Wilhelm Stenhammar (1871-1927)

[Duke Bluebeard]

For sure - Jatvi's dynamic approach (especially in his earlier days) suits a lot of repertoire but not all - as you suggest here.  My introduction to Stenhammar was that Westerberg recording in its LP incarnation - suggested to me when I was a student by the guy who managed the classical department at a record shop in central London - there aren't any of them (shops or managers!) any more!!!!

Tides will turn, but our memories remain intact and that can be a good or bad thing depending on what you're talking about. In your case, it's a good thing, indeed.

[Brian]

(To start, I just want to say I've been working on this post for more than a week, and did not know the thread was going to be bumped! Started writing it on Jan. 9. Hooray for Stenhammar!)

I decided since I have been loving Stenhammar's String Quartet No. 5 so much, I should sit down and try them all together.



No. 1 is in a relaxed C major and is his confident Op. 2. Its first movement exudes the good cheer and easy charm of a nice person you've just met at a party, without much dramatic impetus or contrapuntal complexity. The slow movement shows a more introspective, melancholy side, however, and reminds me of the minor-key slow movements of someone like Haydn or Schumann. The "molto tranquillo" third movement is very Brahmsian and apparently much impressed the young Carl Nielsen, which I can understand listening to it. The most interesting feature of the genial but rather plain finale is what happens in the last 90 seconds: it builds to a triumphant ending, then stops one forte chord short and descends into a reverie-like final coda of dreamy peace. Apparently half the audience missed this at the premiere because they stood up to leave! (Did people not clap back then?)

No. 2 is in C minor and starts with a cello "dun-dun-DUN!" In a reverse of the first quartet, the first movement is quite dramatic, energetic, and more intricately written, while the slow movement has the calming reassurance of a hymn (or, for that matter, a Beethoven middle quartet). The finale returns to the same kind of gruff, very short motifs that characterized the first movement, and has a stormy Nielsen-like energy to the best bits. Like the First, it winds down at the end to a gentle C major ending. Good listening.



No. 3 really pulls a big surprise. It's in F and the first movement starts with a lazy, peaceable little tune. Then the "presto molto agitato" scherzo hits with gale-force winds, a minor-key eruption much like that in Beethoven's "Harp" quartet, but with even less warning. It casts a pall over the slow movement, which seems shell-shocked from the prior violence. The scherzo's stormy theme returns at the beginning of the finale, led by the cello, but the other instruments gradually try to lull it into a more relaxed mode. Though very little of the finale is as fast or loud as the "presto molto agitato" was, there is genuine tension to the question of how the music is going to resolve itself. This turns itself into a moderate-tempo fugue based on a theme from Beethoven's Op. 131, and the fugue eventually works itself up into a frenetic climax that almost dances with relief at having overcome the compositional obstacles before.

The backstory to No. 3 is apparently a career crisis: Stenhammar wrote the first movement, then fell into a depression and had to convince himself of his own capabilities again, turning to Beethoven's late quartets for reassurance. You could say it is programmatic of a midlife crisis of confidence and restoration. Very interesting listening, and kind of inspiring.

The booklet notes report that No. 4 is the most important and best of his quartets, and maybe the best of his compositions, period. It was completed during his 15-year tenure as inaugural music director of the Gothenburg Symphony and dedicated to Sibelius, who appreciated it so much that he dedicated his Symphony No. 6 (!) to Stenhammar in return.

However, this is for the most part pretty intellectual music, and the first two movements particularly are not immediately attractive. The booklet describes their qualities in technical terms, like how the various motifs interrelate in subtle ways, which would reward multiple listens or listening with a score, perhaps. Only the scherzo and finale are immediately "appealing" to a more casual ear, and the scherzo comes across as a hybrid of Scandinavian language and Beethoven middle quartet scherzo.

The finale is an 11-minute set of theme and variations on a Swedish folk melody, which is uttered at the beginning by solo violin. (Played here without vibrato. A tribute to the folk fiddle origins, I suppose?) The easygoing lyrical charm of the early variations gives way to a language that more closely resembles the tougher, gnarlier, more intricate writing of the first movement. This is a quartet for thinkers and repeated close listens, not instant pleasure.

