Tag Archives: George Enescu

On Record – Orchestre National de France / Cristian Măcelaru – Enescu: Symphonies nos.1-3; Romanian Rhapsodies 1 & 2 (Deutsche Grammophon)

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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.

Buy

For purchasing options, visit the Deutsche Grammophon website and for more information on the artists, click on the names for more on Orchestre National de France and conductor Cristian Măcelaru. For dedicated resources on the composer, you can visit The International Enescu Society

Published post no.2,258 – Friday 2 August 2024

On Record: Sherban Lupu – The Unknown Enescu Vol. 2 (Toccata Classics)

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Enescu
Romanian Rhapsody no.1 in A major Op.11/1 (1901, arr. 1957)
Impressions roumaines (1925, arr, 2008)
Sonata Torso in A minor (1911)
Impromptu concertant in G flat major (1903)
Regrets in G flat major (1898, compl. 2018)
Adagio in B flat major Op.3/3 (1897, arr. 1929)
Valse lente ‘L’Enjôleuse’ (1902)
Caprice Roumain (1925-49, compl. 1994-6)

Sherban Lupu (violin) with Viorela Ciucur (piano); Sinfonia da Camera / Ian Hobson (Caprice Roumain), Ian Hobson (piano, Romanian Rhapsody)

Toccata Classics TOCC0647 [72’52″]

Producers / Engineers Florentina Herghelegiu, Christopher Ericson (Romanian Rhapsody), Jon Schoenoff (Caprice Roumain)

Recorded 7-8 April 2022 at George Enescu Auditorium, University of Music, Bucharest, 2 February 2001 at Krannert Center for Performing Arts, Urbana, Illinois (Caprice Roumain), 15 March 2004 at Krannert Art Museum, Champagne Illinois (Romanian Rhapsody)

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

The expansion and enrichment of George Enescu’s catalogue has been in progress for several decades. Toccata Classics now issues a follow-up of works realized by others, posthumously published or performed in unfamiliar arrangements, all featuring the violinist Sherban Lupu.

What’s the music like?

Enescu’s early output charts a steady incline from precociousness to mastery, evidenced by the melodic poise of the Adagio from his First Piano Suite arranged by violinist Sandu Albu, or a fragmentary transcription of the bittersweet piano waltz Regrets as completed by Lupu. L’Enjouleuse might well have been a hit had its composer chosen not to publish it under the pseudonym ‘Camille Grozza’, its smouldering pathos in contrast to the objectified elegance of Impromptu concertant which was intended as a test-piece for the Paris Conservatoire.

Much the most significant among these earlier items, Sonata Torso belongs to a sequence of unfinished or unpublished pieces from between the First and Second Symphonies (1905-12) that find Enescu reassessing and extending his musical idiom. For all its prolixity, as would have made further movements unfeasible, this yields a wealth of tonal and harmonic incident within its rarefied ambit. Realized by Lupu from extensive sketches, Impressions roumaines makes for an invigorating entrée into the Third Violin Sonata for which this was preparation.

Lupu was also the catalyst behind Caprice Roumain on which Enescu intermittently worked for almost a quarter-century and the nearest he came to a violin concerto in his maturity. As completed by Cornel Țăranu, its compact design takes in a sombre and often ominous initial Moderato, a lightly sardonic scherzo modelled on the hora, a Lento of understated eloquence then a final Allegro whose synthesis of folk and art elements resembles Bartók in procedure if not aesthetic. Happily, this realization is increasingly being taken up by younger violinists.

Opening the collection with the First Romanian Rhapsody might seem unnecessary given its popularity over more than 120 years, yet this arrangement by composer and violinist Marcel Stern remains little known despite being published 65 years ago. The initial stages faithfully recreate the instrument interplay of Enescu’s original, and though the heady continuation can only hint at its scintillating orchestration, what results is a bravura concert-piece in its own right. Duo partnerships everywhere could do worse than try out this version in their recitals.

Does it all work?

Pretty much. This is a collection which, drawn from various sources and recorded at several locations, is given focus by the commanding presence and unstinting advocacy of Lupu. His playing may not be technically immaculate, though it does convey the essence of Enescu’s increasingly personal language; not least in Caprice Roumain, which he previously recorded with Cristian Mandeal (Electrecord) and to which this is a more than worthy successor. Ian Hobson’s credentials in Enescu hardly need restating, and neither do those of Viorela Ciucur.

Is it recommended?

Yes. Those who are primarily interested in the Caprice should investigate David Grimal’s superb account with Les Dissonances (La Dolce Vita) but this release, enhanced by detailed notes from Valentina Sandu-Dediu, makes a valuable addition to the Enescu discography.

