Moritz Moszkowski: Orchestral Music, Volume Four—Symphony in D minor; Laurin: Six Excerpts from the Ballet. Sinfonia Varsovia conducted by Ian Hobson. Toccata Classics. $20.99.
Johann Strauss Jr.: Perpetuum mobile (two versions); Nordseebilder Waltz; Revolutions-Marsch; Ritter Pásmán—Csárdás; Tausend und eine Nacht—Intermezzo; Der Zigeunerbaron Overture; Vom Donaustrande; Carnevalsbilder Waltz; Klänge aus der Raimundzeit. Münchner Rundfunkorchester conducted by Patrick Hahn. BR Klassik. $19.99.
Among the many polarizing elements of music in the Romantic era was the distinction drawn between works of serious intent and mien, on the one hand, and those written primarily or purely for entertainment. It was not quite as simple as the concert hall vs. the dance floor, although there was some of that; but there was certainly music judged as much by its reason for being as by its sound – with locales such as the ballet stage blurring matters, and popularly oriented extracts and arrangements of avowedly serious music such as operas blurring them further. Still, composers tended to set their sights on one compositional orientation or the other – and then to cross over the imagined line of demarcation when it suited them. The case of Moritz Moszkowski (1854-1925) is typical. Certainly considering himself to be a serious composer, Moszkowski gained fame as a pianist (including in two-piano performances with Liszt) as well as a teacher, composer and conductor. Just how seriously he took composition is clear from his sole symphony, written when he was 19 and given a stirring performance by Sinfonia Varsovia under Ian Hobson on the fourth Toccata Classics release of Moszkowski’s orchestral music. From its substantial first movement, through a bustling Vivo and quietly tender Larghetto, to an effectively designed and orchestrated if somewhat derivative finale, the work shows considerable skill in construction even if it does not display a great deal of thematic or harmonic originality. It is, however, packed with indications of tempo changes and expressive requirements throughout each movement, showing just how careful Moszkowski already was with the effects he was trying to convey. Hobson leads the symphony with strength and close attention to its moods and structural design, giving it an effective performance that establishes the direction in which Moszkowski could have gone if he had decided to pursue further symphonies. But he did not, since in 1873, the year of the symphony, he began a meteoric pianistic career that was eventually cut short in the 1880s by a neurological problem – which in turn led him to focus elsewhere, and with equal intensity. His compositions then brought him considerable fame and a number of commissions, including one in 1892 for a now-lost ballet called Laurin. Fortunately, six episodes from the ballet had been separately published, and Hobson offers them in sturdy, attentive readings that present the music effectively while showcasing Moszkowski’s ability to write in both dramatic and more-congenial (if not exactly “light”) ways for the stage. The ballet’s story, drawn from an 11th-century epic, involves a struggle between humans and dwarfs over an enchanted garden. What remains of Moszkowski’s music does a good job of characterizing the setting and the opposing forces, with dances portraying the dwarfs and the “rose elves” being especially effective, and the concluding Bacchanale offering suitable dramatic intensity. In both the symphony and the remaining Laurin material, Moszkowski shows himself skilled in refining traditional forms and communicating through large and well-employed orchestral forces. His underlying seriousness of purpose is apparent throughout.
Other composers for the stage proved themselves effective even when their stage works themselves did not. Johann Strauss Jr.’s operettas were by and large cursed with libretti ranging from the forgettable to the incoherent, and the tunefulness of Strauss’ music could do little to make the works successful with audiences – which in fact, with just a few notable exceptions, they were not. However, music was very much a family business for Strauss, and he recycled and repackaged the material created for the stage into waltzes, quadrilles, galops and other pieces that almost invariably proved more appealing than the operettas from which they drew their content. It is all a bit ironic, since Strauss got into stage production largely in a search for better earnings potential than was available through his dance music and orchestral tours. That never quite worked out as planned, but happily for listeners from Strauss’ own time to today, the recycled stage music did not disappear; and it did at least enhance the Strauss family’s earnings when repurposed for lighter locations than an operatic venue. Just how well Strauss’ works hold up – even the many less-known ones – is clear from an ebulliently conducted BR Klassik release featuring the Münchner Rundfunkorchester conducted by Patrick Hahn. The selections here range from the well-known to the infrequently performed. The overture to Der Zigeunerbaron, one of Strauss’ best operettas and one of his few out-and-out successes, is often heard, and the Csárdás from his one and only full-scale opera, a notable failure called Ritter Pásmán, is played frequently as a concert piece. The Perpetuum mobile is super-common as well, although it is hard to see why Hahn chooses to offer it twice – with the music followed, the second time, by some insignificant and rather crass dialect lines, spoken by Johannes Silberschneider, having to do with 21st-century family road trips and the need for bathroom breaks. The spoken material goes beyond “light” music into a light, which is to say nonexistent, thought process, perhaps intended to reach out somehow to someone with no interest in music whatsoever, for some indiscernible reason. In any case, the CD as a whole is thankfully much better than this misfiring – even though Hahn does tend to push the music too hard on a few occasions, as if wanting to get it over with (and why, given the manifest delights of Strauss’ tunes, would one want to do that?). In any case, Hahn’s presentation of some less commonly heard works makes the disc as a whole delightful. The Intermezzo from Strauss’ first operetta, Indigo and the 40 Thieves (1871), makes the otherwise forgotten stage work worth remembering, and the Carnevalsbilder Waltz does the same for Der Carneval in Rom (1873). The other pieces here, whatever their points of origin, are uniformly well-made and played with panache; the orchestra is first-rate. Of special interest is the unusual composite quodlibet Klänge aus der Raimundzeit, a work Strauss assembled in 1898 for a tribute to dramatist Ferdinand Raimund (1790-1836). It bears Strauss’ very last opus number (479) and is made up of pieces by his father and Joseph Lanner, the elder Strauss’ onetime compatriot and later competitor. Certainly Strauss’ music falls on the “light” side of the spectrum of Romantic-era compositions, but its appealing melodies, sure-footed harmonies and elegant construction have kept it enjoyable and evocative ever since Strauss’ own era – while many of the works of composers with a more-serious orientation have long since fallen into complete obscurity.
No comments:
Post a Comment