Jim Self Celebrates America!

FISHER: Chicago. WEBB: By the Time I Get to Phoenix. Medley: RODGERS-HAMMERSTEIN/LIEBER-STOLLER: Kansas City. JOEL: New York State of Mind. R. MILLER/B. TROUP: King of Route 66. ORBISON/DORHAM: Blue Bayou Bossa. NEWMAN: I Love L.A. HANLEY: (Back Home Again in) Indiana. GORDON-WARREN: Chattanooga Choo Choo. CORY-CROSS: I Left My Heart in San Francisco. SOUSA/SCHARNBERG: Washington Postmodern. CARMICHAEL: Georgia on My Mind. SELF: S.L.O. Blues. / Jim Self, tuba/CC tuba/F “jimbasso”/Bb cimbasso tuba; Ron Stout, tpt/Fl-hn; Bill Booth, tb/euph; Scott Whitfield, tb; Phil Feather, a-sax/E-hn; Tom Peterson, s-sax/t-sax/ John Chiodini, gtr; Bill Cunliffe, pno/melodica; Ken Wild, bs/el-bs/fretless el-bs; Kendall Kay, dm; Brian Kilgore, perc; Kim Scharnberg, cond / Basset Hound Records BHR 102-20

Although this CD won’t be officially released until January 6, it arrived in my mailbox the day before Election Day 2022, a day of intense hatred and division between our two major political parties. It was extremely pleasant for a change to not get a CD that was ideologically liberal, with the artist sticking his or her chest out and proudly crowing about how Enlightened they are to be pushing a liberal agenda. No, this CD is all about celebrating America through the cultural diversity of its popular music-turned-jazz: songs identified with black artists served up cheek by jowl with songs identified with white ones. Howard De Sylva meets Wilbert Harrison. Roger Miller intersects with Nat “King” Cole. Roy Orbison and Kenny Dorham mix it up. And that’s the way it should be. If we all just stop hating each other and talk things over, we might actually discover that we have more in common with each other than the media would like us to.

More to the point, this CD is a triumph of heavily mixed jazz styles, ranging from 1920s Charleston beats to post-bop modern jazz and funk—an egalitarian view of the jazz spectrum instead of the usual “this is my jazz camp and I’m not budging” posture. Some readers, like myself, may be wondering about the designation “My America 2.” It turns out that Self, a veteran of thousands of movie and TV soundtracks and recordings—he’s sort of the modern-day, West Coast counterpart to the East Coast’s tuba player extraordinaire of the past, Don Butterfield—made “My America,” now considered Vol. 1, 20 years ago. Self considered it a “novelty” record, but surprisingly it took off in sales, so now here is Vol. 2. Both feature the very creative arrangements of Kim Scharnberg, the invisible member of this wonderful 11-piece band.

None of the solos on this CD, not even Self’s. which are wonderful (or those of the excellent trumpeter Ron Stout or trombonist Scott Whitfield), will bowl you over with their innovative approach, but they don’t have to be. Scharnberg’s arrangements are so clever and creative, sometimes in an obvious way and sometimes subtly. that they both delight and surprise the listener, and since virtually every American knows all of these songs (although I admit not knowing the Richard Rodgers version of Kansas City), the end result will bring a smile to your face—something we can all appreciate in these tense times.

Among the excellent solos on this disc I should also add  guitarist John Chiodini. Even in the obviously rock-based arrangement of the Lieber-Stoller Kansas City, he maintains more of an R&B than a rock feel in his solos, and of course R&B, like bop, was an offshoot of swing. (Just ask Lionel Hampton, Louis Jordan or any of the Kansas City bandleaders if you don’t believe me.) But even here, when the band departs from Lieber-Stoller and returns to Rodgers-Hammerstein, Scharnberg’s razor-keen ear for thematic and rhythmic relationships between songs makes the shift sound seamless…and he continues this high-wire balancing act throughout the CD. The opening melody of Billy Joel’s New York State of Mind is played by Bill Cunliffe on the melodica, an instrument that sounds like a cross between a harmonica and an accordion, but Ken Wild’s bass solo is the real standout on this track. And is there another post-1955 song in American history as beautiful as Roy Orbison’s Blue Bayou? Kenny Dorham’s Blue Bossa, though using minor-key harmony, is almost as pretty, yet somehow the switch-over from the first to the second is a bit of a shock. But no matter. The arrangement is, as usual, beautifully voiced by Scharnberg, and Stout’s short trumpet solo is a little gem. And, surprise of surprises, the arrangement ends in 3/4 time!

I admit not being thrilled with the heavier rock influence on Randy Newman’s I Love L.A., but I know that millions of “jazz” lovers just adore the mixing of jazz and rock. In the middle section, they throw in a cute little circus-music beat for a few bars, but not quite enough to save it. Happily, Scharnberg makes up for this with a creative fugue introduction to Indiana, taken at more of a swing than a Dixieland beat. Self’s tuba solo on this one is wonderful; Joe Tarto would definitely have applauded it. (If you don’t know who Joe Tarto was, look him up…he had a legendary career as both a jazz and a classical musician.)

I was curious to hear what Scharenberg did with the Glenn Miller hit Chattanooga Choo Choo. Imagine my surprise to hear it given a soft of funky soul-jazz beat! It doesn’t quite match the melody line of the song, but acts as an effective contrast, as does the alto sax counterpoint to Self’s tuba playing, just before one of his best solos on the record. Who says you can’t make good jazz out of this tune? This band proves you can do it! Later on, during Cunliffe’s piano break, it briefly becomes a boogie-woogie piece. Nice job! Scharnberg scores the opening chorus of I Lift My Heart in San Francisco as a trombone-English horn duet which becomes a trio when Self adds tuba counterpoint. But Scharnberg saves one of his funniest and most innovative ideas for the next track, introducing John Philip Sousa’s Washington Post March with the opening bars of Richard Strauss’ Also Sprach Zarathustra—then turns Sousa’s march into a slow waltz before adding a sort of samba/milonga beat. Seriously…you HAVE to hear this one to believe it! Following this, Georgia on My Mind is reduced to a tuba-piano duet, and quite a fine one, too. The program closes with M.L.O. Blues, a sort of soul/funk/jazz piece.

This will surely be one of my favorite jazz releases of 2023. Go for it!

