Hindemith Conducts Hindemith:
The Complete Recordings on Deutsche Grammophon

Conductor: Paul Hindemith

Orchestra: Berlin Philharmonic

Performers: Monique Haas, Hans Otte (Piano), Hans Gieseler (Violin)

Years of recordings: 1954-1957

Label: Deutsche Grammophon

SPARS Code: AAD, ADD

About the Composer: A dedicated musical theorist and staunch critic of Atonalism, German composer Paul Hindemith (1895-1963) produced a large number of chamber music pieces, operas, and orchestral works.

About the Music: One of the smaller instalments in Deutsche Grammophon’s Original Masters series, this 3-disc set thoroughly showcases Hindemith’s capabilities as a conductor of his most recognized works. The Mathis der Maler Symphony and the Symphonic Metamorphosis after Themes by Carl Maria Von Weber, his two most accolade-laden achievements, are presented here along with five other lesser-known compositions.

Concerto for Orchestra - Clocking in at roughly twelve minutes, this short yet ambitious piece isn’t the most euphonous work I’ve heard, but it’s still quite interesting and provides the listener with a feel for Hindemith’s general approach to composition. Though there are some brief eloquent moments, the concerto is rather dissonant and will likely irk those accustomed to the serene Romantic form.

Konzertmusik op. 49 for Piano, Brass, and Harps - One of the most entertaining offerings in the trio of discs. Hindemith enlists the talents of pianist Monique Haas for the performance of this delightfully reserved and often unsettling work. I found the music to be surprisingly straightforward for a Hindemith piece, and the collaboration between Haas and the harpists in a number of the passages is quite compelling.

Mathis der Maler Symphony - This symphonic adaptation of Hindemith’s similarly titled opera depicting the life of painter Matthias Grünewald is regarded as the composer’s magnum opus, so it’s nice that we can bear witness to Hindemith’s interpretation. When you hear the extravagant opening fanfare that opens the first movement, you’ll feel sorry that Hindemith didn’t have access to the sound equipment of our time. But even the technological limitations of the day can’t prevent the composer from conveying the intense nature of this piece. I can’t induct the Mathis der Maler Symphony into my list of favourite orchestral works, but I do consider it to be one of Hindemith’s most appealing efforts.

Symphonic Dances - Far more focused and exciting than the Concerto for Orchestra, the Symphonic Dances illustrates Hindemith’s jubilant side. All four segments are of interest, but I was especially taken by the quiet meandering of the third dance. As with the Konzertmusik, Hindemith is very skillful at crafting low-key, inquisitive passages here.

Theme and Variations “The Four Temperaments” for Piano and Strings - It’s another musical experiment courtesy of Herr Hindemith, and one with which I’m not very enthralled. I don’t dislike variations, but I’ve found that if I’m not particularly fond of the main piece of music being reiterated, I probably won’t have much interest in the variations either. Unfortunately, this is the case for me with this work.

Symphonic Metamorphosis after Themes by Carl Maria Von Weber - Hindemith remorselessly steals masterfully adapts various music from Weber’s repertoire to create this jewel. After hearing Hindemith’s other material, you might accidentally assume that the flowery pieces here were crafted by a different composer. Most listeners will gravitate to this work rather quickly after their initial exposure.

Ballet Overture “Amor und Psyche” - Although it bears the standard Hindemith trademarks, this work doesn’t really carve for itself a unique place in the composer’s legacy.

Die Harmonie der Welt Symphony - I struggled in vain to appreciate the quiet nuances of this second symphony based on another of Hindemith’s operas, but I simply couldn’t be moved. As for the sweeping fanfares prevalent in the final movement, I must hesitatingly admit that I found them to be only slightly more profound than the sweeping noises occasionally made by the Oskar broom residing in the laundry room downstairs.

The final track consists of an interview in which Hindemith fields questions about his recording of the Mathis der Maler Symphony. Since I’m about as fluent in German as Mr. Bean is in French, I can’t decipher and comment on the composer’s remarks. A translated transcript of the interview would have been a welcome addition to the liner notes that chronicle the relationship between Hindemith and the recording experts at Deutsche Grammophon.

Hindemith’s music seems to be an acquired taste, and after reviewing this compilation in greater detail, I can understand why he hasn’t garnered the popularity of many other 20th-Century composers. There are many interesting concepts at work in his pieces, however, and if you can get your hands on this set, you’ll receive a comprehensive introduction.

