The Finnish composer Kalevi Aho (b. 1949) and his younger colleague and
compatriot Sebastian Fagerlund (b. 1972) have both received
international recognition for their masterful treatment of large
orchestral forces. This they have demonstrated in purely
orchestral as well as in concertante works – Aho has written 26
concertos to date (most of them in his monumental project to compose a
concerto for each of the main orchestral instruments), and Fagerlund’s
concertos for clarinet and for violin have been released by BIS to
critical acclaim. On this disc the two composers appear side by side
with their respective concertos for bassoon and orchestra, works that to
a certain extent illustrate different approaches to the concerto genre.
If the Romantic concept of the concerto was that of a struggle between
the soloist and orchestra, Fagerlund in his Mana (2014) instead gives
the bassoon the role of a spiritual leader, conjuring up new sound
worlds from the orchestra. (In Swedish – Fagerlund’s mother tongue –
‘mana’ is a verb that suggests invocation; in Finnish the word alludes
to exorcism). Kalevi Aho, on the other hand, has endeavoured to enrich
and expand the solo instrument’s sonic and expressive possibilities
through his use of orchestration and describes his concerto as ‘quite
symphonic in character’. In both works Lahti Symphony Orchestra supports
the soloist Bram van Sambeek, the first bassoonist ever to receive the
prestigious Dutch Music Prize and the musician for whom Fagerlund composed Mana. In preparation for the concerto Fagerlund also wrote the
solo piece Woodlands, which van Sambeek includes here together with
Aho’s dramatic Solo V. (BIS Records)
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Okko Kamu. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando entradas con la etiqueta Okko Kamu. Mostrar todas las entradas
jueves, 4 de enero de 2018
martes, 11 de julio de 2017
Kojo / Sundqvist / Aalto / Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra EÖTVÖS - NIELSEN - SALLINEN Levitation
Nielsen’s Clarinet Concerto
is an unusual and uncompromising work. Cast in a single movement, and
with a strange orchestra of strings, two horns, two bassoons and side
drum, it casts a powerful spell. The opening is pastoral and almost
neo-classical in atmosphere, giving no clue to the highly dramatic
nature of what is to follow. Conflict is at the heart of much of the
music, with repeated and sudden changes of mood. (The booklet notes
offer a clue to this, in that Aage Oxenvaad, for whom the work was
written, suffered from bipolar disorder.) The musical language, too,
ranges very widely, from sweet and gentle harmonies to passages where
the clarinet screams wildly in a highly chromatic upper register. The
work closes in a kind of calm, though all is not resolved. The work has
become a classic but has lost little of its power to surprise and
challenge. If you are mainly looking for this remarkable work I feel
duty bound to recommend an alternative performance from the many
distinguished ones available, that by Martin Fröst on BIS. It is coupled
with the concerto by Kalevi Aho, complicating an already difficult
choice, as the present performance also has very worthwhile and generous
couplings. And it is, in any event, a very fine performance.
Christoffer Sundqvist is the principal clarinettist of the Finnish Radio
Symphony Orchestra, and his technical mastery is never in doubt. He is
brilliant in the more virtuoso passages, and exquisitely tender where
required, as in the introspective unaccompanied passage in the first
section of the work, as beautifully played here as I have ever heard it.
I don’t think he has quite the range of tone colour as Fröst, and the
orchestral contribution is not quite so vivid, but the difference is
marginal, and Sundqvist’s performance, taken on its own terms, will not
disappoint.
And then there is the rest of the programme. The notes tell us that each of the four movements of Peter Eöstvös’s piece explores different aspects of the subject of levitation. The first movement has street furniture - phone boxes and road signs - flying about in a hurricane, whereas the second evokes a recurring dream the composer has of his own body floating, horizontally, over a landscape. The third movement describes gondolas on - or presumably above - Venetian waterways, and the last has Petrushka, buoyant, high above the world that has dealt so cruelly with him. Since the notes, and presumably the composer, give so detailed a “programme” it seems logical to comment on it. In fact, there is not much in the way of contrast in this work. Each movement is a kind of mood painting, with no themes as such, but fragments, motifs, mostly without any discernible pulse. If there were no gaps between the movements I’m not sure that I should know which one I was in, at least, not for the first few hearings. Thus the first-movement conjures up the gentlest, most beguiling hurricane you could imagine, and you will listen in vain, in the third movement “barcarola”, for any suggestion of the characteristic rhythm that normally goes with the name. The writing for the three solo instruments - two clarinets and accordion - is completely without show or bravado. All this does not stop this piece creating a powerful impression. The sounds the composer finds within the ensemble are exquisite and, for the most part, astonishingly tranquil, restful, tender and subtle. Maybe it’s another of those pieces that one would appreciate more, or at any rate no less, if the composer gave no information about it. I enjoyed it enormously the first time I heard it, and it positively compels the listener to return to it.
Getting to know the music of Aulis Sallinen - I would recommend the opera The King Goes Forth To France (Ondine) or any of the symphonies in the admirable CPO series - is an ongoing pleasure that continues with the double concerto on this disc. Its three movements deal with issues related to man’s relationship with animals. The first is a gentle lament for two dolphins drowned in a fisherman’s net in the Baltic Sea, and the third pays homage to the noble bull destined to die in the arena. Only the middle movement, “Les Jeux”, which deals with games, seems to stretch the theme somewhat, the parallels between animals and humans appearing to extend no further than the fact that playing of any kind is unimportant for the survival of a species. The work opens with a duet, accompanied only by timpani, for the two soloists. Other instruments are added gradually, and the movement progresses, via a series of ravishing sounds, to create an unforgettable atmosphere of gentle sadness and regret. Anger at man’s treatment of animals appears in the final movement only in one or two rare passages of display for the soloists. Otherwise this is an expression of deep sorrow that we should be capable of such things. The middle movement is a rapid, colourful scherzo, brilliant and witty, beautifully written for the whole ensemble. The programme is revealed by the composer in the booklet note, with almost no reference to the music. At least the message is a simple one - no complex theorising, nor, thank goodness, any attempt to transform the shape of a dolphin into a musical cipher! And the music itself is at once challenging yet easy enough on the ear to be enjoyed even at first acquaintance, so commentary is scarcely necessary. Even so - and once again - there is no doubt in my mind that the work can be enjoyed just as much by a listener unaware of the message behind it.
