Nielsen Orchestral Works (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Helios, Op. 17; Concerto for Clarinet and Orchestra, Op. 57; Symphony No. 5, Op. 50. Alessandro 

Carbonare, clarinet; Edward Gardner, conductor; Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra. Chandos CHSA 5314

 

We begin by revisiting one of my Classical Candor reviews from yesteryear. In it, I wrote the following about the first two installments of this Chandos Nielsen cycle:

 

In a recent review of another Nielsen symphony cycle (which you can read here), I pleaded for performers who properly understand this music. I don’t know how the forthcoming recordings in this Chandos series will turn out, but at two discs in I’m comfortable saying that my wish has been granted.

 

If I were a superstitious person I’d say I jinxed the series, because this third entry is a definite step down, thanks mainly to one work. Truthfully, the later Nielsen symphonies were always going to be telling tests. But I guess I let my initial enthusiasm run away with me. While Gardner’s Fifth with the BPO is not quite the pill that Fabio Luisi’s is with the DNSO, Gardner does as too many British conductors do with music of peculiar flavor: he sands down its edges into something genteel. We lose too much of the music’s essential character. And with Nielsen, it’s all about character.

 

Things start out okay in this Fifth. The quieter portions of the opening movement’s early build go well enough, though the mood could be slightly more menacing. But this is hardly the difficult part; it’s what performers do with the denouement that defines everything else. The first let-down arrives with the Adagio theme 268 measures in. This theme, marked molto espressivo, should come as a warm relief; it’s like the force of life in the Fourth Symphony set against chaos and destruction. But Gardner and Company are not very expressive: the tune falls flat. Worse still is the protracted struggle of this theme trying to reassert itself against its adversaries led by the clarinet and snare drum. The tension is often blunted, with the clarinet not being nearly obnoxious enough. When the climax does arrive at Rehearsal 16 (the triumphant return of the Adagio theme), and the subordination of disruptive elements, I am underwhelmed. The pent-up energy should shoot forth like a burst of radiance, but instead Gardner and Company give us a relatively sleepy summit. There’s not enough fire in their bellies.

I have mixed feelings about Gardner’s decisions in the following movement. The opening stretch should crackle with virile energy. But instead, the main theme gets finessed and smoothed over. It sounds more like a train ride through Lincolnshire than it does the first part of a cosmic struggle. Things improve with the middle fugues. In the first the tempo is good and the energy consistently high, even through the tempestuous parts. Likewise, the second, “rebirth” fugue proceeds along solid interpretive lines, though perhaps the vibe here is a bit too workmanlike: an ideal glow seems just beyond reach. Both the return of the initial material (and especially the conclusion) are likewise fine. From Rehearsal 30 onward the running eighth-note figures in the strings are suitably vigorous. It all closes with a satisfyingly robust send-off, though this does not make up for the weaker portions described above.

 

With the Helios Overture and the Clarinet Concerto we are back to the standard of strong, consistent performances established in this series’ first two entries. But maybe Gardner’s and the BPO’s interpretation of the Fifth Symphony have made me see their other Nielsen in a new light. Solid as their best typically is, I’m often missing that extra edge. With the overture, everything is balanced and well-conceived. The run time of 11:30 is about average. However, maybe those melodic notes in the march-like section could be a touch more vigorous. Maybe that depicted sunrise could scatter rays that are just a little more golden. Similarly, the Clarinet Concerto, in soloist Alessandro Carbonare’s very capable hands, comes off well. It’s probably the best rendered item on this disc. If I can find fault, it’s again with a polished product that perhaps cedes some of the music’s biting character at times. But this is a subtlety few will (or should) fuss over too much. I could recommend a couple of favorite performances, but I wouldn’t greatly prefer them. Anyone is going to be well served by this one.

So essentially the first crack in this series turns out to be an overly tame Fifth Symphony. I guess I shouldn’t be that surprised or disappointed. Carl Nielsen is one of those composers whose sheer range of expression is difficult for one set of performers to capture equally well across the complete orchestral works. Even Leonard Bernstein never recorded the complete cycle of symphonies, and produced a rather clumsy Second and Fourth in addition to a white-hot Third and peerless Fifth. But now Gardner and the BPO have the First and Sixth Symphonies remaining, I believe. Hitting bullseyes on such disparate targets with their next disc would go a long way toward redemption. 

