concerned.
Anyway, relatively contemporary operas are rare guests in the record catalogues. Shining Brow, like Carlson's Anna Karenina that I reviewed a short while ago, are extremely valuable additions to a repertoire that far too seldom reaches beyond Puccini. Daron Hagen has no intention to challenge Puccini; he has his own musical world that is just as valid - and it shouldn't be less accessible to opera-lovers.
-- Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International
SANTIAGO BROOKLYN SANTIAGO
Positive Friction
Tyberg: Symphony No 2, Piano Sonata No 2 / Bidini, Falletta, Buffalo
TYBERG Symphony No. 2. Piano Sonata No. 21 • 1Fabio Bidini (pn); JoAnn Falletta, cond; Buffalo PO • NAXOS 8.572822 (74: 47)
I defy the average educated listener not to call out the name of Anton Bruckner within seconds of the start of Marcel Tyberg’s Second Symphony. The cut of the melodies, the rhythms, the sectional construction, and the scoring are utterly characteristic of the Viennese master—who died in 1896, three years after Tyberg was born. Most curious. That impression continues throughout the first movement, and off and on (but mostly on) throughout the entire symphony. Indeed, the thing that is least Brucknerian about Tyberg’s symphony, which was composed in 1927, is that it is barely 42 minutes long. (To be fair, there’s a bit of Korngold as the symphony reaches its conclusion.) In other words, Tyberg concludes his movements just when Bruckner would have been getting his second wind. I am astonished that Bruckner’s name does not come up once in the entirety of Edward Yadzinski’s booklet note. Perhaps he thought mentioning it would have been the epitome of obviousness. I’m not really suggesting that Tyberg’s Second is on a par with Bruckner’s symphonies—at times it sounds a little awkwardly put together, and too terse—but it is a fascinating, fascinating near miss, and really very enjoyable, and if this disc doesn’t get wide exposure, at least because Tyberg’s unknown symphony is so doggedly familiar (!), then there is no justice in the world. Falletta and the Buffalo Philharmonic play the heck out of it, by the way, and Naxos’s engineering is lustrous.
The Piano Sonata No. 2 is no less fine. Bruckner wrote no piano sonatas, I believe, but Brahms completed three of them, and there are times when Tyberg’s sturdy, 33-minute sonata sounds as if it is aiming to be “Brahms’s Fourth.” The hyper-masculine opening gesture, for example, and the feminine response that it receives, would hardly be out of place in Brahms. Other influences appear in this sonata, however, including, strangely enough, Szymanowski. Again, call this music derivative if you like, but there’s no escaping that Tyberg’s lack of innovation is not dull but really rather delightful, given the attractiveness of the material. Pianist Bidini makes a very good case for it, playing it with plenty of romantic temperament, and with steely wrists and fingers.
I missed Naxos’s earlier Tyberg release (8.572236) in which his Third Symphony is paired with his Piano Trio. Jerry Dubins and Robert Markow both welcomed it strongly; in fact, it made the latter reviewer’s Want List in 2011. There also was a feature article in Fanfare 34: 2 in which Falletta discussed Tyberg. To make a long story short, Tyberg, who had a Jewish relative several generations back, was a victim of the Nazis and died in 1944. He spent his young years in Vienna, but around the time of the Second Symphony, he relocated to what today is part of Italy. Shortly before his deportation, he entrusted his music manuscripts to a friend, and they were passed on to that friend’s son, who ended up in Buffalo. After spending years trying to interest various conductors in Tyberg’s scores, he finally attracted Falletta’s attention. She recognized the music’s worth, and if a Tyberg revival is in the works, we can thank her, and the efforts of the Marcel Tyberg Musical Legacy Fund of the Foundation for Jewish Philanthropies in Buffalo.
Knowing that I have a tendency to be excitable, I don’t want to overdo my praise for this music or for this release, but glorioski, this is enjoyable stuff.
FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle
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Marcel Tyberg’s Second Symphony sounds a bit like Bruckner for people who hate Bruckner. It features thematic material uncannily similar to Tyberg’s Austrian predecessor, only married to a more traditional, pithy approach to form. It lasts just 42 minutes, and so in comparison confirms Bruckner’s own originality, or incompetence, depending on your perspective. There’s nothing here that might make you sit up and say, “Aha, that must be Tyberg,” but it is beautifully scored, well-made music nonetheless. The Adagio is particularly lovely, basically diatonic in harmony, but with tunes that never go exactly where you expect them to. Had Tyberg survived the Second World War and written more in this vein, we might go so far as to call it “personal”.
The Piano Sonata No. 2 dwells squarely in the world of Beethoven and Brahms, but again with remarkable success. It’s a large work in four movements, and even more than in the symphony the centerpiece is an Adagio drawn on a very large scale. The finale, so often the Achilles’ heel in Romantic music, is actually the shortest movement, but full of contrast and quite satisfying, thus revealing that Tyberg’s classical sympathies go beyond mere imitation.
The sonata is very well played by Fabio Bidini, a pianist who takes its challenges in stride and shapes each movement quite effectively. As in the previous release in this series, JoAnn Falletta and the Buffalo Philharmonic take charge of the orchestral component, offering a performance of the symphony full of character and conviction. The Foundation for Jewish Philanthropies in Buffalo sponsored this recording through its Marcel Tyberg Musical Legacy Fund. That such a thing even exists is just one of those facts that makes you feel good about life, as does Tyberg’s music. Go for it.