Howard Hanson Conducts Bloch

Conductor: Howard Hanson

Orchestra: Eastman-Rochester Orchestra

Performer: Georges Miquelle (Cello)

Years of recordings: 1959, 1960

Label: Mercury Living Presence

SPARS Code: ADD

About the Composer: Born in Switzerland, Ernest Bloch (1880-1959) was a Jewish composer who wrote several orchestral works, many of which derive inspiration from Hebraic literature. After touring extensively to showcase his pieces throughout Europe, Bloch immigrated to the United States in 1938 to escape the Holocaust and resided in Oregon until his death.

About the Music: Bloch’s compositional endeavours haven’t garnered the same level of critical acclaim as those by many other early 20th Century notesmiths, but that certainly shouldn’t prevent the inquisitive from investing some time into listening to his distinctive works. The recordings in this collection, conducted by appreciative American composer Howard Hanson, provide us with a colourful overview of Bloch’s style. Bloch’s two concerti grossi (written in 1925 and 1952, respectively) are featured here, along with Schelomo (1916), his most popular orchestral triumph.

Concerto Grosso No. 1 - The prelude of this concerto, written for string orchestra with piano obbligato, begins with some rather stern-sounding flourishes; your reaction will likely vary, but for me, it evoked images of a surly headmaster wielding a well-worn cane above his head in front of a class of fledgling boarding school boys. The second movement is a very mournful dirge, and the various strings seem to be keeping their heads down and trying to console themselves. It is here that the piano makes a very strong contribution acting as the assistant pallbearer, carrying some very frigid notes into the musical procession. However, it’s not long before the gloom subsides and is replaced by a more vivacious tone. The fourth movement features lighter accompaniment from the piano; the strings are not as strict as they were at the beginning of the concerto, but they withhold most of their optimism until the very end.

Concerto Grosso No. 2 - I didn’t find Bloch’s return to the concerto grosso form to be as interesting as his first foray. The piano, which really complimented the strings in the first concerto, is noticeably absent here. The concerto’s first two movements are relatively relaxed and contemplative; the third is quite shrill, and it failed to hold my interest. Unfortunately, the finale wasn’t very memorable either.

Schelomo - An orchestral representation of Ecclesiastes, Bloch harnesses the expressive powers of a lone cello to serve as the voice of the beleaguered King Solomon. The strings which gingerly initiate the piece immediately conjure a portrait of futility and despair, one that is further detailed by the prominent cello and the host of woodwinds and brass. Most of the piece consists of several quiet, elaborate passages punctuated by striking fanfares from the orchestra. The tambourine is effectively used during the first of these many fanfares, and it almost seems to resemble the sound of fetters, a fascinating effect considering the subject matter of this work. After witnessing the intensity of Schelomo, you may mistakenly think that blowing sand from Old Testament Israel has flown into your face!

This compilation of Bloch works is not one of the most prized discs in my library, but it is certainly well worth your time if you have a strong appreciation for string music and wish to become acquainted with the efforts of a gifted composer!

I find children’s language acquisition to be absorbingly fascinating. I have no reason to believe my elder daughter is particularly gifted, but I marvel all the same at her learning process.

Almost a year ago, I blogged about her language development to 26 months in my post, “A 2-Year-Old Learning English.”

I had noticed over the past several months that her grasp of pronouns, particularly “this, these, it” and her use of “mine,” and “my” had become much more fluent.

This week, about a month after her 3rd birthday, I noticed that she is correctly using the pronoun “I.” For example, “I like these noodles,” or “I don’t like that.”

I wonder how long she’s been using “I,” but I didn’t notice?

Salonen: Wing on Wing

About the Composer: Aside from his extensive conducting career, Finlander Esa-Pekka Salonen (1958- ) has spirited away to his writing desk on several occasions and has cemented his reputation as one of the most significant modernist composers.

About the Music: Shortly after Vince began exploring various Naxos Lutosławski recordings and discussed them in an earlier post, I picked up a Sony Classical disc featuring Salonen’s recordings of wise old Witold’s third and fourth symphonies. Salonen was mentored extensively by the late symphonist, and since I found Lutosławski’s work to be rather compelling, I became curious and wanted to see how the young man’s approach to composition was influenced by his collaboration with the Polish giant. Wing on Wing, Salonen’s most recent compilation of original music on the Deutsche Grammophon label, features the titular soprano-driven work (2004), along with two orchestral pieces, Foreign Bodies (2001) and Insomnia (2002). The Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra accompanies Salonen for the voyage.