The two incidental pieces from a play called "Lodolezzi Sings" are surprisingly moody and introspective for a public theater work: not extroverted at all, but quite pensive, except for a little bit of action toward the end of the second. True miniatures.



Usually when there is an unpublished or unnumbered work, or a "No. 0," it comes from before the first "official" work in the series. But Stenhammar's unnumbered quartet would have been No. 3 if it had been published in order. The career crisis and lack of self-confidence that is described in his eventual "real" No. 3 had a fatal effect on this piece in F minor after the composer decided he quite liked the two central movements, but found the finale fatally flawed and unpublishable.

The first movement's stern drama is in language that wouldn't be too foreign to Mendelssohn or Schumann, though there is a bit of Nordic-ness to the second subject, maybe. The two inner movements that the composer approved of are sweet, almost naive, which makes the piece feel smaller-scaled than the beginning would lead you to expect. The trio is a really odd violin solo over pizzicato accompaniment with harmonically odd "wrong" notes. The finale that Stenhammar found so offensive is a little four-minute rondo, and the trick he thought would unify the piece would be to include stormy minor-key episodes that harken back to the first movement. Unfortunately, he's right that the main theme of the rondo is rather trite. I still like the piece as a background entertainment, and I'm glad it was preserved for us to listen to.

That said, No. 5 remains my favorite, just above No. 3. It is in jovial C Major, and is almost neoclassical in its scurrying rhythms, light atmosphere, and traditional sense of "balance" among movements. The slow movement "ballata" is the centerpiece, and (I learn now, having listened to the piece 3-4 times without ever consulting the booklet notes) is based on a silly nursery song Stenhammar's grandfather used to sing, with descriptions of what's happening in the song tied to specific moments in the music.

Overall, No. 5 has lots of fugal and contrapuntal episodes, bouncy rhythms, and feels almost like it could have been inspiration for Martinu at times. Stenhammar's love of Beethoven is clear too. The scherzo is an absolute treat, and the finale is muscular and lively. This is exactly my kind of thing.

For No. 6, Stenhammar returned to D minor and although the themes seem more relaxed, they are also quite concentrated. There's a striking moment in the center of the scherzo, and a very lovely tranquil slow movement that recalls Beethoven's Op. 127. The finale is stormy and the emotional high point of the piece, including some chilling unisons and a decisive ending. Harshly, tragically beautiful, and to me (in disagreement with the booklet), an even more mature distillation of the power to be found in the Fourth.

This was a wonderful listening experience. It is interesting hearing a non-German composer so thoroughly grapple with the influence of Beethoven. The results are always rewarding: well developed, structurally creative, a little Nordic sounding but not a lot. Throughout, the Stenhammar Quartet is marvelous. I can hear a little breathing in the unnumbered quartet but the production is otherwise superb. The booklet notes help with the journey. I might have to buy a physical copy of this set.

[brewski]

Thanks for this ultra-comprehensive look at the quartets, which I don't know at all. Will fix soon — perhaps starting with No. 5 — and then come back to revisit these comments!

[foxandpeng]

(To start, I just want to say I've been working on this post for more than a week, and did not know the thread was going to be bumped! Started writing it on Jan. 9. Hooray for Stenhammar!)

I decided since I have been loving Stenhammar's String Quartet No. 5 so much, I should sit down and try them all together.



No. 1 is in a relaxed C major and is his confident Op. 2. Its first movement exudes the good cheer and easy charm of a nice person you've just met at a party, without much dramatic impetus or contrapuntal complexity. The slow movement shows a more introspective, melancholy side, however, and reminds me of the minor-key slow movements of someone like Haydn or Schumann. The "molto tranquillo" third movement is very Brahmsian and apparently much impressed the young Carl Nielsen, which I can understand listening to it. The most interesting feature of the genial but rather plain finale is what happens in the last 90 seconds: it builds to a triumphant ending, then stops one forte chord short and descends into a reverie-like final coda of dreamy peace. Apparently half the audience missed this at the premiere because they stood up to leave! (Did people not clap back then?)