And then there is the rest of the programme. The notes tell us that each of the four movements of Peter Eöstvös’s piece explores different aspects of the subject of levitation. The first movement has street furniture - phone boxes and road signs - flying about in a hurricane, whereas the second evokes a recurring dream the composer has of his own body floating, horizontally, over a landscape. The third movement describes gondolas on - or presumably above - Venetian waterways, and the last has Petrushka, buoyant, high above the world that has dealt so cruelly with him. Since the notes, and presumably the composer, give so detailed a “programme” it seems logical to comment on it. In fact, there is not much in the way of contrast in this work. Each movement is a kind of mood painting, with no themes as such, but fragments, motifs, mostly without any discernible pulse. If there were no gaps between the movements I’m not sure that I should know which one I was in, at least, not for the first few hearings. Thus the first-movement conjures up the gentlest, most beguiling hurricane you could imagine, and you will listen in vain, in the third movement “barcarola”, for any suggestion of the characteristic rhythm that normally goes with the name. The writing for the three solo instruments - two clarinets and accordion - is completely without show or bravado. All this does not stop this piece creating a powerful impression. The sounds the composer finds within the ensemble are exquisite and, for the most part, astonishingly tranquil, restful, tender and subtle. Maybe it’s another of those pieces that one would appreciate more, or at any rate no less, if the composer gave no information about it. I enjoyed it enormously the first time I heard it, and it positively compels the listener to return to it.
Getting to know the music of Aulis Sallinen - I would recommend the opera The King Goes Forth To France (Ondine) or any of the symphonies in the admirable CPO series - is an ongoing pleasure that continues with the double concerto on this disc. Its three movements deal with issues related to man’s relationship with animals. The first is a gentle lament for two dolphins drowned in a fisherman’s net in the Baltic Sea, and the third pays homage to the noble bull destined to die in the arena. Only the middle movement, “Les Jeux”, which deals with games, seems to stretch the theme somewhat, the parallels between animals and humans appearing to extend no further than the fact that playing of any kind is unimportant for the survival of a species. The work opens with a duet, accompanied only by timpani, for the two soloists. Other instruments are added gradually, and the movement progresses, via a series of ravishing sounds, to create an unforgettable atmosphere of gentle sadness and regret. Anger at man’s treatment of animals appears in the final movement only in one or two rare passages of display for the soloists. Otherwise this is an expression of deep sorrow that we should be capable of such things. The middle movement is a rapid, colourful scherzo, brilliant and witty, beautifully written for the whole ensemble. The programme is revealed by the composer in the booklet note, with almost no reference to the music. At least the message is a simple one - no complex theorising, nor, thank goodness, any attempt to transform the shape of a dolphin into a musical cipher! And the music itself is at once challenging yet easy enough on the ear to be enjoyed even at first acquaintance, so commentary is scarcely necessary. Even so - and once again - there is no doubt in my mind that the work can be enjoyed just as much by a listener unaware of the message behind it.
This is a beautifully recorded CD, and the performances from all
concerned are exemplary. The side-drum player in the Nielsen is named in
the booklet, but not - a serious omission - the accordionist in the
Eötvös. Sallinen provides the short commentary on his own work, whereas
the informative notes on the other two pieces are by Jouni Kaipainen.
All the notes are translated into English by Jaakko Mäntyjärvi, whom
many readers will know as a distinguished composer in his own right,
especially of choral music. (William Hedley / MusicWeb International)
domingo, 10 de noviembre de 2013
THE UNKNOWN SIBELIUS Rarities and First Recordings
This nicely varied selection of little-known Sibelius contains four orchestral works, 7 songs and choruses, two chamber pieces, and four piano works. Some of it, such as the late Four Fragments for orchestra and most of the vocal pieces, is ephemeral indeed, but there are some fairly substantial works here as well. The two chamber pieces, a charming Serenade for string trio, and the incidental music to the symbolist play The Lizard (Ödlan), are interesting and important. Finland Awakes, an interim version of Finlandia, features the big hymn tune played complete at the end (first sound clip). Had the very last bars been less perfunctory, this could well be the preferred way to hear the work.The original version of TheRead more Oceanides is also fascinating. Sibelius completely revised and extended it between initial composition and first performance. In its original form it had more of a rondo shape, justifying its original title: Rondo of the Waves. The revised version, on the other hand, follows Sibelius’ characteristic tone-poem shape of sonata form without development (that is, ABA’B'). That fabulous, huge climax toward the end is completely missing from the first version, as is the poetic coda. Although some thematic ideas are shared, the two works might as well be independent pieces.
The two outstanding piano pieces are the very ample Impromptu in B minor and a heartfelt Adagio dedicated to the composer’s wife, Aino. As previously mentioned, the Four Fragments, idiomatically orchestrated from Sibelius’ sketches by Timo Virtanen (second clip), are musically tantalizing but too short to tell us anything beyond the fact that they sound like Sibelius. The program ends with the impressive orchestral Processional arranged by Sibelius from his Musique religieuse (originally for tenor and harmonium). The performances, drawn from BIS’s generally wonderful complete Sibelius edition, are uniformly terrific, and so are the sonics. Essential for serious Sibelians. ( David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com)
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