Foreign Bodies - This work emphasizes Salonen’s core belief that musical expression emanates from the human body, but it’s certainly not the sort of rigid, overly erudite exercise you might expect from an avant-garde composer. A grinding, mechanical fanfare begins the piece, only to give way to intricate performances from smaller groups of instruments before returning in numerous variations. The woodwinds and percussion are effectively used in the quieter moments of the work. The spirit of Lutosławski is clearly flowing throughout, although Salonen includes some very brief, cheerful passages that would seem out of place in Lutosławski’s symphonies. Foreign Bodies is extremely entertaining, and it’s no surprise that original choreography has been created for the work. I’d like to see original choreography for Prokofiev’s Third Piano Concerto, but I’m afraid that all of the performers will become so fatigued before the end of the first movement that they’ll begin tripping over each other.

Wing on Wing - Salonen’s most recent work in this collection, Wing on Wing was produced to commemorate the construction of Frank Gehry’s design for the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles. The sister sopranos Anu and Piia Komsi propel much of the piece with their tremendously sharp vocals; they provide us with no lyrics, thus allowing the listener to ruminate about Salonen’s thesis as they skillfully navigate the higher octaves. The only spoken words that we do receive are those of Gehry himself, which are interspersed throughout the work and supposedly serve to highlight his philosophy of artistic design. The samples are very brief, and they’re not always very easy to discern on this disc; the recording quality is pristine, so I’m not sure if I can’t hear them because I’m not listening carefully enough or because the words were never intended to be perfectly comprehensible to the audience. There are some nice poetic instrumental passages in the middle of the work, but the orchestra doesn’t seem to get the chance to be as versatile as it does in Foreign Bodies.

Insomnia - Insomnia impresses me more and more with each subsequent listening. Salonen probes a surreal, yet highly agitated musical landscape with a broad variety of mesmerizing sounds. The music at the very beginning of the piece is reserved, innocuous, and intriguing, but there is a sudden twist in the action that changes the direction of the work and allows Salonen to construct a thrilling sense of urgency. I consider this piece to be the most exciting offering on the disc, and hope that it will continue to find its way into concert programmes.

These compositions are fantastic because they incorporate the most innovative elements of modernism while remaining accessible to most fledgling classical listeners. I am eagerly anticipating the release of Salonen’s next album, and once you become acquainted with his unique style, you probably will too!

In the world of music composition, the desire to experiment, to advance the state of the art, tugs against the siren call of popular acclaim. Risk the new, or refine the familiar? In the world of music reviews, experimentation seems more often praised than populism. The “great composer” label seems most frequently awarded to those who push musical boundaries by developing new sounds and structures (or avoid them). The “populist” label is almost derisively applied to those whose work enjoys limited appeal due to local attitudes, fashion, and the sensibilities of the times.

I suppose that truly “immortal composers” manage both to push the musical boundaries of their age, while creating works with lasting popular appeal (though their popular acclaim may arise from their continual repetition).

Will Beethoven, Mozart, or Bach ever be dethroned? How long will Shostakovich or Copland last? These names are already assumed to be immortal.

There aren’t a lot of immortal composers in the Western Classical tradition. Would you put the essential list at 10? Maybe 20 at the outside? Fortunately, there are 1,000s more who veered toward “excessive” experiment or populism. So, as listeners, we have plenty of opportunity to dangle a foot in the experimental, then indulge in the popular.

Recently, I’ve enjoyed listening through the Naxos Music Library’s collection of Dmitri Kabalevsky’s work. So, he severly limited his experimentalism to created populist music (to keep his Soviet masters happy? Because he believed in the aesthetic of Socialist Realism?) Whatever. I like the music, particularly his Comedians suite. 

New or familiar? Experimental or Populist?

What makes a great composer (or work)?

On a related thought, Harold Fromm touches on how the preimmenently immortal Bach fails to capture personal sympathy in J.S. Bach in the Twenty-First Century: The Chapel Becomes a Larder from the Hudson Review. Fromme writes, “When we hear ‘Mozart’ or ‘Beethoven,’ we think of a person behind the music. When we hear “Bach,” we think only of the music itself…”

What do you think?

Rolling thunder from the kettles, Orchestra London opened this year’s Valentine’s concert with Sibelius’ The Swan of Tuonela. Such a quiet piece, its dark edge of restraint holds the attention surprisingly well. Orchestra London’s own Jennifer Short entered the spotlight with her rich English Horn.

Following along the Finnish theme, we next heard Rautavaara’s Concerto for Clarinet and Orchestra. Orchestra London’s own Marie Johnson’s clarinet nailed the focal part. Both of these pieces should be heard more often. Surprisingly, the nearly exhaustive Naxos Music Library does not yet offer a recording of Rautavaara’s Concerto for Clarinet and Orchestra.

The second half of the program consisted of Tchaikovsky’s familiar Symphony No. 6, “Pathetique.” Guest conductor Uri Mayer, who graciously directed attention to his soloists during the first half of the show, earned the standing ovation after leading our players through four enjoyable movements.