No. 2 is in C minor and starts with a cello "dun-dun-DUN!" In a reverse of the first quartet, the first movement is quite dramatic, energetic, and more intricately written, while the slow movement has the calming reassurance of a hymn (or, for that matter, a Beethoven middle quartet). The finale returns to the same kind of gruff, very short motifs that characterized the first movement, and has a stormy Nielsen-like energy to the best bits. Like the First, it winds down at the end to a gentle C major ending. Good listening.



No. 3 really pulls a big surprise. It's in F and the first movement starts with a lazy, peaceable little tune. Then the "presto molto agitato" scherzo hits with gale-force winds, a minor-key eruption much like that in Beethoven's "Harp" quartet, but with even less warning. It casts a pall over the slow movement, which seems shell-shocked from the prior violence. The scherzo's stormy theme returns at the beginning of the finale, led by the cello, but the other instruments gradually try to lull it into a more relaxed mode. Though very little of the finale is as fast or loud as the "presto molto agitato" was, there is genuine tension to the question of how the music is going to resolve itself. This turns itself into a moderate-tempo fugue based on a theme from Beethoven's Op. 131, and the fugue eventually works itself up into a frenetic climax that almost dances with relief at having overcome the compositional obstacles before.

The backstory to No. 3 is apparently a career crisis: Stenhammar wrote the first movement, then fell into a depression and had to convince himself of his own capabilities again, turning to Beethoven's late quartets for reassurance. You could say it is programmatic of a midlife crisis of confidence and restoration. Very interesting listening, and kind of inspiring.

The booklet notes report that No. 4 is the most important and best of his quartets, and maybe the best of his compositions, period. It was completed during his 15-year tenure as inaugural music director of the Gothenburg Symphony and dedicated to Sibelius, who appreciated it so much that he dedicated his Symphony No. 6 (!) to Stenhammar in return.

However, this is for the most part pretty intellectual music, and the first two movements particularly are not immediately attractive. The booklet describes their qualities in technical terms, like how the various motifs interrelate in subtle ways, which would reward multiple listens or listening with a score, perhaps. Only the scherzo and finale are immediately "appealing" to a more casual ear, and the scherzo comes across as a hybrid of Scandinavian language and Beethoven middle quartet scherzo.

The finale is an 11-minute set of theme and variations on a Swedish folk melody, which is uttered at the beginning by solo violin. (Played here without vibrato. A tribute to the folk fiddle origins, I suppose?) The easygoing lyrical charm of the early variations gives way to a language that more closely resembles the tougher, gnarlier, more intricate writing of the first movement. This is a quartet for thinkers and repeated close listens, not instant pleasure.

The two incidental pieces from a play called "Lodolezzi Sings" are surprisingly moody and introspective for a public theater work: not extroverted at all, but quite pensive, except for a little bit of action toward the end of the second. True miniatures.



Usually when there is an unpublished or unnumbered work, or a "No. 0," it comes from before the first "official" work in the series. But Stenhammar's unnumbered quartet would have been No. 3 if it had been published in order. The career crisis and lack of self-confidence that is described in his eventual "real" No. 3 had a fatal effect on this piece in F minor after the composer decided he quite liked the two central movements, but found the finale fatally flawed and unpublishable.

The first movement's stern drama is in language that wouldn't be too foreign to Mendelssohn or Schumann, though there is a bit of Nordic-ness to the second subject, maybe. The two inner movements that the composer approved of are sweet, almost naive, which makes the piece feel smaller-scaled than the beginning would lead you to expect. The trio is a really odd violin solo over pizzicato accompaniment with harmonically odd "wrong" notes. The finale that Stenhammar found so offensive is a little four-minute rondo, and the trick he thought would unify the piece would be to include stormy minor-key episodes that harken back to the first movement. Unfortunately, he's right that the main theme of the rondo is rather trite. I still like the piece as a background entertainment, and I'm glad it was preserved for us to listen to.

That said, No. 5 remains my favorite, just above No. 3. It is in jovial C Major, and is almost neoclassical in its scurrying rhythms, light atmosphere, and traditional sense of "balance" among movements. The slow movement "ballata" is the centerpiece, and (I learn now, having listened to the piece 3-4 times without ever consulting the booklet notes) is based on a silly nursery song Stenhammar's grandfather used to sing, with descriptions of what's happening in the song tied to specific moments in the music.

