Margaret Brouwer: Rhapsodies (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring

The Art of Sailing at Dawn; Rhapsody, Concerto for Orchestra; Symphony No. 1 “Lake Voices;” Path at Sunrise, Masses of Flowers; Pluto (version for orchestra). ORF Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra; Marin Alsop, conductor. NAXOS 8.559933

Once again we find ourselves auditioning music by a composer we are encountering for the first time. Before beginning this review, I did a quick search of Classical Candor’s past postings to see whether John Puccio had ever reviewed any of her music, but he had not. Therefore, this is the premier review of music by the American composer Maragaret Brouwer (b. 1940) to appear on this website. But after listening extensively to this release, spending more time with it than any CD in recent memory – to the point that it was beginning to drive my poor wife bonkers – I still don’t feel as though I really have anything all that insightful to say about it. A statement Brouwer makes in her liner notes offers a clue as to why: “When composing, I generally work with a musical motif and let it evolve and transform in various ways. Later, I realize how the music reflects my own thoughts and experiences.” 

Hmmm… Perhaps I am guilty of some variation of the intentional fallacy when I report finding her statement somewhat on the odd side. On the other hand, I can understand how some could have a musical inspiration, which after all is abstract, and only later realize how the end result might have reflected – at least in some deeply personal respects – thoughts, experiences, or emotional reactions to those thoughts and experiences. In any event, Brouwer provides brief notes about each of the five compositions on the program, in which she reveals more about her intentions and whatever emotional connections may or may not be associated with each.

 

The opening piece, The Art of Sailing at Dawn, is as its title implies a fairly straightforward tone poem that evokes the feeling of sailing at dawn. From the bird cry that opens the piece to the gentle sense of motion on the waves, it is a peaceful evocation of a smooth sail on a calm lake. The next composition, Rhapsody, Concerto for Orchestra, begins in much the same mood as the sailing piece, but the after the tranquil opening section (“Regrets”), the energy level picks up for the final two sections (“Airs and Rhapsodies” and “Dance”). 

 

In his recent review of Paavo Järvi’s traversal of Mendelssohn’s complete symphonies which you can find here), our resident musicologist Ryan Ross noted that symphonies should not be regarded as having necessarily to fit into the classical Haydn-Mozart-Beethoven structure. We can certainly think of wonderful symphonies by Mahler, Sibelius, and other composers who demonstrate that point. Brouwer’s Symphony No. 1 “Lake Voices” certainly does not strike the ears as a traditional symphony might, with its three movements joined together without a pause and its relatively brief duration (17:19). “Listening to Symphony No. 1 “Lake Voices” now, I can see that I was replaying my young life. The sounds reflect those I knew growing up in the Dutch/American community of the Holland, Michigan area… The recurring melody in this work is reminiscent of the modal, somber, moody but beautiful church hymns we sang with great gusto, conviction and powerful voices. Overlaying the recurring Dutch hymn-like melody in Symphony No. 1 “Lake Voices” is the ever-present sound of the lake.” It is a dramatic, expressive work, somewhat dark in tone, with – to these ears at least – an undercurrent of anger. YMMV.

 

Of her symphony and the final piece on the album, Brouwer offers the following reflection: “Symphony No. 1 and Plutowere composed between 1996 and 1999 during an emotional period for me. Within four years, my husband, then my mother, then my father passed away. Returning to Pluto now, I hear my anger and grief suffered during that time. Those feelings fit equally well with the musical description of Pluto, the god of death and the underworld.” The work was commissioned by the Roanoke Symphony Orchestra as a sequel to Holst’s The Planets, with Brouwer’s original version including a part for a women’s chorus that this orchestral version replaces with some writing for flutes and oboes. As you might infer from Brouwer’s description, it is a dramatic-sounding piece, expressive of tumult and with an ending most abrupt. Hard to imagine as a fitting addition to The Planets, but entertaining enough on its own.