-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
DONNY HATHAWAY COLLECTION
JAZZ MONEY
Kreutzer: La Mort d'Abel
R. KREUTZER La mort d’Abel • Guy Van Waas, cond; Jennifer Borghi ( Eve ); Sébastien Droy ( Abel ); Jean-Sébastien Bou ( Cain ); Pierre-Yves Pruvot ( Adam ); Alain Buet ( Anamalech ); Namur Chamber Ch; Les Agrémens • PALAZZETTO BRU ZANE 1008 (2 CDs: 91:15 Text and Translation)
Rudolphe Kreutzer (1766-1831) is known today almost exclusively as the musician to whom Beethoven dedicated his Violin Sonata No. 9 (though he only learned of the dedication after the work’s publication, and never played it). He seems to have had a knack for flourishing through all the violent vicissitudes of French politics in his day: a favorite of Marie Antoinette, professor of violin at the Conservatoire of Paris from 1795, a member of Napoleon’s chapel orchestra from 1802, chief conductor of the Paris Opéra starting in 1817, and a chevalier of the Légion d’honneur in 1824. As a composer he wrote many violin concertos, exercises, chamber music, and dozens of stage works.
La mort d’Abel was first seen in 1810. It was a three-act opera set to a text by E. T. A. Hoffman. Following a French tradition, devils in it are seen as external forces who target, torment, and damn good people. In this case, Anamalech seemingly enlists the entire hierarchy of hell to plague Cain with nightmares that feed on his typical sibling envy of Abel, leading to the expected outcome. The work was very well received upon its debut, though not restaged until 1825—at which time the Opéra’s directors chose to completely eliminate the second act, set in hell. Perhaps it was a cost-cutting measure, though even Rossini had many abusive terms for the establishment years later when it chose to chop his revived works to pieces. For reasons not elaborated upon by the producers of this album (who elaborate upon so much more; read below), the 1825 version is given, here.
This work is not dependent upon the contemporary broader trends of the Italian operatic or German Singspiel traditions. The nearest analogies at least some listeners will find—Mozart, Beethoven—are actually due to the omnivorous musical mind of the first, learning from many cultures, and to Beethoven’s interest in his French contemporaries. Cherubini (Italian by birth, but as much a naturalized Frenchman by the mid 1780s as another Italian, Lully, had been earlier) in particular he regarded with great admiration; so it isn’t really Mozart or Beethoven Beethovenian one finds in La mort d’Abel , but some aspects of a French tradition that both these composers came to utilize.
The writing is for the most part very plain. It suited French tastes of the period well enough, given that the les goûts réunis had ended with the triumph of Italian simplicity in melody, and the jettisoning of previously favored contrapuntal and harmonic complexities. (When Kreutzer in later works attempted to move beyond a fairly basic accompaniment, he was accused by his contemporaries of losing his “originality” through “over-complexity.”) The origin of the duet “Unissons-nous pour le render sensible” and the multi-part air “Insensible aux tourments,” to pick just two of many examples, lay in 18th-century opéra-comique , despite the serious tone of the latter piece. Both are primitive, and neither is terribly interesting.
As much can be said for the lengthy passages of accompanied recitative. In Kreutzer’s hands it facilitates the delivery of emotion but doesn’t sustain attention over time, lacking again the more complex elements that made it so interesting under the likes of Lully, Destouches, Campra, Marais, and Rameau. Cherubini among Kreutzer’s contemporaries was able to do this kind of thing much better.
But when Kreutzer is inspired, as in much of the Third Act, he produces something worth hearing. Cain’s “Doux sommeil” is a fine, Janus-faced aria, filled with the seductive warmth of the earlier galant on the one hand, while weaving a memorable, sinuous French melody whose like can be heard in some of the most celebrated arias of Boieldieu, Thomas, Delibes, Massé, Lalo, Gounod, and Massenet. It is the most appealing piece in the score, but there are others: Cain’s raging aria from act I, “Quoi! Toujours ton image,” sustains its energy well, even if successive musical phrases are a patchwork of clichés. The pastoral act I finale for soloists and chorus, “Ô moment plein de charmes,” is a pretty thing with effective vocal exchanges, and some slight but colorful wind writing. And Kreutzer makes simplicity work for him in the act III finale, an angel’s chorus (“Viens dans”). It’s very brief homophonic music that achieves much merely by throwing a single instance of nonfunctional harmony into the mix.
The performers are all above average, though none are without fault. A single one unites most: a widening vibrato that causes loss of focus in some part of the voice, and in Alain Buet’s case, produces a uniform wobble that undercuts his good phrasing and dark bass tone. Jean-Sébastien Bou is the best interpretatively speaking, making an excellent job of it in his extended recitative, “Ou vais-je?” He also sings softly to strong effect. Sébastien Droy can do the latter as well, but has an annoying habit of increasing volume as he rises in range. Pierre-Yves Pruvot is better here than in the title role of Salieri’s Falstaff (Dynamic 405/1-2), more attentive to the meaning of the text, while Jennifer Borghi doesn’t always enunciate as clearly as the others, but sings with an attractive lyric soprano. Guy Van Waas conducts Les Agrémans with spirit and discipline, but I admit the complete lack of vibrato throws me off. This isn’t the Baroque (when vibrato was used, though less regularly), but the early 19th century, and there are plenty of instruction manuals and reviews of the day teaching and citing the regular use of vibrato as a standard tone-coloring device. Its loss makes the instruments sound anemic at times, especially when the violins are exposed.