—© 2022 Lynn René Bayley

Follow me on Twitter (@artmusiclounge) or Facebook (as Monique Musique)

Return to homepage OR

Read my book, From Baroque to Bop and Beyond: An extended and detailed guide to the intersection of classical music and jazz

Unknown (and Unfinished) Enescu Pieces

ENESCU: Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 in A, Op. 11 No. 1 (arr. M. Stern). Impressions roumaines for Solo Violin (arr. R. Lupu). Sonata Torso. Impromptu Concertante in Gb. Regrets (compl. Lupu). Suite No. 1 in G: Dans le style ancient, Op. 3: Adagio (arr. Sandu Albu). Valse Lente “l’Enjôleuse.” Caprice Roumain (compl. Cornel Tăranu) / Sherban Lupu, vln; Ian Hobson, *pno/⁺cond; ^#Viorela Ciucur, pno; ⁺Sinfonia da Camera / Toccata Classics TOCC 0647

Completing unfinished works by dead composers is always a tricky business, largely because the one doing the completing must be fully immersed in the composing style of the original creator—and those who have succeeded the best in such ventures are actually quite rare. Among the best of these have been Deryck Cooke (Mahler Symphony No. 10), Larry Austin (Ives’ “Universe Symphony”), Robert Orledge (Debussy’s “Poe” operas) and the duo of Nicholas Cook and Hermann Dechant (Beethoven’s one-movement Piano Concerto No. 6). Although it has its moments, Alexander Nemtin’s reconstruction of Scriabin’s Mysterium is not altogether convincing.

Here we have a variety of musicians and composers who have attempted over the years to complete some of George Enescu’s many unfinished works. During his relatively long life (1881-1955), Enescu only gave opus numbers to 33 of his compositions, leaving a huge body of music either unnumbered, incomplete, or both. Part of this was due to his extremely busy career as both violinist and conductor; in a way, I’ve always thought of Enescu as the 20th-century Mendelssohn, a composer who was so busy as a performer that his creative life often took second place, but even Mendelssohn left us more finished music than Enescu. And indeed, during his lifetime only a handful of his works were ever programmed and performed in concert. Oddly enough, Mahler was a fan, performing Enescu’s First Orchestral Suite during a tour of the U.S. with the New York Philharmonic-Symphony in 1911.

Musicologist Valentina Sandu-Dediu’s dense, wordy, dry but curiously uninformative liner notes will not help either the music critic or casual listener understand the chronology of these works’ reconstruction. She provides scant hard information on them, choosing rather to dance around the edges of her subject. I’m hoping that someone boils her in oil for this, as it makes individual investigation of each and every piece a chore for the inquisitive listener. Sandu-Dediu gives us no information at all as to who completed the 1903 Impromptu Concertante, and there is no information on who Marcel Stern or Sandu Albu, who completed Enescu pieces decades ago, are or what their contribution is. So I can’t tell you either.

We thus must simply rely on our ears and determine how good or effective this music is. Since the opening Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 has an opus number (Op. 11, No. 1), I would have to assume that this was a published work. Like other Romanian rhapsodies, it’s a charming but lightweight piece, with a middle section reminiscent of Fritz Kreisler’s Viennese bonbons, but of course there’s always a place for music like this provided it is well composed, and this one certainly is. It also doesn’t hurt that Lupu has this style in his blood, as Kreisler (but few if any others) had for his music; it is played with life, verve, and infinite gradations of tone color.

Indeed, it is as much Lupu’s strong emotional connection to these scores, as much as the music itself, which lead one to consider this album favorably. The Impressions Roumaines, for instance, is not one of Enescu’s strongest or most original pieces by a long shot, but the way Lupu completed the score and plays it almost convinces you that it’s a masterpiece.

As one might expect, a strong flavor of Rumanian folk music permeates these scores, and although Enescu never quite took this music to the harmonic extremes that Bartók did with Hungarian folk music, he was a good enough composer to continually add little harmonic twists and turns, often stepwise chromatic changes, to enhance one’s listening experience. This is clearly audible in the Sonata Torso from 1911, which is played exactly as he left it. It was written down sometime between Enescu’s Second and Third published violin sonatas. This one has apparently been known for some time; this is one of only four pieces on this CD that are not first-ever recordings. Although Enescu begins this one-movement sonata with a characteristically Rumanian melody (and harmonies), it becomes much more serious and rather different in its development section, utilizing a very deliberate formal rhythm, quite different from the “swing” of his more strongly folk-influenced scores.

As one goes through the album, it’s fairly easy to decide just from listening which are the earlier works, since before about 1908 nearly all of his music was of a lighter character, more in the nature of encore pieces, with the Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 being among the most complex. The 1903 Impromptu Concertante is so lightweight as to sound like a trifle, even in Lupu’s very skilled hands. Regrets (1898) has a few interesting harmonic touches in it, particularly in the opening section for the piano, but again, not enough to commend it. Indeed, this entire middle section of the CD between the Sonata Torso and the Caprice Roumain pretty much consists of these early fluff pieces. Some people really like this stuff. I don’t.

Happily, we end with a good piece from Enescu’s late days, the Caprice Roumain for violin and orchestra, completed by Cornel Tăranu and Lupu. It’s another one of those “Rumanian Rhapsody” sort of pieces, only with somewhat more sophisticated harmonies than the ones he was using in 1901. Parts of the first movement almost have an Arabian feel to the music although it is clearly based on Rumanian sources.

A bit of a mixed review, then. All of the music is superbly played by Lupu, who does his best to sell the product, but the over-sweet and undernourished gumdrops in the middle of the disc rather degrade it a little for me, but you may feel very differently about these pieces.

—© 2022 Lynn René Bayley

Follow me on Twitter (@Artmusiclounge) or Facebook (as Monique Musique)

Return to homepage OR

Read The Penguin’s Girlfriend’s Guide to Classical Music

Peter Donohoe’s Brilliant Haydn

HAYDN: Variations on “Gott er halte den Kaiser.” Keyboard Sonatas: in D, Hob. XVI:42; in A, Hob.XVI:26; in D, Hob.XVI:51; in C, Hob. XVI:48; in F, Hob. XVI:29; in Eb, Hob. XVI:28; in Bb, Hob. XVI:18; F, Hob. XVI:23; in Eb, Hob. XVI:49. Divertimenti: in Ab, Hob. XVI:46; in Bb, Hob. XVI:2d  / Peter Donohoe, pianist / Signum Classics SIGCD 726

As I put it in my “throw down the gauntlet” article, I’m pretty much through with reviewing new recordings of old-timey classical except for a very few composers whose music I really like and for those very few performers who I know I can trust to give me something worth hearing when playing or singing it. British pianist Peter Donohoe is one such, and he earned my trust by making the ONLY recordings of Bartók’s Piano Concerti in which he plays the instrument in a manner very similar to the way the composer played…and that is an exceedingly rare event.

Of course we have absolutely no idea how Haydn played the piano, but there are clues inherent in his music. Nearly everything Haydn wrote (there are exceptions, of course) is not only well constructed but also has a certain quirkiness in its construction as well as a puckish sense of humor that he simply could not repress. It is because of this that his operas are just about the only works in his oeuvre that don’t work very well, since he simply had no real talent for matching music to the dramatic mood of the situation. He wrote Haydn-esque music; it was charming and somewhat interesting, but not dramatic in the operatic sense. (The same was true of his friend, J.C. Bach.)