 

Wholly different in tone is the piece that precedes Pluto on the program, Path at Sunrise, Masses of Flowers.Conductor Marin Alsop (left)  has chosen to vary the emotional tone with some soothing music after the more intense music that has come just before. As you might readily surmise from the title, Path at Sunrise, Masses of Flowers is a tone poem, meant to evoke a stroll along a beautiful garden path at first light. Not all is dreamlike and misty, however; the colors of the flowers are bold and striking as the morning sun shines down upon them. 

 

Although I cannot honestly report that the music of Margaret Brouwer has struck me as startlingly unique or original, it is undeniably pleasant and listenable. Kudos to Maestra Alsop and the folks at Naxos for presenting her orchestral music in such a well-performed, well-recorded production. Having liner notes from Ms. Brouwer giving context to the music makes this release even more attractive to those music lovers seeking to widen their musical horizon.

A Room of Her Own (CD Review)

by Karl Nehring 

Lili Boulanger ((1893-1918): D’un matin de printemps; D’un soir triste; Cécile Chaminade (1857-1944): Trio No. 1, Op. 11; Germaine Tailleferre (1892-1983): Trio; Dame Ethel Smith (1858-1944): Trio. Neave Trio (Anna Williams, violin; Mikhail Veselov, cello; Eri Nakamura, piano). CHANDOS CHAN 20238

The title tells the tale as this release from the Neave Trio makes a space for some women composers who have been largely overlooked by many classical music fans. The program opens with music by Boulanger – not the well-known French composer and instructor Nadia Boulanger, but rather her younger sister, Lili, who died at the tragically young age of 24. She suffered from a chronic illness that meant she most likely knew her days were limited when she penned this wistful, at times bordering on melancholy music. Such a shame it is to lose such a talent at such a tender age. A much longer life was enjoyed by the next composer on the program, Cécile Chaminade, also French, who started composing at the age of seven. Her trio is more upbeat in mood than the preceding music by Boulanger. Especially lively is the third movement, marked Presto leggiero, which simply sparkles. 

Then it is on to a third French composer, Germaine Tailleferre, who originally composed her four-movement trio back in the years 1916-1917 but then revised it in 1987 – six decades later! Interestingly enough, her original surname was not Tailleferre, and no, it did not change because of marriage. According to the liner notes, “her musical education was undertaken against the will of her father, and she changed her surname from ‘Taillefesse’ to ‘Tailleferre’ as a mark of protest.” Her Trio is light and lively, with the longest movement lasting barely more than four minutes. 

 

The program then concludes with a trip across the English Channel for the music of the English composer Dame Ethel Smyth, who actually acquired her musical education not in London but in Leipzig. The Piano Trio recorded here appears not have been performed during her lifetime. The liner notes point out, in fact, that whatever modest measure of success she may have enjoyed stemmed from a few larger-scale works she composed later in her career, not from her earlier chamber works, of which this trio is an example. Those listeners who equate English chamber music with dreamy pastoral meandering will be surprised by the final two movements here, which are zesty and kinetic. Kudos to the Neave Trio and Chandos for bringing us some music outside the mainstream that is at once both entertaining and enlightening. 

Mendelssohn Symphonies (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Mendelssohn: Complete Symphonies; A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Op. 61 (excerpts). Paavo Järvi, conductor; Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich. Alpha Classics 1004. 4 discs 

(NOTE: This review is by our most musically knowledgeable contributor, Ryan Ross, a professional musicologist. Following Ryan’s review are some brief comments on this release from our other contributors, Bill Heck and Karl Nehring, both of whom took an interest in this set and spent an appreciable amount of time giving it a listen.)

