Véronique Gens (soprano), Fleur Barron (mezzo-soprano), Laurence Kilsby (tenor), Stéphane Degout (baritone), Susan Manoff (piano), Julius Drake (piano) – all performing on Friday 13 September 2024 at the Wigmore Hall
The Gabriel Fauré Centenary Celebrations open with a song gala involving some of Fauré’s finest contemporary interpreters, who explore the composer’s output at various stages, and all of whom share in the performance of his cycle La bonne chanson.
The concert will take place on Friday 13 Sep 2024, 7.30pm (click here for tickets) – and marks the start of a celebration which will cover the French composer’s celebrated chamber music.
You can read about the celebrations at the Wigmore Hall website, where you will find details of the five-day festival planned and curated by Steven Isserlis and friends, running from Friday 1 November to Tuesday 5 November. The programme will include all of Fauré’s chamber music, put in context of his friends and contemporaries. It will also give us the rare opportunity to hear both of the piano trios by his good friend Saint-Saëns.
Emma Tring (soprano), BBC National Orchestra of Wales / Martyn Brabbins
BIS 2721 [72’51’’] French text and English translation included
Producer Thore Brinkman Engineers Simon Smith, Mike Cox Recorded 29-31 March 2023, Hoddinott Hall, Cardiff
Written by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
BIS continues its coverage of John Pickard (b.1963) with a pertinent coupling of his Second and Sixth Symphonies, heard alongside his song-cycle to poems by Verlaine, in what is the most wide-ranging release – whether chronologically or stylistically – to date in this series.
What’s the music like?
It hardly seems 35 years since the Second Symphony blazed forth at its Manchester premiere, so establishing Pickard’s reputation. The composer had earlier studied with Louis Andriessen, to whose confrontational minimalism this piece is indebted in certain particulars – but, unlike other among his contemporaries who were so influenced, Pickard was alive to its symphonic potential. Unfolding over six continuous sections, the work builds via an intensifying process of tension and release to a seismic culmination as marks a seamless, even inevitable return to its start. Those familiar with that pioneering version by Odaline de la Martínez (on YouTube) will find this new one hardly less attentive to the visceral power of what, given its predecessor remains unheard, is a symphonic debut with few equals and one that urgently warrants revival.
Almost 35 years on and the Sixth Symphony offers a very different though no less involving perspective on what this genre might be. The first of its two movements channels a modified sonata design such that an almost whimsical opening has become brutalized well before the despairing close. Its successor refashions the expected continuity from an even more oblique vantage – the music heading eloquently if funereally toward a plangent climax that subsides into a delicate intermezzo, infused with the sound of nature, then on to a final section which recalls earlier ideas in a mood of rapt anticipation. Not that this understatement offers in any sense an easy way out: indeed, the work concludes with its composer poised at a crossroads as much existential as musical, and from where the whole creative process can begin afresh.
Separating two substantial statements of intent, the Verlaine Songs continues Pickard’s recent involvement with poetic texts and, while Paul Verlaine might seem far removed from Edward Thomas or Laurence Binyon, his evocations fanciful while sometimes unnerving – hence Le sqelette with its graphic aural imagery – finds the composer reciprocating in kind. Coming in between scorings with ensemble or violin and piano, this version with orchestra finds Pickard enriching a lineage of French song-cycles from Berlioz, via Ravel and Messiaen, to Dutilleux.
Does it all work?
It does, not least because Pickard is conscious of the need for his music to determine its own course. However dissimilar these symphonies might seem, the sensibility behind them is the same and any stylistic differences more apparent than real. It helps when Martyn Brabbins is a conductor familiar with this idiom as to inspire a committed response by the BBC National Orchestra of Wales, with Emma Tring alive to the manifest subtlety of the vocal writing, and the recordings consistently heard to advantage in the spacious immediacy of Hoddinott Hall.
Is it recommended?
Indeed, in the hope this series will be continued. Both the First and Third Symphonies await recording, as do Partita for strings and large-scale choral work Agamemnon’s Tomb, so that Pickard’s discography has a way to go even without addition of new pieces to his catalogue.