Imagine my surprise, upon starting the first CD, to hear Donohoe playing the tune we now know as “Deutschland, Deutschland, über alles”!! But apparently in those years, it bore the alternate title of “God save the Kaiser [Emperor]”…similar, but not identical. And of course, in those days, the Kaiser wasn’t stomping all over Europe as Kaiser Wilhelm II did during World War I. So I guess it’s politically harmless in context.

Donohoe’s pianistic approach to Haydn is entirely different from his approach to Bartók. Here he uses a brighter, leaner-sounding piano to achieve crystal clarity in the voicings, and also plays the music with a wonderfully insouciant rhythmic lilt wholly appropriate to Haydn.  Occasionally, in slow passages, he also introduces slight but telling moments of rubato, which is also stylistically appropriate. And I will go further: the presence of so many (good) recordings of Bach, Scarlatti, Haydn, Mozart and Haydn keyboard music played on modern pianos gives lie to the rigorous academic religion of “straight tone” in string playing. If you are to be truly authentic, none of this keyboard music should be played on anything but a harpsichord or one of those dinky-sounding “tangent pianos” of the era, yet the very same cultures (mostly British, German, Austrian and French) who absolutely insist on solo string players and orchestral string sections all playing with constant straight tone, without rubato or portamento which they ALL used back then, is historically incorrect. And I will go to my grave trying to impress on you that 18th- and 19th-century string players almost always used a light vibrato on sustained notes (with portamento and rubato), only resorting to straight tone to aid facilitation in the fast passages.

But back to Donohoe’s Haydn. These are absolutely magical performances. Except for Wanda Landowska (on both harpsichord and piano) and Imogen Cooper, these are absolutely the finest performances of Haydn’s keyboard music I’ve ever heard. One can easily delve into each and every movement of each sonata and describe in detail what Donohoe does here, but on the one hand that would be self-defeating because it would take away the element of surprise you will get from listening to this recording, and on the other it would be tedious to read whereas it is delightful to listen to.

Indeed, Donohoe is having so much fun with these pieces that je keeps you engaged from start to finish, much like Michael Korstick’s recent set of Scarlatti sonatas (to which I gave a rave review). In fact, Donohoe’s sense of rhythm is even a bit “springier,” if you know what I mean, than Korstick’s; there is almost always a hint or a touch of syncopation in his playing, certainly not in a jazzy way but in a way that makes every note and phrase bounce. And interestingly, even when Donohoe suddenly introduces a moment of rubato or a ludtpausen into the music, one never feels that he is slowing things down because even these moments have an underlying bounce to them, thus it all holds together. This proves especially important in the slow movements, such as the first-movement “Andante con espressione” of the Sonata in C, Hob.XVI:48, where Donohoe also uses interesting volume shifts in the accented notes to hold one’s interest—and make the movement less soporific. And in the ensuing “Rondo: Presto,” Donohoe almost makes the music laugh as well as sing! There’s clearly a touch of Chico Marx in his approach, and believe it or not, it works.

One will also note that Haydn, like his colleague Mozart, had a talent for playing some serious moments against the lighter ones: chiaroscuro, they called it. And there are so many passages in these sonatas where Haydn suddenly indulges in harmonic shifts, either from major to minor or vice-versa, as well as those into neighboring keys or using chromatic passages and/or modal scales, that he continually holds your interest. You simply cannot predict exactly how he is going to develop a movement; he always has an element or two of surprise up his sleeve.

I would also like to praise the recorded sound on this album. Unlike Donohoe’s Bartók concerti, which had a somewhat dry sound, these Haydn sonatas have just enough natural reverb around the instrument to give it a nice ring without becoming too much like an echo chamber. But imagine my surprise to discover that these recordings were made in December 2019, three years ago! Why on earth did they wait so long before releasing them? Possibly because this is listed as Volumes 1 & 2 of Haydn’s piano works. They may have wanted to wait until he had another volume or two in the can before releasing this one, and with the Covid-19 pandemic of 2020 it might have been difficult, if not impossible, to safely record another volume.

Of course, Haydn never intended that you should sit through five or six of his sonatas at a time, as you will do when listening to these CDs, and although Donohoe does indeed make your listening worthwhile, I suggest taking a break every three sonatas just to clear your mind for the next sequence. Otherwise, this is an absolutely stunning achievement, and I surely look forward to Vols. 3 & 4.

—© 2022 Lynn René Bayley

Follow me on Twitter (@Artmusiclounge) or Facebook (as Monique Musique)

Return to homepage OR

Read The Penguin’s Girlfriend’s Guide to Classical Music

Nastasi Plays 20th-Century Flute Music

FK_booklet_04-07

DEBUSSY: Syrinx. KARGELERT: Sonata Appasasionata in Bb min. HONEGGER: Danse de la chêvre. FERROUD: 3 Pieces: 1. Bergère captive. HINDEMITH: 8 Pieces for Flute. DE LORENZO: Suite mythologique: Pan. LAUBER: Prelude et Fugue: Prelude. RIVIER: Oiseaux tendres. BOZZA: Image, Op. 38. IBERT: Piece. VARÈSE: Density. JOLIVET: 6 Incantations: No. 3, Pour que la maisson soit riche; No. 4, Pour une communion sereine. STERN: Deux pieces: Iberica. KOECHLIN: Flute Sonatine, Op. 184: Lento. SCHNEIDER: Flute Sonata, Op. 53: Allegretto. RAPHAEL: Flute Sonata No. 2, Op. 46: II, Sehr launisch und schrullig. DRESSLER: Sonate Op. 10: Allegretto. ESCHER: Sonata Op. 16: Largo-vivace. V. MARTIN: Deux Incantations: II. SZERVÁNSZKY: 5 Konzertstudien: Scherzo. FUKUSHIMA: Requiem. BERIO: Sequenza I / Mirjam Nastasi, flautist / Ars Produktion ARS 38104

Here is Miarjam Nastasi’s Vol. 4 of flute music through the ages, this one concentrating on 20th-century flute music written between 1913 and 1958. In addition to the “usual suspects,” Debussy, Honegger, Hindemith, Ibert, Jolivet, Koechlin and Berio, she includes a piece by the enormously talented but sadly short-lived Pierre Octave Ferroud, the oft-mentioned but seldom-played Edgard Varèse, and such obscure names as Sigfrid Kargelert, Leonardo de Lorenzo, Joseph Lauber, Eugène Bozza, Marcel Stern, Willy Schneider, Gunter Raphael, Johannes Dressler, Rudolf Escher, Victor Martin (born in 1940 and still with us; this piece was written when he was only 18 years old), Endre Szervánsky and Kazuo Fukushima.

