Wilhelm Georg BERGER (1929-1993)
Viola Concerto No.2 (1959) [29:09]
Symphony No.4 Op.30 (1964) [43:03]
Nils Mönkemeyer (viola)
Rundfunk-Sinfonieorchester Berlin/Horia Andreescu
rec. Funkhaus Masurenallee, Grosser Saal Berlin, 30 November - 2 December
2009 and 28-29 June 2010
CPO 777 756-2 [72:26]
An impressive disc of music and a composer wholly unfamiliar to me. In this
instance, ignorance proved to be very blissful. Not knowing the name of composer
Wilhelm Georg Berger, let alone having heard a note of his music I decided
the best approach was to listen to this disc with a totally 'innocent ear'.
I find this to be a useful process in such circumstances as it helps me avoid
the traps of leaping to preconceptions and expectations that even a biographical
liner-note can induce.
So, straight to the music. Important to say immediately;
this is music that avoids overt emotionalism yet is clearly deeply felt. For
that reason, amongst others, it gradually insinuates its way into your consciousness
over time rather than relying on instant impact. These are two substantial
works - a half hour concerto and a forty minute symphony written in two extended
movements. There are common elements to the musical language of both works
but in fact they are quite different in the musical and emotional terrain
they occupy.
The disc opens with the Concerto which is the earlier work. Certain characteristics
are immediately clear. Berger has written a concerto that emphasises the lyrical
and reflective side of the instrument. This is serious if not sombre music
- an impression reinforced by the fact that for the most part Berger favours
steadier tempi; the opening movement is an Allegro moderato (with the
emphasis firmly on the moderato), followed by a Larghetto. Even the
finale - a tema con variazioni - allows for extended passages which
avoid overt display and virtuosity.
Time for a little biographical detail - Berger was a viola player himself.
Not, as one might expect given the Germanic nature of his name, from Austria
or Germany but in Romania - Transylvania to be exact. He played with the Bucharest
Philharmonic in the viola section from the age of 19. On the other hand, do
not expect this to be some party-line-toeing faux-nationalist confection.
My listening notes pointed out echoes of Hindemith and Reger but this is in
fact music that resolutely refuses to be comfortably categorised. According
to the liner-note writer - thankfully less verbose or obtuse than most contributors
to CPO discs - his main interest was in the use of mathematical formulas in
his music - the golden section, serial techniques and the Fibonacci sequence
to name but three. Quite how this squared with the demands of “socialist
realism” I cannot imagine - my guess is that this was music written
more as a personal imperative rather than in any expectation of general or
political popularity.
The soloist is Nils Mönkemeyer. He belongs to that elite of top rank
viola soloists with which Classical Music seems to be currently awash. Long
gone are the days when there were a small handful of specialist viola players
of true virtuoso stature. I like very much the way Mönkemeyer allows
the music to unfold naturally without ever forcing either his own tone or
the natural heartbeat of the work. In this he is doubly helped by the sensitive
and skilful accompaniment from the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra under Horia
Andreescu as well as the excellent engineering and production of the CPO team.
This places Mönkemeyer a step further back into the orchestral texture
than is often the case but for this work, with its chamber-music-like interaction
between soloist and orchestral group, this seems a wholly intelligent choice.
Even in as fine a performance as this one palpably is I am not totally convinced
by this work - the form - and predominance of slow and lyrical passages -
leaves me slightly uneasy.
Certainly, next to the cogently powerfully Symphony No. 4 it feels like the
lesser work. This symphony was composed in 1964 and was subtitled “The
Tragic”. According to liner writer Jörg Sipermann, in it, Berger
revisits all of the influences and compositional techniques that he held most
dear: both movements are in sonata-form, his handling of musical motifs is
reminiscent of Mahler, material is treated using serial and modal techniques,
there are fugal passages and the golden section ratios are used to define
overall structures. It is this fusion of “old” techniques (sonata
form and fugue) with “new” (serial, golden section) that gives
Berger’s music its striking individuality. However, here there is
an extra emotional spark - the unexplained “tragic” of the title
that galvanises the music with a life and energy that the lyrical concerto
lacked. From the shivering opening with its gently tolling bells and tremulous
strings - a searchingly beautiful extended woodwind solo just one of many
similar solo passages spread across the orchestra - through bleakly marching
music [track 4 - 3:00 onwards] and a spectral string fugato Berger shows himself
to be a real master of orchestration. Even more impressive though is his maintenance
of the musical tension across the two long spans of the work. There is a very
strong sense of the music organically developing so one has no sense of the
work being at all sectionalised so when the trombone-led climax is reached
it feels both inevitable and cathartic. This comes around the 12:00 mark -
oddly reminiscent of, but not at all like Sibelius in his Seventh Symphony.
I have no comparison to make, but instinctively I feel that Andreescu has
the pacing of this work superbly conceived. Beautifully expressive players
from his Berlin orchestra makes this an austerely sensual experience. After
such extended passages of essentially slow music the explosion of energy in
the symphony’s second movement (track 5 9:00) is both exciting and propulsively
compelling. No Shostakovichian nightmare scherzo this simply an elemental
outpouring that ceases - after some three minutes - almost as abruptly as
it began. For the closing five minutes or so of the work the music unwinds
through sinuous string and wind writing until a brass chorale [20:00] seems
to give the work an uneasy solace. This impression is reinforced by a simple
major triad in the trumpets which immediately side-slips away to a far less
consoling end. This makes a strikingly moving conclusion to a substantial
work. I have had this review lying incomplete in my work-tray for some time
simply because I have struggled to articulate why this superficially conventional
work impresses me as much as it does. As with all substantial art, the more
one knows it the more it impresses.
Even by the oppressive standards of the Eastern Bloc Romania’s ruling
party would surely not have tolerated such overt displays of personal emotion
on a public platform. The liner makes no mention of first performances or
the fact that this is No. 4 of 24 symphonies - according to the Romanian branch
of Wikipedia. With that number I return to the thought that Berger wrote music
for his own pleasure and need along the lines of that other well-known “self-symphonist”
Havergal Brian. The calibre of the symphony makes one hope that CPO will be
emboldened to dip further into the Berger Symphonic catalogue.
A very personal and powerfully individual symphony that deserves a far wider
audience.
Nick Barnard
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