Orchestre National de France / Cristian Măcelaru with Choeur de Radio France (Symphony no.3)
Enescu 2 Romanian Rhapsodies Op.11: no.1 in A major, no.2 in D major (1901) Symphony no.1 in E flat major Op. 13 (1905) Symphony no.2 in A major Op. 17 (1912-14) Symphony no.3 in C major Op. 21 (1916-18, rev. 1920)
DG 4865505 [three discs, 2h42m24s] Producer Vincent Villetard Engineer Yves Baudry Recorded September 2022 (Symphony no.1, Rhapsody no.2) June (Symphony no.2, Rhapsody no.1) and July 2023 (Symphony no.3) in Auditorium de Radio France, Paris
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
Deutsche Grammophon continues its survey of those symphonic cycles ‘less well trod’ with this collection of the three numbered symphonies which Enescu completed, performed by the Orchestre National de France and its music director these past four seasons Cristian Măcelaru.
What’s the music like?
Although symphonies were a preoccupation of Enescu over almost 50 years, his reputation in the genre rests on those written during the earlier phase of his maturity. Numerous cycles have appeared that feature Romanian forces, but only three from elsewhere – Lawrence Foster with orchestras in Monte Carlo and Lyon (EMI / Warner), Gennady Rozhdestvensky with the BBC Philharmonic Orchestra (Chandos) and Hannu Lintu with the Tampere Philharmonic (Ondine). Măcelaru thus enters a select but not uncompetitive field where his recordings generally hold their own.
Relatively compact as to its formal dimensions, the First Symphony gives a good overview of the relative strengths and weaknesses in Măcelaru’s approach. The initial movement is vividly launched with its proclamatory summons, but an increasing loss of focus means the climactic lead-in to the reprise is undersold and the coda lacks decisiveness. The slow movement finds the ONF woodwind at its most felicitous, though the beatific central span is more persuasively realized than the inward ambiguity on either side, while the finale seems more convincing in its purposeful opening than towards its close – when what should be among the most thrilling perorations in the symphonic literature of this period sounds almost offhand. Often performed in its early years, this is a work that could yet find its way back into the orchestral repertoire.
By contrast, the Second Symphony was a failure at its 1915 premiere then went unheard until six years after the composer’s death. Strauss replaces Berlioz as the primary influence, albeit with a fastidious instrumentation to which the ONF players do justice. That said, Măcelaru is no more successful than most others in maintaining momentum across the expansive opening Allegro, so that any impetus has dissipated well before the development unsuccessfully tries to regain it. Akin to a series of variations on a theme that the clarinet never quite defines, the central Andante is eloquently rendered while the finale’s martial introduction has the requisite stealthiness. Yet the Allegro fails to sustain itself to the most opulent of Enescu’s apotheoses, not least because orchestral sound lacks the weight and visceral force necessary in this music.
Composed during Romania’s torrid involvement in the First World War, the Third Symphony is among Enescu’s greatest achievements and the highlight of Măcelaru’s cycle. He paces the initial Moderato such that its questing and rhetorical elements are held in persuasive accord -building to a resplendent culmination from where the central Vivace surges forth; its alternate ebullience and ambivalence propelled intently towards a shattering climax which, as with the sinister coda, is seamlessly integrated into this movement overall. Never lacking for repose, the final Lento unfolds with intuitive if tangible poise – Choeur de Radio France effortlessly absorbed into a diaphanous music whose closing stages radiate an almost metaphysical aura. Whether or not Dante-esque as to its inspiration, this affords a transcendence rare in any era.
A pity no Enescu cycle has yet included the Fourth and Fifth Symphonies which, as realized in the 1990s by Pascal Bentoiu, make a logical and necessary continuation of his symphonic odyssey (they have been recorded by Peter Ruzicka for CPO). A pity too that, instead of the Third Orchestral Suite or the symphonic poem Vox Maris, Măcelaru opted for the ubiquitous Romanian Rhapsodies. The Second of these is more appealing here, for all that the fervency toward its centre and pathos at its close are under-projected, while the First is rushed early on and underwhelming thereafter. No match, then, for a host of previous readings – among these, Antal Doráti with the London Symphony (Mercury) and, especially, Constantin Silvestri with the Czech Philharmonic (Supraphon) retain their innate potency after more than six decades.
Does it all work?
