(++++) MASTERFUL MUSIC MILDLY MISHANDLED

Per Nørgård: Symphonies Nos. 1-8 (complete). Vienna Philharmonic conducted by Sakari Oramo (Nos. 1 and 8); Oslo Philharmonic conducted by John Storgårds (Nos. 2, 4, 5 and 6); Danish National Symphony Orchestra and Choirs conducted by Thomas Dausgaard (Nos. 3 and 7). Dacapo. $47.99 (4 CDs).

     Per Nørgård (born 1932) belongs in any pantheon of 20^th- and 21^st-century symphonists: his eight works in the form – a form that he has modified and expanded in important ways – date from 1953-1955 to 2010-2011 and represent a microcosm of Danish music, and Nordic music generally, during more than half a century. The symphonies clearly reflect many changes and developments in Nørgård’s thinking and compositional processes, as well as his emotional and psychological orientation. Hearing them in sequence encapsulates, in important ways, the entire Nørgård music-creating experience and provides genuine insight into his changing personal approach and, to a lesser extent, the changes in classical-musical sensibilities from the mid-1950s until today.

     Unfortunately, the Danish label Dacapo, which understandably tends to pay particularly close attention to presenting Danish music in the best possible way, has released a complete set of Nørgård symphonies that falls short in frustrating ways: it uses three conductors and three orchestras, and the symphonies are arranged in a bizarre sequence that makes hearing them in the order in which they were written far more of a chore than it should be. Nørgård is so important, his symphonies are so good and so interesting, and all the performances are done so well that the release still gets a top ranking, but its irritations should be clearly understood by potential listeners.

     The boxed set is actually a compilation of four CDs that previously appeared as individual releases. The first disc includes Symphonies Nos. 3 (1972-1975) and 7 (2004-2006), the latter a world première recording, as performed by the Danish National Symphony Orchestra and Choirs under Thomas Dausgaard and originally released in 2009. The second contains Symphonies No. 1 (1953-1955, revised 1956) and 8 (2010-2011), the latter also a world première recording, as performed by the Vienna Philharmonic led by Sakari Oramo and originally released in 2014. The third and fourth feature the Oslo Philharmonic conducted by John Storgårds and were released in 2016. The third disc offers Symphonies Nos. 6 (1999) and 2 (1970, revised 1974) – in that inexplicable order. The fourth contains Symphonies Nos. 5 (1987-1990, revised 1991) and 4 (1981) – again in an inexplicable order that makes even less sense, given the provenance and interrelationship of those two specific symphonies. It is also worth noting that Storgårds commissioned Symphony No. 8, is its dedicatee, and led its world première performance, but is not its conductor in this boxed set.

     However, it is worthwhile to observe, to put things in a more-positive light, that Nørgård is very fortunate indeed to have three podium advocates of his symphonies with as much skill and understanding as Dausgaard, Oramo and Storgårds possess. That is one important thing about this release: it shows that Nørgård is not a “niche” composer but one whose work reaches out broadly to audiences and well deserves sensitive treatment by some of the world’s most-skilled conductors. Indeed, “sensitive” is a word that applies to all these interpretations, each of which explores in detail Nørgård’s world as it existed at the time of each symphony. Oramo clearly understands that No. 1, “Sinfonia austera,” has some roots in the works of Sibelius and Nielsen, but that it goes beyond both: to the extent that it contains anything derivative, the material comes more from Bartók or perhaps Hindemith, and in some ways it sounds a bit like what Mahler might have created if he had gone harmonically beyond his Symphony No. 10. In the single-movement Symphony No. 2, which is more reflective of, say, Ligeti, Storgårds nicely traces the arc of the work – which begins and ends in silence – while emphasizing some unusual elements of orchestral balance and some striking use of percussion. In the two-movement Symphony No. 3, Dausgaard revels in orchestral treatment that is even more extreme than in No. 2, with slippery tonality (and occasional atonality) brought forth through the compositional technique that Nørgård invented and dubbed the “infinity series.” Symphony No. 3 includes a wordless background alto solo (sung by Ulla Munch) that is somewhat reminiscent of the vocalise in Nielsen’s Symphony No. 3 – but then, later in the work, the composer introduces two separate choruses (here, the Danish National Vocal Ensemble and Danish National Concert Choir) as part of a very extended (26-minute) movement, the vocal presentation combining Ave Maris Stella with a poem by Friedrich Rückert. This creates a clear parallel with Mahler on one level, but the setting is so different from any of Mahler’s and so distinctive in its own right that the net effect is to emphasize even more strongly than in the first two symphonies just how far Nørgård has moved into territory all his own. Dausgaard and the choirs heard in this recording are actually the dedicatees of Nørgård’s Symphony No. 3, and on the basis of this highly idiomatic and involving performance, they deserve to be.