The jewel box is actually a digest-sized book in French and English. Aside from the original text and transliteration of the opera, you also get a remarkably fine series of essays, including a historical introduction, a piece on the work’s reception by the contemporary press, Fétis’s entry on Kreutzer in his Universal Biography of Musicians , a lengthy examination of oratorio and opéra sacré in 18th- and early 19th-century France, one on the fantastic genre at the Paris Opéra under Napoleon I, and a forward to the 1825 libretto written by E. T. A. Hoffman, in answer to claims that another, far less innovative work years before had been plagiarized for his ideas.
On balance, La mort d’Abel is an uneven work, but at its best, demonstrates why Kreutzer’s operas were so well regarded by his contemporaries. It fails when it tries to be profound, but succeeds whenever it maintains a light, charming tone. And there’s enough of the latter to more than sustain it. Recommended.
FANFARE: Barry Brenesal
LIVE
SACRED FIRE
The Treasury Shows, Vol. 14
Songs of Connie Converse
SAMARA JOY
Shades of Mourning
FIGHT ON!
Beethoven, R. Schumann, Saint-Saëns: Symphonies for Piano Duo vol. 2 / Uys & Schoeman
SOMM Recordings is delighted to announce the eagerly-awaited second volume of the Tessa Uys and Ben Schoeman Piano Duo’s ground-breaking series exploring Franz Xaver Scharwenka’s transcriptions of Beethoven Symphonies. A composer of no mean stature in his own right, Scharwenka’s transcriptions were once widely admired, his treatments of Beethoven’s symphonies a high-watermark of the genre. Volume 1 (SOMMCD 0637) met with universal acclaim; Gramophone praising the “mastery” of the performances, BBC Music finding it “utterly beguiling” and MusicWeb International declaring “I was blown away by this magnificent recording”. Volume 2 features the first recording of Scharwenka’s transcription of Beethoven’s iconic Fifth Symphony for piano duet. Claiming a direct connection to Beethoven via his teacher Franz Kullak, who had studied with Beethoven’s pupil Carl Czerny, Scharwenka provides a virtuosic re-imagining of the Fifth’s tremendous scale, organic growth and seething energy. The Variations on a Theme of Beethoven by Saint-Saëns show him, Robert Matthew-Walker says in his informative booklet notes, “at his most brilliant and searching... beautiful, imposing and elegant, as well as humorous”. Robert Schumann’s Andante and Variations in B-flat reveal Romanticism’s quintessential musical poet at his most emotionally acute: “overhung with a pervading sense of intimacy, the music unfolds as a series of reflections upon the Andante theme, refracted in genuine variation styles of tempo, rhythm, tonalities (beautifully implied) and character”.
Review
Hot on the heels of the first volume of this enterprising series comes volume 2, this time including what is perhaps the most famous symphony of all time, Beethoven’s 5th, here given its world premiere recording in the transcription for piano duet by Franz Xavier Scharwenka.
As with the previous volume and the “Eroica” (see my earlier review here), the 5th needs no introduction or apologies and Scharwenka expects both pianists to be virtuosi. The opening chords are surprisingly not written for double octaves as might have been expected; Scharwenka saves those for later on when even more firepower is required. Again, throughout this transcription, multiple solutions are offered to deal with the problem of arranging a work for full orchestra for piano and all is superbly realised by the duo. The opening tempo for the first movement is perhaps a little slower than expected at the start but that is more than made up for later as both pianists flamboyantly navigate the complex writing. Also, as before, the notation is subtly arranged to make it playable on two pianos and this has the added bonus of making some detail clearer than in the orchestral version.
The second movement comes across very well too – all the details are present and presented via the medium of twenty fingers. The contrasts are beautifully pointed out: a sense of calm serenity pervades this music and the pianists respond excellently to the challenge. The rippling accompaniment starting at 2:39 - but also occurring elsewhere - is cleverly written and perfectly judged. There some surprises here too; harmonies are clarified and details that perhaps would normally be lost are brought to the fore. Both pianists make a superb job of this movement and it contains just as much drama as a performance for full orchestra. The fortissimo sections make an excellent contrast to the nervier and quieter moments and the ending of the movement, with its defiant chords, is splendid.
The Scherzo follows with its weird march like chords and repeated loud interruptions, all of which are again played with aplomb. The crazy scrambling section from about two minutes onwards sounds just perfect and the cunning interjections by the second pianist (I presume) that ultimately derail this trail of music are wittily done. The build up to the cheerful, blazing finale is excellently judged and that final ‘Allegro’ part starts with a bang, with bagfuls of virtuosity from both participants and continues in the same vein. There are lots of powerful tremolandos here, judiciously used and all of which add to the drama. The build up to the quieter section at about five minutes is excellently controlled and sounds absolutely right. The ending where Beethoven applies the brakes to the music before restarting again with renewed vigour is miraculously realised – listen out for the notes originally on the flutes in the last two minutes sounding almost woodwind-like but on a piano. The ending with sustained loud and powerful virtuosity from both performers is just brilliant. This is an awesome performance of a magnificent transcription; comparisons with Liszt’s transcription (S464 no.5) are perhaps inevitable but here Scharwenka has the advantage of using twice as many fingers so the overall effect is somewhat “fuller” than Liszt’s absolutely astounding and craftily realised version. This is another example of such a skilful transcription that you almost forget that the original was for full orchestra. I’ve run out of superlatives here, but suffice it to say that this performance is absolutely top notch and the joyfulness and intelligence of the performers and the committed nature of the playing make it absolutely worth hearing.