Overall, No. 5 has lots of fugal and contrapuntal episodes, bouncy rhythms, and feels almost like it could have been inspiration for Martinu at times. Stenhammar's love of Beethoven is clear too. The scherzo is an absolute treat, and the finale is muscular and lively. This is exactly my kind of thing.

For No. 6, Stenhammar returned to D minor and although the themes seem more relaxed, they are also quite concentrated. There's a striking moment in the center of the scherzo, and a very lovely tranquil slow movement that recalls Beethoven's Op. 127. The finale is stormy and the emotional high point of the piece, including some chilling unisons and a decisive ending. Harshly, tragically beautiful, and to me (in disagreement with the booklet), an even more mature distillation of the power to be found in the Fourth.

This was a wonderful listening experience. It is interesting hearing a non-German composer so thoroughly grapple with the influence of Beethoven. The results are always rewarding: well developed, structurally creative, a little Nordic sounding but not a lot. Throughout, the Stenhammar Quartet is marvelous. I can hear a little breathing in the unnumbered quartet but the production is otherwise superb. The booklet notes help with the journey. I might have to buy a physical copy of this set.

What a great post. Thank you.

[The new erato]

I seem to vaguely remember that the main theme in the finale of no 5 is a retrograde version of some famous Beethoven theme?

A great quartet BTW.

[Den glemte sønnen]

(To start, I just want to say I've been working on this post for more than a week, and did not know the thread was going to be bumped! Started writing it on Jan. 9. Hooray for Stenhammar!)

I decided since I have been loving Stenhammar's String Quartet No. 5 so much, I should sit down and try them all together.



No. 1 is in a relaxed C major and is his confident Op. 2. Its first movement exudes the good cheer and easy charm of a nice person you've just met at a party, without much dramatic impetus or contrapuntal complexity. The slow movement shows a more introspective, melancholy side, however, and reminds me of the minor-key slow movements of someone like Haydn or Schumann. The "molto tranquillo" third movement is very Brahmsian and apparently much impressed the young Carl Nielsen, which I can understand listening to it. The most interesting feature of the genial but rather plain finale is what happens in the last 90 seconds: it builds to a triumphant ending, then stops one forte chord short and descends into a reverie-like final coda of dreamy peace. Apparently half the audience missed this at the premiere because they stood up to leave! (Did people not clap back then?)

No. 2 is in C minor and starts with a cello "dun-dun-DUN!" In a reverse of the first quartet, the first movement is quite dramatic, energetic, and more intricately written, while the slow movement has the calming reassurance of a hymn (or, for that matter, a Beethoven middle quartet). The finale returns to the same kind of gruff, very short motifs that characterized the first movement, and has a stormy Nielsen-like energy to the best bits. Like the First, it winds down at the end to a gentle C major ending. Good listening.



No. 3 really pulls a big surprise. It's in F and the first movement starts with a lazy, peaceable little tune. Then the "presto molto agitato" scherzo hits with gale-force winds, a minor-key eruption much like that in Beethoven's "Harp" quartet, but with even less warning. It casts a pall over the slow movement, which seems shell-shocked from the prior violence. The scherzo's stormy theme returns at the beginning of the finale, led by the cello, but the other instruments gradually try to lull it into a more relaxed mode. Though very little of the finale is as fast or loud as the "presto molto agitato" was, there is genuine tension to the question of how the music is going to resolve itself. This turns itself into a moderate-tempo fugue based on a theme from Beethoven's Op. 131, and the fugue eventually works itself up into a frenetic climax that almost dances with relief at having overcome the compositional obstacles before.

The backstory to No. 3 is apparently a career crisis: Stenhammar wrote the first movement, then fell into a depression and had to convince himself of his own capabilities again, turning to Beethoven's late quartets for reassurance. You could say it is programmatic of a midlife crisis of confidence and restoration. Very interesting listening, and kind of inspiring.

The booklet notes report that No. 4 is the most important and best of his quartets, and maybe the best of his compositions, period. It was completed during his 15-year tenure as inaugural music director of the Gothenburg Symphony and dedicated to Sibelius, who appreciated it so much that he dedicated his Symphony No. 6 (!) to Stenhammar in return.

