by Ryan Ross
Olari Elts, conductor; Estonian National Symphony Orchestra. Ondine ODE 1449-2
Whether or not you agree with me about Lepo Sumera’s First and Sixth Symphonies will largely depend upon whether or not you share my tastes. Many seasoned listeners do not. But I guess this is as good a place as any to confess that I write mostly for “bourgeois” readers who may find their leanings otherwise under-represented in classical music criticism. At this point in my career I’m happy to stand up for the both of us. And with this music in particular, which many won’t have known beforehand, I aim above all to advise whether it’s worth the average listener’s time. So, is it? The short answer: yes, absolutely.
As Kerri Kotta’s liner notes explain, Sumera was one of those Soviet bloc composers who came of age during the post-Stalin “thaw” and turned their backs on the avant-gardism they had initially embraced. This is not to say his music was never again challenging after that shift. But there’s a relatable emotional core in the best of it that can draw in even an esotericism-eschewing listener, given an open enough mind. Straightaway, I must relay that the Sixth Symphony of 2000 (completed soon before the composer’s untimely death) is the tougher nut to crack. It led me to the edge of my good will. But follow it to this point I did, and I recommend that my fellow bourgeois listeners do the same. The themes are unconventional, but not too difficult to follow. The harmonies are resolutely modern, but not offputtingly so. True, this is a work I respect more than fully like. But it’s the kind of composition that stretched me without alienating me. I invite you all to give this a serious listen and see what you think. I hope you’ll love it.
But when it comes to the First Symphony of 1981, I speak in frank terms of love. In fact, I’m going to call it a new favorite symphony. Moreover, I see in it a confluence of positive symphonic and at-large twentieth-century compositional trends. There is a clear debt to the repetitive structures of minimalism. Long portions are restatements of simple ideas. And yet, as with the best minimalist composers (Glass and Adams come to mind), Sumera has a gift for using alluring ideas in ways that entrance rather than bore the listener. I also hear a bit of the accruing processes of the first movement of Nielsen’s Fifth Symphony, or the still-too-unknown Wood Nymph tone poem of Sibelius. As in these wonderful works, Sumera uses variation and resourceful instrumentation techniques to create the sense of long builds and shifts. This may not sound like much, but I was absolutely transfixed during my first time through. Then, like in so much truly great music, there’s an overt nod to the popular element in the second and final movement. In a manner reminiscent of Shostakovich, Mahler, and even Malcolm Arnold, there’s a “circus” theme (to use Kotta’s term) that bursts onto the scene with raucous glory. This stretch is one of the most thrilling symphonic passages I have ever heard, and I’m sure (or at least I hope) that everyone from the most educated to the greenest classical music listener would agree. I know I say it often for other stuff, but I really mean it this time: I want badly to hear Sumera’s Symphony No. 1 live.
For a while the only commercial recordings of these works appear to have been those by Paavo Järvi and the Malmӧ Symphony Orchestra (BIS CD-660), and by Järvi and this self-same Estonian National Symphony Orchestra (BIS CD-1360). While those remain fine options, I think I prefer the present release with Olari Elts heading the ENSO. The sound seems somehow brighter, and this well serves the all important timbral element in Sumera’s music. But really, you can’t go wrong with either. For those always on the lookout for compelling yet accessible late 20th-century music, I recommend getting to know these symphonies (and especially the First) at the earliest opportunity.


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