 

I find Mendelssohn to be an absolutely fascinating figure, and nowhere more so than as the composer of these five “full” symphonies (as opposed to the dozen or so for strings alone that he produced as a juvenile). Why? I think it goes back to the chip I have on my shoulder about the symphony genre, which runs through my reviews and musicological scholarship like a leitmotif. Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven produced foundational symphonies, no question; but they did not invent the genre, nor (despite their greatness) could they dictate what it would be forevermore. Too many commentators have had a difficult time acknowledging this, and of recognizing that while the First Viennese School remained an important symphonic model and legacy, the genre came to encompass so much more than German classicism. Dyneley Hussey, to take one example, wrote the following of Mendelssohn in 1949: “He had not the ability to create the kind of germinal theme that grows and develops new form under the composer’s hand, and generates conflict when brought into contact with the other themes of a like nature. His themes are essentially euphonious and blend peacefully with one another. His musical imagination was, moreover, essentially pictorial” (from Ralph Hill, ed., The Symphony, pgs. 163-164). To the extent that what Hussey says here is true, I say more power to Mendelssohn. Because every time I listen to these five works for what they are (and each is quite distinct from the others), I enjoy the heck out of them. 

Indeed, it is the very heterogeneity of Mendelssohn’s five fully scored symphonies that presents such a challenge to making recorded cycles. The First (by a teenaged composer) is a tightly constructed classical symphony with Romantic passion; the Second (the Lobgesang, or “Song of Praise”) is essentially a sacred cantata with a few purely instrumental sections; the Third (Scottish) and Fourth (Italian) are the much-loved “travelogues” that are the most frequently performed of the group by far; and the Fifth is named the Reformation for the religious tunes it quotes and the occasion of the Lutheran Augsburg Confession’s 300th Anniversary for which it was composed. (Mendelssohn’s family had converted to Lutheranism from Judaism.) To say that this group is a motley crew, symphonically speaking, seems fair. And what I have found in recorded cycles is that conductors and orchestras who are consistently convincing across the whole spectrum have not been super common. 

 

While I cannot say that Paavo Järvi and the Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich completely buck this trend, they do offer exciting performances marked by refreshing conviction from start to finish. According to the liner notes by Franziska and Lion Gallusser, Järvi believes that Mendelssohn does not get the attention he deserves. Thus was he motivated to bring this recording project to fruition despite the Covid pandemic. One admires such determination on behalf of a symphonist who could stand to make yet more progress winning stubborn critical minds and hearts. 

 

All of the symphonies (and the Midsummer Night’s Dream excerpts generously thrown in) receive at least solid performances. But what distinguishes this cycle for me are the stunning renditions of the two least popular: the Lobgesang and the Reformation. It is extremely easy for the former to get bogged down due to a lack of performer energy. But not here. Järvi and Company never yield in their intensity. The singing and playing are both exuberant. This is now one of my favorite performances of the work. Likewise, the Reformation also gets a sympathetic reading that plays to its spirit. 

 

The remaining three symphonies each receive enthusiastic readings as well. Best among them is the intensity that Järvi and Company bring to the First. (Granted, it is a comparatively slight work, but I don’t remember hearing a better interpretation than this one.) Their Scottish and Italian Symphonies, however, come up against stiff and extensive competition in the recording catalog. Neither effort here is poor, but both have minor issues that keep me from placing them among more distinguished accounts. 

 

We’ll begin with the Italian. I admire the intention of gusto here, but the opening and closing movements just feel too breathless, with phrases and even pitches at times sounding slightly clipped or hurried over. The middle movements are suitably gorgeous. The Scottish fares a bit better, but my main issue here is a certain lack of gravitas in the more thoughtful moments. German Romantics, including Mendelssohn, were fascinated by the seemingly magical land of Scotland. (Having been there multiple times, it’s easy for me to see why!) I need more of a fairy tale feeling overall. For an illustration, consider my “reference recording” for the work – Charles Munch directing the Boston Symphony (RCA 60483-2-RV). 