Swings and roundabouts. In the context of those cycles mentioned earlier, Măcelaru’s take on the Third Symphony ranks with the best – but, in the First, Lintu or Foster and, in the Second, Foster are to be preferred. The quality of playing cannot be denied, and if the recording lacks a degree of definition and impact in more demonstrative passages, it presents this orchestra to advantage. Rob Cowan essays a personable booklet note, but to claim that these symphonies ‘‘…emerge more as extended tone poems clothed in symphonic dress’’ is simply not the case.
Is it recommended?
Yes, taken overall. Enescu’s symphonies are still on the periphery of the orchestral repertoire, so making the undoubted advocacy a high-profile conductor such as Măcelaru gives them the more admirable. Hopefully he will be continuing his exploration of a singular musical vision.
Mahler Symphony no.1 in D major (1887-8, rev, 1898) Mahler arr. Schoenberg Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (1884-5, arr. 1920) Mahler Blumine (1884, rev. 1889)
Colorado MahlerFest 195269164287 [79’02”] Live performances on 18 May 2019 (Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen), 19 May 2019, Macky Auditorium, Boulder, Colorado
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
Recorded representation of the current MahlerFest era continues to grow with this release on CD (previously available as a download) of the First Symphony with related pieces, given at its 32nd edition and what was the fourth such event with Kenneth Woods as artistic director.
What’s the music like?
What was doubtless intended to inaugurate a chronological traversal began in 2019 with this performance of the First Symphony, the first to be heard in the critical edition published that year by Breitkopf & Härtel. Woods has written about this extensively at his website [Ken on the Great Mahler Debate of 2019 | Kenneth Woods – conductor]: suffice to add the numerous corrections and textural amendments enhance that fuller and more stratified orchestral sound such as Mahler favoured in 1899 when compared with earlier versions from 1889 and 1893.
Interpretatively, this performance is a satisfying one with few overt surprises but no obvious idiosyncrasies. Any lack of atmosphere during the first movement’s mesmeric introduction is offset by its easeful if never uneventful continuation – thus a subtly differentiated exposition repeat, then stealthy marshalling of expressive tension to a coda whose joyousness is rightly kept within limits. The scherzo is robust yet propulsive and the trio even finer in its unforced suavity, while the funeral march never over-inflects its Klezmer elements unfolding from the ominous and ironic, via gentle repose, to a closing fatalism. Woods succeeds better than most in holding together the unwieldy finale, allowing due emotional space for the recall of initial ideas that is its sure highlight, and the ensuing apotheosis lacks nothing in blazing affirmation.
Included as an encore is Blumine, the ‘romance’ salvaged from earlier incidental music which formed part of this symphony until being jettisoned in 1894 – here emerging with its elegance and pathos devoid of wanton sentiment. The actual concert continued with Korngold’s Violin Concerto then Beethoven’s Third Leonora Overture reorchestrated by Mahler, but the present release opens with a performance from the previous day’s concert of Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen. This is heard in a chamber arrangement as supervised by Schoenberg for the 1920 season of his Society for Private Musical Performances, its textural transparency underlining the soulfulness then buoyancy of its opening two songs. If the (over-wrought?) drama of the third song is under-projected, the wistful radiance of its successor comes across unimpeded.
Does it all work?
Indeed it does, overall. Mahler symphonies may have been performed and recorded by a host of international orchestras, but that of the Colorado MahlerFest lacks nothing in commitment or tenacity; any lack of atmosphere and finesse owes more to the clear if confined acoustic of Macky Auditorium than absence of quiet playing or overriding of dynamics. Joshua DeVane is a thoughtful exponent of the song-cycle, at his best in the restrained inwardness of its outer numbers, while the ensemble drawn from the CMO makes a persuasive case for this reduction.
Is it recommended?
It is. The orchestral playing may have grown in conviction with each new instalment, but this is a notable statement of intent for MahlerFest under Woods’s direction. That the 33rd edition had to be scaled down then presented online had little effect on the resolve of those involved.
