CPO diaries

Started by Brian, March 06, 2024, 01:07:52 PM

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Florestan

Quote from: Jo498 on August 02, 2025, 11:23:46 AMIt seems that Yun was lucky that South Korea was receptive to the international appeals otherwise he might have rotted in their prison, at least for a few more years.

Just as I said, SK was a dictatorship while NK was totalitarian.
"Ja, sehr komisch, hahaha,
ist die Sache, hahaha,
drum verzeihn Sie, hahaha,
wenn ich lache, hahaha! "

Brian



Krommer's symphony cycle of 9, with No. 8 missing, spans from 1797-1830, in two groupings. The first three, all on this disc, date from 1797-1807 (age 38-48) and are much like the late symphonies of Haydn or the first four symphonies of Schubert. Then Krommer wrote the rest from 1820-1830, in his 60s and his final decade.

No. 1 is an extroverted, jovial piece with a monothematic first movement and a tick-ticking slow movement. The finale is a romp and the timpani, trumpets, horns, and bassoons all get plenty of work to do. Utterly delightful, and, as usual in my experience with Krommer, of the very highest level of craftsmanship.

No. 2 starts with a stormy minor key introduction, played quite quickly here, so that the arrival of the main allegro is a bit of a surprise. Minor-key outbursts punctuate the movement but it's mainly in D major. The energy never lets up. The slow movement is very Haydnesque, with its bouncing tune subjected to wildly different variations, and the minuet is comically undanceable in the best late classical style.

No. 3 starts with a very grand 2:30 introduction absolutely packed with timpani, and then settles into another delightful early Schubertish allegro with lots of work for the horns and woodwinds. Part of Krommer's appeal is his colorful use of the woodwinds, which are ever-present at least as accompaniment to the strings and usually more. The "andante allegretto" second movement has a walking pizzicato bass, an unusual minor key coloration, and occasional outbursts from the brass (!), a truly wild movement. This proves to be the most memorable feature by a long shot.



No. 4 advances us 13 years and is the first minor key symphony, with the cello-led introduction introducing the gloomy C minor. The cellos also inaugurate the allegro's main motif (not really a melody). This is a bit like Schubert's "Tragic" in that the tragedy is worn rather lightly; the first movement ends in major key and slow movement, like Schubert's, is a calming, lyrical respite from the sturm und drang. The minuet is once again undanceably exciting, with a dramatic minor key syncopated melody. Do I hear trombones, too? The finale is in major key but takes a little persuading; there are minor-key orchestral outbursts at times a bit like in the finale of Beethoven's Eighth.

No. 4 was Krommer's most performed and most successful symphony, premiered in 1820 and kept in the Viennese repertoire until 1840. It helps to situate it in a little context: Beethoven's Eighth was premiered six years earlier, and Schubert's Tragic was written four years earlier but not known to the public. The fully mature Krommer was certainly on a level with the young Schubert, but this timeline also goes to show that, even in his era, Beethoven was almost on another planet from everyone else.

With No. 5 and No. 7 we reach an interesting duo of symphonies that seem to be directly inspired by past models. The intro to No. 5 very clearly pays tribute to Mozart's 39th, in the same E flat, and its minuet is a reworking of Haydn's 99th. The main theme that begins No. 7 is in the same key (G minor) and shape as Haydn's 83rd ("the Hen"). Elsewhere, Krommer is still himself: the Fifth has a slow movement that combines Schubertian lyricism with timpani and brass outbursts, the minuets are still rambunctious to the max, and the timpani parts are still virtuosic by themselves.



These are Krommer's biggest and most grandiose symphonies, a half-hour each. No. 6 has a timpani-driven minor key introduction and, with its ever-present brass, feels ceremonial at times. The minuet is especially grandiose. This makes me love even more the Haydnesque finale, which is good lighthearted fun and at times actually funny (even the brief, rather shocking minor-key turn). One of the best individual movements of the cycle.

No. 9 pulls the same now-familiar trick of the minor-key introduction to a major-key symphony. By my count, this is done in three of the eight. The storminess comes back in the minuet, which is almost Kalliwoda-like. The key change from minuet to finale is a wee bit bizarre: C minor to A minor, eventually winding its way back around to C major, but taking its sweet time to do so.

