Rued LANGGAARD (1893-1952)
Symphony No. 2, Vaarbrud (Awakening of Spring) BVN 53 (original
version, 1912-1914) [38:10]
Symphony No. 6, Det himmelrivende (The Heaven-Rending) BVN 165
(1919-1920, rev. 1928-1930) [21:32]
Upaaagtede Morgenstjerner
(Unnoticed Morning Stars) BVN 336–2 (1947-1948/1950-1951) [6:59]
Jacob GADE (1879-1963)
Jalousie - Tango Tzigane
(Jealousy – A Gypsy Tango)* (1925) [3:53]
*Solo violin: Sakari Oramo
Anu Komsi (soprano)
Wiener Philharmoniker/Sakari Oramo
rec. April 2017/April 2018, Wiener Konzerthaus
Reviewed as a 24/192 download from
Dacapo Records
Pdf booklet includes sung texts in Danish, German & English
DACAPO 6.220653 SACD
[70:00]
What a coup it was for Dacapo to secure the Wiener Philharmoniker for their
live recording of Per Nørgård’s
First and Eighth symphonies;
indeed, it was one of my top picks for 2014. Like this new Langgaard
release, that was also conducted by Sakari Oramo, who, as chief conductor
of the BBC Symphony, is very busy in both the concert hall and the
recording studio. His recent
Chandos
album of works by Florent Schmitt is not just a sign of inveterate industry
but also of a willingness to explore unusual repertoire. Enter the
eccentric Dane, Rued Langgaard, whose quirky oeuvre I first encountered in
Music of the Spheres;
that Dacapo disc, with the Danish National SO under Thomas Dausgaard, was
soon followed by their splendid traversal of
all sixteen symphonies.
Given the somewhat peripheral nature of this music, it’s not surprising
there are very few recordings of it in the catalogue. First up is a
Danacord
set from the early 1990s, with the Artur Rubinstein Philharmonic under Ilya
Stupel. Also in 1991, Neeme Järvi and the DNSO recorded Symphonies 4 to 6,
which I have as a 16-bit download from
Chandos.net.
Then, in 1998, the Dausgaard cycle got under way (it took a decade to
complete). In the meantime, Danacord issued a 2-CD set of Nos. 4, 6, 10, 14
and Music of the Spheres; these ADD recordings, set down between
1977 and 1981, were conducted by John Frandsen, Ole Schmidt and Michael
Schønwandt. Rob Barnett
reviewed
that album at the time of its release in 2001. Appropriately enough, the
DNSO – full title DR SymfoniOrkestret – is the orchestra involved.
Langgaard isn’t in the Wiener Philharmoniker’s bloodstream, but then
neither is Nørgård’s. And steeped though they are in the Austro-German
tradition, they’re not strangers to Nordic rep, as their classic Sibelius
set with Lorin Maazel – superbly remastered on
Blu-ray Audio
– so amply demonstrates. Factor in the presence of Oramo, a Finn, and a
label celebrated for their top-notch sound, and the auguries for this new
release seem very good indeed. For the sake of comparison, I listened to all the alternative versions listed above. Of course, couplings
could be a deal-breaker, but it will be fascinating to see how the
competition stacks up.
With his search for a Romantic/Symbolist idiom, Langgaard set himself
against the somewhat dour Danish musical establishment. That said, his
early symphonies are broadly traditional in style. No. 1, ‘Mountain
Pastorals’, has a Straussian surge and Brucknerian amplitude that probably
helped ensure the work’s success at its premiere, in Germany, just before
the Great War. (Langgaard was always more popular there, and in Austria,
than he was in his homeland.) As I noted in my review of Dausgaard’s
account of No. 2 – the original version – the sumptuous first movement is
followed by a middle one of ‘almost classical symmetry’. However, I wasn’t
entirely persuaded by the finale, with its setting of ‘Spring Sounds’, by
the German poet Emil Rittershaus (1834-1897).
So, how does Oramo fare in this work? As expected, the cascading strings,
noble horns and glorious weight of the WP are mighty impressive in the
opening movement, the music’s Wagnerian overtones more pronounced than
ever. What I particularly like here are the jolly martial episodes and
sense of Straussian gemütlichkeit, although even in this retro-piece
there’s an elemental quality to the writing that looks much further north,
to Nielsen and Sibelius (cue a thrilling, brass-shot climax at opener’s
end). Oramo builds and shapes the middle movement most beautifully, helped
in no small measure by the ravishing sounds of the greatest orchestra on
earth. And it’s a measure of the conductor’s skill that the finale, with
soprano Anu Komsi a clear, ringing soloist, suddenly seems less
‘problematic’ than it once did. As expected, the recording itself is beyond
reproach.