It was wise of her to start with Debussy’s Syrinx, not just because it’s the earliest piece in this set but because it’s so well known that one can easily gauge Nastasi’s skills going forward. As usual, she plays it more structurally and less romantically in feeling than most other flautists, emphasizing the music’s structure more than its “ambient” qualities. Interestingly, Kargelert’s Sonata Appassionata sounds like a somewhat more angular cousin of Debussy, using interesting arpeggios in various modes that lay just a shade outside of normal tonality yet tying them in to connecting passages that are quite tonal indeed.

One lesson to be learned in the earliest of these pieces, like the Kargelert Sonata, is the way that early 20th-century composers grew the flute-writing tradition out of the 19th century format and adapted it to more thoughtful and less “pleasurable” musical forms. In this context, even Hindemith’s 8 Pieces for Flute are, for him, much more lyrical than his writing for solo string instruments around the same tine (1927). Bozza’s Image opens with a figure that could have been borrowed from Asian flute music. Much to my surprise, Varèse’s Density is even more lyrical and less intentionally shocking and edgy than most of his output at that time (1936), although there are a few moments of edginess in it. In context, I found Jolivet’s Incantations to be the weakest pieces on the album. Stern’s Iberica is the most charming, a happy little piece that almost hearkens back to the 19th century, while Koechlin’s Flute Sonatina is clearly the most solemn and serious in both structure and mood. Schneider’s flute sonata, though a bit lighter in mood, uses chromatic stepwise arpeggios as a means of creating his theme and its variants.

This is an extremely interesting and, for the most part, very accessible album of “early modern” flute pieces, played by a master.

—© 2022 Lynn René Bayley

Follow me on Twitter (@Artmusiclounge) or Facebook (as Monique Musique)

Return to homepage OR

Read The Penguin’s Girlfriend’s Guide to Classical Music

Nastasi Plays Romantic-Era Flute Music

DROUET: 3 Cadences. Préludes Nos. 3 & 4. KUHLAU: Divertimento in G. 3 Fantasies, Op. 38.  KELLER: Fantasia in G min. FÜRSTENAU: 4 Amusements for Solo Flute. Flötenschule, Op. 42 Nos. 78, 79, & 83. KUMMER: Fantasies, Op. 33: No. 1 in D; No. 2 in C. MERCADANTE: Variations in F on an aria from Rossini’s “Armide.” BRICCIALDI: Adagio in C. GARIBOLDI: Capriccio sopra un tema arabo in A min. DONJON: Élégie. KÖHLER: Adagio patetico / Mirjam Nastasi, flautist / Ars Produktion ARS38103-1

Several years ago, I reviewed Vol. 5 of Dutch flautist Mirjam Nastasi’s series of solo flute CDs, “Modern 1960 through 2000,” and gave it a rave review, but at the time I was less inclined to review her recordings of pre-1900 flute music. Since her focus has always been on contemporary music, however, I decided to give Vol. 3, “Romantik,” a spin, in part because the list of composers she plays here is a highly unusual one. Indeed, the only two names here I was previously familiar with were Friedrich Kuhlau and Saverio Mercadante, and I really only knew the latter as an opera composer. In fact, I wonder how many of those reading this review are familiar with the music of Louis Drouet, Charles Keller, Anton B. Fürstenau, Kaspar Klimmer, Giulio Gariboldi or Jean Donjon.

One thing I noted when reviewing Vol. 5 was Nastasi’s bright, large tone and crisp, no-nonsense phrasing, and this is what she brings to these pieces as well. This is no wimpy, breathy, “pretty” flute player tiptoeing through the tulips of the flute accompaniments and cadenzas of Donizetti, but a serious musician who emphasizes the structure of each piece she plays. Although Mozart wrote two flute concerti, he was said to have disliked the instrument because it was pretty but not expressive. Had he heard Nastasi, I think he might have changed his mind. She can even play subtle gradations of volume in these pieces, which gives them a more interesting profile. This is playing on the level of the two greatest flute players I ever heard, Claude Monteux and James Galway, who also might have pleased Mozart.

Melodically, of course, these are still pieces based on nice tunes to please the masses, but by emphasizing rhythm and nuance, Nastasi is able to bring out more of the music’s structure. The first piece in which I was aware of this particular focus was in Kuhlau’s Divertimento No. 5 in G, a fairly interesting work with sections in different tempi. As in the cases of both Monteux (who I only saw once) and Galway (who I saw twice), her large, penetrating sound and outstanding musicianship allows her to get to the heart of each piece. At times, as in Kuhlau’s Fantasy No. 1, one can almost hear the music as a reduction of a piece written for an orchestra rather than a solo instrument; using one’s imagination, it is not terribly difficult to mentally “fill in” other parts, of which this seems to only be the top line. In any case, this piece clearly has an interesting structure. And Ariette No. 3 is, of all things, a set of variations on Mozart’s “Batti, batti, o bel Masetto” from Don Giovanni! (As variations go, they’re nowhere near the level of Beethoven’s or Art Tatum’s, but they’re not as overly-ornamented as Liszt’s.) In some of the other pieces, one can hear different composers’ attempts to write music of substance that just happened to be written for the flute, such as the Kummer Fantasies.

Although Mercadante’s variations on an aria from Rossini’s Armide is not all that musically interesting as a theme, he cleverly worked it into a virtuoso tour-de-force, complete with those little rhythmic figures in which the flute player appears to be performing a duet although he or she is only one instrument.

Indeed, as the CD plays on, you realize that several of these pieces are quite good, among them Charles Keller’s Fantasia in G minor and the second and third of Fürstenau’s Amusements, with their quirky syncopations, all of which Nastasi plays as if in her sleep.

The bottom line is that Nastasi is one of those very rare top-tier flautists who knows how to make her instrument “talk,” thus nearly everything she does is worth hearing. This disc is no exception.

—© 2022 Lynn René Bayley

Follow me on Twitter (@Artmusiclounge) or Facebook (as Monique Musique)

Return to homepage OR

Read The Penguin’s Girlfriend’s Guide to Classical Music

McGill Plays “American Stories”

DANIELPOUR: Four Angels. J. LEE III: Quintet. SHIRLEY: High Sierra Sonata. COLEMAN: Shotgun Houses / Anthony McGill, clarinetist; Pacifica Qrt / Çedille CDR 90000 216

Here is an interesting album of contemporary American music played by veteran clarinetist Anthony McGill, who has worked as a soloist with various American orchestras as well as being an active chamber musician. He is paired on this album by the well-known Pacifica Quartet.

First up is the best-known composer of the four, Richard Danielpour, who tends to write in a tonal, accessible style yet who always seems to include in that music elements of subtle yet advanced harmonies to make it interesting. Four Angels, composed specifically for McGill and the Catalyst Quartet, is no exception: a lyrical, melodic theme that suddenly morphs a couple of minutes into the piece as edgier harmonies and rhythms suddenly erupt. Yet the music always seems to return to its lyrical roots as it continues to develop. An interesting feature of this piece is that Danielpour has scored the string quartet in a generally lower range than usual. Another is that he includes brief solos for cello, violin and viola to interact with the clarinet, which generally meanders through the piece. It is more of a “mood” piece than one designed to engage an active musical mind, but as I say, there are those edgy moments that keeps one listening.

