Enescu Festival 2019 – Peter Donohoe, Muntenia Philharmonic Orchestra Daniel Jinga: Bentoiu, Lipatti & Enescu Symphony no.5

Andrei Lazăr (tenor), Peter Donohoe (piano), Acoustic Chorus (women’s voices), Muntenia Philharmonic Orchestra / Daniel Jinga (above)

Trade Unions’ Cultural Centre, Târgoviște, Romania
Friday 13 September

Bentoiu Suite ‘Ardelenească’, Op.6 (1955)
Lipatti Concertino ‘en style classique’ Op.3 (1936)
Enescu (compl. Bentoiu) Symphony no.5 in D major (1941)

Review by Richard Whitehouse
Photo credit (Peter Donohoe) Sussie Ahlburg

A welcome facet of the Enescu Festival, the Concerts in Other Cities schedule could easily be overlooked owing to distances involved in this sizable country. That said, a day in Târgoviște is eminently feasible. Just 50 miles and a 90-minute train journey from Bucharest, it features several historic buildings (notably the Chindia Tower) that can be visited prior to an evening concert – on this occasion, by the Muntenia Philharmonic Orchestra with principal conductor Daniel Jinga. A quick online perusal suggests the majority of their concerts are of a popular or ‘crossover’ nature, making their playing in this programme of unfamiliar and technically demanding compositions the more impressive – not least in as unsparing an acoustic as the main hall of Trade Unions’ Cultural Centre (a scaled-down version of London’s Barbican).

It may be a relatively early work, but the Transylvanian Suite finds Pascal Bentoiu utilizing folk elements within the context of an already distinctive idiom. Each of its four movements draws on music from a region of Transylvania, and Jinga secured a lively but always flexible response from his musicians for a piece in the lineage of Bartók’s Dance Suite or Enescu’s Romanian Rhapsodies. Surely the most significant post-war Romanian symphonist, Bentoiu had from the start an innate command of the orchestra as was scintillatingly in evidence here.

Peter Donohoe (above) then took the stage for Dinu Lipatti’s Concertino in the Classical Style. Most of Lipatti’s larger-scale pieces are from the period before his playing career took precedence, with this Concertino typical in its synthesis of folk melodies with a neo-classical idiom closer to Hindemith or Ravel than Stravinsky. Modest in their dimensions these may be, Donohoe rendered its four movements with deft insouciance and poise, as heard to advantage against the modest instrumentation which abounds in contrapuntal ingenuity and harmonic finesse.

Impressed with the response of the players as of a near-capacity audience, Donohoe returned for substantial encores of Mozart’s Sonata in A minor then Ravel’s Alborada del grazioso – both of which feature in Lipatti’s select discography and given here with engaging vitality.

The second half brought a rare hearing for Enescu’s Fifth Symphony. Substantially drafted over summer 1941 but left in abeyance with its first movement largely orchestrated, it was Bentoiu who undertook a full realization during 1995-6 of what he considered the composer’s requiem for himself.

The first movement centres upon that endlessly evolving melody which was made possible by Enescu’s conception of heterophonic texture – the music afforded its momentum via acutely differentiated timbral layers that coalesce into an unlikely but audible sonata design. Its successor recalls the folk-inflected poignancy of the Suite Villageoise, now with a fatalistic undertow that comes to the fore in the ensuing Vivace which brings the only rapid music of the whole work. Essentially an adjunct to the finale, this culminates with the finale’s gaunt opening theme – the latter movement then unfolding as a funeral march whose valediction is transcended in the setting of Mihai Eminescu’s poem Mai am un singur dor -emerging not as a contrives apotheosis but an organic culmination of all that has gone before.

A combination of the dry ambience with acoustic enhancement meant that Andrei Lazăr was balanced too forwardly against the orchestra, yet he sang with great eloquence (not least his unaffected parlando in the closing lines) – the women’s voices of the Acoustic Chorus adding an ethereal halo to those closing stages. Jinga instilled real forward motion into the opening movement, then brought out the wistfulness and anguish of its two successors. Whether here or in the radiant aura of the finale, his instinctive feel for this piece could hardly be gainsaid.