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Overall, every symphony in the cycle is individually excellent and enjoyable. However, there is not the kind of variety in Krommer's cycle that distinguishes Schubert or Haydn. Instead, he kind of performs the same tricks over and over. They're very good tricks, but they lack a heartstopping melody or dramatic twist that would make one of the eight symphonies stand out from the others. I don't think you could nickname Krommer symphonies in the way you can Haydn's, since the composer's distinguishing features are consistent rather than work-by-work strokes of new genius.

That said, I love 'em all. I will not listen to them again as a cycle, all at once, but the individual CDs and symphonies will be in my listening rotation for many years to come.

The performances are superb: stylish, HIP-informed on tempo and timpani sticks but on today's instruments. Instruments like the bassoon are not afraid to chime in assertively for their solo turns. Howard Griffiths is a very reliable conductor in repertoire like this. I do wonder if they sometimes speed a bit (the "adagio" of No. 2 and "adagio quasi andante" of No. 9), but this is an acceptable flaw given the excellent execution elsewhere.

Florestan

Quote from: Brian on August 08, 2025, 07:18:19 AMOverall, every symphony in the cycle is individually excellent and enjoyable. However, there is not the kind of variety in Krommer's cycle that distinguishes Schubert or Haydn. Instead, he kind of performs the same tricks over and over. They're very good tricks, but they lack a heartstopping melody or dramatic twist that would make one of the eight symphonies stand out from the others.

My thoughts exactly.
"Ja, sehr komisch, hahaha,
ist die Sache, hahaha,
drum verzeihn Sie, hahaha,
wenn ich lache, hahaha! "

Brian



A total delight, of course. L'Orfeo Baroque and Gaigg are a colorful, delightful orchestra well suited to the French baroque, with its wide range of inventive percussion and woodwind sonorities. Rebel's piece is most famous for the opening depiction of "Chaos" with that wild signature chord (here extended out to frightening length). But the rest of it is a joyful romp.

Rameau's Castor et Pollux is a half-hour suite and, no surprise here, another total delight...



I wish Qobuz had uploaded the booklet for this, because I'm listening on the recommendation of many GMGers, without knowing the full context for what I'm hearing. These are four shortish works - a 13' three-movement Symphony, 20' ballet suite, 11' Symphonic Etude, and 12' set of variations on a theme by the baroque polymath Kuhnau, for string orchestra.

The Symphony No. 1 starts with a dark, gloomy introduction in a late romantic style; after it's over, the main allegro has a few intentional "wrong" lines. It transitions directly to the slow movement where you'd expect a development to begin. The finale, announced with a timpani stroke, returns to minor key motoric energy. Overall, the slow movement has some atmospheric string writing but otherwise I found this a rather difficult first listen. It has a traditional romantic tonality but what it is saying is rather mysterious and elusive. "Bracing" would be a good word for it.

Ballet Suite - that's what it's called, no actual ballet name provided - is colorful and relaxed where the symphony was colorless and taut. It's gently entertaining music; I especially like the waltz in the central movement.

Symphonic Etude is the most "modern" work yet. It starts with a solo oboe, then joined by more woodwind soloists, playing a winding, slow, strange melody that is not grounded in a clear tonal center. It doesn't seem to be 12 tone. The piece works as a theme and variations on this, alternating faster and quieter episodes.

Kuhnau's theme seems to have little promise - it is slow and rather ceremonial in character, played with extreme delicacy. By variation 2, Andriessen has broken free from that mood and gotten edgier. The later variations take on steely, even grim qualities. Is Andriessen a GMG (Grim Music Guys) favorite?  ;D



Tansman's ballets Sextuor and Bric-a-brac both come from his interwar Parisian period. Sextuor is a typically 20s frolic, a story of musical instruments falling in love with each other that's scored with jazzy vibrancy and wit. There are lots of solos for everybody, and the trombone gets to ramble on at times in an amusing fashion. (It even duets with the bass drum.) There is one real surprise: a quiet, peaceful ending.

Bric-a-brac, written in 1935, might seem more imposing at first since it was written the year that Tansman's mother died, in the midst of the Depression, and is twice as long as Sextuor (36 minutes vs. 18). But it's another story about magical dancing inanimate objects, this time all the items for sale in a flea market. The score may not be quite as naively raucous as Sextuor, but we get compensation in some absolutely exquisite scoring. Think Petrushka, Jacques Ibert, a Gershwin concerto-like muted trumpet melody, a momentary Johann Strauss parody (14'), and Chaplinesque circus waltzes. The energy of certain passages (like around 5') is simply irresistible. Although most of my favorite stuff is in the first half, this is probably a masterpiece.