I was not previously familiar with James Lee III (b. 1973), who studied both composition and conducting. His works have been performed by the Detroit, Baltimore, Soulful, Philadelphia, Memphis, Indianapolis and National Symphony Orchestras. In the liner notes, the composer indicates that his Quintet was “inspired by historical aspects of indigenous Americans,” yet the first uses a shofar which is not historically an instrument of indigenous Americans but of the Jewish people (of which I am technically one since my mother was Jewish). But as I’ve said many times, the inspiration for any piece of music means very little if the piece is not a good one. Lee’s music is rather interesting, using unusual rhythmic and harmonic figures including a fair amount of syncopation (but not really jazz syncopation). Nonetheless, the movement inspired by the shofar actually sounds more inspired by klezmer music, and is quite interesting. (In the notes, Lee also indicates that this “inverted shofar theme” can be heard in both Nathaniel Dett’s The Ordering of Moses and William Dawson’s Negro Folk Symphony.) At heart, however, this music too is relatively tonal and tuneful. The second movement, which supposedly alludes to the Choctaw people, contains no Native American themes but is also rhythmically lively and fun to listen to, including some upward swoops (fast portamento notes) played by both the clarinet and the strings. In the third movement, the music becomes more hectic and disjointed, representing the uprooting of native Americans from their ancestral homelands. but in the end Lee celebrates the ethnic diversity of America by concluding with a brief, happy dance which he references to “An Emblem of America.” It is indeed joyous, but in a quirky, irregular meter as if danced by someone with wobbly legs!

Ben Shirley, a composer born in Berlin but also raised in California and Texas, contributes the High Sierra Sonata. This is a somewhat (but not entirely) more conventional clarinet quintet, using the strings like a small orchestra behind the wind soloist. This piece was inspired by Shirley’s experiences as a volunteer at an “aid station” in the High Sierra mountains. It, too, is largely tonal with some interesting rhythmic devices. As the first movement moves from its slow opening to its livelier second half, Shirley uses open harmonies similar to those employed by Aaron Copland in his “Americana” pieces. No composers ever go broke writing in this style! My complaint about this piece, however, is that it goes on too long and says very little—yet says very little over and over and over again. Shirley has some good musical ideas, and we must consider that to Shirley these passages may be more meaningful by helping him recall his experiences than they are for us, but I think he needs an editor to cut the superfluous passages out. I also got the impression that the music would have been much more effective if it had been written for clarinet, piano, and perhaps one string instrument. The quartet just didn’t seem to me to have the exact right “feel” for this music.

Shotgun Houses by Valerie Coleman, another composer I was not previously familiar with, is described as the first of “three installments that celebrate the life of Muhammad Ali, a man who carried the pride of Louisville with him everywhere throughout his career.” to which I would also add that he was a Republican and loved country music (believe it or not)!! The three movements, titled “ShotGun Houses,” “Grand Ave.” and “Rome 1960” refer to places and incidents in his early life. Coleman’s music, though also tonal and not terribly complex, struck me as some of the most creative in the entire album—creative in the sense that it sounded much more the product of inspiration and not merely working out themes in one’s mind. Coleman captures her moods as well as Danielpour and Lee, but the musical progression is more varied and unusual. There are also moments here where she “spreads out” the string quartet writing, placing the cello very low in its range while the violins play fairly high. The clarinet most often occupies a space in the middle, and here it gets much “meatier” music to play—music that morphs and develops and really says something. I was most impressed with “Rome1960,” where Coleman uses fast, rhythmic figures on the cello as a springboard for the movement, though eventually breaking up the meter with some apposite figures that seem to run backwards. It’s quite an inventive as well as a thrilling piece!

This, then, is a very nice album, the kind one can use to take a mental break from the more convoluted modern music out there. McGill has a rich, luscious tone and outstanding musicianship if not quite a real personality like Don Byron or Richard Stoltzman. The sound is also outstanding, giving a bit of natural room reverb to the instruments without having them wallowing in an echo.

—© 2022 Lynn René Bayley

Follow me on Twitter (@Artmusiclounge) or Facebook (as Monique Musique)

Return to homepage OR

Read The Penguin’s Girlfriend’s Guide to Classical Music

Unraveling the Mystery of Tempo King

Take a trip with me now to the early years of the Swing Era, 1936-37, to discover a performer so obscure that, to this day, no one knows his real name: Tempo King.

All that we know about Tempo is that he was born in 1915, worked up an act in Florida with the assistance of a pianist who could play a pretty convincing Fats Waller imitation, then came north to New York in the spring of 1936 where he, the pianist, and a pick-up band played during intermissions at a couple of the jazz clubs on 52nd Street. We may never know who his musicians were in-person, because when RCA Victor contracted him to make records for their inexpensive Bluebird label in August of that year, his recording group consisted of pianist Queenie Ada Rubin (so named because, since he was “Tempo King,” she was his “Queen”), three front-line players from the Hickory House—Joe Marsala on clarinet, his brother Marty on trumpet, and the’r highly skilled bassist, Mort Stuhlmaker—and two first-class “ringers” from the world of Chicago Jazz, guitarist Eddie Condon and drummer Stan King, and these were clearly not the kind of musicians who would be working intermissions. They were the front-liners who were taking those 15-minute intermissions.

Considering Ada Rubin’s stride piano skills, which were first-rate even though she couldn’t equal Waller’s deft right-handed runs, it wasn’t surprising that Tempo and his band did a flat-out imitation of Fats’ “Rhythm” group. What was surprising was that it was RCA that signed them, making them lower-priced rivals to Waller’s own records on their full-priced black label discs. Tempo King and his little band sold moderately well for Bluebird, but only had three hit records. Their version of the popular Organ Grinder Swing came in at #12, behind the versions of the song by Jimmie Lunceford (#2) and Benny Goodman. A bit later on, Tempo had his biggest hit, I’ll Sing You a Thousand Love Songs, which charted at #2; then, later still in 1937, To Mary With Love came in at #12. But that was it. After making a few more sides for Bluebird in early January of 1937, they were cut loose, but Vocalion picked up their contract, where they continued to make recordings through the rest of that year. Then, they disappeared as if they had fallen through a black hole.

The story was that Tempo King, who was said to be African-American, was suffering from an undisclosed intestinal illness which eventually took his life on June 25, 1939 when he was only 24 years old. But a photograph has suddenly surfaced online in the last couple of years, and although he appears to have been mixed race, he clearly wasn’t black. He looks Latino, which if you think about it makes sense. Even in the years before World War I, several Cubans migrated to Florida to find better opportunities to succeed, thus Tempo King’s parents may have been among them.