Make no mistake, this was an enterprising programme in which the Muntenia players was on occasion hard-pressed but rose to its challenges with commitment and enthusiasm. Hopefully orchestra and conductor will secure themselves a concert in Bucharest at the 2021 edition of the Enescu Festival, yet anyone visiting the capital two years hence should certainly consider spending a day in Târgoviște – a compact and appealing city, while hardly an inappropriate place for a first live encounter with the last as well as most elusive of Enescu’s symphonies.

Further listening

You can listen to Pascal Bentoiu’s completion of Enescu’s Symphony no.5 in a CPO recording released in 2014. Marius Vlad is the tenor soloist, with the NDR Chor and Deutsche Radio Philharmonie Saarbrücken-Kaiserslautern conducted by Marius Vlad:

Live review – Mirel Iancovici & Jeroen Riemsdijk – The Legacy of Music: Enescu and His Teachers

Mirel Iancovici (cello), Jeroen Riemsdijk (piano)

Romanian Cultural Institute, London
Thursday 7th March 2019

R. Fuchs Cello Sonata no.2 in E flat minor Op.83 (c1908)
Enescu (arr. Iancovici) Romanian Rhapsody no.2 in D major (1901)
Enescu Tre Canti (1905/1903/1938); Sonata-Torso in A minor (1911)
Massenet Thaïs – Méditation (1894)
Fauré Cello Sonata no.2 in G minor Op.117 (1921)

Written by Richard Whitehouse

The significance of Enescu‘s teachers throughout his formative years in Vienna and Paris has often been remarked but seldom reflected in performance, so making this evening’s recital as part of the Romanian Cultural Institute’s Enescu Concerts Series the more worthwhile.

Regarded more highly as a teacher than composer in his lifetime, Robert Fuchs (1847-1927) is best remembered for his orchestral Serenades. His Second Cello Sonata (its unusual key a response to the E minor of Brahms’s First Sonata?) is characteristic in its emotional reticence and intensive interplay between instruments, not least in the equable opening Allegro that duly makes way for a ruminative Adagio then a relatively animated finale. In the hands of Mirel Iancovici and Jeroen Riemsdijk, it certainly made its case for more frequent revival.

All the Enescu pieces featured were arrangements by Iancovici, beginning with that of the Second Romanian Rhapsody whose emphasis on song rather than dance makes it well suited to this medium. The Three Songs derive from various sources: the plaintive Doina (Lament) from a folk-inspired song, grandly rhetorical Preludio monodico from the initial movement of the First Orchestral Suite, then the mercurial Lăutarul (The Fiddler) from the opening movement of Impressions d’enfance. Together these made for an attractive and contrasted sequence, but it was the transcription of the Sonata-Torso that left the strongest impression – the intensely interiorized emotion and rhapsodic progress of this intriguing while undeniably discursive piece arguably better served in this guise than by the violin-and-piano original.

Just before this, the evergreen Méditation from the opera Thaïs by Massenet (a composer who wrote little or no chamber music) made for an easeful and not too indulgent interlude. The recital ended with Fauré‘s Second Cello Sonata, typical of his late music in its eliding of form into expression as confirmed by the fluid unfolding of its initial Allegro then the distanced soulfulness of its Andante, before the final Allegro affords a measure of robust humour and wistful poise as this elusive piece heads to its unexpectedly decisive close.

Throughout this recital, Iancovici’s playing was of an insight and discernment complemented by Riemsdijk’s lucid and attentive pianism. Hopefully they will return in this series; hopefully including either (or both!) of Enescu’s cello sonatas and more of Iancovici’s arrangements.

