Novak: Piano Concerto (CD review)

Also, At Dusk; Toman and the Wood Nymph. Jan Bartos, piano; Jakub Hrusa, Prague Radio Symphony Orchestra. Supraphon SU-4284-2.

By Bill Heck

The title of this release, Piano Concerto, Toman and the Wood Nymph, needs a little clarification. Yes, the first work on the disk is Novak’s one and only piano concerto, but that’s not the real highlight: the concerto is a very early work, enjoyable but not truly representative of the composer’s more mature style. Next, the second piece that you’ll hear is not in the title at all: a four-movement work for solo piano entitled At Dusk. Finally, the last work on the disk, Toman, not only is the featured item, but also the last composed. What doesn’t need clarification is that all three pieces are worth hearing and well-played to boot. (One might accuse Supraphon of burying the lede; as that last sentence shows, I won’t!)

With those clarifications out of the way, let’s turn to the question surely on the minds of many readers: just who was this Vitezslav Novak anyway? Although the list of classical music “headline” composers may not include many Czech names other than Dvorak, the next tier is surprisingly large: Smetana in the Romantic period, followed by more contemporary names like Janacek, Mahler (born in Bohemia), Suk, and Martinu. Novak, it turns out, is part of this latter group. In his day, he often was considered the natural musical heir to Dvorak: the latter’s star pupil, one of a small group of musical revolutionaries bent on casting off Germanic forms in order to develop a more nationalistic, truly Czech musical style. (In this they were perhaps following the better-known example of the earlier Russian “Mighty Five.”) Novak’s own style evolved from one recognizably like Dvorak’s – listen to the Piano Concerto on this disk for evidence – to a more contemporary (think sonorities more like Stravinsky than Dvorak) but still noticeably east European one. Yet somehow there was a missing spark, something that allowed Novak’s music to sink into obscurity while that of some of his contemporaries lived on. The liner notes for this release, along with the music, make the case that this obscurity is not deserved.

Turning to the music, the concerto opens dramatically in a minor key, and we immediately hear external influences that Novak incorporates: phrases vaguely reminiscent of Liszt and, a bit later, some that remind us of Mendelssohn. In the proceedings, a lively first theme is bandied about between the orchestra and piano and reiterated in suitably dramatic fashion by all. The piano settles in for some development, with varying tempos. Shortly, a gentle, pretty second theme emerges: a ray of sunlight through the clouds; the temperature rises again. All this goes on nicely, with a more than competent resolution.

The second movement, andante con sentimento, really is quite lovely. The piano plays quietly alone for the first two minutes of the movement, then the orchestra comes in as a partner in a duet, reminding me a bit of the slow movement of Brahms’s Second Piano Concerto. To be clear, that's meant as high praise.

As the second movement fades away, it is replaced immediately by a sprightly allegro. This last movement is the one that perhaps owes most to Dvorak, with harmonies that sound "Czech" to my untutored ear and using the rhythm of the furiant, a Czech dance. (That last bit is courtesy of the very informative liner notes that come with this release.)
 
Next up is At Dusk, a collection of four short pieces for solo piano totaling just over 10 minutes. Again, the word “charming” comes to mind: these are far more than filler for the album, very listenable pieces in their own right. They are mostly quiet and reflective, and clearly demonstrate the Novak had matured as a composer since writing the concerto.

The final work on the disk is a major one: Toman and the Wood Nymph, subtitled A Symphonic Poem After A Bohemian Legend For Large Orchestra. As many readers will know, fairies, sprites, and other magical beings, including nymphs, have been frequent subjects for more abstract musical pieces, particularly in the late romantic period, and this work is in that tradition. The gist of the poem on which the work is based, and which in turn is based on a German folktale, tells the story of a young man (Toman) who is betrayed by his lover, wanders into the forest, and makes the fatal mistake of yielding to the blandishments of a nymph. Along the way there are plenty of dramatic, even passionate moments as depicted in the music, a few passages of sprightly dance-like tunes, all interspersed with thoughts of longing and sorrow and even peace and hope, with some quite lovely passages in the latter vein. (Yes, it really is a tone poem.) As we approach the end, the music fades softly, only to shatter the calm spell with a final short burst of just a couple of notes.

Of course, these capsule descriptions can’t do the works here justice, or may even suggest that the music is trivial. Not so! Novak had earned his reputation back in the day, and we’re fortunate to have a chance to hear his work now.

As to the music-making, all involved seem intent on making the case that this music is worth hearing. The playing is thoughtful, dynamic, and technically secure. The Supraphon engineers are on the job as well, capturing a natural sound for both piano and orchestra. By the way, I noticed that the recording particularly highlights the lovely “woody” sounds of the orchestra’s string sections, a sound that reminds me of some other recordings of Czech orchestras. Quite nice.

To put all this in perspective, Novak is not going to replace Beethoven – nor Dvorak – in the pantheon of classical composers. But it would be a rather small and boring world that had room for only a handful of certified superheroes. Have a listen, I think you’ll like it.

BH

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click here: