Recording Review #28: Glowing Glass

Glass: Études for Piano (selection). Feico Deutekom, pianist. Orange Mountain Music OMM 1067. 

I'm going to start by opining a bit freely. Having spent more time on Twitter (X) than I would care to admit, I've come away with some conclusions about the classical community there and at large. One of them is this: Philip Glass is a composer you can trash without paying much social consequence. I'm reminded of the scene in the film The Departed, where mobster Mr. French (played by Ray Winstone) pulls aside the new Costello gang recruit, undercover agent Billy Costigan (played by Leonardo DiCaprio), and advises him on who he can physically assault with impunity: "Now, that's not quite a guy you can't hit, but it's almost a guy you can't hit." You see, especially among the critical class Philip Glass is a metaphorical "guy you can hit," as opposed to guys you can't hit...like Beethoven and Schoenberg. (The latter's veneration among the academically trained is almost Deity-Level. This contrasts sharply with frequent distaste for his atonal music among everyone else.) 

What does Glass do that's so wrong? Plainly put, he courts popularity with abandon. He writes post-minimalist works that, while often subtly complex, feature stark repetition, catchy tunes, and infectious rhythms derived from rock and non-Western musics. His harmonies, while not always "simple," are usually soft on the ears, and his forms are loose by integrationist standards. His detractors say things like, "it's always just a bunch of bare, arpeggiated chords repeated over and over for 5 minutes!" This is a very difficult thing to overcome for many of the Geeks I'm talking about. They've had it instilled in them from early on that Good Music reflects little else besides desired technique and form...often the more recondite the better. In their minds, prioritizing direct emotional communication is for intellectual Plebeians. You see it all the time in academic scholarship that seeks to rescue or defend early-20th-century "tonal" composers from longstanding charges that they aren't "modern" or "symphonic" enough. It's not the accessible beauty of their music that really counts; it's all of the architecture and daring that we didn't properly notice before (maybe because it's not actually there!). For them, the best music exists to be analyzed and supported with Egghead credentials. Little else matters. When a composition simply won't cooperate with this agenda, they let you know. Thus can Lionel Pike trash the glorious secondary theme in the finale of Sibelius's First Symphony because it doesn't fit his analytical priors: "The slow second subject is no more than a good tune—it contributes nothing of any value to the argument and thus forms a gigantic 'symphonic pause': the listener merely immerses himself in the gorgeous sounds, since the argument in no way compels attention." (Quoted from Beethoven, Sibelius and 'the Profound Logic': Studies in Symphonic Analysis, The Athlone Press, 1978, pg. 178.) 

"Merely." Smh...

Somebody who can't enjoy a great melody for what it is won't find much to admire in Glass's music. I don't have a formula for why so many of his piano études are the moving and memorable pieces that they are (some of them will NOT leave your head!). But they are. Likewise, if I claim that my prediction for their firm place in posterity is more than a gut feeling, I'd mostly be lying. But that's my prediction, and I think these pieces (and other pieces by Glass) will endure better than much that critics presently love. In short, there's an IT Factor here, call it "spark," that Glass has in boats-full, and this is worth far more than most of the things The Expert Class tends to think are important.  

Maybe we're already seeing this play out. According to the composer's website, the études in his two books (20 pieces in total) were composed from 1994 to 2012. Already there are quite a few recordings of the complete set, with numerous compilation releases containing selections. (A search for "Glass etudes" on prestomusic.com pulls up over 40 results.) Just from hearsay, these études appear to crop up frequently on piano recitals. In other words, it kinda seems like they've already "caught on." 

At least the more popular ones have. And that's what Dutch pianist Feico Deutekom offers on his new release: an assortment of 14 études, including several of the most performed. Many are from a larger, earlier group dating from 1994. The recording's press release makes much out of the fact that they're presented "out of order" – they go 2, 12, 17, 16, 4, etc. etc. I guess I'm indifferent to this "feature" and don't care so much in which sequence I hear them. I'm far more interested in the performances themselves. And for the most part, I think they're superb! Deutekom plays with a softer, richer tone compared to other pianists in this repertoire. But occasionally a loss of energy results. The most regrettable such victim is the famous 6th étude, which comes off here with too little drive for my taste. (Recently, I criticized Yuja Wang for playing this with too much energy. I guess there needs to be a happy medium.) On the other hand, Deutekom does bring the right amount of flair to Nos. 9 and 3, the latter of which is a standout point in the recording. In many of the slower numbers, he's simply wonderful. I don't think I've heard better Nos. 2, 5, 12, or 16. 

