Christian
Sinding: Symphonies Nos. 1-4 (complete).
Norrköping Symphony Orchestra conducted by Karl-Heinz Steffens. Capriccio.
$29.99 (2 CDs).
Norway’s Christian Sinding is by no stretch of the imagination a great composer,
but he is a far better one than the near-total absence of his symphonies from
concert halls and recordings would suggest. Sinding’s Violin Concerto No. 1
(the first of three that he wrote) is still heard from time to time, and his
brief piano piece in salon style, Frühlingsrauschen (the third of a set of six such works),
retains some popularity. But here is a measure of just how obscure Sinding has
become: the two-CD set of his four symphonies on the Capriccio label gives
completely incorrect years for his birth and death both on the back cover and
in the oversize headline at the start of the enclosed booklet. The dates given
in this release are not even close: Capriccio lists them as 1881-1949, but
Sinding was actually born in 1856 and lived until 1941.
Aside from being a tremendous
embarrassment to Capriccio – well, it should be – this is a clear
indicator of the extent to which Sinding has faded into obscurity (thankfully,
the short essay within the booklet is mostly accurate as to dates, although at
one point it states that Sinding was 53 in 1919, when he was actually 63). But
Sinding’s four symphonies are far more worthy of at least occasional
performance than the near-eradication of the composer’s oeuvre
indicates. It is true that Sinding received at best mixed reviews from his
teachers, but it is also true that this was due more to his unwillingness to
apply himself diligently to his studies than to any lack of talent (although,
to be fair, opinions on that were somewhat mixed as well). Sometimes compared,
and not unfavorably, with Grieg, Sinding in fact suffered mainly from
difficulty finding his own compositional voice and suitable influences to
develop it. What the very fine performances of his symphonies by the Norrköping Symphony Orchestra under Karl-Heinz
Steffens show is that Sinding’s sensibilities remained locked into Romantic
style and sensibility throughout his life, and that when he did encounter
strong influences to which his musical thought resonated – principally Wagner
and Richard Strauss – he was rather too sponge-like to produce fully
original-sounding material, much less to
stretch the boundaries of structure and harmony beyond those of the mid-to-late
19th century.
Yet all these observations give too little regard to Sinding, and it is
very much to Steffens’ credit that he considers a recording of the composer’s
symphonic cycle worthwhile. The four symphonies, created over a time span of
more than four decades, may not show significant progress or attunement to changing
tastes and approaches in music, but they do display considerable refinement –
which, over time, is more and more polished, so that all four have a Romantic
sheen that can perhaps be better appreciated in the 21st century
than in the 20th, when so much unashamedly Romantic material was
often considered déclassé.
Symphony No. 1 (1894) is Sinding’s only one in a minor key (D minor);
the version that survives is the third – Sinding diligently worked on honing
the effectiveness of the symphony, whose second version had been performed in
1890 (the first version was never published). The primary sound world here is
that of Tchaikovsky: there is an opulence to the strings, a willingness to
incorporate moody solo elements (such as a bassoon in the finale), and a
pervasive lyricism that reflect Russian models (Sinding’s later music sometimes
sounds a bit like Glazunov). Except in the ominous opening of the finale,
Sinding’s Symphony No. 1 does not explore its minor key to a substantial degree
and certainly does not dwell on deep emotional matters to any significant
extent. But it is a more-than-satisfactory work that shows some real skill in
orchestration and that provides listeners with a satisfying auditory experience
without requiring too much metaphorical stretching of their ears.
Symphony No. 2 (1907) is in three movements (No. 1 is in the
more-conventional four). Lacking a Scherzo, Symphony No. 2 in D major is also
somewhat lacking in the lightness that such a movement could, at least in
theory, provide. Here the influence of Wagner has become clear, primarily in
the orchestration and textures rather than through any exploratory harmonies or
pointed emotional impact (although the main theme of the finale is rhythmically
intriguing). Steffens does a particularly good job with this symphony by
refusing to let it become turgid: some parts are rather thick in sound, but
Steffens finds lighter material within the less-than-light scaffolding and
emphasizes it to good effect. The symphony does sound like a bit of a throwback
– to the time of its predecessor – but it is smoothly conceived and, for the
most part, convincing on its own terms.
Symphony No. 3 in F is a postwar work (1919) that returns to the
four-movement structure of No. 1 and practically revels in its old-fashioned
virtues of sumptuous orchestration, thematic splendor (the opening of the work
makes quite an impression), and a slow movement of genuinely lovely and highly
lyrical character. Sinding may show no interest in forward-looking harmonies
and techniques here, but he makes a strong case for the lyrical beauties to be
found in late-Romantic symphonic music and in the assertion, within the musical
realm, of a level of continuity that was not to be found in the highly
discordant political realities during and after World War I. Indeed, even a
century-plus after Sinding wrote this work, there is something satisfyingly solid
(if perhaps a bit stolid) about it: it pushes no boundaries and explores no new
musical or emotional realms, but it takes audiences to and through a place of warmth,
expressiveness, and all-encompassing aural beauty – a region of safety at a
time when listeners surely needed as much of that as they could find in the
concert hall or anywhere else. Indeed, the gorgeous placidity of the peacefully
lilting Andante is as striking today
as it was more than a century ago.
It is only in his final symphony, a work in E-flat from 1936, when the
composer was 80 years old, that Sinding significantly experimented with
symphonic style – although not to any great extent with the basically Romantic
scoring and sound of the orchestra. Symphony No. 4 bears the title Vinter og Vår (Frost and Spring) – A
Rhapsody for Orchestra, and is in seven continuous movements, of which the
first and last take up almost half the total 33-minute length. Sinding does
tweak his orchestral forces a bit here, using piano, harp and bass clarinet in
addition to the instruments of the traditional Romantic orchestra. The result
is occasional touches of sonic color that are not to be found in the three
earlier symphonies. The work as a whole has more the feeling of a tone poem
than of a symphony, although structurally it straddles the line between
stricter symphonic expectations and the freer form usually associated with a
piece containing the word “Rhapsody” in its title. There are numerous subtle
distinctions of style and approach in Symphony No. 4 that collectively give it
a feeling and overall impression different from what audiences receive from the
first three symphonies. But the refinements are
subtle, not in any sense grand or grandiose, much less overwhelming: the
sensibility of the symphony remains firmly within the Romantic mode and era,
and in fact the finale of Sinding’s last symphony sounds somewhat more like
Richard Strauss than anything in his earlier symphonic works.
The Norrköping Symphony Orchestra, although it is Swedish, seems thoroughly conversant with Sinding’s music, which has more in common with the German school of the 19th century than with anything specifically Scandinavian, much less Norwegian. And Steffens is a very strong advocate for this music: again and again he explores whatever levels of pathos and emotional connection it contains; again and again he finds the colorful elements in Sinding’s scoring and brings them to the fore; and at every opportunity, he thoroughly engages listeners with Sinding’s accomplishments – which, even if not at the level of the great Romantic and post-Romantic symphonists, are indicative of a finely honed musical sensibility using comparatively modest compositional abilities to create convincing, engaging, often elegant works conveying modest but still significant pleasures that it really would be salutary for audiences to experience more frequently.
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