I should say that the Beethoven transcription is for piano four hands and played on a rather splendid sounding Fazoli piano whereas the remainder of the disc is played on two Steinway model Ds. There is little difference in the recording level or sounding between the instruments and I am more than happy to listen to either.
In a well-thought-through contrast to the blazing conclusion of the Beethoven transcription, Schumann’s rarely heard variations published as Op.46b follows next on this disc. This work exists in two versions – it was originally written for two pianos, two cellos and a horn but following a suggestion from Mendelssohn, Schumann later revised for just two pianos as heard here. These open quietly with a rather lovely slightly melancholy tune that receives a whole gamut of variation from beautifully quiet and reflective ones (heard at the outset of the piece) to bouncy march like ones (as at 4’50’’) and all points in between. As with the preceding Beethoven, the playing throughout is very intelligent and the two pianists react well to each other’s playing, producing a result full of musicality. The slower variations are deeply affecting and the quasi-funeral march one at about six minutes is especially good; the way it segues into the following faintly sad variation is perfectly handled. Schumann was, as usual, channelling his inner Florestan and Eusebius in the composition of this work but there is perhaps a slight preference for the latter, as overall the work has a dreamy and melancholy mood. Surprisingly, towards the end of the piece, Schumann brings back the opening theme completely unadorned, and uses it to generate a suitably fitting conclusion to this wonderful piece. I have to say that prior to hearing this recording I was only dimly aware of this work but on repeated listening, I have really grown to appreciate its many wonderful turns of phrase and clever writing.
The disc concludes with Saint-Saëns’ epic variations on a theme by Beethoven. As I have said before, this is a work that I have previously had issues with; I have no idea why but it just doesn’t strike me as the composers’ best work and it has always seemed a little laboured. However...I am now much fonder of the piece. The opening is mysterious and only hints at the theme which he uses (from the Trio of the Scherzo from Beethoven’s E flat Op.31 no. 3 Sonata – sometimes nicknamed “The Hunt”) but once the theme emerges, it is subjected to ten contrasted variations including a complex, virtuosic fugue. The opening variation is a scurrying, “catch me if you can” treatment of the theme in scales and is here played very fast, with plenty of wit and character. The following variation is a complete contrast: a rather lovely lyrical treatment of the theme with some clever darker episodes and throughout some nice examples of the pianists bouncing off one another to create a spontaneous atmosphere. Thirdly, a strange inverted version of the theme; again, the Scherzo like character here is abundantly obvious and the playing is excellent. Variation 4 is extremely entertaining: bouncy repeated chords and much interaction between the pianists who again spark well off each other. Variation 5 is again a change of pace and the difference from the previous one is very marked. Here, trills and some very pretty playing join to make a splendid little creation with plenty of harmonic invention and humour. We return to scales for the following variation, with some added arpeggios for good measure. I particularly like the way the ends of phrases are rounded off here – this is a most astute and intelligent performance. I especially enjoyed the mock funeral march that is variation 7; this is just weird in comparison to the other, more conventional variations here - the playing is almost hysterical with grief and matches the mood of this variation perfectly. As the work progresses into variation 8, it becomes more and more difficult to follow the progress of the variations but we have a restatement of the spectral opening that gradually evolves to the complex fugue that is variation 9. This is the core of the work and is perhaps the composer’s reaction to Beethoven’s Eroica variations (Op.35). Here, there are plenty of notes for both performers to negotiate and they do so with the same high level of virtuosity and commitment that they display throughout this disc. This is such a witty take on the theme and to my ears the way that the textures are handled hints at the Scharwenka transcription from earlier in the disc and thus fits in very well here. This variation leads directly into variation 10, the conclusion of the work and featuring the tune neatly divided between the two performers who give a sparkling performance. Right at the very end, the theme emerges almost unadorned as if to remind us how far the music has travelled during the progress of this marvellous work.
As I said for volume 1, this is a magnificent recording; the sound quality is superb, the cover notes are excellent and the playing is exemplary throughout. Full marks to all concerned; I am once again waiting impatiently for the next volume.
--MusicWeb International (Jonathan Welsh)
Parry: Choral Masterpieces / Stokes, Manchester Cathedral Choir
Jerusalem and I was glad have been recorded zillions of times, as you might expect given their exalted status among English cathedral choral works. Even the six motets that make up the Songs of Farewell have been well-treated on disc, and at least one other recording, from St. George's Chapel Windsor Castle (Hyperion), nearly duplicates this program. Among all of those recordings you inevitably could find performances of individual works that are to some degree better than the ones presented here, but Christopher Stokes and his 25-voice Manchester Cathedral Choir (15 boy-and-girl trebles joined with 10 altos, tenors, and basses), along with organist Jeffrey Makinson and the Naxos production team, give lovers of this music the spacious cathedral ambience and the spirited performances they expect, technically sound and fervently expressed.