The cover art is a perfect match since the music is just as brightly colorful.

Brian



Listening on the recent recommendations from Spotted Horses and others. This is Casella's lighter side and it's a delight. The Serenata is thoroughly entertaining, at times even funny. Some bits use only winds and brass, while the cavatina reminds me of Mahler or Ravel in its heart-on-sleeve warmth. Indeed, Casella's notation here is "sentimental, but without parody." The tarantella finale, started by bassoons, is a hoot. It's not loud and bombastic, more of a chamber orchestra dessert confection. Wonderful.

The Concerto for Strings is, as Spotted Horses pointed out, an arrangement upwards from a string quartet original (which I haven't heard). As a string orchestra work, it is effective, so I'll have to listen to the original soon. I do think that the moments where soloists play solo lines (like the violinist in the slow movement) are well-chosen and set against good accompaniments. Overall the piece is quite engaging. It reminds me of some of the English music for strings by folks like Bliss - not dogmatically of any style, neither romantic nor modern, just interesting serious music.

The Divertimento per Fulvia is a suite of neobaroque bonbons for what sounds like a smaller orchestra (reduced strings but a full set of wind, trumpet, and percussion soloists). It puts me in mind of Roussel's delightful Suite in F. There's a "diatonic waltz" and an absolutely lovely siciliana. The jig is a riff on Debussy's Gigues from the orchestral Images. The whole divertimento does exactly what the name implies, although the ending is so abrupt I wondered if Qobuz left part out.



Emilie Mayer's piano trios come from the sound world of Mendelssohn and Schumann. They don't have moments of genius or carried-away relentlessness like those two composers, but they are very enjoyable. These are the second and third of three published trios, though apparently letters and archives make mention of up to 9 more, unpublished.

In between the two big works, we get a lovely Notturno for violin and piano with a gorgeous singing melody. The Notturno appears to be her last completed composition, from the 1880s, and it is a successful farewell to a career.



Malipiero was active for almost 70 years, roughly 1900-1970, so it's no surprise that his compositions span a huge number of styles. He was also largely self-taught, with a mix of formal education and his own personal curriculum. This adds still further to a career marked by eccentricity and uniqueness.

The works on this disc reflect those eclectic interests. Gabrieliana is a "straight" adaptation of Gabrieli's works, now incorporating full orchestra. Anyone who likes Respighi's Ancient Airs and Dances would immediately like this, too. Madrigali, a suite after Monteverdi, follows the same principle, and I think might be even better arranged.

Serenata, by contrast, is a somewhat bittersweet 10-minute concertino for bassoon, with crystalline scoring in which the orchestra sounds like a chamber ensemble. I think it might be one voice per part orchestration?

Favole is a set of five songs for mezzo and small orchestra, in the same sweet-tart and intricately scored musical language. The mezzo's lines are usually very beautiful (although in the first song she sings like a child or cat for a moment). The Canzonette Veneziane are a little more "out there," and use the occasional 12-tone row, but I'd say these two song cycles would be appealing to anybody who likes, say, the "exotic" eastern songs of Martinu.



Concerto No. 2 starts with the kind of pretty, unaffected, gentle melody - stated by the piano before the orchestra enters - that puts me in mind of the openings of, say, Brahms 2 or Saint-Saens 3. It's relaxing and instantly friendly. The rest of the concerto makes its debt to Brahms very clear. The first movement does rise to some moments of dramatic seriousness, while the larghetto is gorgeous from beginning to end. The finale has that scherzando-rondo lilt that I associate with a Brahms piano concerto finale, too.

Concerto No. 4 is similar enough in form that the tempo markings on the three movements are identical to those of No. 2. The beginning is similar, though the full orchestra gets involved a little more quickly. That Brahmsian feel and sunny major-key warmth are back in full force. The biggest difference, maybe, is that this concerto's 7 minutes shorter. It's funny that it was written 27 years later but sounds basically the same. I think the slow movement of No. 4, with almost Wagnerian horns and a spare orchestration around the piano, is the most impressive individual part of the disc.

Overall, Brahmsians will enjoy it greatly.