When I listen to Glass's piano études, I hear the spiritual pulse of our epoch. I perceive feelings that are restless, anxious, exhausted, reflective, exuberant, lonely, crowded, bouyant, and a lot else I can't properly put into words. I used to be one of the Philip Glass mockers discussed here at the outset. But as my attitude toward music history – and what is musically great, poor, and everything in between – gradually evolved to what it is today, I gave myself permission to enjoy his works for what they are. I came to realize that the exact mixture/criteria of what makes a piece really effective is, in the end, elusive. When I lowered my pretensions, Glass's genius came into better view. I yielded to the spell of his art, and my life is the richer for it. 

Enthusiastically Recommended

Recording Review #27: Boilerplate Broughton

 

Bruce Broughton: And on the Sixth Day; String Theory. Olivier Stankiewicz, oboist; Jonathan Bloxham, conductor; London Symphony Orchestra. Naxos 8.559958. 

First, I remain a bit confused about the particulars of this release. There seem to be two similar recordings: this one (containing And on the Sixth Day and String Theory) and Naxos 8.559950 (which adds Broughton's Horn Concerto). I have access to both Spotify and Naxos Music Library, and I did not see No. 8.559950 on either of those streaming platforms. I'm guessing it's currently available only via hard copy? Very well, then I'd have to wait to review the Horn Concerto until I get my hands on that, or until it finally ends up available via streaming at some later date. Honestly, though, I think I've heard enough with just these two works. 

That sounds ominous, doesn't it? I'm sorry. I'm not so much "down" on this music, which is quite nice. It's just a matter of managing expectations. Bruce Broughton is widely known for his film, television, and game work, and particularly for his dramatic underscoring. That gives you a clue as to what these two pieces are like. They show a composer with tons of orchestration facility, ample formal polish, a sharp ear, and a penchant for writing great atmosphere/mood music. What they do not show is someone with a particularly strong compositional personality, nor even someone with the ability to compose winning tunes à la John Williams. But again, is this a fair expectation? Maybe not. Still, the issue is worth mentioning right away. 

And on the Sixth Day is actually an oboe concerto in three movements, which are entitled "Prologue: In the Beginning," "Evening," and "Morning." The first of these starts off with a kind of "soft dissonance" style featuring angular melodies. Bits of consonant warmth break in here and there. It's all pretty agreeable stuff, and very well put together...but not very memorable. The "Evening" movement strikes me as more TV-like, with increased consonance and sweeping but derivative melodic material. I kept thinking that this music would be more effective accompanying visual imagery, but it's nice enough on its own. The finale starts out as a kind of tarantella; Broughton likes his triplets. While the second movement sounds like it could accompany some visual landscape, much of its successor recalls action sequences. The work owes much to Copland, and perhaps a little to Vaughan Williams and Grainger. 

String Theory is a set of variations on a typically winding theme, with the Copland debt strongly felt right off the bat. If you like the stock aesthetic of 'Americana classical music,' you'll like this. The variations are all skillfully written (one is fugal), but it doesn't take long to realize that Broughton has a limited stylistic range. And it doesn't take him all that long to burn through it. Again I was forced to consider how effective his music would be in the short bursts that motion-picture media demands of him. But in extended compositions, I had the feeling of having heard it all multiple times in the course of 1-2 works.  

It's all perfectly fine stuff. But you can tell Broughton's bread-and-butter is writing "partial attention" music fit for viewing accompaniment. There are few (if any) signature turns of phrase. There are no moments that make you sit up and marvel. But...not every composer can be a John Williams or an Aaron Copland (specifically the populist Aaron Copland we all love). Most of the rest of us have more modest talents, including those which are well suited to writing background music. And that's perfectly fine. 

Recommended

Recording Review #26: Making the Möst of Prokofiev

 

Prokofiev: Symphony No. 6 in E-Flat Minor, Op. 111. Franz Welser-Möst, conductor; The Cleveland Orchestra. 

Prokofiev's incredible Sixth Symphony is often held up to be a dark work...a somber reflection on the recently-concluded World War II. The composer himself basically agreed when he indicated that it memorializes the conflict's victims. While I don't mean to suggest that isn't a worthy intention on its own (it surely is!), I have always thought there is much more to this symphony. The whole thing strikes me as a kind of dark-hued dreamscape, a magnificent cross-section of Prokofiev's staggering imagination. There is much doleful rumination here, yes, but also nooks, crannies, and even vistas full of bright wonder. Prokofiev's inimitable humor even makes some appearances. It is a work that remains just a bit mysterious, even when you think you know what it's all about. Accordingly, Prokofiev 6 offers an inept or disinterested conductor plenty of room to stumble. But thankfully that's not what happens here. Franz Welser-Möst and The Cleveland Orchestra give a performance that is always good and möstly wonderful. 