Of course, none of this would be of the least interest to most jazz historians except for one thing: his records are absolutely terrific. An imitator he was, but an imitator with an interesting vocal style who was able to engender a wonderful esprit de corps from his little band. Seldom has either Joe or Marty Marsala sounded as relaxed and inventive as they do on these records, and track after track brings a smile to your face just because they were so good.

I’m sure that Fats Waller wasn’t really thrilled that his own label hired a knock-off to imitate him for their lower-priced records, and I’m willing to bet that he had something to do with their getting the boot before even a full half-year was out. There are some folks posting messages online who firmly believe that Waller himself was the pianist on these records, moonlighting under a pseudonym, but as I mentioned above, Ada Rubin didn’t quite have Waller’s dexterity or his musical imagination, particularly his ability to play right-handed runs with a facility similar to that of Art Tatum. You can do A-B comparisons between them and decide for yourself.

But even if Tempo King died young, one wonders how a marketable talent like Rubin would also disappear into the ether. This mystery was finally solved by a comment you can read below, posted on this article in February 2023 by her nephew. Ada Rubin Roeter, obviously her married name, left the music business as a performer after Tempo King’s death but stayed in it as a promoter. In fact, I found this facsimile of a letter she wrote to a client in 1963, when she was working for the Fred Fisher Music Company, with her signature:

So at least one mystery is solved!

Returning to the Tempo King records, most of them are excellent period jazz in addition to being lively, effervescent performances, so much so that they apparently sold in good quantities despite his having only a few hits. Indeed, the only known CD release of Tempo King recordings was made in the early 1990s by British trad-jazz-bandleader Chris Barber on his own CBC label. This CD was later reissued with the same tracks in the same order by another small CD company. Yet Tempo King Bluebird 78s seem to be constantly turning up, and most of these copies are fairly worn, indicating that they have been played quite a bit. The Vocalions also turn up occasionally, but not as frequently as the Bluebird recordings. Many of these have been posted online for free listening, on YouTube, the Library of Congress website and its affiliate, the Discography of American Historical Recordings (DAHR), the Classic Jazz Online site and even on the Internet Archive. And they get a lot of hits.

Joe (clarinet) and Marty (trumpet Marsala at the Hickory House c. 1937. Eddie Condon is the guitarist whose face is hidden by Joe’s right elbow.

Tempo King did not have a great vocal tone or range, but true to his name his sense of jazz rhythm was excellent and he could scat convincingly—sort of a poor man’s Bon Bon (for those of you who remember Bon Bon, real name George Tunnell, who sang with Jan Savitt’s band in the late 1930s). Joe Marsala’s playing was based on the late 1920s Chicago style, fused with elements of swing, and although he was not on the genius level of Goodman, Shaw or Edmond Hall, he was an excellent improviser. Marty, who seldom recorded without his brother, was a good, crackling trumpet player who fed off the musical ideas of others, in this care not only Joe but also “Ada Rubin.” With a rhythm section of Stuhlmaker, a fine bassist who played in the 52nd Street clubs, along with Condon and King who did not but were excellent ringers, this band really swings. Thus nearly all of the Tempo King records are satisfying in much the same way that Waller’s were.

One thing that kind of surprised me considering Tempo King’s attempts to imitate Waller is that he mostly didn’t record the same songs that Fats did. Another thing I found very interesting is that, after he moved from Bluebird to Vocalion, Tempo King didn’t do the overt Waller imitation on those records. You would think that Vocalion would have been even more eager to have a performer on their label vie with Waller for sales and attention, yet a lot of the Waller-like asides, such as calling his band members by name as well as “little rascal” and “yes, yes, yes!” disappeared.  He also seems to have toured more extensively, as some of the Vocalion matrix numbers begin with LA, meaning that they were made in Los Angeles.

So here is a list of the Tempo King recordings I liked the most, a good-sized selection of them which can be listened to online by clicking on each title. Enjoy!

Aug. 1936: Marty Marsala, tp; Joe Marsala, cl; Queenie Ada Rubin, p; Eddie Condon, gt; Mort Stuhlmaker, bs; Stan King, dm; Tempo King, voc.

Oct. 1936: George Yorke, bs repl. Stuhlmaker.

Jan. 1937: Ray Biondi, gt repl. Condon.

No exact personnel data available for post-January 1937 Vocalion recordings.

1. A High Hat, A Piccolo and a Cane (Fain-Brown-Akst) 9-11-1936
2. I Was Saying to the Moon (Burke-Johnson) 10-15-1936
3. That’s the Way It Goes (Muldowney-Pollock) 12-3-1937
4. I Would Do Anything for You (Hopkins-Hill-Williams) 8-21-1936
5. That’s What You Mean to Me (Carmichael-Evans-Livingston) 9-11-1936
6. Bojangles of Harlem (Kern-Fields) 8-21-1936
7. Floating on a Bubble (Cliff Friend-Irene Franklin) 1-14-1937
8. Alligator Crawl (Waller-Razaf-Davis) 7-28-1937
9. I’ll Sing You a Thousand Love Songs (Dubin-Warren) 8-21-1936
10. Organ Grinder’s Swing (Hudson-Parish)
11. Slumming on Park Avenue (Irving Berlin) 12-10-1936
12. Moonlight on the Prairie, Mary (Conrad-Meskill) 1-14-1937
13. I Want Ya to Sing (Leveen-Sinning) 12-3-1937
14. One Hour for Lunch (Pease-Cavanaugh-Simons) 10-15-1936
15. William Tell (Chu Berry-Andy Razaf) 8-21-1936
16. Pennies From Heaven (Burke-Johnston) 12-10-1936
17. Papa Tree Top Tall (Carmichael-Adams) 8-21-1936
18. Sweet Adeline (Harry Armstrong) 11-21-1936
19. You’ve Got Something There (Whiting-Mercer) 10-15-1936
20. Swingin’ the Jinx Away (Cole Porter) 10-15-1936
21. Gee, But You’re Swell (Charles Tobias-Abel Baer) 1-14-1937
22. Hey! Hey! Your Cares Away (Cogan-Riley-Johnson) 11-17-1936
23. You Turned the Tables on Me (Alter-Mitchell) 11-17-1936
24. Keepin’ Out of Mischief Now (Waller-Razaf)
25. He Ain’t Got Rhythm (Irving Berlin) 12-10-1936
26. Alabama Barbecue (Benny Davis) 11-17-1936
27. 25. Through the Courtesy of Love (Scholl-Jerome) 10-15-1936
28. Someone to Care for Me (Kahn-Kasper-Jurmann) 12-10-1936
29. The One Rose (That’s Left in My Heart) (Del Lyon-McIntyre) 12-3-1937