It's nearly impossible to imagine ever growing tired of Parry's magnificent setting of William Blake's Jerusalem, nor of such sensitive and deeply moving realizations of the poetry in the Songs of Farewell, particularly Thomas Campion's Never weather-beaten sail and Psalm 39 (Lord, let me know mine end). Here they are treated as respectfully and rendered as powerfully as any choir has done, and rarely do you hear such lovely treble singing as in the selection from Parry's oratorio Judith (Long since in Egypt's plenteous land). Speaking of trebles, the recording--and apparently the cathedral space itself--favors them at the expense of the lower voices, and the organ, wonderful as it is to hear, also tends to be a bit too assertive at times. But these are not criticisms serious enough to undermine the very fine, eminently repeatable performances. In fact, for musical value and price, you can't really do better than this in this repertoire. Definitely recommended.
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
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This is a perfect introduction to the choral music of Charles Hubert Hastings Parry. The repertoire covers his three most popular choral works alongside three great works that are typically known to Parry enthusiasts and those who inhabit the organ loft or choir stalls: the two groups are not mutually exclusive. I did a little survey: I asked five people (not British Music fans) to name a piece of music by Parry. Only one was able to suggest Jerusalem, but added that it might have been by Elgar ... The other four, unsurprisingly, had heard of this great hymn, but the composer remained a blank spot.
The CD gets off to a great start with the anthem I was glad. It was originally written for the Coronation of Edward VII and was also performed at the Service for George VI and the present Queen. Manchester Cathedral Choir cope well with this powerful music and the organ is heard to impressive effect. As is traditional, the acclamations of 'Vivat Rex' or 'Regina' are omitted in this recording. One wonders if this anthem will be used at subsequent Coronations (long, long may that be in the future) or whether something more egalitarian and balanced towards 'world music' will be the order of the day?
The Great Service in D major is a fine piece of choral music that can be used in both a liturgical or concert setting. At nearly nine minutes the Magnificat may be a little long for St Swithun's Parish Church Evensong, but in Cathedrals this would be an acceptable length. Both parts of the Canticles reveal a confident composer who is totally at home in the world of Anglican Church music. The service was written in 1881 for Trinity College Cambridge, however it was not published until 1984. This is a great setting that is a million miles away from the popular view that Victorian church music was over-sentimental and stodgy.
The Songs of Farewell are quite simply stunning. This is a major work that explores feelings about the transience of life and involves much reflection by the composer back across the years of his musical achievement. Parry stated that, at seventy years of age, he had reached 'the last milestone.' It would be a project worthy of a dissertation or a thesis to explore the composer's religious sensibilities at this time in his life. He was not a conventionally Christian believer and would have seen the texts in a personal context rather than liturgical. Yet each of these motets is deeply moving and invariably inspiring.
I guess that many habitués of cathedral and parish churches will know the opening My Soul, there is a country - a fine setting of Henry Vaughan's fundamentally optimistic words. Yet the remaining five motets are less often performed and less well known. The composer provides considerable interest in these subsequent motets by use of varying number of parts and a fine balance of a fundamentally harmonic language over against more complex but never 'academic' contrapuntal workings.
Perhaps the mood of the entire collection is best summed up by the last motet Lord, let me know mine end. The last words of this psalm ask God to 'O spare me a little, that I may recover my strength before I go hence and be no more seen'. Hardly the thoughts of a confident evangelical who 'knew' that he was going to join the saints in glory but more those of a deep-seated agnostic.
For me the most beautiful work on this CD is Hear my words, ye people. It is a compendium of texts taken from the Old Testament books of Job, Isaiah and the Psalms. The work was originally composed for the 1894 Festival of the Salisbury Diocesan Choral Association. Unbelievably, it was conceived for 2000 singers with a semi-chorus of some 400! There was an organ accompaniment and brass band present the first performance. The choral music part was kept relatively simple, as there was little time for rehearsal. The more complex music was given to the soprano and baritone soloists. In this recording the baritone part is sung by Mark Rowlinson: the other solo parts are taken by groups of choristers. The work concludes with the well-known hymn O Praise ye the Lord, which was a paraphrase of Psalm 150 by Sir Henry Baker. Something tells me that this 'pared-down' version is actually more effective and satisfying than the original. It is a truly gorgeous work that ought to have a secure place in the repertoire.
The penultimate piece is from the oratorio Judith. Many folk will know the hymn-tune Repton, which accompanies the words Dear Lord and Father of Mankind, without realising the source of the text and the music. Judith was a highly successful oratorio, which was first performed in 1888. The words are from a poem entitled The Brewing of Soma by the American Quaker poet John Greenleaf Whittier. It is given here with great variety of dynamics and constant attention to the meaning of the words.
Jerusalem is the last piece on this CD. Naturally, it is in Parry's incarnation - with organ accompaniment rather than the gorgeous, but manifestly overblown Elgarian version. No matter how many times I hear this work I cannot help feeling that it is one of the finest hymns ever composed on Earth or in Heaven. For the record it was written during the Great War at the suggestion of Robert Bridges and Walford Davies for a 'Fight for Right' meeting at the Queen's Hall in London.
