Recording Review #36: Viscous VW

Vaughan Williams: The Complete String Quartets. Verdi Quartet. CPO 555 345-2. 

Ralph Vaughan Williams began the earliest of these string quartets in 1897 while he was studying with Max Bruch in Berlin. Only the year before had he completed a second matriculation at the Royal College of Music in London. At that time, none of his works were published, nor would they be until 1902 when a single strophic art song (Linden Sea) became the first. This C Minor Quartet would only be heard in concert in 1904 and then basically abandoned for a century, its recording on Hyperion CDA67381/2 comprising part of a recent but modest revival. In other words, this is very early stuff by a consensus late bloomer. And it sounds like it. The Verdi Quartet's warm, sympathetic reading does little to hide the music's shaky formal grip, and a mild flavor bordering on blandness. 

But the C Minor String Quartet does prompt a kind of reflection. It is exactly the type of thing many composers never got past writing. (These would be mainly the second- or third-tier composers whose works the CPO label has made a reputation recording.) We know that Vaughan Williams soon moved past this stage. (And for that matter so did Sibelius, whose early, similarly middling chamber works provide a striking parallel.) In Vaughan Williams's case it wasn't just a situation of latent talent slowly manifesting itself. There was also a conscious realization to which he was coming: the path to full self-discovery lay with his immersion in English folk and church music. Elements of these would help in forging a mature compositional voice at once distinctive and hard-won. 

The first numbered and published String Quartet (the G Minor of 1908) marks the true beginning of Vaughan Williams's professional life as a composer, his final apprenticeship (under Maurice Ravel) only lately completed. While it doesn't yet usher in a full maturity (it was revised in 1921), the distance it shows from the C Minor Quartet of a decade earlier is vast. Here we really start to encounter elements of his trademark "Englishness," with strong modal inflections, folk rhythms, and other clear assimilations of traditional music. The themes are much stronger and more memorable, and the harmonies start to assume the pastel colors that would be so pronounced later on. The problem with the Verdi Quartet's approach here is that they bring excessive precipitousness and heaviness to the work. This is one of the earliest large-scale compositions by RVW in which he encounter his famous "visionary" quality; it scarcely comes off in the Verdis' performance. 

The Second String Quartet in A Minor bears the ridiculous subtitle "For Jean on her Birthday." (Jean Stewart was a violist who was part of the Menges Quartet, which Vaughan Williams had in mind when he composed this work.) It is of a spikier aesthetic than his early-period efforts, and dates from much later – during World War II. The Verdi Quartet does better here, though I'm still missing a certain suppleness that superior performances exude. There is also an odd, hollow sort of sound quality at times...almost like a kind of reverb. Finally, both here and in the G Minor Quartet these string players occasionally like to accentuate subordinate lines at the expense of more important melodies. 

As someone who has spent a lot of time researching and writing about Vaughan Williams, I always want to be happy when new recordings of his music get released. But it is difficult to see this particular issue as something more than a missed opportunity. For the mature numbered quartets, I recommend the excellent alternative provided by the Maggini Quartet on Naxos 8.555300.

Collectors Only

Recording Review #31: Lovable Lortzing

 

Albert Lortzing: Overtures, etc. Marc Gruber (hornist); Philipp Baader (trumpet player); Ernst Theis (conductor); WDR Funkhausorchester. CPO 555 626-2. 

It's easy to feel pity for Albert Lortzing (1801-1851). He was happily married and had 11 children, but 6 of them died in infancy. He scored some career successes, but his path was a long and winding one full of struggle and, ultimately, financial hardship. He died of a stroke in abject circumstances, not quite reaching 50 years of age. John Warrack's Grove Music article on him suggests that his full potential was unrealized before he passed. All of this would be sadder still if Lortzing had not nonetheless managed to establish a modest yet enduring place in music history as a composer of comic operas. These are still celebrated and performed in his native Germany. While few will mistake him for one of the more imposing figures of 19th-century music, his legacy seems solid all things considered. 

To be honest, I have never heard a Lortzing opera. As far as I am aware, this recording is my first exposure to his music at all. But despite these limitations, or maybe because of them, I had a good time listening. The works offered here are largely what you might expect (and what I expected): agreeable to the ear and nothing too earth-shattering. The two concert pieces, for horn/orchestra and trumpet/orchestra respectively, are pleasant and unassuming; they're exactly the kind of thing I grew up listening to on my local classical music radio station in the 1990s. (That's why I wrote "as far as I am aware" just now – it's highly likely I've heard these two pieces before and simply don't recall having done so.) 

The included opera overtures are mostly more of the same. Mostly. Because occasionally I did sit up and take greater notice. I can give two examples. The Overture to Die beiden Schützen is a little gem, home to gorgeous melodies and dramatic zest. The opera it belongs to was apparently one of Lortzing's first true successes. I'd now love to see a performance. The Overture to Hans Sachs is over twice as long as that to Die beiden Schützen. While not quite as gripping, it is home to some arresting lyrical themes...so much so that I kept listening to them on repeat. What absolutely lovely melody! Conservative in style, but quite memorable all the same. Again, I wonder very much about the operatic context, and in this case all the more so because of its eponymous character from my favorite Wagner opera. 

Once again has CPO rewarded my forays into lesser-known repertoire. The performances by Ernst Theis, the WDR Funkhausorchester, and Company are adroit at bringing out the charm and beauty of this music. I can now add Albert Lortzing to my lengthy (and growing) list of composers to explore further. So much music, so little time. 