A concert such as this demonstrates the value of season tickets. You are somewhat involuntarily introduced to music you might have never chosen to hear. I say “somewhat,” since you did, of course, look over the promised programme before you bought the tickets. But, the odds are 50-50 or less that I would have randomly chosen to hear Sibelius, Rautavaara, and Tchaikovsky this evening.

An excellent concert!

Orchestra London performed three Beethoven works this evening, the third installment in their Ovation Series. Under the baton of guest conductor Simon Streatfeild, the headliner and closing piece was Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony which certainly drew the standing ovation at the end of the show.

But, it’s all in the journey. So, let’s start at the beginning of the evening.

Orchestra London opened with a much less-familiar piece, the Coriolan Overture. In brief, Beethoven dashed this off for Viennese playwright Heinrich Jospeh von Collin’s work, a musical accompaniment to the playwright’s Coriolanus. Von Collin apparently dared to tread where the great Shakespeare had already gone, resulting in a play that was hailed in Austria but largely lost the longer-term contest with Shakespeare’s work depicting the same Roman general. Short, beautiful, Beethoven’s piece of the same name deserves a lot more attention.

An enjoyable guest appearance by the Duke Trio supplied most of the first half of the concert. Working with the Orchestra, the Trio lead in the performance of Beethoven’s Triple Concerto (Concerto for Violin, Cell, Piano and Orchestra). Energetic and demanding on the trio, this piece was enjoyable.

A wonderful evening out, Dr. Aldrich’s pre-concert chat on the Triple Concerto was enlightening. Bravo Beethoven, indeed!

Scott: New Music for Bowed Piano

About the Composer:

Stephen Scott (1944-present) is an American composer and professor at Colorado College.

About the Music:

The bowed piano is not an instrument so much as a technique for playing the strings on a Grand Piano. Ten musicians use mono-filament bows to play these strings, often without ever using the piano keys. The resonances provided by the strings and soundboard of the Grand Piano create an enveloping, orchestral sound. Development of this modern technique is credited to C. Curtis-Smith in 1972.

Stephen Scott’s Bowed Piano Ensemble has been using and developing the technique since 1977. The group has traveled extensively and recorded several albums on the New Albion Records label.

The music is not unlike Ambient music in that it focuses on prolonged notes and developing a mood effect rather than “singable” melody. Bowed piano is considered a form of minimalist music.

There are a couple of things I enjoy. First, I personally like discovering new music (new to me, anyway). The techniques on this album are recent in the grand history of music and feed my desire to learn where music is changing and growing in the present age. What new techniques and sounds are being developed? How are people finding new ways to use instruments and how does their work sound? Will I “enjoy” it?

Second, I enjoy the bowed piano’s atmospheric sound. In particular, I enjoy the protracted tones and atmospheric effect created by the bowed piano technique. The last track includes some traditional piano note playing with the bowing.

[Naxos Music Library - New Albion Records]

Dvořák: Cello Concerto; Tchaikovsky: Rococo Variations

About the Music: After exploring Dvořák’s final three symphonies many moons ago, I read about his renowned Cello Concerto (Op.104), which was written in 1895 while he was residing in the United States. I have been curious about the cello for some time, as it strikes me as being one of the the most cerebral instruments because of its low tones. Since the Cello Concerto was developed shortly after the creation of the New World Symphony (No. 9), I figured that it would be highly appealing, so I picked up the acclaimed Deutsche Grammophon recording of the work performed by intrepid cellist Mstislav Rostropovich, superstar conductor Herbert Von Karajan, and the Berlin Philharmonic. Karajan bears a vague resemblance to the character of Roy Batty from the film Blade Runner, but I won’t hold that against him.

In the first movement, the orchestra introduces the main theme, but Rostropovich makes his presence known a few minutes afterwards and allows the cello to echo the other instruments. I appreciate how the orchestra faintly accompanies the cellist in this passage in order to build tension.

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It’s not too long before we receive this jubilant fanfare, one of the movement’s crowning moments.

31s-dvorak-cello-concerto-op104-rostropovich-mvmt1b.mp3

There’s a great deal of chemistry between Rostropovich and the orchestra, as this excerpt demonstrates.

31s-dvorak-cello-concerto-op104-rostropovich-mvmt1c.mp3

The second movement is fairly gentle, but when you’re listening to a Dvořák work or many other romantic pieces, you don’t always know when the tide will change. If you’re in the concert hall, you can forecast this abruptness by observing certain musicians as they prepare to play, but if you’re listening to a recording such as this one for the first time, you’ll just have to let it surprise you, your pets, and everyone else in the room.

