Charles IVES (1874-1954)
  A Symphony: New England Holidays (1904-1913) [39:04]
  Central Park in the Dark (1906) (edition prepared by John Kirkpatrick and Jacques-Louis Monod) [8:07]
  Orchestral Set No. 1: Three Places in New England (1912-1916, rev. 1929) (version for large orchestra realised and edited by James B. Sinclair) [19:43]
  The Unanswered Question (1906) (ed. Paul C. Echols and Noel Zahler) [5:02]
  Melbourne Symphony Orchestra/Sir Andrew Davis
  rec. April 2015, Robert Blackwood Hall, Monash University & Hamer Hall, The Arts Centre, Melbourne, Australia
          Reviewed as a 24/96 Studio Master from The 
          Classical Shop
  Pdf booklet included
  CHANDOS CHSA5163 SACD [72:27]
	     Charles Ives, maverick and musical magpie, is one of the 
          most startling figures in American musical history. It was a long time 
          coming, but thanks to the advocacy of fellow composers Henry Cowell 
          and Howard Hanson – not to mention the conductors Nicolas Slonimsky, 
          Harold Farberman and Leonard Bernstein – Ives’s quirky oeuvre 
          began to reach a wider public. It was Bernstein who really promoted 
          his compatriot’s music with a number of recordings for CBS/Sony 
          and, later, for Deutsche 
          Grammophon. He also talked about Ives, as a quick trawl of YouTube 
          will confirm. And don’t forget the work of Lenny’s protégé 
          Michael Tilson Thomas (CBS/Sony, 
          DG and SFS 
          Media) and Andrew Litton (Dorian 
          and Hyperion).
          
          To this list must be added James B. Sinclair, whose recordings for Naxos, 
          Koch 
          and others have garnered much praise in recent years. As an Ives devotee 
          and scholar he’s also produced a catalogue of the composer’s 
          works and contributed to critical editions of these scores. He’s 
          joined in this grand editorial enterprise by Jonathan Elkus, John Kirkpatrick, 
          Jacques-Louis Monod, Paul C. Echols, Noel Zahler and Wayne D. Shirley. 
          Theirs is a challenging task; for instance, in preparing the large-orchestra 
          version of Three Places in New England, Sinclair had to work 
          from both the original score – much of which is lost – and 
          the composer’s later revision for chamber forces. The work of 
          his fellow editors/arrangers are well represented in this new recording.
          
          One of Ives’s greatest champions outside the US is Sir Andrew 
          Davis, whose 'Ives weekend' at the Barbican in January 1996 was a revelation 
          to us all. The event was recorded by BBC Radio 3, whose broadcasts I 
          referred to in my review 
          of the first instalment of Davis’s Melbourne cycle. That release 
          certainly had a lot to live up to; alas, I found it somewhat disappointing, 
          although Dominy Clements was far more complimentary (review). 
          Incidentally, the Radio 3 team did a pretty good job all those years 
          ago. I’m indebted to my friend and Ives aficionado Bryn Harris 
          for providing me with off-air recordings of that marvellous event.
          
          Ives’s Holidays Symphony, published in 1913, is a collage 
          of childhood memories framed in the composer’s inimitable style; 
          often spare, with snippets of popular music and other borrowings, it’s 
          a thoroughly original and engaging piece. Davis emphasises the stark 
          modernity of this music while also finding a modicum of refinement behind 
          those unruly notes. There’s a chamber-like transparency and concentration 
          to the playing here that’s very impressive, and the jaunty tunes 
          emerge with a spontaneity that I didn’t always sense in Davis’s 
          earlier album. A small point, though: I found that cranking up the quiet 
          passages had me lunging for the volume control in the louder ones.
          
          One has to remember that although the four movements are gathered together 
          as a symphony they are self-contained entities that weren’t designed 
          to be played that way. Washington’s Birthday was penned 
          in 1909 and subsequently rescored, while Decoration Day, with 
          its trademark marching bands, was written in 1912 and then rearranged 
          for full orchestra. The Fourth of July, which also dates from 
          1912, needed no such work as it was originally scored for full orchestra. 
          As for Thanksgiving and Forefathers’ Day, completed in 
          1904, it has its roots in two much earlier works for organ.
          
          Davis’s Melbourne account of the Holidays Symphony certainly 
          reinforces the discrete nature of the piece; each movement is bracing, 
          the two inner ones especially so. However, comparing this with his London 
          performance is most instructive; where the former seems less analytical 
          at times – a matter of recording balance, not necessarily an interpretive 
          choice – the latter lays the music bare in a way that’s 
          just astonishing. Not only that, the BBC Symphony are rather more comfortable 
          in this repertoire than their Australian counterparts. It may seem odd 
          to compare a commercial recording available to all with a set of off-air 
          tapes accessible to just a few, but I want listeners to know just how 
          revelatory Davis can be in this repertoire. Also, these radio recordings 
          are an extremely valuable resourse that needs to be known to Ivesians 
          everywhere.
          