The quality of the recording is superb, the programmes notes by Keith Anderson are suitably informative and the texts of all the works are provided. The cover picture is entitled 'Beach Sunset' and presumably alludes to the 'Country beyond the Stars'. Yet it has a definite feel of Morecambe Bay about it.
The obvious comparison for this CD is the Hyperion recording of the Choir of St George's Chapel of Windsor conducted by Christopher Robinson. This was - and still is - an essential disc for all Parry enthusiasts and received excellent reviews. However, I have always had a soft spot for Manchester Cathedral: my father's family were from Lancashire and looked towards this great City for work, worship and pleasure. I first visited cathedral in the early seventies, and have enjoyed musical events and services there on an occasional basis over the years. This present recording is a fine monument to a great musical and ecclesiastical tradition. It will be an essential addition to many collections.
John France, MusicWeb International
Lord: Durham Concerto / Damev, Lord, Et Al
The composer Jon Lord rose to fame in the 1970s as a member of Deep Purple. Celebrity collaborations between the group and Malcolm Arnold included Concerto for Group and Orchestra written and scored by John Lord and conducted by Malcolm Arnold. Lord has over the intervening years increasingly extended his reputation into the classical field. The Durham Concerto is the latest and most ambitious example to date. In this he is not alone, witness the various classical pieces by Paul McCartney - the latest being Ecce Cor Meum and the orchestral work Seven by Tony Banks of Genesis – a work recorded on Naxos. All are individual in their own way but a sign that some musicians with a rock-popular reputation felt the siren call of classical eternity even if we ignore the blurring of ‘boundaries’ represented by the work of Frank Zappa, Soft Machine and Tangerine Dream.
At the most meagre level this is a beautifully packaged delightful musical souvenir of Durham University's 175th anniversary in 2007. The concept might remind you of John Scott’s Colchester Symphony but this is in fact a seriously-intentioned extended orchestral suite of six movements grouped in pairs.
At the start long-held Tallis-like string chords speak out of the mists of antiquity. This is music that takes a slow-shifting shading from Hovhaness. The glistening murmur forms a backdrop to meditative solos from the wind instruments. Then at 3.10 comes Ruth Palmer's Lark-like violin solo speaking as a fragile human voice against the downward remorseless tread of time. Given the accent of this first movement it is some surprise that Lord was not among those pop-contemporary world musicians interviewed for Tony Palmer’s recent RVW film-biography. As this movement, entitled Cathedral at Dawn, rises to its peak it is the notable ecstasy of Vaughan Williams that is most closely echoed.
The composer's Hammond organ is featured in four of the six movements. It ushers in the second (Durham Awakes) with its atmospheric solo for Northumbrian Pipes. The pipes are played by that doyenne of the instrument Kathryn Tickell. Matthew Barley's solo cello acts as orator and encourager in this Copland-inflected music but ancient and melancholically serene voices from the Pipes – unable to escape celtic connections - and the solo violin are there too. The Hammond also intercedes at several points. This movement proves a fine example of the successful interweave of pipes, cello and violin.
Those first two movements form Part 1: Morning. Then comes Afternoon in the shape of another two movements. The first reflects the spiritual journey of St Cuthbert and the physical journey of his mortal remains to interment in the Cathedral. It communicates as a slow revelatory sunset much in the same atmosphere as the Dawn. This is followed by the equally introspective, cello-led From Prebends Bridge. Here the composer had in mind the view from the Bridge and the innumerable people who have stood and taken in that view down a thousand years.
The cello solo once or twice seems rather meandering before it gathers itself for a more direct and emotionally hard-hitting address. The music here reminded me of the Elgar concerto, Rubbra's Soliloquy and Holst's Invocation. Then comes a much needed rowdy movement in which students on a rag day and a miners gala meet head on. The brassy whoops here reminded me of Arnold. Again Lord's Hammond is to the fore, lending dynamism to its usual watery discourse - it's the nature of the instrument. There's plenty of forward pulse here and the orchestra have fun with the pizzicato writing. The Arnold accent appears strongly at 4:12 onwards with something of the Commonwealth Christmas Overture to be heard as well as a nicely burred and brassy Gaudeamus Igitur at 6:21. History takes hold again at the end of the movement and those sustained string chords reassert the long view. The Pipes invoke the sorrowing melancholy of heritage morphing without break into the long meditative finale: Durham Nocturne.
I hope we will hear more of Lord's classical compositions including the suite for strings, Disguises (2004) and the piano concerto Boom of the Tingling Strings (2003). Both are due out from EMI later in 2008. What else remains to be recorded?
The concept of the present piece and the use of an 'ethnic' instrument recall, as an idea, Shaun Davey's works – especially The Relief of Derry Symphony and The Brendan Voyage.
The playing throughout the Durham Concerto is sensitive and glowing with much accomplished and thoughtful work for the solo instruments. The recording produces an almost tangible effect without embracing an in-your-face pop balance.
Here is an extended work of continuity across six substantial movements. The predominant meditative character will instantly mesh with those who love John Barry’s Beyondness of Things, Tavener and Vaughan Williams.
-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International
Brian: Orchestral Music, Vol. 1 / Garry Walker, Bbc Scottish Symphony
I have to admit to this being the disc I have most eagerly awaited hearing for some months. That being the case I am delighted to be able to report that it has fulfilled all my expectations if not exceeded them – let us all hope that the titling of this as ‘Volume 1’ really does augur well for an extended series of discs by this unique composer.