However, this is for the most part pretty intellectual music, and the first two movements particularly are not immediately attractive. The booklet describes their qualities in technical terms, like how the various motifs interrelate in subtle ways, which would reward multiple listens or listening with a score, perhaps. Only the scherzo and finale are immediately "appealing" to a more casual ear, and the scherzo comes across as a hybrid of Scandinavian language and Beethoven middle quartet scherzo.

The finale is an 11-minute set of theme and variations on a Swedish folk melody, which is uttered at the beginning by solo violin. (Played here without vibrato. A tribute to the folk fiddle origins, I suppose?) The easygoing lyrical charm of the early variations gives way to a language that more closely resembles the tougher, gnarlier, more intricate writing of the first movement. This is a quartet for thinkers and repeated close listens, not instant pleasure.

The two incidental pieces from a play called "Lodolezzi Sings" are surprisingly moody and introspective for a public theater work: not extroverted at all, but quite pensive, except for a little bit of action toward the end of the second. True miniatures.



Usually when there is an unpublished or unnumbered work, or a "No. 0," it comes from before the first "official" work in the series. But Stenhammar's unnumbered quartet would have been No. 3 if it had been published in order. The career crisis and lack of self-confidence that is described in his eventual "real" No. 3 had a fatal effect on this piece in F minor after the composer decided he quite liked the two central movements, but found the finale fatally flawed and unpublishable.

The first movement's stern drama is in language that wouldn't be too foreign to Mendelssohn or Schumann, though there is a bit of Nordic-ness to the second subject, maybe. The two inner movements that the composer approved of are sweet, almost naive, which makes the piece feel smaller-scaled than the beginning would lead you to expect. The trio is a really odd violin solo over pizzicato accompaniment with harmonically odd "wrong" notes. The finale that Stenhammar found so offensive is a little four-minute rondo, and the trick he thought would unify the piece would be to include stormy minor-key episodes that harken back to the first movement. Unfortunately, he's right that the main theme of the rondo is rather trite. I still like the piece as a background entertainment, and I'm glad it was preserved for us to listen to.

That said, No. 5 remains my favorite, just above No. 3. It is in jovial C Major, and is almost neoclassical in its scurrying rhythms, light atmosphere, and traditional sense of "balance" among movements. The slow movement "ballata" is the centerpiece, and (I learn now, having listened to the piece 3-4 times without ever consulting the booklet notes) is based on a silly nursery song Stenhammar's grandfather used to sing, with descriptions of what's happening in the song tied to specific moments in the music.

Overall, No. 5 has lots of fugal and contrapuntal episodes, bouncy rhythms, and feels almost like it could have been inspiration for Martinu at times. Stenhammar's love of Beethoven is clear too. The scherzo is an absolute treat, and the finale is muscular and lively. This is exactly my kind of thing.

For No. 6, Stenhammar returned to D minor and although the themes seem more relaxed, they are also quite concentrated. There's a striking moment in the center of the scherzo, and a very lovely tranquil slow movement that recalls Beethoven's Op. 127. The finale is stormy and the emotional high point of the piece, including some chilling unisons and a decisive ending. Harshly, tragically beautiful, and to me (in disagreement with the booklet), an even more mature distillation of the power to be found in the Fourth.

This was a wonderful listening experience. It is interesting hearing a non-German composer so thoroughly grapple with the influence of Beethoven. The results are always rewarding: well developed, structurally creative, a little Nordic sounding but not a lot. Throughout, the Stenhammar Quartet is marvelous. I can hear a little breathing in the unnumbered quartet but the production is otherwise superb. The booklet notes help with the journey. I might have to buy a physical copy of this set.

Nice post, indeed. I've got to get around to revisiting these Stenhammar SQs.

[Symphonic Addict]

Encountering one piece of his for the first time (Ithaka) and revisiting two of his most famous compositions (Excelsior! and Serenade in F major). Ithaka for baritone and orchestra is absolutely wonderful. It has a most compelling eloquent and heroic quality to it that one cannot but marvel at it. There's a sense of ardour and expressiveness without being too much dramatic, and an undulating rhythm in spots like evoking the sea. A work that was love at first hearing.

I didn't recall how epic Excelsior! is, and very wagnerian too. This is music with a clear knightly character featuring memorable trepidant passages, but I have to say that I preferred the animated parts over the slow ones. It would be a most apt opener to a live concert if it were programmed.