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Here’s a very warm passage that may just grow on you.

31s-dvorak-cello-concerto-op104-rostropovich-mvmt2b.mp3

I don’t like the aggressive third movement as well as the previous ones, but it still has some fantastic elements. The cellist ignites the orchestra here, and then proceeds to briefly create some rather playful sounds that seem contrary to the regimented tone that has been established.

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Dvořák still manages to reveal his light-hearted nature later on, however.

30s-dvorak-cello-concerto-op104-rostropovich-mvmt3b.mp3

Paltry sound samples can’t convey the majesty of this recording. Buy this disc, now!

Bartók: Concerto for Orchestra; Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta; Hungarian Sketches

About the Composer: A key figure of the Modernist school, Béla Bartók (1881-1945) was a Hungarian composer whose strong enamourment with traditional folk music led him to become one of his country’s most important musical pioneers. His most popular work is his innovative Concerto for Orchestra which was introduced in 1943.

About the Music: You’ve probably encountered people who have been repelled by classical music because they perceive it to be far too saccharine. The products of Mozart, Haydn, Mendelssohn, and other fine yet overly flowery fellows seem to be partially responsible for cultivating the faulty notion that the entire classical canon strives to shower its listeners with excruciating sappiness. Thankfully, Béla Bartók’s compositions saunter into the room after the cookies have been placed on the table and remind us that the repertoire is more varied than the uninitiated ear may assume. A number of months after hearing the man’s works for the first time, I decided to buy the RCA Red Seal Hybrid Super Audio CD (SACD) reissue of Fritz Reiner’s Bartók recordings with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. The Concerto for Orchestra (1943) is the flagship piece on the disc, and it is paired with the similarly popular Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta (1936). The Hungarian Sketches (1931), a near half-dozen set of short orchestral works, is also included to round out the deal.

Concerto for Orchestra - The beginning of Bartók’s most recognized piece is refreshingly ominous and enigmatic. After a brief period of eloquent, low pitched murmurs from the orchestra, a fantastic melody emerges that almost seems to signal impending doom. The orchestra increases momentum shortly afterwards, and several dramatic flourishes follow. When the decibel levels in this movement are at their highest, my mind occasionally has a tendency to conjure images of stunt motorcyclists plying their trade. I suppose that I associate the various crescendos with the heights reached by the attention seekers after they review their insurance policies and soar off the ramp. The second movement is a more low-key affair, and I find it to be one of the most interesting sections of the concerto. It’s very fast-paced, and almost comical to a certain extent, even though the snare drums and horns help it maintain an air of formality. Mystery returns in the third movement, and Bartók provides us with an extremely intense reiteration of the melody that was introduced in the first movement. Serenity seems to prevail in the fourth movement, but Bartók’s music is suddenly ‘interrupted’ by the famous ‘invasion theme’ from Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 7! It’s amusing to hear the brass wail to protest this sudden incursion, and it’s nice to know that Bartók has a sense of humour. As expected, a victorious finale follows.

Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta - Even though I found this curiousity to be slightly less accessible than the Concerto for Orchestra, Bartók still presents a cavalcade of unique sounds. The shrill, dark nature of the first movement had no difficulty capturing my interest, and I really liked the crisp percussion in the second. More unsettling sounds emerge in the third movement. The final movement is somewhat deceptive; you might assume that the creepy sounds have been discarded in favour of more radiant ones, but listeners are temporarily marauded by a stinging interlude from the strings. If I should ever find myself trapped in a dilapidated bachelor’s apartment and espy a train of cockroaches emerging from a large crack in the wall only a few inches away from the refrigerator, this is the segment of the work that will immediately return to memory. Thankfully, the piece ends on a relatively positive note.

Hungarian Sketches - There’s quite a contrast between these cheerful works and the two previous compositions. The first in the set, An Evening in the Village, is very folksy as one might expect. The second piece, Bear Dance, is especially noteworthy because I suspect that it may be Bartók’s revised version of Jingle Bells! If you listen to the first notes, you’ll quickly recognize the similarity. Melody, the third short, is too generic to have any appeal, but the musical representation of imbalance in Slightly Tipsy is somewhat entertaining. The final short, Swineherd’s Dance, relies heavily on the woodwinds. The Hungarian Sketches offer a small survey of Bartók’s more flowery composing, but it’s certainly not my favourite work on the disc.

Although I don’t have a SACD player, the sound quality provided by the traditional CD layer is nice and crisp considering the dates of the recordings. You should strongly consider buying this disc if you yearn for an alternative to the works of light-hearted, cloying composers.