E.T.A. Hoffmann: “Liebe und Eifersucht”; “Dirna”; “Das Kreuz an der Ostsee”—excerpts; Arlequin; Overtures to “Der Trank der Unsterblichkeit” and “Liebe und Eifersucht”; Missa in D minor; Miserere in B-flat minor; Symphony in E-flat; Overture to “Undine”; “Aurora”—Overture and March; Grand Trio for Piano, Violin and Violoncello; 6 Duettini Italiani for Soprano, Tenor and Piano; Quintet for Harp and String Quartet; Complete Sonatas for Fortepiano; Friedrich Witt: Sinfonia in A. Vocal and instrumental soloists; Orchester der Ludwigsburger Schlossfestspiele conducted by Michael Hofstetter; Deutsche Kammerakademie Neuss conducted by Johannes Goritzki; WDR Sinfonieorchester Köln conducted by Rupert Huber; Kölner Akademie conducted by Michael Alexander Willens; Beethoven Trio Ravensburg; Parisii-Quartett; Wolfgang Brunner, fortepiano. CPO. $99.99 (8 CDs).
So much depends on how one reads the notes – and the words. “Presentation matters” can be a noun followed by a verb – or an adjective followed by a noun. The two meanings of the phrase are very different – and in the case of a new CPO release of music by E.T.A. Hoffmann, both are highly relevant.
There is a recent tendency that is both fortunate and unfortunate when it comes to collections of previously released recordings. The fortunate element is the return to availability of performances that tend to be very fine, of music that tends to be overlooked and is not well-represented on disc. The unfortunate one is the laziness and cheapness of the actual releases, which put the quality of performances at odds with the form in which the music is packaged. That is exactly the case with this collection of CDs of recordings that originally date from 1995 to 2014: it is extremely good to have the music available again, and extremely frustrating to have it made available this way.
It is not a matter of the physical packaging. The discs are in individual cardboard sleeves – with E.T.A. Hoffmann shown the same way on all of them, but with a clever design in which his hair is colorized differently in connection with each original release. The eight CDs are then presented in a cardboard box, resulting in a more eco-friendly offering than ones involving traditional plastic jewel cases. The entirety of the release comes with a 112-page booklet – and there is the problem. The booklet contains the exact notes and essays offered with the original recordings, resulting in multiple ridiculous and frustrating time references, for example to “upcoming” events in, say, 2001. Furthermore, 32 of the pages are devoted to notes on the many performers – notes that are long since outdated and refer to circumstances and life events that have long since passed. And on top of all that, what is not included with the release is what is arguably the most important element of all where less-familiar repertoire is concerned: the words to vocal music. It is simply unconscionable to present a full performance of Liebe und Eifersucht, whose Singspiel structure means that it is packed with spoken dialogue that is crucial to the plot and indeed is the primary mechanism carrying it forward, and not to give any of the work’s words to listeners – even though a complete libretto was included with the original release. It is unfortunate, if not quite at the same level as this, to leave out the words to Hoffmann’s Missa in D minor and Miserere in B-flat minor, since the former follows the usual Latin text of the Mass and the latter uses 11 of the verses of Psalm 51, which is widely accessible. But it is a miserable decision to fail to provide the libretto of Dirna, an hour-long melodrama: its form itself is fascinating (there is only narration bolstered by and commented upon by music, with no actual singing except a few mildly atmospheric choral numbers), but there is no way an audience lacking in fluent German will be able to follow what is going on, and the libretto is wholly inaccessible anywhere except in the booklet that came with the original CD release.
On top of all these issues are some oddities carried over from the original CDs and not explained when they came out, much less now. Notable among these is the inclusion on the sixth disc in this set of a symphony in A by Friedrich Witt (1770-1836). The work has nothing to do with any music by Hoffmann, and although Hoffmann in his role as music critic did once write about two Witt symphonies, those were Witt’s Nos. 5 and 6, not the piece heard here. The rationale for a single Witt piece being added to eight hours of music by Hoffmann is inexplicable at best, and in fact is never explained.
All these presentation matters (adjective/noun) are highly frustrating. But it is important, indeed crucial, to keep in mind the extent to which presentation matters (noun/verb) in Hoffmann’s music, since the performances throughout are never less than worthy and generally much more than that. In his brief life (1776-1822), Hoffmann filled many roles, although today he is remembered almost solely as an author and a very significant contributor to the development of Romanticism in literature and, through it, in music (Tchaikovsky’s The Nutcracker, Offenbach’s Tales of Hoffmann, and more). Hoffmann’s literary creations and his other artistic endeavors – he was a fine caricaturist – have stood the test of time very well indeed. His music has not; but Hoffmann considered himself a composer above all. He idolized Mozart: Hoffmann changed his third name, Wilhelm, to Amadeus, in honor of Mozart, even though he used Wilhelm on documents throughout his life and it is “E.T.W. Hoffmann” that appears at his gravesite. In his best music, Hoffmann never strayed far from the Mozartean ideal: the overdone plot complexities of Liebe und Eifersucht are put across through a great deal of genuinely charming music that recalls Mozart again and again, the comparatively formulaic religious works also recall some of Mozart’s endeavors, and there are Mozart-reflecting elements in Hoffmann’s chamber music as well. The pieces here that stray farther from Mozart tend to be less successful: Hoffmann’s instrumental music, in general, comes across less effectively than his stage works, although there is considerable charm in the piano trio (whose finale includes a quotation from Mozart’s Symphony No. 41) and harp quintet presented in this set. It is worth noting that the eight-disc collection does not necessarily include the best of Hoffmann’s music: for example, it omits Undine, his most successful opera, and his very well-made Six Canticles for a cappella choir. But CPO had available for this project only the recordings it had previously released, so any repertoire weaknesses simply result from the catalogue on which this repackaging draws. Musically, for its incomplete but nevertheless insightful view of Hoffmann as composer, this is a (++++) release, but in terms of how shoddily it is put together and how many opportunities for insightful presentation were missed, it merits only (++). Hoffmann deserves better, even though he was scarcely a top-tier composer. Anyone curious about his music will find much here that is engaging – but will be left alone, without guidance from the set itself, to put Hoffmann as composer into context and evaluate his quality in that portion of his short but multifaceted life.
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