The Swedish composer Kurt Atterberg has tended to be 
          remembered as a composer of the inter-war years, though writing in an 
          idiom which often suggests the music was written earlier. Earning his 
          living as a civil servant in the Swedish patent office, Atterberg nevertheless 
          composed a remarkably large catalogue of romantic music with a distinctive 
          voice, often touched by the sound of Swedish folk music. His output 
          includes nine symphonies, orchestral works, various choral works (the 
          ninth symphony, Sinfonia Visionaria is for soloists, chorus and 
          orchestra), a delightful string quartet, concertos and operas. 
        
 
        
A nationalist composer if ever there was one, Atterberg 
          backed the wrong political horse during the Second World War, and although 
          living in a country that was not occupied, he accepted performances 
          of his music in Nazi Germany, including the premieres of the two symphonies 
          under review. Misguided opportunism possibly, but most of his music 
          consequently had to wait a quarter century after the war before being 
          heard again, and Atterberg’s later music has only occasionally been 
          heard since, and is only now being revived. 
        
 
        
In 1972, two years before Atterberg died, an American 
          friend, the late Bennett Tarshish, critic and record collector, interviewed 
          Atterberg in Stockholm. Atterberg took Tarshish to a chamber music recital 
          promoted by a music society whose meetings the composer claimed to have 
          attended without break since 1908. Before Roussel’s String Trio he whispered 
          to his guest ‘very disagreeable piece’. The truth was that Atterberg 
          was a traditionalist composer, albeit with his own voice, who venerated 
          the models of the past. 
        
 
        
Neither of these wartime symphonies rise to the level 
          of his earlier successes, the Second, Third and Sixth Symphonies, the 
          latter, of course, the work which won the Columbia Graphophone Company’s 
          1928 Schubert Centennial Competition. As war works, neither of them 
          seems to pay much attention to the times, possibly the composer’s reaction 
          to a disintegrating world was to keep the blinkers firmly on. 
        
 
        
As far as I know neither of these symphonies made it 
          to LP, but both have been previously recorded on CD (Sterling CDS 1026-2) 
          in a pioneering recording by Malmö forces under Mikhail Jurowski. 
          Before that the complete unknown was the seventh symphony, but some 
          enthusiasts may have come across the Eighth - there is a recording by 
          the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra dating from 1960 in the Swedish 
          Radio sound archive and another by the Helsingborg Symphony Orchestra 
          and Lennart Hedwall did the rounds on tape some twenty five or more 
          years ago. 
        
 
        
The Seventh Symphony of 1941-42 in fact quarries Atterberg’s 
          opera Fanal which had been written immediately after his Sixth 
          Symphony - the then notorious "dollar" symphony - in 1929-32, 
          and so it is not surprising that he should exhibit melodic and textual 
          reminiscences of the earlier symphonies in the first movement of the 
          three-movement seventh. Overall, I am afraid I found it no great discovery, 
          and it strikes me as Atterberg’s weakest symphonic work. The opening 
          movement is very much the curtain-up on a costume drama, the opening 
          bombast not hopeful for what is to follow. Though the thematic material 
          here, once we are fully underway is very much the world of the sixth 
          symphony, and not without its pleasing moments. But it is the finale 
          that lets it down so badly, I found it remarkably trite - the combination 
          of folksy dancing rhythms and colourful orchestration is an idiom Atterberg 
          usually relishes and it should be successful and may well be so on stage, 
          but here it seems so corny that one wonders if it should be followed 
          by a more substantial finale - and, indeed CPO’s annotator tells us 
          there was indeed once a fourth movement which Atterberg deleted. 
        
 
        
In contrast, the Eighth Symphony of 1944-45 works much 
          better; stronger invention, the folk-derived themes working really well. 
          This is a delightful addition to the Atterberg canon. The slow-movement’s 
          cor anglais solo is a gem, while the dancing Vivo scherzo and 
          the catchy themes in the finale, even if much of it is a lot of business 
          about nothing, all add up to a charming work - as much ‘Sinfonia Romantica’ 
          as the Seventh - and it would be good to hear a live performance. 
        
 
        
The disc is timed at 63:33 on the box, but the CD readout 
          is 62:43. If you did not get the Sterling version and want to complete 
          your Atterberg Symphonies this can be recommended, but if you just want 
          to explore the best of Atterberg, go for the earlier symphonies. 
        
          Lewis Foreman