Nielsen: Orchestral Works (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

Flute Concerto; Symphony No. 3, Op. 27 (“Sinfonia espansiva”); Pan og Syrinx (“Pan and Syrinx”), Op. 49. Adam Walker, flute; Edward Gardner, conductor; Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra. Chandos CHSA 5312

This is the second entry in Chandos’s new Nielsen orchestral music cycle by conductor Edward Gardner and the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra. I am a big fan of the first, which came out last year and features terrific performances of the Fourth Symphony (“The Inextinguishable”) and the Violin Concerto (with violinist James Ehnes). Happily, this new recording maintains its predecessor’s excellence. Gardner and the BPO bring their customary energy to the Third Symphony (“Sinfonia espansiva”), the tone poem Pan and Syrinx, and the Flute Concerto, with flutist Adam Walker doing stellar work in the soloist role. In a recent review of another Nielsen symphony cycle (which you can read here,) I pleaded for performers who properly understand this music. I don’t know how the forthcoming recordings in this Chandos series will turn out, but at two discs in I’m comfortable saying that my wish has been granted. 

First served is Pan and Syrinx, which Nielsen dubbed a “Nature Scene for Orchestra.” He was inspired by the corresponding episode depicted in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, where the nymph Syrinx ends up becoming the reeds of Pan’s famous pipes. The work clocks in at under 9 minutes but is quite immersive. It makes one wish that Nielsen had lavished as much attention on the tone poem genre as did his fellow great Nordic composer Jean Sibelius. The woodwinds do heavy duty work, but members of the BPO are every bit up to the challenge. The listener gets treated to a suitably lush, vivid atmosphere. 

 

Next comes the Flute Concerto, one of my favorite scores by Nielsen. Like the Fifth Symphony completed not more than five years earlier, it comprises an eventful two movements. Walker and Gardner adopt a nice, crisp tempo to start things off. Middleground voices are extremely important in this music, and supporting woodwinds (especially a clarinet that earns their paycheck throughout) sound sharp and well balanced with the soloist and strings. The structure of the first movement is unique. I have written elsewhere about the importance of what I call the “Simple Original” theme, which is foreshadowed before it appears in full at Rehearsal E. Walker leads this tune beautifully, with a suitably Arcadian feeling. When the main theme comes back in tutti at the following rehearsal, Gardner and the BPO don’t disappoint in their liveliness. 

The second movement similarly tests the performers’ ability convincingly to assume multiple character states in turn. The performers meet this challenge richly, even managing to re-color the main rondo theme slightly with every reappearance. The dynamic gradations are splendid everywhere, but particularly in the Tempo di Marcia. If I have one criticism, it’s that the trombone could have better brought out the “Simple Original” theme as it jovially waves farewell from the background at the work’s conclusion. But this is a quibble set against an overall distinguished interpretation.

 

Not long ago, I gave Fabio Luisi a hard time here at Classical Candor for leading Nielsen’s Third Symphony in a syrupy and overly Romantic manner in his recent cycle with the Danish National Symphony Orchestra. If my readers were waiting for an exemplary new alternative, they have it right here. Gardner’s account is everything Luisi’s bloated one isn’t: energetic, balanced, and gorgeously clear. I hopped up and down excitedly with the introductory chords. I could tell right away that the tempo would be brisk and the rhythms sharp. This is colorful, surging music, and the listener gets treated to every such shade in full. The phrasing and dynamics are likewise rendered with great care, but not in a micro-managed way that detracts from the experience. The first movement’s middle climax here is the best since Bernstein’s with the Royal Danish Orchestra (Sony SMK 47598). You can hear everything! 

For the most part the rest of the performance lives up to the opening. I thought the Arcadian second movement could be a bit slower, but at 9:08 it is within a sliver of Herbert Blomstedt and the San Francisco Symphony (London 430 280-2), which is another first-rate outing. The wordless vocalists are mostly very good, though soprano Lina Johnson sometimes sounds a bit strained in her high pitches. Movement 3 is correspondingly quick, with very precise playing. For me, a big test there is how the orchestra delivers the gentle lyrical theme at Rehearsal 13. This test is soundly passed. A fast, punchy finale properly rounds things out. While I could use a bit more pastoral magic following the a tempo at Rehearsal 9, the builds and climaxes throughout are appreciably robust. The peroration is satisfying lusty. 

 

I hope this Chandos series is getting the attention it deserves. We are two discs in, and every interpretation so far is a winner. It is gratifying to see a growing Nielsen recording catalogue, with the composer apparently beginning to receive the respect due to him as an important and highly individual twentieth-century symphonist. The tone poem and concerto in this installment can be recommended with the best available options. And while Bernstein and the RDO remain my top choice for the Sinfonia espaniva, Gardner and the BPO’s entry here amply merits investment. I can’t wait to hear what they serve up next!