     Symphony No. 4 is a very different two-movement piece, almost but not quite program music, created after Nørgård became familiar with the work of Swiss artist Adolf Wölfli (1864-1930), who was a patient in a mental hospital for most of his life. Nørgård actually calls the work Hommage à Adolf Wölfli. It is based on an unrealized plan by Wölfli, dating to 1912, to create music reflective of, first, an “Indian Rose Garden,” and, second, a “Chinese Witch Lake.” Nørgård suggests both scenes rather than trying to portray them with any directness, and Storgårds takes full advantage of the contrasts between the movements to make the presentation as evocative as possible. Storgårds also takes the full measure of Symphony No. 5, which is as abstract as No. 4 is (almost) representational. No. 5 is in five movements that, however, are played without a break, so in a sense it is a single-movement work – its overall structure somewhat resembles that of Sibelius’ Symphony No. 7. Nørgård’s No. 5 is thoroughly atonal, sometimes microtonal, and includes distinctly odd sound effects (the instruments sound like broken glass at one point) – and Storgårds’ ability to make the work coherent and keep it moving successfully forward is impressive.

     Symphony No. 6 is called “At the End of the Day” and subtitled “3 Passages for Large Orchestra,” and here too Storgårds shows how well he handles the mercurial moods that pervade individual Nørgård symphonies and occur in microcosm within every single one of them. Here the atonality and microtonality are on the light side, sometimes on the verge of playfulness although never quite getting there. And the use of the orchestra is very noteworthy (pun intended): Nørgård draws a high level of attention to the sound of instrumental groups, more than to the notes they are playing – trumpets delve into their low ranges, winds sweep to the top of theirs, the timpani produce a decrescendo, the piano blithely tosses out some atonality, and so forth. This is a rather chaotic work that never quite coalesces – Nørgård does not seem to want it to gel in any particular way – and Storgårds makes it both effective and out-and-out entertaining.

     Symphony No. 7 is most immediately notable for its use of 14 tuned tom-toms, but Dausgaard makes it clear that this unusual instrumental grouping is only one surprising element of the work. In some ways No. 7 resembles No. 6 by having small sonic elements split from larger sounds and, in No. 7, play against each other contrapuntally. But No. 7 has its own unique aural patterns, with a jazzy sound here and there, some outright lyricism interrupted by a chordal crash, syncopation that readily pulls in listeners’ ears, and other effects showing just how thoroughly Nørgård understands the capabilities of orchestral sections and the ensemble as a whole, and how willing he is to pit elements of the group against each other simply to produce striking effects. Then, in Symphony No. 8, Nørgård extends the playful elements of No. 7 further: here too there is counterpoint, lyricism, syncopation and more – with Oramo clearly seeing these as elements of a coherent totality. Instrumental treatments that listeners will recognize as Nørgård signatures, from lyricism including a celesta to wind swirls and ebullient percussion, blend here as much as they contrast with each other; and Oramo uses the always-outstanding sound of the Vienna Philharmonic to make the symphony a sonic spectacular as well as an encapsulation of Nørgård’s thinking in the form as it has evolved during more than half a century.

     The unfortunate arrangement of the elements of this release notwithstanding, it is an important presentation – because Nørgård is an important composer with a great deal to say, the “what” of his communication having varied considerably from symphony to symphony but never being less than sincere, intense, and emotionally meaningful in connecting with audiences well beyond Denmark’s borders. Dausgaard, Oramo and Storgårds treat this music with the respect it deserves, and listeners willing to put up with the disappointing elements of the release will find the totality of these symphonies to be an experience – or, rather, a set of experiences – well worth having.