Further information on the Enescu Concerts Series at can be found at the Romanian Cultural Institute website

Wigmore Mondays – Simon Höfele & Frank Dupree in 20th century works for trumpet and piano

Simon Höfele (trumpet, above) & Frank Dupree (piano, below)

Enescu Légende (1906) (2:07-8:20)
Takemitsu Paths (In Memoriam Witold Lutoslawski) (1994) (8:39-14:48
Hindemith Trumpet Sonata (1939) (16:56-33:30)
Savard Morceau de Concours (1903) (35:20-41:05)
Gaubert Cantabile et scherzetto (1909) (41:33-46:20)
Charlier Solo de Concours (1900) 47:39-54:26)

Wigmore Hall, London
Monday 28 January 2019

To hear the BBC broadcast through BBC Sounds, please follow this link

Photo credits Sebastian Heck (Simon Höfele)

Commentary and Review by Ben Hogwood

There is more music for the combination of solo trumpet and piano than you might think – and how gratifying for the BBC New Generation Artist Simon Höfele to remind us of that on his debut at the Wigmore Hall. Forming a most impressive partnership with pianist Frank Dupree, he gave us four works from the first decade of the 20th century, three by composers new to Arcana pages – and a masterpiece of the century’s repertoire.

Initially playing a trumpet ‘in C’ (that is, calibrated to sit naturally in the key of C major), Höfele listened to Dupree solemnly intoning the opening chords of the Enescu Légende (from 2:07 on the enclosed BBC Sounds link). A competition piece written by the Romanian composer for the 1906 trumpet competition (concours) at the Paris Conservatoire, it begins in a deceptively languid mood, the trumpet low in its register, but soon begins to stir, Höfele hitting a faultless top ‘C’ around 5:50. Then the thoughtful mood returns, the trumpet using the mute at the very end.

From this soft dynamic comes the beginning of the next piece, Takemitsu’s Paths (8:39). The paths in question are very separate – soft, ruminative phrases using the mute, answered by much bolder and generally higher writing. The piece ascends to the relative heights, the piercing rasp of the mute-inflected phrase brings it towards earth, but it ultimately ends in mid-air contemplation.

Hindemith was an incredibly versatile composer, in his career writing sonatas for no fewer than 16 of the instruments of the orchestra. His Trumpet Sonata is one of the finest examples of this canon, and betrays its 1939 origins with frequent references to the actions of his ‘home’ country Germany. At this point the composer was an exile in Switzerland, and this work effectively shows both his horror and sorrow at the annex of Austria, the occupation of Czechoslovakia and ultimately the invasion of Poland.

Turning to a trumpet ‘in B flat’, Höfele leads a brisk and busy start (from 16:56), though signs of the composer’s tongue-in-cheek writing are never far from the surface, peeking through at 17:50. Once reasserted, however, the main thematic material is impossible to shift.

The second movement (22:26) has a spirit of soft-hearted lazy play about it initially, with light hearted piano comments (ideally voiced by Dupree here) that are punctuated by the trumpet. From 29:19, the last movement, the piano distractedly accompanies the long trumpet phrases in lamentation, using as their source a chorale. Then the music builds to a resentful peak before fading away.

Very little is known of the French composer Augustin Savard – though he did win the coveted Prix de Rome with his oratorio La Vision de Saül in 1886. This Morceau de Concours is a competition piece for the trumpet that shows an impressive grasp of the instrument, not to mention drama in the slow introduction (35:20). By 39:06 the music has worked its way round to a genial theme for the faster section, after which trumpet and piano enjoy some light hearted exchanges.

Philippe Gaubert’s Cantabile et scherzetto, published six years later, enjoys a similar profile. Gaubert’s output is mostly directed towards the flute, but he too wrote a competition piece with a serious introduction (41:33) and a playful counterpart (44:20), packed with repeated triplets.