          Ives is one of those all-or-nothing composers, and he demands to be 
          played that way. Take the finale of that Barbican performance, for instance; 
          structurally robust and complex yet clarifying, it has a very distinctive 
          Ivesian cast that makes this a holiday to remember. I know it’s 
          not entirely fair to compare a live recording with a studio one, but 
          in this case it points to what’s missing this time around. Just 
          listen to that fervent Thanksgiving hymn; to me it sounds far more 'authentic' 
          in London than it does in Melbourne. Indeed, I found the Australian 
          choir somewhat lacking in body and character. And that’s the nub 
          of it; in this symphony at least Davis Mk. 1 is all about oomph and 
          idiom, qualities that are harder to discern in Davis Mk. 2.
          
          My go-to disc of this piece is Michael Tilson Thomas’s Chicago 
          one, recorded in 1986 (CBS/Sony). 
          The CSO are more couth than their British and antipodean counterparts, 
          but is that necessarily a good thing? David Zinman’s Baltimore 
          recording – deemed worthy of a Penguin Rosette – would suggest 
          not; the latter is just so bland and uneventful compared with his distinguished 
          rivals. MTT is in another league entirely, especially in the symphony’s 
          jollier moments; he finds plenty of lyricism here too. Also, the CBS 
          recording is far livelier and more forensic than the Chandos one. For 
          me, though, Davis Mk. 1 captures the poke-’em-in-the-eye precocity 
          of the piece better than anyone I know.
          
          Despite my equivocations about that Melbourne opener I'm delighted to 
          report that Davis Mk. 2 is splendid in both Central Park in the 
          Dark and The Unanswered Question. That said, MTT and his 
          Chicagoans are pretty good too, even if their version of Central 
          park  is a little too moulded for my tastes. That’s not a 
          criticism I’d level at either of Davis’s performances of 
          The Unanswered Question. The Melbourne flutes have a jagged 
          brilliance, the trumpet a haunting desolation, that’s just riveting. 
          Remarkably, Davis Mk. 1 is even finer; there he invites us to peer into 
          the music’s inner workings in a way that’s uniquely rewarding.
          
          It’s a relief to find Davis and his Australian players on form 
          in that moody diptych - they were originally paired as two Contemplations 
          - even if the recording lacks the important spatial clues that make 
          MTT’s versions so evocative. Listening to these various performances 
          I was reminded that sound quality can so easily influence one’s 
          perceptions of a given piece. Heretical it may be, but I'm convinced 
          that newcomers to the Ivesian universe would learn more about this music 
          via Radio 3 in 1996 than Chandos in 2015. Even old hands will find much 
          to marvel at in those broadcasts. Now if only the Beeb could find a 
          way to make them available, perhaps as cover-mounted CDs on their monthly 
          magazine.
          
          That weekend Oliver Knussen was entrusted with the chamber version of 
          Ives’s Orchestral Set No. 1: Three Places in New England. 
          However, collectors who want a good commercial recording of the work 
          in that form should seek out Sinclair’s performance with Orchestra 
          New England on Koch 
          3-7025-2. He’s also recorded his reconstruction of the original 
          large-orchestra score with the Malmo Symphony Orchestra on Naxos 
          8.559353; I’ll refer to it in the course of this review, along 
          with MTT’s Boston account on DG. Scott Mortensen certainly rated 
          the latter very highly in his Ives 
          survey for MusicWeb International.
          
          Unfortunately Three Places in New England only received wider 
          recognition when, at Slonimsky's behest, the composer rescored it for 
          reduced forces. The movement titles are very specific – there's 
          nothing generic about these scenes which, apropos of Bernard Herrmann’s 
          comments, resemble crisp, clear photographs taken on the day and fixed 
          in Ives’s musical imagination. It’s a glorious melange, 
          alternating between reflection and revelry, that finds Davis and his 
          Melbournians at their very best. In particular the marches that dominate 
          Putnam’s Camp erupt with a roisterous clangour that’s 
          well caught by the Chandos team. Dynamic, provocative and hugely entertaining, 
          this is definitely one for the album.
          
          I enjoyed that Orchestral Set so much that I was tempted to 
          forgo the promised comparisons. For what it’s worth Sinclair’s 
          Malmo recording complements Davis’s rather nicely. His response 
          to The ‘St-Gaudens’ in Boston Common is darker, 
          with a measured tread, but Ives’s distinctive sonorities are even 
          more striking than usual. The Naxos sound is bigger, noticeably so in 
          the central movement; that said, I prefer Chandos’s extra sparkle 
          and transparency here. Also, Davis seems more unbuttoned – more 
          volatile, even – although Sinclair does bring a splendid, hymn-like 
          gravitas to The Housatonic at Stockbridge. Thanks to 'the Davis 
          effect' MTT’s Boston version, recorded for DG in 1970, now seems 
          less appealing than it once did.
          
          I’m much more taken with the second volume of this Melbourne cycle 
          than I was with the first. I still have some reservations about his 
          performance of the Holidays Symphony – after all, he’s 
          done it so much better elsewhere – but the rest of this programme 
          is as good as it gets. Some Ivesians were irked when Davis didn’t 
          use the critical edition of Symphony No. 1 in his Melbourne 
          recording. No issues here, though; all the editions used are listed 
          in the booklet.
          
          Davis reaffirms his Ivesian credentials with this instalment; augurs 
          well for the next one.
          
          Dan Morgan
          twitter.com/mahlerei