In recent years there has been a steady trickle of Brian’s orchestral works appearing on CD but when you dig a little deeper it becomes clear that these are in effect re-releases of performances where the originals date back some years. So in fact it is nearly ten years since the last ‘new’ recording – Psalm 23 on ClassicO [recorded 2002], then back into the 1990s for the abortive Marco Polo/Naxos ‘Brian Cycle’, the 1980s for EMI’s brief flurry of interest using the RLPO, and the 1970s for the Leicestershire and Hull Schools Symphony Orchestra’s brave traversal of several discs with Unicorn-Kanchana and CBS. This is by no means a complete survey but it gives you a sense of the piece-meal attempts to commit Brian to disc.
Toccata Classics are proving to be valiant disciples of the Brian cause both on disc and in print. Recently I had the pleasure of reviewing the superb Havergal Brian on Music: Volume Two which Toccata have published. Both that project and this have been instigated under the watchful eye and guiding hand of the Havergal Brian Society and Brian expert Malcolm MacDonald. As part of the book review I commented - has ever a composer been so fortunate in their biographer / promoter as Brian with MacDonald? His knowledge, insight and understanding of this shamelessly idiosyncratic composer is little short of stupendous. That sense of dedication suffuses every element of this recording from the fascinating choice of repertoire on this well programmed CD to the fine engineering supporting excellent playing from the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra.
I have to admit that I have not heard any of this music before so I have no frame of reference with which to compare the current performances. Suffice to say there is an air of ‘rightness’ and conviction that is vital to bringing off this often quirky music. Having read the two volumes of Brian’s critical writings has only increased my appreciation of him as a composer. I have a suspicion that even among his more famous composer contemporaries he was the most knowledgeable about the latest developments in the musical scene. His journalistic writing shows him as an enthusiastic supporter of an extraordinarily wide and diverse range of then contemporary music. This, to my mind, adds significantly to his stature as a composer in his own right for instead of producing a mish-mash of musical influences his own work remains strikingly independent. It is well-known that he was largely self-taught as a composer but the choices he makes; structurally, harmonically or melodically are never made through ignorance instead they are guided by a quirky individualism. And therein lies the rub for the listener new to his sound-world; it can often seem that musical material is juxtaposed in a random and almost obtuse manner. Here is where Malcolm MacDonald proves to be such a valuable guide. Whether in this liner or in his definitive 3 volume study of the Brian Symphonies he makes it clear that in what might initially seem ramshackle and even chaotic there is actually a very sophisticated control of form and structure. Brian is dancing to a different tune and it can take the listener some time to ‘hear’ his message. Conductor Garry Walker has become fully attuned to the Brian idiom. As mentioned before these are strikingly confident and convincing performances – orchestras are phenomenally skilled these days but to project such security and conviction as is heard throughout this disc requires those exact same qualities to be projected from the conductor’s podium. It is rare indeed that such complex and demanding music is first heard played as here and it adds considerably to the positive impact of the disc. On the evidence of this disc Walker proves himself to be an interpreter of distinction.
Another remarkable thought is the fact that the works performed here span an astonishing 65 years. The earliest work is the 1903 Burlesque Variations on an Original Theme. Never performed in Brian’s lifetime this is its first professional performance. But why? Some Brian can be tough to digest on first sitting but not this work – it has instant appeal. Written when Brian was 27 it represents his first effort at large-scale orchestral composition. He scored the work for a large romantic orchestra with triple wind, standard brass – but including four trumpets – extended percussion, two harps and organ. Lasting some twenty-five minutes and consisting of a theme and seven variations this is a well balanced and fascinatingly wide-ranging piece. Yes there are moments where the orchestration feels opaque and indeed clumsy but these are repeatedly offset by passages of remarkable power, mystery and beauty. Why Burlesque Variations? – MacDonald offers a fascinating opinion; variation form recurs often in Brian’s works and usually he chose to take a banal/simple tune and then expand the seemingly limited potential of that melody beyond all expectation. Hence the Fantastic Variations of 1907 – based on ‘Three Blind Mice’ or The Symphonic Variations of 1916 – based on ‘Has anybody here seen Kelly?’ are just two examples. It is as if Brian is trying a kind of alchemy transforming the base material of a simple song into musical gold. Yes, the influences are often clearer here than in later Brian and clearly Elgar provided a model but I am pushed to think of any other work by a twenty-seven year old British composer from around the turn of that century of such confident quality. Although I know others will disagree I find Josef Holbrooke’s music to have an empty bombast and reliance on musical effect to which Brian never resorts while York Bowen is interesting and appealing but never challenging in the way Brian is. The closing pages of these variations do try to lift the simple tune onto a grandiose level which is beyond both the melody and the composer (at this stage in his career) but elsewhere there are brilliantly achieved musico-dramatic effects. Try Variation 2 – Tempesto and the simply gorgeously poignant Variation 3 – Elegy that follows. The latter is the emotional heart of the work and opens as a gently regretful valse triste very much in the style of the Nedbal or Sibelius works of that name before building to a powerful strenuous climax way outside the remit of those pieces. The return to the reflective opening is typical Brian in the rapid change of emotional direction before he builds it back to a climax of cinematic splendour. Subtle it is not but hard the heart not to be moved on some level – I love it. Curiously the London publisher Bosworth published the suite which contains Nedbal’s work in 1903 and it became the composer’s biggest hit. But the similarity is one of form nothing more. But it does point up another fact worth considering here; Brian’s music never sounds “English” in the pastoral sense of the word. More ‘stout and steaky’ than ‘cowpat’.