Buy
For further purchase options, visit the MahlerFest website – and for more information on the festival itself, click here. Click on the names for further information on conductor Kenneth Woods and soloist Joshua DeVane
Fanny Hensel Wenn ich ihn nur habe. Die Schönheit Nicht, Mädchen, Wohl deinem Liebling (all 1820). Der Abendstern. Die sanften Tage, Der Sänger. An die Entfernte (all 1823). Auf der Wanderung. Abschied. Mond. Sehnsucht, HU190 (all 1824-6). Sehnsucht, HU192. Maigesang. Seufzer. An den Mond. An die Ruhe. Sehnsucht, HU203. Sehnsucht, HU205. Umsonst. Suleika (all 1827). Sehnsucht, HU217. Nacht. In der Ferne (all 1828-33). Über allen Gipfeln ist Ruh’. Ach, die Augen sind es wieder. Das Meer Erglänzte. Ich wandelte unter den Bäumen (all 1835-8). Der Fürst vom Berge. Traurige Wege. Dämmrung senkte sich von oben. Traum. Mutter, o sing mich zur Ruh’ (all 1840-44). Erwache Knab’. Vorwurf (both 1846).
Jennifer Parker, Stephanie Wake-Edwards (mezzo-sopranos), Tim Parker-Langston (tenor), Jâms Coleman, Genevieve Ellis, Ewan Gilford (pianos)
First Hand Records FHR148 [82’25’’] German texts and English translations included. Producers and Engineers Tim Parker-Langston, David Jones Recorded 3-8 January 2023 at Mendelssohn-Haus, Leipzig, Germany
Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse
What’s the story?
First Hand Records expands its already enterprising catalogue with this release of Lieder by Fanny Hensel (1805-47) – Felix Mendelssohn’s elder sister – who has recently come into her own not least through her prolific song output, many of which are only now being recorded.
What’s the music like?
Hensel left some 450 individual works, with songs comprising over half this total. A handful of these appeared under her brother’s name, while she had published just three collections of songs and piano pieces at the time of her death: a measure of the extent of her composing is that half of those songs featured here are being recorded for the first time. Covering some 26 years, this selection feels representative of her musical development in terms of its evolving approach to harmony and word-setting, together with the range and type of authors being set.
Although other sequences are perfectly feasible, the decision to proceed chronologically is justified by relative unfamiliarity of Hensel’s songs. Starting with the appealing gaucheness of the Novalis setting If I could only have him, this continues with such relatively ambitious numbers as the Ludwig Uhland ballad The Gentle Days (at almost five minutes the longest item here) or wistful eloquence found in Ludwig Tieck’s Parting. A highlight is her setting of Ludwig Hölty’s May Song, notably the subtle variations of tone and texture drawn from its 12 verses. The songs from the late 1830s include a striking treatment of Heinrich Heine’s I wondered beneath the trees and those from the early 1840s include the sustained intensity found in Nikolaus Lenau’s Sorrowful Paths, which poet’s Reproach is almost her last song.
A good way into Hensel’s songs is through comparing those five items (from a total of nine) all entitled Sehnsucht (Longing) and written during the mid-to later 1820s. First, a setting of Johann Voss which never ventures far from its subdued opening; next, a setting of Hölty that points up this poem’s conflicting images with real acuity, followed with two briefer settings by these poets (that by Hölty the shortest here at barely 50 seconds) such as amply turn such succinctness to expressive advantage and, finally, a poem by Friedrich Märcker whose overt pantheism inspires a setting of gentle profundity. Here, as in almost all these songs, Hensel never forces the issue with regard to ‘interpreting’ the words at hand – rather, her approach is to tease out its meaning through a dialogue between voice and piano in which inference is all.
Does it all work?
Almost always, not least owing to the advocacy of these artists. The lion’s share is entrusted to Tim Parker-Langston (not unreasonably so given his masterminding of this project), whose mellifluous tenor is eminently suited to Hensel’s music. Of the two mezzos, Stephanie Wake-Edwards’s soulful contralto is duly complemented on three numbers with the lighter tone of Jennifer Parker. The 34 songs are divided almost equally between three pianists who, between them, confirm Hensel wrote as idiomatically as any more illustrious peer for this combination.
Is it recommended?
It is, given this release is a significant contribution to the ongoing dissemination of Hensel’s music. The booklet, too, is admirably produced with its succinct introductory note alongside full texts and translations. Those looking for an overview of these songs need look no further.
Arcana.fm 