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The Flying Inkpot
Classical Music Reviews
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Articles from Sequence II:
BRITTEN War Requiem
CORIGLIANO Of Rage and Remembrance: Symphony No.1
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conducted by Ingo Metzmacher
EMI Classics CDH 5 55424-2 by Chua Gan Ee
The works on this disc – albeit the products of different minds – share one
thing in common: they express the writers' indignation at the futility and
senselessness of war. Two composers featured here were especially
politically-active in their lives and chose not to separate their art from
their politics: Karl Amadeus Hartmann and Luigi Nono, Schoenberg's
son-in-law. The latter was a staunch Communist; and his older, German
colleague withdrew early from public life in opposition to the Nazi régime
– thereafter organising a series of Musica Viva concerts in Munich for
première-performances of new music.
Nono was often criticised for his
stand towards the mingling of music and politics; and it was at one of
Hartmann's concerts – at which the Canti di vita e d'amore was being performed
– that the latter defended his younger colleague: " … in both form and
content, [the Canti] are a deep avowal of faith on the part of Luigi Nono, on
the part of a young man who expresses his sense of outrage and combats the
threat posed for life by the violence of war, who takes the side of human
beings in the fight against the inhuman …"
The Canti are scored for soprano and
tenor soloists with orchestra; and is in three movements - each with its
own text: the first, "Sul ponte di Hiroshima" ("On the Bridge of Hiroshima") is taken from Günther Anders' Hiroshima ist überall; the second movement – a nocturne-like section after the harsh dissonances of its predecessor – quotes Jesús López Pacheco's Djamila Boupachà: Esta Noche; and the third sets a poem by Cesare Pavese, Tu, in an attempt to portray life (after the war) as it once was.
Composed in 1935/36, this
"Symphonic Fragment", as it was originally known, was apparently heavily
revised after 1945 to infuse it with a more "humanitarian" response to the
situation under Nazi rule. In fact, the composer confirmed that there were
no better reasons for the existence of his first symphonic opus than the
apparent protest, and his expressions of mourning, despair and anger. The
contralto-solo employed is given the task of an intense and impassioned
declamation of the text, which is based on words by Walt Whitman. Hints of
Stravinsky and Berg permeate the work; but the composer's ingenuity makes
this music compelling which certainly deserves repeated listening.
Another composer featured here who makes known his grief and utter disgust
at the crimes against humanity in the Second World War is the Czech
composer, Bohuslav Martinù, who remembers in Památnik Lidicim (Memorial to Lidice) the Czech village of Lidice – which had perished under Hitler's
minions on 10th June 1942. This lovely music is characterised by the
composer's penchant for lush harmonies; and a certain nostalgic quality is
contained within – where strings sing a long, sweeping melody amidst
imposing brass-chords: near the end, a solo-horn even declaims Beethoven's
"Fate"-motif.
The programmatic nature of this collection serves aptly to commemorate the
tragedies of war; and in four great, individual, 20th-Century perspectives.
The unifying agent - besides the subject matter – then, are indeed the
impassioned and dedicated performers who have made this project more than
the sum of its parts. The fire and purposefulness of the pounding timpani
and blazing trumpets set the adrenalin pumping in Hartmann's symphony; and
German mezzo Cornelia Kallisch's mournful solo entry so appropriately
accompanies the opening words, "I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of
the world, and upon all oppression and shame".
Textures remain crystalline
in the second movement; and the delicate woodwind chords which provide the
backdrop for the solo voice are played with such delicious sensitivity. The
Berg-ian part-writing and chamber-like transparency in the purely
instrumental middle-movement is brought out with such intrinsic care: the
Bambergians seem as if to relish every single melodic thread as they weave
in and out of each other. And relish they do, indeed, the almost nocturnal
fragility of the fourth movement: which calls to mind the
"Nachtmusik"-movements of Mahler's Seventh Symphony.
Kallisch's slightly
mannered reading of the final movement's opening words does not seem to
improve to the end, but she manages a hypnotic monotony over the text that
I personally feel suitable to the despondent mood of the closing bars.
The jarring, dissonant brass opening of Nono's Canti is played with such
frantic fervour that one cannot help feeling a little queasy – due,
mostly, of course, to the composer's penchant for excessive discordance
(but, really, these Bamberg musicians are quite an impressive lot!).
Elsewhere in the first movement, Nono's dense textures are realised
splendidly by conductor and ensemble; never letting sight of the music's
direction in the process. Sarah Leonard's contribution, especially in the
entirely-solo second movement must not go unnoticed: she manages almost
effortlessly the highest extremes of her tessitura (to at least a C#)
without losing her luscious timbre. The composer's love for unusual
percussion-effects is rendered superbly in the final movement, and Thomas
Randle's very capable singing also deserves praise.
Metzmacher's taut and imaginative reading of Schönberg's A Survivor from
Warsaw is admirable: like an accompaniment to enacted film-scenes, he
guides the different "sections" with firm control – each leading on to the
next; his Bambergian players responding enthusiastically – almost excitably
- behind Udo Samel's clear and purposeful German-tinged narration of the
English text. The build-up to the choral climax leaves a little to be
desired, however – "slightly lacking in ferocious intensity" is one way I
would put it; and the choral-singing remains a tad mannered and uninspired.
The brief woodwind-chorus after the lush string introduction of Martinù's
beautiful Památnik Lidicim calls to mind that of Sibelius' Finlandia – in
fact, much of this work is Sibelian in its colour and grandeur. The
performance recorded here is deeply committed; if not sounding a little
perfunctory in various places. Some passion is lost in the central
tutti-strings passage – or perhaps the intention was to somehow appear
straightlaced. The structure of this 7-minute work is concretely realised:
rendering the listener powerless in its grandiose sweep from first note to
last.
This disc is highly recommended not only for its assemblage of
rarely-heard concert works which deserve more frequent attention, but also
for the generally excellent performances recorded here. A real treat for
those who want more than the customary Requiems...
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557: 15.8.1999 ©Chua Gan Ee |