Nielsen: Symphonies Nos. 1 and 3
(“Sinfonia espansiva”). Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by
Sakari Oramo. BIS. $21.99 (SACD).
Nielsen: Symphonies Nos. 1-6.
London Symphony Orchestra conducted by Sir Colin Davis. LSO Live. $29.99 (3
SACDs+Blu-ray Disc).
Sibelius: Symphonies Nos. 2 and
7. BBC National Orchestra of Wales conducted by Thomas Søndergård. Linn Records. $22.99 (SACD).
UK/DK: Music for Recorder and
Harpsichord by Malcolm Arnold, Henning Christiansen, Gordon Jacob, Vagn
Holmboe, Daniel Kidane, Benjamin Britten, and Axel Borup-Jorgensen. Michala
Petri, recorder; Mahan Esfahani, harpsichord. OUR Recordings. $16.99 (SACD).
The exceptional clarity and
precision of most SACD recordings are especially helpful in pinpointing the
details of music as carefully structured and orchestrated as that of Carl
Nielsen’s symphonies. The second volume in the BIS cycle by the Royal Stockholm
Philharmonic Orchestra under Sakari Oramo is a fine case in point. Here as in
the first volume, which included Symphonies Nos. 4 and 5, Oramo is a dedicated,
committed, elegant advocate for Nielsen, shaping the music carefully while
allowing its unusual structural and communicative elements to come through
clearly. Thus, the oddity of Symphony No. 1 being in G minor but reaching –
successfully – for a conclusion in C rather than G seems quite natural here.
And the unusual tempo indication of the first movement, Allegro orgoglioso (“proud Allegro”), makes perfect sense as the
music strides forward boldly and, yes, proudly from the first bar. The
orchestra’s playing is fluid and natural, and the accents fall exactly where
they should – the third movement is particularly impressive in this regard. In
Symphony No. 3, the “Sinfonia espansiva,” Oramo does follow the Allegro espansivo indication of the
first movement, but he makes sure that the expansiveness never bogs down: the
forward propulsiveness is clear throughout and is very well managed. One of the
few missteps in the recording comes in the second movement and is actually
related to the high quality of the sound: in the vocalise section, baritone
Karl-Magnus Frederiksson comes through more clearly than does soprano Anu
Komsi, whose voice tends to stay too far in the background. It is possible that
Oramo wants a stronger emphasis on the male voice, but more likely that the
sonic precision here happens to make the baritone more prominent. The finale of
this symphony is one of the most difficult movements in any Nielsen symphony to
conduct successfully: it is straightforward, by intention, and can all too
easily come across as drab and anticlimactic. Certainly the other three
movements are more intrinsically interesting, but Oramo finds plenty that is
worthwhile here as well, and his pacing prevents the music from dragging while
allowing expression of the stately everyday-world viewpoint that Nielsen was
here trying to bring forth. Both the interpretative quality and the fine
orchestral playing make Oramo’s ongoing Nielsen cycle a first-rate one.
The Nielsen symphonies under
the late Sir Colin Davis are less idiomatic and not as immediately appealing,
but they are very carefully thought out, the performances seem more convincing when
heard repeatedly, and the LSO Live recording, if not as crisp as that given to
Oramo, is well-balanced and clear. It is also quite a bargain, including not
only three SACDs of the symphonies but also a Pure Audio Blu-ray disc
containing all six – plus downloadable files that are transferable to a
computer or portable device (although listening to these works in that way noticeably
diminishes their effectiveness). These recordings, all made at live
performances, date to 2009 (No. 5), 2010 (No. 4), and 2011 (Nos. 1-3 and 6).
They represent the last word from Davis (1927-2013) on these symphonies, and a
very well-considered last word it is. Compared with the Oramo version of No. 1,
Davis’ is less forthright and ebullient, and the distinctiveness of Nielsen’s
structure is less apparent, although the London Symphony Orchestra’s playing is
very fine. No. 3 offers better balance between the vocalise soloists (baritone
Marcus Farnsworth and soprano Lucy Hall), and more emotion in their
performance, but otherwise the differences with Oramo are mostly slight –
although Davis does pace the finale more quickly, which is not at all a bad
idea. Symphony No. 2 (“The Four Temperaments”) is a bit milder and less
exaggerated than it could be: the middle movements (representing the phlegmatic
and melancholic personalities) are quite good, but the opening (choleric) and
finale (sanguine) could have used greater intensity and even, in some sections,
pomposity. The final three Nielsen symphonies receive the best performances in
this cycle. No. 4 (“The Inextinguishable”) comes through with strength and
intensity throughout, with the final sort-of triumph sounding distinctly
hard-won and by no means a sure thing; that effect seems to be exactly what
Nielsen wanted. No. 5, an even stronger and stranger work, sizzles, the
threatening side-drum-led march (which is bound to make modern listeners think
of Shostakovich’s much later Symphony No. 7) being genuinely disturbing and the
overall mood of the work being one of barely contained worry, fear and
uncertainty. This lack of comfort seems, like the mood Davis brings to No. 4,
to be just what Nielsen intended; it is, in any case, highly effective.
Symphony No. 6 (“Sinfonia semplice”), probably the hardest of Nielsen’s
symphonies to bring off effectively, is not at quite as high a level as Nos. 4
and 5, but it still works very well. The underlying problem with this symphony
is the difficulty of pinning down its attitude: is it entirely sarcastic or
only partially, humorous as in “funny” or as in “wry” or “black humor,”
deliberately disconnected or carefully staged for maximum contrast? Davis paces
the highly differentiated movements well – the four seem collectively like a
suite as much as a symphony – but is a touch too restrained in the first and,
even more so, the Humoreske that
follows. He appears to take the third movement, Proposta seria, at face value as a serious proposition; that
increases the contrast between this movement and the finale, but it also makes
their juxtaposition rather awkward. The concluding theme-and-variations movement
itself, though, is very well done, filled with bizarre elements that scarcely
hang together, with deliberate crudity and jocularity mixing uneasily until the
end – which here really does sound as if the bassoons forgot to stop playing
when everyone else did so. Davis does not have the panache that Oramo does in
interpreting Nielsen’s symphonies, but his cycle is very cogent, thoughtfully
conceived and quite well-played.