Warmly Recommended

Recording Review #25: Respectable Reinecke

Reinecke: Symphony No. 2 ("Håkon Jarl"); Overtures. Henry Raudales, conductor; Münchner Rundfunkorchester. CPO 555 115-2.

For this review we stay with the same label as last time, and similarly cover music by a composer very much in orbit of greater figures. But Carl Reinecke doesn't have the excuse of limited opportunity like Augusta Holmès does. And so it's perhaps fairer to be more let down by his usual lack of inspiration, despite all of the excellent craftsmanship on display. Listening to this symphony and these overtures wasn't exactly a chore, but I doubt I'll be doing it on a regular basis. They're 'respectable' in both the best and worst senses of the word.

I'll be right up front: this was the first time I've heard the symphony. And I didn't bother to listen to other recordings of it to compare them. Why? Because one careful listen to this one is quite enough, thank you very much. Actually, the first movement was promising. A definite atmosphere sets in right away, with a main theme that is almost memorable. But one of Reinecke's biggest problems is that his themes can begin well only to conclude in unimaginative finishes. (This is the complete opposite of a melodist like Schubert, whose themes end up in places better than anything you could invent.) Whatever. The opening movement is mildly engaging and moody, reasonably befitting a symphony about a Norse pagan king. But after that, ughhhhh: three movements of almost complete dullness. They're performed with conviction by Henry Raudales and the Munich Radio Symphony, but honestly I was just waiting for them to be over so that I could do something more interesting. (By the way, Bedřich Smetana's Op. 16 tone poem on the same subject is dull until its transfixingly beautiful conclusion. Sadly, Reinecke didn't have this higher gear to kick his symphony into.)

Most of what's in the overtures is also bland. The Op. 166 Jubilee Overture is elegant and well crafted, with some nifty stretches of counterpoint. But it's way too indebted to Mendelssohn to register as much else. The liner notes to this recording say that the Dame Kobold Overture (Op. 51) is "quite memorable." That's a stretch. Apparently well received in its day, its absence from the concert hall these days is unlikely to change. The ballet-like Op. 161/5 dance is good...short enough not to strain its modest materials. 

The Zenobia and Prologus Solemnis Overtures both attempt passion. And while they don't fully attain it, they come close enough for this listener to find the music engaging while it lasts. I'll go ahead and call the latter my favorite composition of the recording apart from the symphony's opening movement. Here there is more slick counterpoint and a fun rousing quality. I wouldn't mind hearing it live. 

As I said in Recording Review #24, it's important that labels and musicians record this repertoire. It's all worth listening to and learning about. While these particular works probably won't excite you overmuch, your fondness for them might nonetheless surpass mine. I hope it does. 

Recommended

Recording Review #24: Humdrum Holmès

Augusta Holmès: Symphonic Poems. Michael Francis, conductor; Staatsphilharmonie Rheinland-Pfalz. CPO 555 5932. 

I'm going to begin by praising the CPO label and its musicians. Rather than simply cranking out umpteen, mostly unneeded recordings of canon repertoire performances, they do the gritty work of promoting obscure/forgotten fare that we probably wouldn't otherwise hear. This is important if you're a fan of classical music, not only due to the outside possibility of embracing new favorites, but also because it allows us to see the historical landscape in better relief. You don't really understand why canon composers are canon composers until you've heard a whole host of lesser figures imitate them in their own music. At the same time, you don't really appreciate the neglected masterpieces one occasionally encounters until you've waded through truckloads of perfectly respectable but unremarkable compositions. Labels like CPO, Naxos, Chandos, Hyperion, and others give us this chance. And they're to be warmly commended for it. 

So what are the odds that you're going to take one or more symphonic poems by Augusta Holmès to your bosom, or even remember them 10 minutes after you've finished listening? Unless you're one of the Politics People™ (more on this in a bit), the answer is a firm "not favorable." Look, these are nice pieces, well scored and soundly constructed. But there is not a distinctive measure across them. They're squarely Imitation Wagner. By the time you've made it through the three-movement Roland Furieux, you've practically exhausted Holmès's toolkit of stock phrases and mannerisms. Such is the experience from there on out. If that weren't enough, more-specific-sounding "borrowings" may suffice: the Tannhäuser knock-off to start Pologne, the Das Rheingold Rhine River motives occasionally heard in Roland, and the fanfare to conclude Irlande that is ripped straight from the conclusion to Tristan und Isolde's first act, to take a few examples. Actually Irlande is probably the best of these works, if only because Holmès's quotation of the traditional Irish tune "Let Erin Remember" provides stronger flavor than do any of her own materials. 

If the above sounds unduly negative, I must emphasize I'm glad to have had the opportunity to listen to this music. It deserves to be performed, heard, and discussed. At least occasionally. BUT, it doesn't deserve these things more than do overtures/symphonic poems by Draeseke, d'Indy, Macfarren, or MacDowell, for example. Yet it likely will receive more such exposure, and I think we all know why. While I condole over the difficulties that individuals from under-represented groups faced in the past, I don't fancy the drawbacks of some well-meaning efforts to hear their music and tell their stories. I can agree that the circumstances of Augusta Holmès's life make her a sympathetic figure. But that's a musically neutral consideration. When I listen to a piece of music, I am not listening to biography or life circumstances. It's too bad that the genders/life circumstances of figures like Balakirev and Bax mitigate against their more distinguished (yet almost equally neglected) symphonic poems ever earning the favor of Holmès's modest ones. Yet much of the favor will be synthetic in her case, and in this sense we prolong the dishonor that she and others were forced endure while they lived. 

Mildly Recommended