For the Solo de Concours by Belgian composer Théo Charlier (47:39) a slow introduction is not necessary, the piano firmly setting the scene before the trumpet’s arrival. An attractive slower theme (50:15) gives the other side of the story. A poignant aside from the muted trumpet follows before all the shackles are cast off in the final section (52:44) Just occasionally here Höfele felt as though he was overreaching with some of the more complicated phrases, but this – as with all the other pieces – was brilliantly handled.

The encore was a great choice, a Song Without Words by Russian composer Sofia Gubaidulina (56:03-58:30), a solemn tune spiced with the odd ‘wrong’ note in the piano accompaniment, almost in the manner of Charles Ives.

Further listening

Simon Höfele and Frank Dupree have not yet recorded any of the repertoire performed in this concert. However the playlist below assembles the music in a number of different recordings, headed by Alison Balsom and Tom Poster in the Hindemith Trumpet Sonata:

Höfele does however have an extremely impressive disc of modern works in the bag, including music by HK Gruber, Takemitsu, Jolivet and Iain Hamilton:

Hindemith’s sonatas are intriguing pieces that combine flair and depth with concise writing structures. This disc, commonly linked by pianist Alexander Melnikov, is a winner:

On record: Soloists, Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin / Gabriel Bebeşelea – Enescu: Strigoii

*Rodica Vica (soprano); *Tiberius Simu (tenor); *Bogdan Baciu (baritone); *Alin Anca (bass); Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin / Gabriel Bebeşelea

Enescu
Strigoii* (1916)
Pastorale-fantaisie (1899)

Capriccio C5340 [55’53”]

Producer Jens Schünemann
Engineers Eckehard Stoffregen, Susanne Beyer

Recorded December 11-14 5-6 2017 at RBB Sendesaal, Berlin

Reviewed by Richard Whitehouse

What’s the story?

Capriccio issues the first recording of a major discovery by George Enescu. Strigoii (Ghosts) sets the epic ballad by Mihai Eminescu, Romania’s national poet whose words the composer utilized in two major works (the other, his Fifth Symphony, also remained tantalizingly unfinished)

What’s the music like?

The period between his Second and Third Symphonies (1914-16) saw Enescu writing several major works utterly different from each other. To these can now be added Strigoii, composed at the end of 1916 and left as a detailed draft that was unknown until the 1970s, when Cornel Tăranu realized a version for voices and piano. This duly served as basis for the orchestration by Sabin Păuţa, adhering closely to the draft’s indications and resulting in a substantial piece such as extends the scope of Enescu’s creativity at a crucial point in his compositional career.

How to categorize Strigoii? This release describes it as an oratorio, though the absence of any chorus makes it more akin to a scenic cantata. Eminescu’s text offers numerous opportunities for theatrical treatment, but these are seldom taken – hence the restraint and inwardness that characterizes this work overall. The 45-minute whole falls into three parts which portray the coming together of the ill-fated lovers, redolent of Edgar Allan Poe in its aura of existential doom though with an acceptance of the inevitable as overrides its frequently lurid incidents.

Of the four vocalists, Tiberius Simu and Bogdan Baciu make the most of their minor roles as Arald and the Magus, while Rodica Vica brings lilting eloquence to that of the Queen. By far the most significant is the Narrator, and here Alin Anca excels in his handling of a part whose deploying of a highly personal ‘Sprechgesang’ acts as a thread of continuity over a score most notable for sustaining atmosphere through motivic and textural means; qualities such as Păuţa (who should now consider orchestrating the Op.19 Gregh songs) emphasizes in full measure.

The Pastorale-fantaisie is a delightful makeweight. Premiered in Paris in the wake of Enescu’s ‘breakthrough’ with Poème roumain, it sank without trace then went unheard until relocated by the present conductor and afforded its second hearing after 118 years. Drawing equally on Saint-Saëns and Franck, its eliding of the winsome and ominous is audibly that of the teenage composer whose Symphony in E flat from the previous year would surely have consolidated his reputation had it been performed at this time – pathos and elegance alluringly intertwined.

Does it all work?

