Editorial Board
MusicWeb International
Founding Editor Rob Barnett Editor in Chief
John Quinn Contributing Editor Ralph Moore Webmaster
David Barker Postmaster
Jonathan Woolf MusicWeb Founder Len Mullenger
Christopher
ROUSE (b. 1949) Iscariot (1989) [15:20]
Clarinet Concerto (2001) [19:14]
Symphony No.1 (1986) [26:44]
Martin Fröst
(clarinet)
Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra/Alan Gilbert
rec. Stockholm Concert Hall, January 2005 (Iscariot,
Clarinet Concerto) and March 2006 (Symphony No.1). DDD BIS BISCD1386 [62:35]
Dedicated
to John Adams who conducted its first performance, Iscariot is
a short work scored for chamber orchestra. It is structured
as a series of strophes mainly for strings. These are contrasted
with antistrophes for woodwind, brass and percussion “always
with the celesta nearby playing music derived from the
chorale Es ist genug that will eventually be stated
in a recognisable fashion at the end of the piece”. The
piece opens with a massive bass drum stroke followed by
slow-moving, cluster-like progressions in the strings that
may bring Ives’ The Unanswered Question to mind.
The music then unfolds in a succession of strophes and
antistrophes before reaching its unresolved ending. It
is a rather enigmatic piece described by the composer as
his most privately autobiographical piece without – tantalisingly
enough – offering any clue. “Let each listener make of Iscariot what
he or she may!”
The
somewhat more recent Clarinet Concerto dedicated to Augusta
Read Thomas is a completely different work. It is cast
in one movement, falling into several contrasting sections.
It opens with a forceful call to arms in the brass. The
clarinet enters with some florid, capricious gestures.
It then turns to embrace more melodic material but never
unequivocally; it was the composer’s wish to write “a rather
prickly work”, in elements of chance and unpredictability
were present. The composer explains that he even chose
to roll a pair of dice every twelve bars. If he rolled
two sixes, he would at that point introduce a slapstick
stroke that would usher in a small three-movement ‘micro-concerto’ of
more tonal harmony. Such playing with numerology, however,
must not be carried too far. Thus the music unfolds in
a kaleidoscopic manner alternating in the clarinet part
the warmly melodic with the fancifully skittish material.
In the background the orchestra groans or erupts without
any apparent logic. A referee whistle brings the abrupt
close. Rouse’s Clarinet Concerto is a highly virtuosic
piece calling for immaculate technique and committed musicality.
Martin Fröst meets both requirements seemingly without
effort.
The
Symphony No.1, dedicated to John Harbison, is undoubtedly
the most substantial work in this most welcome composer’s
portrait. Unlike other music by Rouse at that time, the
music moves at a relatively slow pace throughout. This
adds considerably to the dark-hued character of much of
the thematic material. Though in one huge single span,
this work falls into four distinct sections played without
a break. The music alludes to the Adagio of Bruckner’s
Seventh Symphony, albeit “turned upside down, played backwards
and in other ways corrupted in an attempt to say ‘no’,
symbolically, to the heroic ideal of the nineteenth century”.
The extended introduction leads into the Allegro section,
the tempo of which nevertheless remains slow. The impression
of speeding-up is suggested by an increase of dynamics
rather than by a real increase of tempo. This builds to
a mighty climax violently hammered out. There follows a
long slow section “more diatonic in harmony and consoling
in mood”. This hard-won peace is brutally disrupted by
a brief dissonant orchestral shriek. Some soft music ensues
in an attempt to restore the contemplative mood of the
slow section, thus ushering in the long elegiac coda. There
is something of Allan Pettersson’s grief-stricken symphonies
here. The work ends in utter darkness, unresolved, unappeased.
Like Iscariot, the First Symphony is a strongly
personal statement from a composer whose music is often
triggered by emotional stimuli rather than by purely formal
calculations. I have always felt – and still do – that
Christopher Rouse is first and foremost an intuitive. His
often violent, let alone aggressive but always strongly
expressive music often reflects our brutish times in much
the same way as a humanist attempts to introduce consolation
or reason for hope.
This
is a splendid release and a most welcome addition to Rouse’s
growing discography.
Reviews
from previous months Join the mailing list and receive a hyperlinked weekly update on the
discs reviewed. details We welcome feedback on our reviews. Please use the Bulletin
Board
Please paste in the first line of your comments the URL of the review to
which you refer.