Carl NIELSEN (1865-1931)
  Symphony No. 2 The Four Temperaments (1901-02) [31:28]
  Little Suite for Strings Op. 1 FS6 (1888) [14:42]
  Serenata in Vano (1914) [8:18]
  Tivoli Symphony Orchestra/Carl von Garaguly
  Hilmer Nielsen (horn): Jörn Nilsson (bassoon): H C Sørensen (horn): Asger Lund Christiansen (cello): Johan Poulsen (double bass)
  rec. early 1960s
  MAESTRO EDITIONS ME.054 [54:42]
	    Two Hungarian violinists made exceptional contributions 
          to the propagation of the music of Carl Nielsen. One was his son-in-law 
          Emil Telmányi and the other was Carl von Garaguly. Both studied with 
          Hubay in Budapest. Telmányi recorded much of Nielsen’s music for 
          violin including the early string quartet with his family ensemble whereas 
          Garaguly, who had been assistant deputy leader of the Berlin Philharmonic 
          during the First World War at the ridiculously young age of seventeen 
          and subsequently led the Gothenburg Symphony, later turned to conducting. 
          It’s in that capacity that we meet him in his early 1960s LP of 
          the Second Symphony.
          
          Obviously, he was hardly the first to have recorded the symphony. Those 
          great names Jensen and Grøndahl are long associated with this symphony, 
          and others in the canon – Jensen in particular has always been 
          laden with the mantle of inheritor of the holy writ, as he played under 
          Nielsen in the Tivoli Orchestra and was supposed to have had an acute 
          recall of Nielsen’s specific tempi. It was Jensen indeed who made 
          the first studio recording of the work many years before Garaguly’s 
          recording with the famed Tivoli orchestra for Vox-Turnabout whose British 
          discs were, I believe, pressed by Decca.
          
          Garaguly is a memorable interpreter of the symphony. He directs with 
          trenchant authority characterising each moment vividly. The recording 
          isn’t the most upholstered for the time, its warmness imperiled 
          by a suggestion of stridency but that barely impedes the forceful vibrancy 
          of the direction and playing – a few ensemble slips are a price 
          very well worth paying. Those eager to whip out a stopwatch and construct 
          agonizingly tedious tables of movement tempi might like to know that 
          Jensen takes the faster tempo in the first and third movements, they’re 
          neck and neck in the scherzo and Garaguly drives a touch harder in the 
          finale. What’s far more important is his sense of consistency, 
          his vision of the work from first to last. He employs especially persuasive 
          rubati in the scherzo – they sound utterly natural – and 
          balances choirs with care. The climaxes in the slow movement are finely 
          graded, the brass has chorale nobility, and he unleashes a seismic sense 
          of vitality in the finale where once again his use of rubati is notable. 
          It’s this that distinguishes him from a later exponent such as 
          Morton Gould in Chicago who was equally fast in this movement but far 
          less knowing with the result that the music feels breathless. From 4:25 
          in the finale there are some clicks on the LP used and they go on for 
          thirty seconds or so. Annoying but not destructive. (these are being 
          amended) Like Grøndahl, Jensen, Tuxen and – as a fellow reviewer 
          here reminded me recently – Tor Mann, Garaguly approached the 
          symphonies with an adaptable sense of their energy and strangeness. 
          It’s to our lasting advantage that this early generation of Nielsen 
          symphonic interpreters was allowed to record at least part of that symphonic 
          repertoire (Mann recorded the whole cycle).
          
          Coupled with this is the Little Suite for Strings which is 
          played and directed with great charm. Garaguly’s reading reminds 
          me of that of John Frandsen with the Royal Danish forces; they both 
          have a similar sense of unforced generosity. Neither conductor overplays 
          this lighter element of Nielsen’s compositional output. Modesty 
          and elegance are alike held in balance in both performances. The final 
          work is a chamber piece, the whimsical and ingenious Serenata in 
          Vano. Maestro’s track listing truncates this to one movement 
          and underestimates its running time, but the work is heard complete. 
          This conversational piece features some of the best contemporary wind 
          players as well as a leading cellist in the shape of Asger Lund Christiansen 
          and the top-flight, droll double bass playing of Johan Poulsen.
          
          This is a good restoration.
        
          Jonathan Woolf