Nielsen: The Symphonies (CD Review)

by Ryan Ross

 

Danish National Symphony Orchestra; Fabio Luisi, conductor. Deutsche Grammophon 486 3471 (3 CDs)

 

I had high hopes for this one. Being someone who believes that concert programming, and classical music history as it’s normally relayed, are too much in thrall to Late Romantic (especially German) aesthetics, I see renewed focus on composers like Carl Nielsen as a viable way out of the morass. His highly individual, appealing music is a breath of fresh air. It emphasizes rigor, energy, optimism, and (as musicologist Daniel Grimley puts it) life-affirmation. I keep hoping we’ll more fully admit Nielsen into the classical canon as the great symphonist he was, and that our current Mahler/Bruckner/etc. obsessions will subside enough to allow this. So yes, I was thrilled to see Fabio Luisi’s and the DNSO’s new recorded cycle appear on perhaps classical music’s most prestigious label. This had to be a wonderful tool for the cause, right?

Not so much. Oh, the DNSO’s playing is good, and the sound quality is fine. It’s Luisi’s vision of Nielsen’s music that makes the venture objectionable. To be blunt: he doesn’t feel it. He’s a relative newcomer to this repertoire – someone who’s used to conducting music we’re already well used to hearing. Well, these symphonies in his hands sound too much like music we’re already well used to hearing. The result is not just mostly poor Nielsen, but also a weary accompanying realization that Mahler and Bruckner have indeed seemed to permeate everywhere, ostensibly even performances of scores by the Great Dane. 

The biggest problem here is Luisi’s lack of energy. We’ll discuss two instances for the sake of example. In the score of the Second Symphony (subtitled “The Four Temperaments”), Nielsen clearly indicates a tempo marking of eighth equals 126 at the head of the opening movement. Luisi, however, comes in at about 106 to 108. This would be weird in any case, but in a movement entitled “Allegro collerico” (indicating the “choleric” temperament), a slow pulse simply doesn’t get the job done. Luisi himself may not be of such a disposition, but he’s obligated to use the orchestra to do his best impression if he’s conducting this music. Has he met anyone who is choleric? Those folks typically don’t saunter. Maybe worse is the finale of the Fifth Symphony. Again, Luisi proceeds noticeably under the composer’s tempo marking, and in a setting where doing so similarly saps the music of its character. The whole movement is one of epic struggle; from the roiling outer sections, to the terrifying cataclysm of the first fugue, to even the slower “rebirth” presented by the second fugue, this music requires spark and momentum. Instead, the dominant impression is one of lethargy. It comes across like somebody trying to run a marathon immediately after scoffing a huge plate of spaghetti. 

Related to tempo problems are Luisi’s dynamics and phrase shaping. They’re just too steeped in late Romanticism. Nielsen’s music at times shares something with Romanticism, but there is a rather stronger Classical streak present that greatly leavens this overlap and clashes with Luisi’s apparent instincts. A good example is how he conceives the finale of the Third Symphony, subtitled “Espansiva.” Evidently Luisi takes this term to mean “expansive” as in imitating exaggerated Romantic climaxes. Instead of the open-air hymn to hard work and common rural experience (which would be consistent with Nielsen’s own remarks on this section), the tune and its supporting materials become just another Mahlerian lied, with gushy strings and overwrought arrivals. Combine these things with another slow tempo (I cannot imagine why this movement needs to clock in at 10:59!), and we’re quite far from the spirit of the work. Similar interpretive miscues hamper nearly every performance here, from the odd dynamic spasms (heard right away in the First Symphony), to poorly accentuated subject lines in fugal sections, to excessive disruptions of tempo. 

Probably the best performance in this cycle is of the Sixth and final symphony, named the Sinfonia semplice. Still the least understood work of a too-little-known composer, it is singular and delightfully strange. For these reasons, it’s probably the best symphony of the bunch to withstand the kind of interpretive “license” that the conductor inflicts upon its brethren. For once Luisi’s tempi and shaping are solid; the finale is appreciatively humorous. This is not the best performance of the Sixth available, but it will serve. Would that it could be issued on a singleton release. 

But on the whole these recordings present a missed opportunity. Even if they do become influential in spurring more performances of Nielsen’s music in the concert hall, will those performances sound like these? That’s a dispiriting train of thought. Thus motivated, I’ll lend my tiny voice to suggesting Herbert Blomstedt’s fine cycle with the San Francisco Symphony on the London label as a preferred alternative. (Schonwandt/DNSO, Salonen/SRSO, and Kuchar/JPO are all good, too.) In terms of isolated performances, Leonard Bernstein’s renderings of the Third and Fifth with the New York Philharmonic on Sony are stupendous. If you don’t know Nielsen’s symphonies, start there. Leave Luisi and Company to the collectors. 