—© 2022 Lynn René Bayley

Follow me on Twitter (@artmusiclounge) or Facebook (as Monique Musique)

Return to homepage OR

Read my book, From Baroque to Bop and Beyond: An extended and detailed guide to the intersection of classical music and jazz

Pago Libre’s First CD Reissued

EXTEMPORA / PATUMI: Attacca. BRENNAN: West 9th Street. One for Bob. Intermezzo. Warsaw for Saw/Eleven-One. Fille Rouge. Cascades. PaniConversations Nos. 1 & 2. LINDVALL: The Story of the Noble Knight. The True Story of the Noble Knight. Milesamkeit. GOODMAN: March of the Little People.* PAGO LIBRE: Big Mama Takes a Shower ⁺ / Pago Libre: Lars Lindvall, tpt/fl-hn/prepared tpt/perc/whistle; Steve Goodman, vln/singing saw/*voice/⁺bass/whistle; John Wolf Brennan, pno/prepared pno/pocket synth/ ⁺vln/xymb; Daniele Patumi, bs/*bodhrán; plus ^#Gabriele Hasler, voc / Leo Records LR 930

This is a real rarity for Leo Records, the intrepid avant-garde jazz label from England: a reissue of an album originally put out by a different label. In this case, it is Pago Libre’s very first CD from 32 years ago (1990), originally released on an Italian label called Splasc(h) Records (CDsII 314-2, see cover and label art below). Perhaps the most interesting thing about this recording is that the only surviving member of the group today is pianist-composer John Wolf Brennan, yet the original musicians’ names contributed to the group name—PAtumi, GOodman, LIndvall, BREnnan—and this has been retained to today despite an entirely different lineup aside from Brennan.

From the very first notes of Attacca, however, we hear strong similarities between the “ancient” and modern versions of the group, starting with the edgy string tremolos that open the piece, followed by lyrical trumpet lines that, for better or worse, have no effect on the onslaught of sound. But it only lasts 1:25 before we jump into the surprisingly lyrical and swinging, albeit bitonal, Brennan piece West 9th Street. If there is ant noticeable difference between Pago Libre then and now, it is that Splasc(h) recorded them with much more reverb around the instruments whereas Leo’s recordings have a more focused acoustic.

And the band is certainly having fun on West 9th Street, mixing American and French swing styles with outré harmonies to produce a fascinating hybrid. Although this piece is over eight minutes long, we don’t get the first extended solo until nearly halfway into it, and that is by Brennan on piano, followed by Goodman (not to be confused with the more famous and, in his own way, equally talented American folk singer of the same name) on violin. But this is indicative of this early version of Pago Libre: they seem to have been much more of an ensemble than a collection of soloists, by which I mean that what the group played was often more interesting than what the soloists could do by themselves. As someone who was initiated into jazz via big band recordings as a child, I surely appreciate this style of jazz much more than the freewheeling solo-oriented style, because to my ears it has more form. Even Brennan’s less dense but more extended solo near the end of the piece feeds into the ensemble.

Lars Lindvall’s little fairy tales The Story of the Noble Knight and the True Story of the Noble Knight are certainly strange, the first a short narration with musical “sound effects” in the background, the second a musical composition with no narration at all. This one evolves into an extended duet between bassist Patumi and pianist Brennan, followed by a lyrical violin solo. Brennan increases both the tempo and tension with gradually faster piano chords, with the trumpet and other instruments eventually falling in.

Indeed, one of the noticeable features of Pago Libre’s first album is that several of the pieces swing, and swing was something that had already disappeared from most modern jazz by 1990. I was, then, quite delighted with the overall impact of the music. There’s even a nice walking bass in One for Bob behind Lindvall’s trumpet solo.

But not everything on this disc works. I found Brennan’s long, convoluted Intermezzo to be a jumbled hodgepodge of ideas that never really coalesce, nice though some of them are (including a nice solo on the bodhrán [frame drum] by Patumi). Cascades also rambles a bit too much, going nowhere in its second half. Sometimes, experimental music, even when primarily tonal as it is here, runs the risk of trying to do too much and not quite achieving its goals. Yet there are clearly some unique moments here, particularly Warsaw for Saw/Eleven-One which is one of those rare impressionistic pieces that holds together, goes somewhere, and is not mawkish, drippy music, which you hear far too often nowadays. Yes, it does ramble a bit in the musical saw solo, but even here it is the overall impression and mood of the music that stays with you. March of the Little People is truly bizarre, a comical piece with an unintelligible, high-pitched vocal about something while the group thumps away in the background. In his own Fille Rouge, Brennan switches to prepared piano to create an almost Harry Partch-like piece..and yet, Patumi’s bass still swings in a funky way.

This CD gives a very good sound picture of where Pago Libre was in 1990 and shows the basis for their later developments. Some pieces, as I said, don’t develop well, but most are swinging, innovative and fascinating. In toto, a really interesting album of diverse pieces in different styles.

—© 2022 Lynn René Bayley

Follow me on Twitter (@artmusiclounge) or Facebook (as Monique Musique)

Return to homepage OR

Read my book, From Baroque to Bop and Beyond: An extended and detailed guide to the intersection of classical music and jazz

Poulenc’s Orchestral Music

POULENC: Sinfonietta. 2 Movements from “Les Mariés de la Tour Eiffel.” L’Eventail de Jeanne: Pastourelle. Les Animales modèles / BBC Concert Orch.; Bramwell Tovey, cond / Chandos CHSA 5260

What a wonderful surprise this CD is! A truly unusual collection of orchestral works by Francis Poulenc, surely one of those rarest of composers who was both musically interesting and, for lay audiences, entertaining at the same time. And, much to my delight and surprise, I had none of them in my collection, so this one is definitely a keeper for me.

We start off with the four-movement Sinfonietta from 1947-48, a piece commissioned by Edward Lockspeiser for the BBC Third Programme which was started in September 1946. First performed as a broadcast conducted by Roger Desdormière (along with Chabrier’s Fête polonaise and Stravinsky’s Firebird and Bizet’s Jeux d’enfants), it didn’t become an instant classic but is certainly meaty enough for an “entertaining” piece to be one. Poulenc used some of the material from an unfinished string quartet, yet worked it over again and again to the point where it was nearly a full year late, for which he asked forgiveness in a typically droll note to the BBC. I am delighted to report that conductor Bramwell Tovey, of whom I had never heard of before, has the full measure of this music, conducting it with an appropriately bright sonority and crisp orchestral attacks. Sometimes Chandos’ proclivity towards too much reverb in their recordings offsets this sort of thing, but here all the instruments are crystal-clear and the texture that Tovey achieves is spot on. (I was very dismayed to read in the booklet that Tovey died in July of this year, thus this is probably his last recording, made in March.) Only the second-movement “Andante” is not very much, going in one ear and out the other.

