(++++) PLEASURES, FAMILIAR AND UNFAMILIAR

Brahms: Hungarian Dances. Münchner Rundfunkorchester conducted by Roberto Abbado. BR Klassik. $19.99.

Holst: Beni Mora; Choral Symphony. Heather Harper, soprano; BBC Chorus and Choral Society and BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by Sir Malcolm Sargent. Ariadne. $18.99.

     However admirable it may be to explore little-known repertoire and under-represented composers, there is always considerable enjoyment in hearing new performances of works that are quite well-known, provided that the readings are high-quality and, in the case of recordings, released in high-quality sound. That is certainly the case with a new BR Klassik CD of Brahms’ Hungarian Dances as performed by Roberto Abbado and the Münchner Rundfunkorchester. Abbado was this orchestra’s chief conductor from 1991 to 1998, and these performances date to that time period (1996-1997). They indicate that Abbado led the ensemble with a sure hand and a considerable level of collegiality and cooperation: the sound has the subtleties of people making music together rather than one individual imposing his will on a group under his command. The dances flow stylishly throughout, with the orchestra’s sections supporting each other at some times, giving way to each other at others, always with a strong sense of the rhythms of the music and close attentiveness to the orchestrations. Brahms wrote the Hungarian Dances for piano four hands and arranged the first 10 for solo piano; he subsequently arranged Nos. 1, 3 and 10 for orchestra, and that opened the floodgates for a host of other orchestrators. Notably, Dvořák created orchestral versions of Nos. 17-21 as well as being inspired by the Brahms cycle to produce his own Slavonic Dances (also originally for piano four hands). Aside from the eight Brahms or Dvořák orchestrations, there are fine ones of the cycle by several other hands, and all those used here – by Andreas Hallén, Paul Juon, Albert Parlow, Martin Schmeling, and Hans Gál – fit the music well and retain its expressivity. There are continued scholarly discussions and arguments about just how “Hungarian” the dances are and how much of the melodic material is folk-derived vs. created by Brahms himself, but it is a measure of the collection’s popularity that such academic exercises are wholly irrelevant to the enjoyment of the music, whether heard on keyboard or in orchestral guise. There are numerous well-played, well-presented recordings available of the Hungarian Dances as orchestral works, and Abbado’s is most definitely a worthy addition to them: it is a pleasure to experience from start to finish.

     There is really only one work by Gustav Holst with which casual listeners are generally familiar, and that is The Planets, which fully deserves its popularity. But there is much more to Holst than that orchestral suite, which in the main is actually not very typical of Holst’s musical interests and preoccupations, such as English folk songs and Hindu spiritualism. A chance to hear less-known Holst works in fine performances is always welcome, and one such is now available from Ariadne in the form of remasterings of two works conducted by Sir Malcolm Sargent, whose sensitivity to Holst’s worldview and musical style was considerable. Oddly, the older recording here, of Beni Mora, is in stereo, while the more-recent one, of the Choral Symphony, is in monophonic sound. Sargent’s 1956 approach to the three-movement Beni Mora is interestingly parallel to Holst’s own, which exists in a recording from 1924. Newer renditions generally offer the first movement in around six minutes, the second in around four, and the third in about seven. But Sargent’s pacing is considerably quicker in the second and third movements (three and five-and-three-quarters minutes, respectively), and his five-and-a-half minute first movement is quite speedy by comparison with all others except Holst’s own, which zips by in four-and-a-half. The pacing definitely affects the impression left by this “Oriental Suite,” which notably, in the finale, includes Holst’s reflection on an experience in Algeria, where he heard a local musician play the same phrase on a bamboo flute for more than two hours. Holst reproduces the eight-note tune that he heard and repeats it 163 times, anticipating much-later minimalism while providing the music with additional interest by having the full orchestra play assorted dance rhythms above and against the repetitive tune. Sargent’s handling of this movement, and the two preceding ones, shows a firm understanding of the evocative elements of Holst’s musical imagination. Beni Mora dates to 1910, the much more expansive Choral Symphony to 1923-1924 (it was first performed in 1925). The Choral Symphony is Holst’s highly personal interpretation of traditional four-movement symphonic structure, built on a variety of rather disconnected texts by John Keats. The symphonic framework is clear enough conceptually, but listeners looking for meaningful connections among the texts will be disappointed: the voices are essentially used in a kind of instrumental manner, providing tone painting but not moving the work as a whole in any particular direction of meaningfulness. Sargent’s 1964 performance, from a BBC broadcast, sounds good in this remastering (with Heather Harper’s solo singing notably expressive) and is certainly idiomatic, but the Choral Symphony as a whole is a work that is more interesting than convincing. Holst planned a second one, to words by George Meredith, but left behind only a few sketches, so there is no way to know if the projected later work would have had a greater sense of verbal communicativeness than does the existing one. Taken as a whole, this is a (+++) CD that is valuable for making these performances of these works available in effective audio restorations by Lani Spahr. But the Choral Symphony, which is the primary piece here, is a bit of a letdown even when well-performed, and the pleasant Beni Mora is too slight to carry the disc entirely on its own. The result is a recording that most listeners will likely find more valuable for its historical provenance than for encouraging engagement with a broader cross-section of Holst’s music.