Listen & Buy

For buying options, and to listen to clips from the album, visit the Toccata Classics website. For information on the artists, click on the names of Sherban Lupu and Ian Hobson

In concert – Eugene Tzikindelean, CBSO / Alpesh Chauhan: Brahms, Nielsen & Shostakovich

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Brahms Tragic Overture Op. 81 (1880)
Nielsen Violin Concerto DF61 (1911)
Shostakovich Symphony no.5 in D minor Op.47 (1937)

Eugene Tzikindelean (violin), City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra / Alpesh Chauhan

Symphony Hall, Birmingham
Wednesday 7 December 2022 [2.15pm]

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

A gratifyingly large house greeted this afternoon concert given by the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra with its former assistant conductor Alpesh Chauhan, taking in works long established in the repertoire and a concerto which remains on or about its periphery.

Tackling Brahms’s Tragic Overture depends on whether one sees it as an overture pure if not so simple, or as a tone poem with its ‘programme’ subsumed into the music’s inner workings. Chauhan favoured a viable mid-way course, his steady if never flaccid approach keeping its sonata design firmly in view but with enough expressive license to bring out the pathos in its second main theme and, especially, that spellbinding transition to its reprise when a wistful vulnerability steals over the music as if denying the implacable fatalism otherwise dominant.

CBSO leader Eugene Tzikindelean then took the stage as soloist. A bold if unexpected choice for such an appearance, Nielsen’s Violin Concerto has never quite received its due outside of Denmark but that it makes a cogent impression was never in doubt in a reading as insightful as this. Its Praeludium keenly yet sensitively rendered, Tzikindelean despatched the ensuing Allegro with the right chivalrousness and suavity. A broken string in the development caused only minimal delay as he produced its replacement then restrung his instrument with alacrity.

Its self-sufficient halves make sustaining an overall trajectory the crucial factor in this piece and Tzikindelean succeeded admirably, drawing inward rapture from the second movement’s lengthy Poco adagio before steering a never too hasty course through its lightly ironic Rondo. Tzikindelean responded to the enthusiastic response with the opening ‘Country Musicians’ section from Enescu’s Impressions d’Enfance as a delectable encore: maybe we can expect that composer’s Caprice Roumain or Pascal Bentoiu’s Violin Concerto on a future occasion?

Throughout this performance, Chauhan proved steadfast and attentive in support, then came into his own after the interval with an impressive take on Shostakovich’s Fifth Symphony. If the earlier stages of the Moderato seemed a little reined-in, the development accumulated the requisite intensity on the way to a powerfully conceived reprise, then a coda of aching regret. Steadier and less capricious than usual, the ensuing Allegretto yielded a keen impetus and, in its trio, a deftly ‘knowing’ contribution from Tzikindelean having retaken the leader’s chair.

It was the Largo that proved the highlight of this performance. Chauhan sustained its heartfelt interplay of themes with unforced rightness, CBSO woodwind heard to advantage in its rapt central episode before a climax of wrenching eloquence that subsided into expectant stillness. Launched (almost) attacca, the final Allegro unfolded with due emphasis on its ‘non troppo’ marking; its calculated aggression pointedly undercut by musing circumspection, before the heady ascent towards an apotheosis which was more than usually defiant in its equivocation.

A performance that provided ample indication of Chauhan’s emergence as a conductor of the front rank. Hopefully he will be returning to the CBSO soon, the latter’s activities continuing with the customary Christmas and Viennese New Year concerts with which to see out 2022

You can read all about the 2022/23 season and book tickets at the CBSO website. Click on the artist names for more on Alpesh Chauhan and Eugene Tzikindelean

In concert – Julia Fischer, London Philharmonic Orchestra / Vladimir Jurowski: Elgar Violin Concerto & Enescu Symphony no.2

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London Philharmonic Orchestra, Julia Fischer (c) Marquee TV

Elgar: Violin Concerto in B minor, Op. 61 (1910)
Enescu: Symphony No. 2 in A, Op. 17 (1912-14)

Julia Fischer (violin), London Philharmonic Orchestra / Vladimir Jurowski

Royal Festival Hall, London
Wednesday 13 April 2022

Written by Richard Whitehouse. Photo (c) Marquee TV (Julia Fischer)

Could there be a more instructive coupling than the pieces in this concert, with the London Philharmonic Orchestra and its conductor emeritus Vladimir Jurowski, for showing where musical Romanticism had arrived in the early 20th century and where it might have gone?

Relatively few concertos number among their composers’ most personal works, but Elgar’s Violin Concerto is one such and it was a measure of Julia Fischer’s identity that her account conveyed its conceptual richness as fully as its technical brilliance. Not least in the opening Allegro, Fischer drawing out that fatalism as germane to the heartfelt second theme as to its forceful predecessor such as pervades the initial tutti then the combative development. Here, as with the impetuous coda, Jurowski ensured textural clarity in even those densest passages.

Similarly in the Andante – the musing wistfulness of its main melody finding accord with the high-flown eloquence of what follows, with no undue lingering here or in those rapt closing bars. Its themes may be less overtly memorable, but the final Allegro molto follows a keenly purposeful trajectory whose dynamism is thrown into relief by that accompanied cadenza in which Elgar recollects earlier ideas as an intuitive interlude; rendered by Fischer with a poise as itself prepared ideally for the resumption of the finale then a powerfully rhetorical ending.