Chronologically, the next work on the disc dates from exactly fifty years later. How typically perverse of Brian in austerity Britain to produce a work that by title alone would seem to belong to the light music world of Edward German or Percy Fletcher. For sure this is lighter music than much of Brian’s output but it has far more substance and muscle than the bulk of the light music repertoire. Not that it is at all in tune with the prevailing trends in 1950s contemporary music either. Again, one has the abiding sense of Brian writing music that suited himself when it suited him. This proves to be another piece of instant appeal with the heart of the work being the second movement Reverie. Throughout the whole work and the orchestral writing – angularly expressive but with awkward parts for solo instruments and some thrilling brass scoring – there is a scale and sweep that is very impressive. Clearly this is not meant to be a work uttering the profoundest thoughts and feelings of the composer but it does show the confidence and expertise with which Brian handled his resources. I would suggest ignoring the titles – I couldn’t help wondering if Brian has used such deliberately twee and diminutive headings in a provocative and ironic manner. Here is another curious parallel – the central pair of movements are scored first for strings alone – the aforementioned Reverie, and then wind and horns - Restless Stream. Vaughan Williams did much the same in his almost exactly contemporaneous Symphony No.8 – although the wind scherzo comes first before the string Cavatina. Not that we can accuse Vaughan Williams of any kind of plagiarism – Brian’s Suite was not to be heard for twenty years (neither can the accusation be reversed – the Vaughan Williams was not premiered until 1956). The closing Village Revels is also the final music on the disc – again ignore the title, this is quite unlike any revel I can imagine but it provides an exciting conclusion to all the works here.
MacDonald explains Brian’s recurring use of the term Elegy to describe movements or individual works. This was the title ultimately given to a 1954 composition originally called A song of sorrow. Brian renamed it some sixteen years later when reassessing his back catalogue with a view to publication. The rationale being that the original title implied a kind of emotional one-dimension that does not encompass the full range of this very impressive work. MacDonald points towards a definition that encompasses both the classical laments of Ovid and the romantic poetic works of Goethe and others. As a critic Brian wrote enthusiastically about Busoni and MacDonald sees a link with such works as that composer’s Nocturne Symphonique or the Sarabande and Cortege. But influence or inspiration is all this link should be seen as. Again Brian has produced a work as striking in its individuality as its expressive power. Jagged and rugged energy courses through this work. There are more of the typical Brian Symphonic fingerprints here, a sense of a restless quest the music searching and unstable. Yet at the same time there is an underlying feel of something grand and ceremonial. MacDonald sees it as a long slow struggle from C minor to the light of C major. Elsewhere on the disc I am a little uneasy about Brian’s penchant for almost hyper-active percussion writing. By my reckoning the percussion should point a moment in the score – dynamic alone need not be a factor – for Brian there seems to be a percussive ‘happening’ in nearly every bar. But here, massed side-drums set against tip-toeing xylophone creates some rather special effects. Again I have nothing but praise for the bravura confidence of the playing of the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra. There is some truly thrilling brass writing here dispatched with total aplomb. Much as I enjoy the discovery of the Variations on this disc if I had to choose one work to represent Brian it would be this Elegy. As this represents its first recording I would suggest that that alone is enough to merit buying this disc.
My only relative musical disappointment on this disc was with the Legend: Ave atque vale which opens it. In its own right it is remarkable because it is the work of a ninety two year old man. The title which means ‘hail and farewell’ is taken from Catallus’ poetic elegy to his drowned brother written in about 56 BC. MacDonald describes it as being ‘crammed to bursting point with disparate ideas’ which is a sympathetic way of saying perhaps it has not been edited or structured with as much discipline as earlier works. To my ear – given that this is NOT a judgment borne of extended familiarity – it sounds too rambling and disparate in its elements. Here the percussion has an absolute field day throughout without really justifying their continuous presence in musical terms. Possibly this is the kind of work that Brian’s detractors might single out as showing his weaknesses. However, it has the great good sense not to outstay its welcome and by representing just seven minutes of over an hour of vintage Brian no collector need hesitate on this piece’s account. On a positive note it does act as an extraordinary tribute to the undying vitality and individuality of Brian to very end of his long life.
Hopefully, it will be clear by now that I consider this a very special disc – exactly the kind of high quality combination of rare repertoire, performance and technical presentation that collectors hope for. For those as yet unfamiliar with the Havergal Brian I think this could act as an excellent introduction. On the recent Testament release of the famous Boult/BBC performance of Brian’s legendary Gothic Symphony the disc concludes with an interview with the composer where he underlines the fact that he wrote music with little or no expectation of hearing it performed. Instead he was responding a personal creative imperative that could not be denied. How gratified he would be to know that finally his music is beginning to receive the attention is deserves. A Volume 2 from this same team is essential and this current disc will be one of my discs of the year without doubt.
-- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International
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