Brahms: Ein Deutsches Requiem;
Schütz: Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen; Selig sind die Toten.
Katharine Fuge, soprano; Matthew Brook, baritone; Monteverdi Choir and
Orchestre Révolutionnaire et
Romantique conducted by John Eliot Gardiner. SDG. $18.99.
The Music of Charles Dickens and
His Time. The Seven Dials Band and the St. Clements Chorus. Warner. $18.99.
Sarasate: Music for Violin and
Piano, Volume 2—Homenaje a Rossini; Souvenir de Domont; Fantaisie de concert
sur “Martha”; Gavota de Mignon; Mélodie roumaine; Mosaïque
de Zampa; Moscovienne; Fantaisie de concert sur “La forza del destino.” Tianwa Yang, violin; Markus Hadulla, piano.
Naxos. $9.99.
Sarasate: Music for Violin and
Piano, Volume 3—Boléro; Zortzico d’Iparraguirre; Sérénade
andalouse, Op. 10; Adiós montaňas mias—Danse
espagnole; Le Sommeil; Rêverie; Introduction et fandango;
Fantaisie-Caprice; Prière et berceuse; Confidences—Romance
sans paroles; Caprice sur “Mireille” de Gounod; Airs écossais; Los pájaros
de Chile; Les Adieux. Tianwa Yang, violin; Markus Hadulla, piano. Naxos.
$9.99.
The contrast between
“high” art and “low” in the Victorian age is abundantly clear from these
recordings – and it turns out that there is little reason to choose one over
the other, since they are both appealing in very different ways. Brahms’ German
Requiem is about as sober and serious a work as any in the 19th
century, and gains in impressiveness and stature when heard in juxtaposition
with two works by Heinrich Schütz
that likely influenced it and even used some identical textual material: Wie lieblich sind deine Wohnungen from Psalmen Davids (1619) and Selig sind die Toten from Geistliche Choirmusik (1648). Ein
Deutsches Requiem itself dates to the mid-to-late 1860s, before the
composer had produced any symphonies, and in some ways shows him developing his
handling of the orchestra in directions he would later employ symphonically. It also shows the curious relationship with
religion that would later lead to his split with the more traditionally
religious Dvořák: nominally
Lutheran, the German Requiem is
essentially humanistic in outlook, focused primarily on finding comfort for those
who have endured the death of others rather than calling for solace for the
souls of the departed. Its opening line,
“Blessed are they that mourn,” sets the tone immediately, and its texts –
primarily from the Old Testament and the Epistles of the New Testament rather
than the Gospels – show a decidedly nontraditional orientation. John Eliot Gardiner paces the work
deliberately but not with the sort of stolidity it often receives, the
orchestra plays with understanding and a lovely, warm tone, and the soloists
and chorus contribute elegant, refined singing, the chorus doing so in the Schütz selections as well.
The soloists, St.
Clements Chorus and Seven Dials Band are the opposite of elegant and refined on
a new Warner CD, starting with the band’s name: Seven Dials not only refers to
the Cockney area of London but also means “hemorrhoids” in Cockney rhyming
slang (“Seven Dials” = “piles”). Somehow
this all fits exceptionally well with a delightful and thoroughly downscale CD
called The Music of Charles Dickens and
His Time, which includes several works by Dickens himself, some that
Dickens knew and referred to in his writings, and some that would have been
known by just about everyone in Dickens’ time (which was only slightly earlier
than Brahms’). There is not a single
piece of “great” music here, and one thing listeners will find out from the
ditties and instrumental selections is how good W.S. Gilbert was as a versifier
(compared with Dickens and others)...and how impressive the dance music of the
Strauss family was (compared with the mundane examples heard here). Yet this disc is not so much a celebration of
mediocrity as an acknowledgment of it, within the overall theme of the
bicentenary of the birth of Dickens (1812-1870). Of particular interest here are two songs
that Dickens wrote for an operetta called The
Village Coquettes, “Some Folks Who Have Grown Old” and “A Country
Life.” Neither is particularly
distinguished, but they are interesting examples of Dickens writing something
other than his usual prose. Two of his
other songs are somewhat more intriguing: “The Ivy Green” and the political
satire, “The Fine Old English Gentleman (New Version)” – which, however, is
(again) nowhere near Gilbert’s level in the Bab
Ballads, much less in the Gilbert and Sullivan operettas. The instrumental works here are pretty thin
stuff (“David Copperfield Ballads” and “Christmas Carol Quadrille,” for
example), but there are some works of genuine beauty or rough humor. In the former category is the still-beautiful
love song, “Believe Me if All Those Endearing Young Charms.” In the latter are several comic songs, sung
with considerable relish by Ian Giles, of which the best and bounciest is
“Shiverand Shakery, the Man That Couldn’t Get Warm” (which includes choral
sections as well). The Music of Charles Dickens and His Time is a fascinating foray
into the lower-class musical world of Victorian England – a place worth an
occasional visit if not regular ones.
And what lies between
highbrow music and lowbrow? One answer:
salon music and display pieces, such as those produced with consistent skill by
Pablo Sarasate (1844-1908) for his own use in the violin recitals and concerts
at which he so excelled. It would be a
mistake to seek profundity here, but unlike the works on the Dickens disc,
those on the two newest Sarasate violin-and-piano recordings by Tianwa Yang and
Markus Hadulla do repay a series of repeated listenings. For one thing, the technical demands of the
music make it fascinating to hear Yang, again and again, overcome the barriers
that Sarasate set for himself; for another, the piano parts here, especially
the introductions, are more substantive than in similar compositions by many 19th-century
virtuosi, and Hadulla handles them very well indeed. Furthermore, Sarasate was an accomplished
melodist, making both his original works and the ones he based on the creations
of other composers pleasantly enjoyable to hear, if not particularly
challenging to listeners’ ears or emotions.
Nearly all of Volume 2 of this Naxos series consists of opera
paraphrases and opera-tunes sequences; Caprice
sur “Mireille” de Gounod from Volume 3 is a work of the same type. These pieces range from out-and-out pastiches
such as Homenaje a Rossini and Fantaisie de concert sur “La forza del
destino” (the latter being Sarasate’s Op. 1) to lovely bel canto works such as Gavota
de Mignon and elegant and technically impressive creations such as Fantaisie de concert sur “Martha.” The non-operatic pieces on both CDs are
uniformly well-constructed and require considerable technical proficiency, but
many are musically inconsequential. Among
the exceptions are Mélodie
roumaine, based on tunes from Transylvania; Boléro, a wistful and delicate version of the dance; Fantaisie-Caprice, which requires some
extraordinarily difficult bowing; and Les
Adieux, a tender and wistful work rather than a bright display piece. As a composer, Sarasate stood as far above
the mediocrities heard on the Dickens-themed CD as below Brahms – but it is fascinating
to discover how much enjoyment there is to be had in the 21st
century from so many different levels of music created in the 19th.
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