Enescu, who conducted the Paris premiere in 1932 with Yehudi Menuhin prior to the latter’s recording with the composer, might well have reflected on the success of this work compared to that of his Second Symphony – coolly received at the 1915 premiere, its score missing until 1924, and no revival until 1961. This might well have been the first hearing in London, but its formal and syntactical intricacy held no fear for Jurowski who, having previously championed Enescu’s Third Symphony and opera Oedipe, presided over a consistently assured rendition.

Not the least of its successes was in maintaining the impetus of the initial Vivace, whose ‘ma non troppo’ marking can easily lead to loss of focus among those polyphonic layers that were delineated with unfailing precision. Music this harmonically complex is (surprisingly?) direct as to melodic contours – not least its central Andante whose main theme, soulfully phrased by Benjamin Mellefont, has the evocative quality of those found in Russian symphonies several decades before. Here its inherent tenderness and its lingering regret could hardly be gainsaid.

The biggest challenge comes in the finale – not least the gauging of an extended introduction whose processional needs to generate momentum sufficient to propel the main Allegro on its eventful if never discursive course. Here, too, the extent of Enescu’s instrumental prowess is made plain by the dextrous contribution from keyboards and percussion to already extensive forces; variety of textures underpinning stages in musical evolution through to a coda whose heady if methodical accumulation of themes and motifs makes for a resplendent apotheosis.

Such was the impression left by this performance, a tribute to Jurowski’s conviction and the LPO’s executive skill. Maybe Enescu’s Fourth and Fifth Symphonies will yet be heard in the realizations by Pascal Bentoiu, his own symphonies themselves deserving of such advocacy.

To read Arcana’s interview with Julia Fischer, who talks about the Elgar and Mozart violin concertos, click here

For further information on the London Philharmonic Orchestra’s 2021/22 season, click here – and for the newly announced 2022/23 season click here For more on George Enescu, head to a dedicated website – and click on the artist names for more information on Julia Fischer and Vladimir Jurowski

Pascal Bentoiu: A London Homage at the Romanian Cultural Institute

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Enescu Concerts Series 2016/17 – Ioanna Bentoiu (soprano, above) and Lena Vieru Conta (piano)

Romanian Cultural Institute, London; Friday 7th April, 2017

Schumann Frauenliebe und Leben Op.42 (1840)

Bentoiu Eminesciana II, Op.8 (1958)

Enescu Sept Chansons de Clément Marot, Op.15 (1908)

The death – in February last year – of Pascal Bentoiu robbed Romania of its finest composer after Enescu, as well as a musicologist and cultural polymath of stature. Save for a broadcast performance of his comic opera Doctor Cupid in 1969, little of his music has been performed in the UK – making this recital and talk at London’s Romanian Cultural Institute a welcome redress. The talk, given by this author and musicologist Mihai Coma, provided a context for three song-cycles given by Bentoiu’s daughter Ioanna and regular pianist Lena Vieru Conta.

Schumann’s Frauenliebe und Leben was evidently Bentoiu’s favourite lieder cycle and while the overt sentiment of Adelbert von Chamisso’s verse may now seem cloying, the symphonic integration achieved during this telling of a relationship from the female perspective retains its innovatory impulse. Taking care to convey this sequence as a formal and cohesive totality, Bentoiu and Conta were yet mindful of the subtly varying emotional nuance between each ‘movement’ and that sense of resigned fulfilment such as permeates the touching final song.

Although orchestral work latterly came to dominate Bentoiu’s creativity, his output of around 30 songs is a significant and no less typical facet of his composing. The three sonnets which comprise Eminesciana II finds him marshalling the ardent rhetoric and imaginative flights of fancy in which Mihai Eminescu writing abounds. No less distinctive are the piano interludes that not only connect these three settings but also point up musical as well as semantic links between them. Clearly, they need to be explored in the context of the wider song tradition.

For their final offering, Bentoiu and Conta turned to Enescu, and the best known of his song collections. Modest in dimension yet abounding in pointers to the music of his maturity, the Sept Chansons de Clément Marot (of which Bentoiu latterly made an insightful arrangement for chamber orchestra) ranges from ribald humour to searching pathos; the formalized texts yielding an emotional acuity that was tangibly realized by singer and pianist. Enescu, as with Bentoiu after him, was nothing if not penetrating as to his insights into the human condition.

The evening was enhanced by photographic exhibition Pascal Bentoiu: His Life and Works, as curated by Irina Niţu and produced by the George Enescu National Museum in Bucharest. This is at the Romanian Cultural Institute until April 27th, then in part at St James’s Church, Sussex Gardens on Saturday 29th April at a concert by the Oberon Symphony Orchestra and Samuel Draper which includes the UK premiere of Enescu’s Fourth Symphony – completion of whose orchestration was among the most significant of Pascal Bentoiu’s later endeavours.

Richard Whitehouse

For further details on the Oberon Symphony Orchestra’s forthcoming concert of the Fourth Symphony, head to their website