Nielsen: Symphonies Nos. 4 and 5 (CD review)

Michael Schonwandt, Danish National Radio Symphony Orchestra. Dacapo Records 8.224156.

The late nineteenth, early twentieth-century Danish composer Carl Nielsen (1865-1931) was unusually prolific. He not only wrote six symphonies, he did operas, concertos, chamber music, piano and organ music, and songs. American audiences probably know him best, though, for the two pieces represented on this disc, the Fourth and Fifth Symphonies. Given, then, that the disc presents his most accessible material, that it's performed by a Danish conductor and orchestra, and that it's framed in excellent sound, it amounts to a good buy for listeners who don't already have favorite copies of these items.

The Fourth Symphony, known as "The Inextinguishable," is the more Romantic of the pair, the closer to Nature, and, because of its structure, somewhat the more unified. Nielsen wrote the symphony's four movements to flow into one another without interruption, something nicely observed in this recording. And, thanks to the clarity of the soundstage, the various bird calls and animal murmurings come across quite distinctly. Life, according to this music, is "inextinguishable," forever running onward in one great movement in its will to live. Nielsen premiered the Fourth Symphony on February 1, 1916.

Michael Schonwandt

It is the Fifth Symphony, however, that is the more provocative of the two works, thanks largely to its first movement snare drums. They tend to march onward to their own beat, perhaps like Nature moving inexorably forward as it had in the composer's Fourth Symphony. But the Fifth, after its quiet opening and increasingly insistent drums, opens up further after its first couple of movements into extremely active and vivacious third, fourth, and fifth movements, leading to a finale that is almost harsh by comparison to the composer's earlier work.

Maybe it is here that Dacapo's sometimes bright, forward sound is most helpful, not only in illuminating orchestral detail but in making a case for the composer's intentions in showing how Nature can unfold into pure energy. Whatever the case, Maestro Schonwandt and his Danish National Radio Symphony Orchestra maintain a firm grip on the goings on and deliver some fine music making. While one could perhaps fault the conductor a bit for not entirely capturing the sheer rigorousness of Nielsen's scores, he produces a more than adequate if somewhat measured glimpse into Nielsen's visions of Nature.

Does Schonwandt's recording eclipse Herbert Blomstedt's more refined San Francisco account of this same coupling on Decca or Sakari Oramo's more vigorous Stockholm interpretation on BIS? I think not, but it's close.

Incidentally, I see what appears to be the same recording now issued by Naxos, so that, too, may be an alternative choice if the spirit moves you.

JJP

To listen to a brief excerpt from this album, click on the forward arrow:

Nielsen: Symphonies Nos. 4 & 5 (SACD review)

Sakari Oramo, Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra. BIS BIS-2028.

You can always expect a solid performance from conductor Sakari Oramo, particularly when he's conducting his own orchestra, the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic. The question is whether Oramo's recording of Nielsen's Fourth and Fifth Symphonies is any better than a number of rivals who have already proved their worth, conductors like Blomstedt, Bernstein, Ormandy, Berglund, Horenstein, Jarvi, and others. The answer is a definitive, Who knows? Oramo's readings certainly appear competent, although I can't say they are as exciting, as sensitive, or as thoughtful as the ones from the competition.

Carl Nielsen (1865-1931) was one of Denmark's most-prolific and distinguished composers, writing six symphonies, two operas, three concertos, and a ton of songs, hymns, cantatas, and orchestral, chamber, and keyboard music. He wrote his Symphony No. 4, Op. 29, in 1916 with the First World War raging in Europe, so you can expect it to be one of his more-dramatic works. He gave it the title "The Inextinguishable," a name he said referred to "that which is inextinguishable" or "the elemental will to live." Nielsen went on to say in a preface to his symphony that the piece expressed "the Elemental Will of Life." A few years later, he wrote, "If the whole world was destroyed, Nature would once again begin to beget new life and push forward with the strong and fine forces that are to be found in the very stuff of existence.... These 'Inextinguishable' forces are what I have tried to represent."

Nielsen opens the symphony with a rather fiery, agitated Allegro, which Maestro Oramo handles well enough. It doesn't quite develop the kind of intensity I'd like, but the conductor does play up the differences in tempo nicely as the music swells, ebbs, and flows. Still, a little more tumult might have helped to establish the context of the conflicts.

The second movement Poco Allegretto, which flows uninterrupted from the first movement, is a kind of tribute to peaceful, bucolic simplicity, the sort of quiet and tranquility Nature ultimately seeks. Here, Oramo well captures the mood and paints an appropriately sweet picture in leisurely style.