The two movements from the 1921 ballet Les Mariès de la Tour Eiffel (The Brides of the Eiffel Tower) comes from a rare collaboration by five of the composers of Les Six. (The one holdout was Louis Durey, who was ill at the time.) Poulenc’s initial reaction to the entire ballet save George Auric’s overture was that it was “all shit,” but since he revised these two movements in 1957 he apparently thought them worth salvaging. the music is bustling and energetic; clearly not among his finest orchestral music, but again, very well-written yet entertaining in that way peculiar to him. There are some comical trombone smears in both pieces, which have a sort of carnival atmosphere to them. Considering that this was light music for a very lightweight project, I don’t altogether agree with his assessment of them.

The Fan of Jeanne was another collaborative ballet, written for the director of a children’s ballet school, but this time included such “heavy hitters” as Ferroud (highly regarded, he tragically died young), Ibert, Roussel, Delannoy, and even Ravel. Here the music is again light, since it was written for children, but again superbly crafted with some very interesting harmonics and orchestral textures. The first piece has an almost Russian feel to it.

Les Animaux modèles or Model Animals was entirely his own work, a fantasy ballet based on the fables of La Fontaine. It almost beggars belief that Poulenc wrote this ebullient, charming music during the darkest days of World War II, in fact completing it in 1940, the year the Nazis invaded France. (You see, Gen-Y & Z? When you’re facing adversity, don’t wallow in slow, maudlin, drippy music that “expresses your feelings,” but CHEER THE HELL UP! Remember, swing music picked up young people’s spirits during the worst Depression in American history. They wanted an outlet for fun and to be hopeful, not a corner to go cry in.) If anything, this score is even more colorful and more interesting than the Sinfonietta. Poulenc was clearly at the top of his game when he wrote this.

Well, what can I add to this? This is clearly not deadly serious music, but like so much of Poulenc, its very lightness comes as a balm to the ears. The performances are terrific, the sound is terrific, so I say, go for it!!

—© 2022 Lynn René Bayley

Follow me on Twitter (@Artmusiclounge) or Facebook (as Monique Musique)

Return to homepage OR

Read The Penguin’s Girlfriend’s Guide to Classical Music

Van Zweden Conducts Mahler & Shostakovich

MAHLER: Symphony No. 10: Adagio (orch. Mahler) & Purgatorio (orch. Cornelis Dopper). SHOSTAKOVICH: Symphony No. 10 / Hong Kong Philharmonic Orch.; Jaap van Zweden, cond / Naxos 8.574372

This is one of those recordings which are excellent in performance quality if a bit questionable in its historic value, particularly this first recording of the “Purgatorio” movement of Mahler’s 10th Symphony as realized by Cornelis Dopper.

Amazingly, the liner notes to this release do not specify the score differences between the Dopper orchestration of this movement and the one later made by Deryck Cooke. Even more surprisingly, there is no detailed description of why only these two movements were performed by conductor Willem Mengelberg with his Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam.

So for the benefit of my readers, here is (pretty much) the whole story in a nutshell.

The main reason why there was no completed Mahler Tenth before 1965 is entirely due to the machinations of the “Malevolent Muse,” a.k.a. “Queen Bitch,” Alma Mahler Gropius Werfel. Following the composer’s death in 1911, she had the score of the 10th framed in glass and placed on her mantelpiece, almost like a religious icon, for musicians to view but not touch or be allowed to read through. Then, in 1923, she relented to a point, sending a copy to Mengelberg along with a note that these two parts of the symphony were “absolutely performable.” A few months later, in 1924, Ernst Krenek was allowed to make a fair copy of these two movements as well. Krenek may have made a copy of the second movement, but realized that it was much patchier and would require some work to complete it properly. Krenek then showed these movements to two conductors who were being considered for a first performance (other than Mengelberg), Franz Schalk and Alexander Zemlinsky, both of whom made unauthorized changes to the score. (Are you following this? If so, I’m glad…at this point, I’m a bit baffled myself.) According to Wikipedia—and this is really interesting—what Alma sent Mengelberg is said to have been not the original score but Schalk’s “unauthorized” version, which Mengelberg then handed over to Cornelis Dopper to tidy up for performance. So that is what we get here.

But of course, the bottom line is, how good are the performances? Of the Mahler 10th, quite good. Van Zweden is a very serious and conscientious conductor who does his homework and tries to understand the proper style of everything he performs. He is not, however, a conductor who plays around with tempi, which is something Mahler himself often did with his own symphonies, thus this reading of the “Adagio,” while quite heartfelt, is a more straightforward reading, much like Eugene Ormandy’s first recording of the original Cooke edition of the complete symphony in 1966. Like Ormandy, van Zweden does understand the Mahlerian tendency towards using portamento, a feature of classical music performance which has now gone the way of the dinosaur. And WOW is this Hong Kong Orchestra fantastic! (In case you’ve not noticed, some of the greatest orchestras in the world are now Asian ones, from Japan, Hong Kong, South Korea and even China. They can outplay the modern Berlin and Vienna Philharmonics both in terms of technique and feeling for the music.)

As for the “Purgatorio,” I think I hear a few little differences between this and the Cooke versions, but to be honest, when I listen to this symphony I’m basically listening for Mahler’s musical conception. This orchestration sounds good to me; it’s effective in conveying the strangeness of the music, and van Zweden does a good job with it. Thus I can’t really tell you that this is a necessary recording to have unless you’re a musicologist and want to examine the Dopper version in comparison to all the others that have emerged since Cooke I.

Van Zweden’s performance of the Shostakovich 10th is also quite good, and interestingly enough, he infuses some Mahlerian feeling in terms of legato and darkness of feeling in the lower strings into his performance, but I’ve yet to hear a Shostakovich 10th as powerful and deeply felt as the little-known recording by Václav Smetáček with the Prague Symphony Orchestra, a recording so good that it literally wipes out everyone else’s version. If you can’t find the Smetáček, however, van Zweden will surely do. I find that he has more drive in it than the famous Herbert von Karajan recording with the Berlin Philharmonic, in part because of Karajan’s overriding focus on creating a “cathedral of sound” with his orchestra whereas Shostakovich preferred leaner, more “Russian” textures, which Van Zweden tires to provide. (Note, in particular, the very fine woodwind blends near the middle of the first movement…the instruments have more “bite” to them than in the Karajan recording.) The second movement is particularly excellent, almost as great in intensity as the Smetáček recording. And again, listen to this orchestra. I tell you, they’re near the top in the entire world.

So that’s my take on this recording. A very good performance of the two Mahler movements and a near-great reading of the Shostakovich.

—© 2022 Lynn René Bayley

Follow me on Twitter (@Artmusiclounge) or Facebook (as Monique Musique)

Return to homepage OR

Read The Penguin’s Girlfriend’s Guide to Classical Music