These modest misgivings aside, the cycle overall is a splendid achievement. The sharp performances of Nos. 1, 2, and 5 alone make it a landmark. It’s high time that we stopped being embarrassed at Mendelssohn’s symphonic heterodoxy (even given that he did not dub the Second a “symphony”) or his deep religious feeling (here’s looking squarely at the sneering treatment by Charles Rosen in The Romantic Generation). This is wholesome and vivid music, and it gets most welcome service from Paavo Järvi and the Tonhalle-Orchester Zürich. I’d gladly prescribe it to beginners, or to anyone needing convincing that this is great Romantic art.

 

Comments on the set from Bill Heck:

It's easy to summarize my reaction upon first hearing several of the works in this set: "wow, these are great!" Since that first listen, my reaction has cooled a bit, although there is still a lot to like about these performances.

The immediate (and obvious) positive: Järvi sets quick tempi, and the players respond energetically and confidently. This is not shy, delicate Mendelssohn; this is Mendelssohn bursting with life. The playing is fully up to snuff, and the recording is clean, clear, and well balanced.

So why has my ardor cooled, although certainly not gone cold? First, after some time with the set, those quick tempi started occasionally felt slightly tiring, a little too much of a good thing. Granted, I was doing concentrated critical listening over a short period, so it was easy to become a little fatigued; you, dear reader, shouldn't have that problem. But even so, I do think that a little more breathing room now and then wouldn't have been amiss.

Then there was the sound. Yes, it was initially impressive, and yes, I could hear every line and seemingly every instrument – but I missed the coherent whole. Violins were over here, cellos were over there, woodwinds were in back somewhere, but I wasn't hearing an orchestra playing on a stage in a real space; in the overused language of audio, I didn’t hear a coherent image. It’s likely that I am unusually sensitive to the sort of thing; no doubt plenty of listeners will be perfectly happy with the sound. But my poor brain became confused in trying to locate what was going on.

One other minor point, not a criticism but a preference: Mendelssohn used German lyrics in the couple of sections of the Midsummer Night’s Dream music, so it's no surprise that those are the lyrics sung here. But it's incidental music for a Shakespearean play, and I'd really like to hear Shakespeare's words in his own language. (No doubt my German-teaching sister will beat me about the head if she reads this…)

Despite those concerns, I did enjoy hearing this set, and it will be deservedly popular. But that brings up one other issue for potential purchasers: do you really want all the symphonies plus the Midsummer music? Mendelson himself referred to the Reformation as juvenilia; it's nice to hear it once, but I don’t need a recording of it lying around. The Lobgesang, an oratorio rather than a symphony, will not be everyone’s cup of tea, either. For many listeners, streaming will be the ideal: start with your favorite work, then dip in wherever your fancy takes you. 

Comments from Karl Nehring:

I must preface my remarks by pointing out that contrary to my usual practice, I did not listen to this set on CD; instead, I streamed it. Nor did I listen to it on my big system; instead, most of my listening was through my soundbar setup and in my car. Moreover, I listened almost exclusively to the orchestral symphonies, generally foregoing the Lobgesang and the Midsummer Night’s Dream music. However, in my defense I will point out that what I did listen to, I listened to many, many times. 

I suppose I was predisposed to like this set by several factors: I had enjoyed the Beethoven symphonies recorded by the Tonhalle Zürich Orchestra under David Zinman, I have enjoyed a number of Järvi’s recordings (including a YouTube video of him leading the Frankfurt Symphony in Mendelssohn’s First), and my general enthusiasm for Mendelssohn’s melodic gift. I will freely confess to being hardly any sort of Mendelssohn expert at all; in fact, not often do I listen to any of his symphonies – when I listen to Mendelssohn, it is much more likely to be one of his string quartets. But I am familiar with the symphonies, and looked forward to hearing what Järvi and his Zurich musicians could conjure.

I must say I was impressed. The energy and excitement generated by the orchestra made the music really come to life. I’m not sure, of course, that this is the way the music is always “supposed” to sound, and I must confess to not comparing this set to any other sets. No, I was not really listening as a critic; I was just enjoying the heck out of the music.  And that’s my honest, albeit superficial take on this delightful release.