Revisiting Dausgaard’s recording, coupled with No. 3 (6.220516), reminded
me of the set’s musical and sonic virtues. However, his account of No. 2,
sensitively directed and very well played, now seems just a little
earthbound next to Oramo’s wonderfully nuanced and insightful one. In
mitigation, the hushed intensity of the DNSO’s playing in the central
movement is a wonder to behold. And although soprano Inger Dam-Jensen sings
well enough in the finale, she has a fairly wide vibrato that bothers me
more now than it did then. No qualms about No. 3, ‘The Flush of Youth’,
whose ebullient piano and lusty choral parts bring to mind Busoni’s mammoth
piano concerto. The sound in both works is well up to the standards of the
house.
Now for the really interesting bit. The Artur Rubinstein Philharmonic,
based in the Polish city of Lodz, may not be a household name, but their
seven-volume Langgaard series, directed by the Lithuanian conductor Ilya
Stupel, is actually rather good. Admittedly, they opt for the revised, much
shorter version of No. 2, but it’s still a fine piece. The first movement
is robust, cohesive and, in quieter moments, suffused with a lovely
Romantic blush. And although soprano Roma Owsinska is a powerful and
compelling presence, she lacks Komsi’s subtlety and expressive warmth,
especially in the song’s more inward moments. What a pity the coupling, a
decent performance of No. 3, is sans choir. As for the early Drapa, written in memory of Grieg, its as dreary as ever. Still, the
Danacord sound is refined and spacious throughout.
The Sixth Symphony belongs to Langgaard’s ‘third phase’ (1925 to 1945). At
the outset Oramo gets the WP to play like a distinguished and attentive
chamber group, the lower strings rich and firm, the upper ones as silky as
one could wish. The darkly bracing brass in Thema II are a treat, and
Preben Iwan’s fine engineering ensures timps, bass- and side-drums are
superbly rendered. For his part, the conductor builds climaxes of
seat-pinning weight and power; not only that, the symphony’s Ivesian
irruptions are effortlessly handled, its Nielsen-like passages emphasised
at every turn. Most impressive, though, is Oramo’s surefootedness, the
work’s architecture – its burning conviction – revealed as never before.
And goodness, what a pate-cracking peroration at the end!
Ditto with Dausgaard, whose splendid Sixth is coupled with equally gripping
accounts of the Seventh and Eighth (8.224180). As before, Oramo seems more
spontaneous, the music’s shape and destination easier to discern. But, to
be fair, one could barely slip a cigarette paper between these rival
readings, such is their all-round excellence. Indeed, if you buy just one
volume in the Dausgaard set, this must be it. By contrast, Järvi’s Sixth is
clean and clear-eyed, which makes for a vital and refreshing performance.
True, he’s not quite as exciting or as spectacularly recorded as
Dausgaard/Oramo, but decent performances of Nos. 4 and 5 make this album a
very good buy. (As an aside, I’m delighted this esteemed Estonian has just
picked up Gramophone’s Lifetime Achievement Award.)
Which brings me to Frandsen’s Sixth, recorded live on 9 December 1977 and
first released on LP as EMI 6C 063-38100. Like Järvi, he emphasises the
score’s detail and distinctive sonorities, and that’s rewarding in itself.
Happily, the analogue original doesn’t show its age, with plenty of bite
and big, uncluttered climaxes. And, not surprisingly for a conductor known
for his Nielsen, he’s alive to echoes of the latter in this music. The
finale, artfully prepared for, may not be as overwhelming as the best, but
it’s still stirringly done. Not the tidiest or the most perceptive
performance, perhaps, but worth hearing nonetheless. Indeed, that applies
to the rest of this collection, No. 10 directed by Schmidt and No. 14 by
Schønwandt, fine Nielsen interpreters both. Presentation and balances do
vary, but otherwise sound is just fine. Also, there’s some applause.
Breaking news: Oramo’s new recording is one of the best things I’ve heard
all year. Of his fillers, the gentle meditation Upaaagtede Morgenstjerner (Unnoticed Morning Stars) is most welcome;
Jacob Gade’s loud, rather garish ‘gypsy tango’ is eminently forgettable,
though. Booklet notes are by the ever-reliable Jens Cornelius.
Unexpectedly, this composite review has been very instructive. First, it’s
reminded me what a passionate, powerful and endearingly quixotic talent
Langgaard was, and how much joy there is in his work. Second, it’s
demonstrated that, in their various ways, all the albums mentioned here do
justice to these underrated symphonies. And third, it’s highlighted the
sheer consistency and musical value of that Dausgaard box.
Two fine symphonies, very well played and recorded; a cheer-raising,
hat-tossing event for all Langgaardians
Dan Morgan