This isn't one of the most consistently spirited performances of Prokofiev 6. We hear straightaway that Welser-Möst (henceforth FWM) favors a softer approach than some of his competition. There are fewer sharp edges in the opening movement compared to the performance by Neeme Järvi and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra on Chandos (CHAN 8359), my own preferred account. FWM is even more subdued than Petrenko and the Oslo Philharmonic in their recent release (Lawo Classics LWC1215). The loud parts are suitably loud, but the heart of this interpretation seems to be elsewhere. And I think I'm okay with that. I get the argument for more passion here, but I find I don't mind FWM's relative introversion. 

In the second movement, FWM and The Cleveland Orchestra are among the more expansive in the catalogue. Once more, I'm with them. This is the most emotionally complex juncture of an emotionally complex symphony. It rewards a conductor who is able to elicit from his/her players a smorgasbord of delicate hues, in addition to the necessary percussive and climactic muscle. I'm going to call this my new favorite performance of the second movement. FWM works a special magic in it that does justice to conflicting, complex character states. Even if the other two movements sucked, which they certainly don't, this recording would be eminently worthwhile for the middle stretch. 

FWM and Co. really lay their cards on the table in the finale, somewhat dubiously. For the first time, I find myself kind of wanting something other than what they're offering. I think the quicker, "oom-pah" portions which dominate the section should be a little more raucous. Okay, maybe not GERGIEV-level raucous (Philips 475 7655), but the finale is inherently exhilarating (sometimes darkly so) and needs an edge. FWM leads an effort here in which a certain tameness seems to catch up to him. It's not bad at all, just maybe lacking a bit of kick. 

On balance, this is an excellent outing. If the ways in which it is superlative are somewhat offset by a merely "good" finale, it still belongs with the overall best options. One other drawback, though, is the exclusive download/streaming medium. This is a baleful industry trend that I would like to see reversed, but probably won't. Maybe some time I'll go into my thoughts about all of this with a dedicated blog post. But not here. Right now I urge you to have a listen to this new Prokofiev 6 and see what you think of it. 

Highly 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

Recording Review #23: Good Grieg

 

Grieg: Holberg Suite; Ballade; Lyric Pieces (selections). Andrey Gugnin, piano. Hyperion CDA68424. 

Assessments of Norwegian composer Edvard Grieg (1843-1907) usually go something like this, complete with wagging jowls: "[HARUMPH!] Grieg had not that rarefied genius to place him on Mount Olympus with fellow Romantic composers Wagner and Brahms, but in his own small way he was a notable 19th-century composer." 

👎👎👎👎

Poppycock. It's the kind of blinkered thinking that comes from critics and academics for whom radical innovation and large-scale form are everything. In terms of melody, atmosphere, and unmistakable stamp of personality, Grieg was one of the very best. Of course, these things have counted less with "experts" burdened by eccentric priorities. But as David Hurwitz has shrewdly said, "musicology doesn't know what to do with a good tune." Indeed. 

But practically everyone else does, and that's why Grieg's music still gets lots of love and exposure more than a century on from his death. It's also why there is no shortage of recordings to choose from, including those of his solo piano music. Andrey Gugnin, then, faces formidable competition from a host of fine options available to listeners. All the more so because he has picked some of the most popular works to perform: the Holberg Suite, and the Opp. 43 and 62 sets of Lyric Pieces. 

So how does he fare? For the most part very well. Gugnin feels this music in all the right ways. His tempi are perfect, and his dynamics are extremely well executed throughout. Particularly gorgeous are the "Air" from the Holberg Suite (the very soul of that work) and "To Spring" from the Op. 43 miniatures. For some reason, too many pianists ruin the latter with too much speed and/or passion. But Gugnin treats it tenderly, like the flower it is. Exquisite stuff!

I won't lie, the Ballade has never been my favorite work by Grieg. Compared to these other pieces, I think the inspiration flags just a tad here. But Gugnin is every bit up to giving it a sympathetic reading. What helps is that he brings a kaleidoscope of tone colors to the task, which we hear straightaway in the theme, never mind a whole range of little shadings to follow in the variations. 

Here is a release that holds its own in distinguished company: Andsnes, Gilels, Gavrilov, etc. And while Gugnin VEEEEERY occasionally lacks their "pop," it's not enough to keep this release from being a firm buy for the Grieg fan and beyond. 

Highly Recommended

New Review at Classical Candor

My review of Paavo Järvi's Mendelssohn symphony cycle with the Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich on the Alpha Classics label can be read here.