Cogency and thoughtfulness
are also the hallmarks of the start of a new Sibelius cycle featuring the BBC
National Orchestra of Wales conducted by Thomas Søndergård. The
first Linn Records disc in this series offers an outstanding Symphony No. 2 and
a less-special but nevertheless very well-done Symphony No. 7. In the Second, Søndergård’s pacing sounds inevitable: each movement proceeds at what
seems to be just the right tempo or set of tempos, with the result that the
work ebbs and flows stylishly and with a sense of constant unfolding. Søndergård is particularly strong in the second movement, using rubato
(which is called for in the tempo indication) judiciously and carefully to
build the effectiveness of the music; the result is that the third movement, Vivacissimo, produces an even more-intense
contrast than usual, propelling the musical argument along strongly and helping
make the finale a true capstone. The orchestra’s playing is warm, sensitive and
knowing here, and the strength of the overall interpretation is aided significantly
by the musicians’ clear sensitivity to Sibelius’ penchant for abrupt changes
that, cumulatively, are highly effective in producing a mood of triumphal
strength and a kind of defiance. The Seventh comes across almost as well.
Originally seen by the composer as a fantasia, this single-movement symphony
works best when it breaks down into individual sections while at the same time
sounding cohesive throughout. Søndergård’s interpretation is a touch on
the disconnected side: he highlights the changes in tempo and mood very
effectively, but at the expense of an overall feeling of cohesion – a feeling,
ironically, that he attains in the Second despite the distinct differences
within and among that work’s four movements. The orchestra’s playing in the Seventh
is, however, just as fine as in the Second, and Søndergård’s
approach shows the ways in which Sibelius made individual portions of the
Seventh stand out from others, not only through obvious tempo differences but
also with subtle changes in rhythm, orchestration and emphasis. The very fine
recorded sound of the disc enhances the performances throughout and indicates
that Søndergård’s entire Sibelius cycle stands
fair to be an excellent one.
The clarity and folk-music
orientation that both Nielsen of Denmark and Sibelius of Finland brought to
their symphonies, albeit in very different ways, are less in evidence on an
interesting, if in some ways rather odd, OUR Recordings disc that mixes British
and Danish works under the title UK/DK.
Really, the primary purpose of this recording is simply to showcase the unusual
combination of recorder and harpsichord in music of the 20th and 21st
centuries – most of it specifically and intriguingly written for these
instruments, some of it arranged for them. The British composers are Malcolm
Arnold, Gordon Jacob (represented by two works), Daniel Kidane and Benjamin
Britten. Arnold’s Sonatina, Op. 41 of
1962 was written for recorder and piano, and considering how often harpsichord
music is transcribed for piano, doing things the other way is especially
attractive. The music is attractive, too: tuneful, witty, pleasant and all too
short (the three movements last barely seven minutes). Jacobs’ Sonatina for recorder and harpsichord (written
in 1983, the year before Jacobs died at 89, but showing no sign of flagging
compositional ability) and An Encore for
Michala (also 1983, requiring the performer both to play and to sing) are
both very well-made and neatly structured for the recorder, and Michala Petri –
for whom the “encore” was written, as were all the works on this disc except
Arnold’s and Britten’s – handles both with consummate skill and the absolutely
top-quality partnership of Mahan Esfahani. Daniel Kidane (born 1986) is
represented by the most recent work on the disc, Tourbillon (2014), which has some interesting moments and
intriguingly treats the two instruments as equals almost throughout – but which
gives the impression of pulling all the usual contemporary tricks without
really using them to communicate a great deal, and which goes on much too long:
it says less in 11 minutes than the Jacobs sonatina’s four movements say in
fewer than 10. As for Britten’s delightful little six-movement Alpine Suite (1965), it was written for
recorder trio (two descants and treble) and, in this arrangement by Petri and
Esfahani, offers a fascinating window into a little-known area of Britten’s
interest: he was president of the British Society of Recorder Players from 1958
to 1976. The five works by four British composers are intermingled on the
recording with three pieces by Danes; the concept of the disc, which is weaker
than most of the music on it, is that Petri is Danish and Esfahan lives in
England (he was born in Iran). Henning Christiansen’s It Is Spring (1970) is a pleasant little two-movement offering,
easier to listen to than much of the music of the Fluxus movement, in which he
was an important figure. Vagn Holmboe’s three-movement Sonata, Op. 145 (1980), written for recorder and harpsichord, is
neatly juxtaposed with Jacobs’ sonatina and contrasts fascinatingly with it:
here are two works of nearly equal length using the same two instruments in
very different communicative roles. And the 1988 Fantasia by Axel Borup-Jorgensen, also written for this
instrumental combination, contrasts in a different way: it lasts longer than
either the Jacobs or Holmboe work, treats its material more freely, and allows
the recorder a level of expressiveness that belies its frequent Baroque
association and its comparatively simple construction. However, like Kidane’s
piece, it is gesture-filled and often seems to be going through the overdone motions
of modernity. The attraction of this recording lies in the chance to hear an
unusual instrumental combination featuring two outstanding performers. Not all
the music is equally compelling, but the way everything is handled certainly
is, and listeners in search of material outside the mainstream but still very
attractively composed and beautifully presented will find UK/DK a real treat.
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