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Paul SCHOENFIELD (b. 1947)
Camp Songs (2001) [25:41]
I. Black Boehm [4:24]
II. The Corpse Carrier’s Tango [4:56]
III. Heil, Sachsenhausen! [6:13]
IV. Mr C [3:23]
V. Adolf’s Farewell to the World [6:45]
Ghetto Songs (2008) [24:19]
I. Shifreie’s Portrait [4:37]
II. Moments of Despair [3:52]
III. Tolling Bells [4:08]
IV. Our Springtime [4:00]
V. A Ray of Sunshine [3:24]
VI. Moments of Confidence [4:18]
Gerard SCHWARZ (b. 1947)
Rudolf and Jeanette (2007) [15:00]
Angela Niederloh (mezzo: Camp,
Ghetto)
Erich Parce (baritone: Camp)
Morgan Smith (baritone: Ghetto)
Music of Remembrance/Gerard Schwarz
rec. 18 November 2008 (Camp Songs), 28 May 2008 (Ghetto Songs, Rudolf and Jeanette),
Bisley Ball Nordstrom Recital Hall, Benaroya Hall, Seattle, USA
NAXOS AMERICAN CLASSICS 8.559641 [65:05]
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In the 1980s, Decca’s Entartete Musik series highlighted
the works of composers reviled by the Nazis, among them Erwin
Schulhoff (1894-1942) and Viktor Ullmann (1898-1944). Both died
in the concentration camps. Then a few years ago a TV documentary
alerted me to the prison-camp settings, Das Lied von Terezín,
by film composer Franz Waxman (Decca 460 2112). Since then Terezín/Theresienstadt
has figured in recordings by Anne Sofie von Otter - see Steve
Arloff’s enthusiastic review
- and baritone Wolfgang Holzmair (Bridge 9280). And still the
fascination with music of the Holocaust continues, as confirmed
in these works by American composer Paul Schoenfield and his
compatriot Gerard Schwarz, the latter best known as a conductor.
In Camp Songs Schoenfield sets poems by Kraków-born
- but not Jewish - journalist Aleksander Kulisiewicz (1918-1982),
who was interned at Sachsenhausen. The work, commissioned by
Music of Remembrance and premiered in 2004, is sung here in
an English translation by Katarzyna Jersak. Ghetto Songs,
premiered in May 2008, is based on poems written in the Kraków
Ghetto by Mordecai Gebirtig (1877-1942). I’m delighted
to see that the CD booklet includes the lyrics of both works,
which are also reproduced on their website.
In another time and another place the Russian poet Yevtushenko
understood - and Shostakovich underlined - the importance of
humour in the face of adversity. And so it is here, with ‘Black
Boehm’ a lacerating little ditty dedicated to the hunchback
who tended the crematoria at Sachsenhausen. After a brooding
prelude for cello and clarinet, the music becomes somewhat frenetic,
a hellish cabaret if you will. Baritone Erich Parce is not the
most subtle of singers, but then this music hardly requires
one; that said, he certainly makes the most of these grim lyrics
- ‘And young ladies and old biddies/Little kiddies, too,
why not?’ - the composer himself playing the jaunty piano
part. Black humour indeed.
‘The Corpse Carrier’s Tango’ has plenty of
rhythmic verve, Angela Niederloh singing with abandon - and
rather too much wobble. The recording is close, but warm and
detailed, and anyone expecting a spikier idiom may be surprised
by the strong vein of almost Mahlerian lyricism on display.
It’s put to good use in ‘Heil, Sachsenhausen!’
where the cutting curses ‘Scheissen Polack, clod’
are accompanied by music of real warmth. The mournful cello
line is especially telling here, Parce’s casual observations
- ‘Our legs thin as bamboo shoots/Death’s heads
looked like blackened cactuses’ - rendered all the more
shocking by his controlled, rather detached, delivery.
A cigar-puffing Churchill is the subject of the slinky little
number ‘Mr C’, in which Niederloh sings of her hopes
that he might defeat the Nazis soon - even as early as 1943
- and treat Hitler ‘to a funeral’. History has shown
that this was a very forlorn hope indeed, which makes this song
all the more poignant. The work ends in darkness and turbulence
with ‘Adolf’s Farewell to the World’, Parce
and Niederloh in ringing form. Schoenfield plays a mean piano
- what surge and energy - Laura DeLuca’s wild, piercing
clarinet especially thrilling.
A most rewarding work, and rather different from the dark melancholy
of the Ghetto Songs, translated from the Yiddish by Bret
Werb. Shifreie is the poet’s daughter, whose portrait
hangs on the wall by his bed. The cello and violin set the scene
with a heartfelt prelude, baritone Morgan Smith warmly expressive
as the doting father. This is music of more subtle sentiment,
and even Niederloh as the child calibrates her voice accordingly.
A touching, haunting piece, beautifully executed.
Different again is the anguish of ‘Moments of Despair’,
in which the poet reflects on the horrors of the ghetto. The
stentorian piano chords and spiky violin paint a ghastly picture,
before breaking into a wild gallop. There’s a strong Expressionist
flavour to this music, all crazy angles and manic gestures,
Niederloh and Smith singing with astonishing bite and intensity.
More than a hint of Berg here, the ‘Gling glong!’
of ‘Tolling Bells’ measuring out the agony. No simple
Mahlerian onomatopoeia this, the singers underpinned by music
that’s both simple and forthright.
Even starker is the contrast between the imagined fields and
the very real ghetto streets in ‘Our Springtime’.
Simple, bucolic pleasures dimly remembered, the season of rebirth
and renewal cruelly subverted, the earth now ‘One giant
graveyard’. The music is suitably austere. The clarinet
solo that opens ‘Ray of Sunshine’ ushers in a bustling
tune, to which the mezzo gives soaring voice. Hope and animation
are the keynotes here, the music rising and falling to great
effect. And then there’s the short-lived optimism of ‘Moments
of Confidence’ - the words ‘Jews, let us be cheerful’
sung to music of some animation. Niederloh and Smith acquit
themselves well in these rapid-fire lyrics, but really it’s
the instrumentalists who galvanise the piece with some of the
most trenchant playing on this disc.
Gerard Schwarz’s piece - like Schoenfield’s, a Music
of Remembrance commission - was written in memory of his grandparents,
Rudolf and Jeanette Weiss, who perished in the camp at Riga.
In the liner-notes he speaks of the work as a tone poem; in
essence it seems to be a celebration of life, from its elegiac
opening through to music of some ardour and thrust, all most
sensitively scored and lovingly phrased. The wind playing in
the military march is especially fine, the ensuing waltz strangely
distorted. There is none of the sardonic humour of Schoenfield’s
pieces, but then this is a simpler, more direct idiom the emotions
of which need no underscoring or emphasis. Moreover, there’s
a quiet nobility here that is most affecting and the funeral
march a splendid, rather Handelian, affair. It ends poignantly,
with an iridescent epilogue in which Mina Miller’s celestial
tones are beautifully caught.
This is a most rewarding disc, and not at all the unremitting
gloom one might expect. Even though they are at some remove
from the events depicted here, both Schoenfield and Schwarz
have managed to tap into - and celebrate - life in the shadow
of terrible adversity. All credit to Music of Remembrance for
commissioning these pieces. Even if the singing is a bit variable
this remains a very enterprising release indeed. A little off
the beaten track perhaps but it’s certainly worth the
detour.
Dan Morgan
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