The third and fourth movements return us to high drama, and it's here that I think I prefer Herbert Blomstedt (Decca) over Oramo. In the present performance, Oramo isn't quite as intense as Blomstedt, even though Oramo seems to move along at a slightly faster clip. I don't hear quite the emotional charge from Oramo that the music needs; instead, it appears more matter-of-fact, which isn't bad, mind you, just not as involving.

Sakari Oramo

That said, Oramo nonetheless concludes the symphony on a properly victorious note, with a glorious drum battle at its climax. Nature does, indeed, triumph in the end; the Earth abides. And Oramo has his day.

Nielsen premiered his next symphony, No. 5, Op. 50, in 1922, and despite a rocky start with the public, it became one of his most popular compositions. Because he wrote it just after the close of the Great War, he included in it elements of contrast, good and evil, war and peace. Like No. 4, the symphony is obviously dramatic.

Nielsen marked his Fifth Symphony in two movements and six segment notations: Tempo giusto, Adagio non troppo, Allegro, Presto, Andante un poco tranquillo, and Allegro, perhaps another indication of the somewhat enigmatic nature of the work. While the Fifth Symphony is obviously a direct outgrowth of the Fourth, the Fifth Symphony is also a force unto itself.

Anyway, Oramo expresses the tone of the music as well as most anybody. It's a more atmospheric piece than Nielsen's previous symphony in that it conveys more differing states of mind, sometimes moving from one state to another in surprisingly jarring ways. Oramo maintains these transitions clearly yet smoothly, never allowing the music to sound merely like a series of starts and stops. Again, Oramo ensures that despite the music's rises and falls of energy, all ends in optimistic, life-affirming joy, the orchestra playing beautifully for him throughout.

Producer Jens Braun and engineers Matthias Spitzbarth and Thore Brinkmann recorded the music at Stockholm Concert Hall, Stockholm, Sweden in August 2012 and June 2013 for hybrid CD and SACD playback. As usual with BIS, we get a fairly detailed, highly dynamic, and reasonably ambient sound, at least from the two-channel SACD layer to which I listened. It's a mite closer than I expected, though, slightly thinner, and a bit less dimensional in terms of depth. Nevertheless, these are minor concerns when the midrange transparency is so good and the overall impact so pronounced. Bass and treble extremes are adequate for the occasion, and the timpani sound splendid.

JJP

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

Nielsen: Aladdin Suite (CD review)

Also, Pan and Syrinx and other orchestral works. Niklas Willen, South Jutland Symphony Orchestra. Naxos 8.557164.

One is not apt to think much beyond the symphonies of Danish composer Carl August Nielsen (1865-1931) when considering the man's output, and it hasn't helped that so few record companies have recorded his shorter orchestral works. I recall an old EMI Greensleeve LP with Herbert Blomstedt that I used to own, and I believe there is currently a DG recording with Neeme Jarvi, and several others; but it isn't much, so this budget-priced Naxos disc from Niklas Willen and the South Jutland Symphony Orchestra fills a much-needed hole in the repertoire.

There are six separate selections on the album, all of them essentially brief tone poems. Things begin with the Aladdin Suite, seven movements the composer took from his incidental theater music. Don't expect anything so remarkable as Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, but do expect these pieces to entertain you with their lavish orchestrations, their inventive dances, and in one composition, "The Marketplace in Ispahan," their uniqueness as the composer tries to imitate the varied sounds of a bazaar, the sounds coming from all directions. I couldn't help wondering while I was listening to this music how it might have sounded in a surround format.

Next are Cupid and the Poet, Saga-Dream, the Helios Overture, and two segments from the opera Maskarade, the Overture and the Prelude to Act II. These pieces amply demonstrate Nielsen's ability to evoke atmosphere and mood, which Willen nicely amplifies. The most intriguing of all the little works, though, is the concluding one, Pan and Syrinx. It's a pastoral piece, mostly sweet and relaxed, at least under Willen, becoming more vivacious as it goes along, then fading off into silence. It's quite affecting, really.

Evaluating a disc's sound can always be problematic. My initial reaction upon hearing the disc's opening "Festival March" from Aladdin was that the sonics were too thick and heavy. But I had just finished listening to over an hour of a Karajan recording from the Fifties that was rather thin and bright. After an hour with the Nielsen disc, its sound seemed just right to me, very realistic (if still a touch clouded). The Pan and Syrinx music appeared especially felicitous, with an excellent sense of orchestral depth. For the few bucks one might expend on the disc, one can afford to experiment with the sound and music.

JJP