Yes. Gabriel Bebeşelea has the (very different) measure of each work, securing a disciplined and committed response from the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra, and marking him out as a conductor to watch (he has a concert with the Royal Philharmonic at Cadogan Hall on May 1st). The sound has spaciousness with no lack of detail, while there are detailed notes on both pieces, but it could have been made clearer that verses 22-27 of the Eminescu poem were not set by Enescu. The English translation is idiomatic for all its smattering of grammatical errors.

Is it recommended?

Indeed. The Enescu discography is the richer for the inclusion of Strigoii, the last major work from Enescu’s maturity to be rescued from the limbo of incompleteness. Hopefully Bebeşelea will go on to record more music by this composer – he clearly has an innate feel for the idiom.

Further listening

You can listen to this new release on Spotify:

Further reading

You can read more about this release on the Capriccio website, and more on the conductor Gabriel Bebeşelea here. Details of his concert at the Cadogan Hall with the Royal Philharmonic ORchestra on 1 May are on the venue’s website

Live review – RTÉ Contempo Quartet & members of Ad Libitum & Arcadia Quartets: Enescu & Bartók

RTÉ Contempo Quartet [Bogdan Sofei & Ingrid Nicola (violins), Andreea Banciu (viola), Adrian Mantu (cello)]; members of the Ad Libitum Quartet [Remus Azoitei (violin) and Filip Papa (cello)] and Arcadia Quartet [Rasvan Dumitri (violin) and Traian Boala (viola)]

Wigmore Hall, London
Sunday 30 December 2018, 11:30am
Given in association with the Romanian Cultural Institute, London and RTÉ

Bartók (arr. Naughtin) Romanian Folk Dances BB68 (1915)
Enescu Octet in C major Op.7 (1900)

Written by Richard Whitehouse

This last of the Sunday Morning Concerts for 2018 at Wigmore Hall proved a culmination in every respect – a performance of the Octet for strings with which the teenage Enescu saw in the twentieth century, and which remains among his most innovative and impressive works.

Completed in 1900, the Octet then had to wait almost a decade for its first public hearing and subsequent performances were more likely from string orchestras; even when this piece was given as intended, the eight instruments were often coordinated by a conductor – testament to a contrapuntal intricacy and emotional intensity that ensembles have only recently felt able to take in their collective stride. Such was undoubtedly true of the present reading, in which the RTÉ Contempo Quartet was partnered by members of the Arcadia and Ad Libitum Quartets.

In his own Octet the teenage Mendelssohn had 75 years earlier hinted at an overall unity, via long-term thematic links, which Enescu takes much further by designing his first movement an extended exposition that is ‘developed’ across two successors before the finale brings an intensified reprise and climactic apotheosis. Not that this account took risks with the work’s formal or expressive audacities; rather its numerous insights were unassumingly drawn into an ongoing continuity which proceeded from an alternately febrile and languorous Scherzo, then raptly eloquent slow movement, to a finale whose heady rhetoric was vividly channeled into the culmination – a fervent augmentation of the work’s opening theme, propelled by an elemental waltz motion, that the young Enescu arguably never surpassed for sheer panache.

A technical as well as interpretative challenge, then, that was triumphantly brought off – any flaws in intonation or ensemble far outweighed by the cumulative impact of this performance. Not its least notable aspect was the tangible interplay between musicians responsive not only to their own parts but also to those of their colleagues, so rendering superfluous any need for a conductor. Certainly, the near-capacity audience responded with real enthusiasm to a piece that, if they were unfamiliar with beforehand, they had evidently taken to heart by the close.

An as entree into the main work, the RTÉ Contempo gave a fluent and atmospheric reading of Bartók’s Romanian Folk Dances – here in an idiomatic while texturally slightly too fussy arrangement by Matt Naughtin as set the scene for what followed in suitably bracing terms.

For more information on the RTÉ Contempo Quartet, visit their website. A Spotify playlist of the music given in this concert is included below, with the Romanian Dances in the more frequently heard version for string orchestra: