Claudio Santoro: Symphonies Nos. 4 and 6; Choro Concertante for Saxophone; Fantasia for Violin. Pedro Bittencourt, saxophone; Emmanuele Baldini, violinist; Neil Thomson, conductor; Goiânia Symphony Choir; Goiás Philharmonic Orchestra. Naxos 8.574572.
Brazilian composer Claudio Santoro (1919-1989) was certainly prolific, with an extensive output that includes 14 symphonies and numerous other instrumental works. I love catalogues like these! They make me want to jump in and start exploring. I've discovered so many unlikely favorites this way. But I've also trudged through extensive stretches of "meh" (or worse) between finding those better things. If I'm honest, Claudio Santoro's music contains a whole lot of meh. And while this meh isn't the meh-iest meh I've ever encountered, I haven't yet heard a work of his that rises above unremarkable pleasantness.
Naxos's description calls the Fourth Symphony (1953-1954) "one of his most accessible and influential works." Dedicated to 'the Soviet composers,' it certainly comes across as a gesture of goodwill, sporting an amiable festiveness that reminds me of Copland's populist masterpieces. The problem is that Santoro had nothing like Copland's melodic gift. This is noticeable straightaway in the first movement, where soft harmonies, driving rhythms, and deft orchestration form the backdrop for entirely unmemorable themes. You can tell when a composer wants to write a winning tune but can't; he/she will often start with a short motive and expand it fortspinnung-style into a much longer (usually angular) sequence. But this can't possibly stand in for a lack of melodic intuition, and so the ear (or my ear) settled on those other elements after a while. Unfortunately, this was already starting to get boring by the end of a relatively short opening movement. The second movement is better, with some really lovely moments of lush expansiveness. This more effectively covers for a lingering melodic deficiency. The finale is punchy and lively, with the choir briefly coming in at the end (right when the mind is again in danger of wandering) and crying out for peace. But even moments such as these proved ephemeral, as I could later recall little beyond modest impressions.
Like his older, more talented contemporary Igor Stravinsky, Santoro is at his best where melody matters less. This invariably amounts to places that invoke dance. Which means that the scherzo of the Sixth Symphony (1957-1958) is easily the most engaging portion of that work. True, the brief motives used with infectious ostinato rhythms would be ordinary by themselves. But they do work well in this setting, more convincingly unburdened by their surroundings here than elsewhere. (If any music by Santoro is a candidate for transcending meh, it's his dance suites. I particularly enjoy those for piano.)
I have little to say about the concertante and fantasia works. They don't carry the same expectations that the symphonies do, but they're similarly enjoyable on a surface level without being more. The performers deserve high praise, though. Bittencourt and Baldini do wonderful work with middling material. Neil Thomson leads orchestral musicians and choristers who perform with fetching sharpness. This music at least deserves to be recorded, and I'm glad these folks were the ones to do so here.
Verdict: Mildly Recommended
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