And finally the Serenade, probably his orchestral masterpiece. What a refreshing creation which shows the influence of Sibelius. The music is suffused with one lovely and sparkling idea after another, a brilliant synthesis between soft, lyric material and vivacious, infectious elements. I remember being quite underwhelmed by the BIS recording of it with Blomstedt at the helm. Very tepid and the dynamic range didn't help either. What a difference makes the another BIS recording featuring Neeme Järvi (the one below), much more so taking into account that it includes the Reverenza movement that was omitted in the revised version.

[André]

Gorgeous works all. 'The Song' may be my favourite.

[Symphonic Addict]

Gorgeous works all. 'The Song' may be my favourite.

I have fond memories of that choral work too. Most likely I'll be giving it a spin on these days.

[Symphonic Addict]

Recently I attended a live concert that included his Symphony No. 2. Having disparaged about it in previous posts, I change my mind now: it is an outstanding piece. It's more memorable and cohesive than I had thought. The difference a live performance can make truly work wonders, nothing can beat it. Needless to say it was splendid.

The last year his Symphony No. 1 was rendered live too and I was equally impressed and delighted. Even though it's less original-sounding, I love it. It's so uplifting and noble. So refreshing when one hears these pieces live instead of the core repertoire.

[kyjo]

Encountering one piece of his for the first time (Ithaka) and revisiting two of his most famous compositions (Excelsior! and Serenade in F major). Ithaka for baritone and orchestra is absolutely wonderful. It has a most compelling eloquent and heroic quality to it that one cannot but marvel at it. There's a sense of ardour and expressiveness without being too much dramatic, and an undulating rhythm in spots like evoking the sea. A work that was love at first hearing.

I didn't recall how epic Excelsior! is, and very wagnerian too. This is music with a clear knightly character featuring memorable trepidant passages, but I have to say that I preferred the animated parts over the slow ones. It would be a most apt opener to a live concert if it were programmed.

And finally the Serenade, probably his orchestral masterpiece. What a refreshing creation which shows the influence of Sibelius. The music is suffused with one lovely and sparkling idea after another, a brilliant synthesis between soft, lyric material and vivacious, infectious elements. I remember being quite underwhelmed by the BIS recording of it with Blomstedt at the helm. Very tepid and the dynamic range didn't help either. What a difference makes the another BIS recording featuring Neeme Järvi (the one below), much more so taking into account that it includes the Reverenza movement that was omitted in the revised version.

I totally share your sentiments, Cesar! Ithaka is a marvelously atmospheric work evocative of the sea - absolutely one of my favorite works for solo voice and orchestra. I'm sure you already know his late cantata Sången (The Song), another beautiful and stirring vocal work of his.

Regarding Excelsior! (great title), I always feel that the rest of the work doesn't quite live up to the supercharged, heroic opening with its prominent horn parts. And I think most who've heard the Serenade can agree it's a masterpiece. The first movement, in particular, features some marvelous string writing. I don't agree with Stenhammar's choice to discard the Reverenza movement and I appreciate Järvi's recording for including it. And yes, I also found the much-lauded Blomstedt recording of the Serenade and Symphony No. 2 to be underplayed and too "civilized". Järvi père all the way in Stenhammar!

[Symphonic Addict]

I totally share your sentiments, Cesar! Ithaka is a marvelously atmospheric work evocative of the sea - absolutely one of my favorite works for solo voice and orchestra. I'm sure you already know his late cantata Sången (The Song), another beautiful and stirring vocal work of his.

Regarding Excelsior! (great title), I always feel that the rest of the work doesn't quite live up to the supercharged, heroic opening with its prominent horn parts. And I think most who've heard the Serenade can agree it's a masterpiece. The first movement, in particular, features some marvelous string writing. I don't agree with Stenhammar's choice to discard the Reverenza movement and I appreciate Järvi's recording for including it. And yes, I also found the much-lauded Blomstedt recording of the Serenade and Symphony No. 2 to be underplayed and too "civilized". Järvi père all the way in Stenhammar!

The other day I gave Sangen a listen (the BIS recording) and I was captured by the soaring choral writing, particularly, once again. A magnificent piece.