Krzysztof MEYER (b. 1943)
Symphony No. 9 Fidei speique Sinfonia (Symphony of Faith and Hope) for choir and orchestra to the Psalms of King David, Op. 126 (2015)
Mixed Choir of the Karol Szymanowski Philharmonic, Krakow
Poznań Philharmonic Orchestra/Jakub Chrenowicz
rec. March 2016, Adam Mickiewicz University Auditorium, Concert Hall of the Poznań Philharmonic, Poznań, Poland
Psalm texts in Latin included in booklet
DUX 1713 [52:23]
Here’s a disc whose timely release provides a grim reflection of the current zeitgeist on Planet Earth in general and (more unwittingly) the appalling, apocalyptic situation unfolding in Ukraine. This Dux release of Krzysztof Meyer’s Symphony No 9 was recorded at its world premiere in Poznań six years ago and constitutes (by my reckoning at least) the fourteenth release in that label’s ongoing series devoted to a composer who remains too little known on this side of Europe, at least in comparison to his older compatriots Lutosławski, Penderecki and Górecki. I noted language of comparable austerity in Meyer’s previous symphony in my review of that Holocaust-inspired work and now wonder if that direction has reached its apogee with the present work; given composer’s evident sensitivity to the state of the world such a claim could well prove premature in the light of the current, tragic turn of events.
Billed as a Symphony of Faith and Hope, I have to report that listeners are unlikely to derive much in the way of easy solace in this imposing yet granitic work. It’s cast in seven movements; during the first six of these differing instrumental and choral subsets from the collected ensemble are deployed and it’s not until the extended finale that Meyer unleashes his full cohort of performers, and even then only intermittently. Thomas Weselman explains in his note that the chorus represents the voice of the entire human community and predicts that the symphony as a whole is likely to convey “… a transcendental message for some people and a political one for others….” and rather more pertinently (pessimistically?) that it constitutes “.a musical reflection on human nature and its consequences, as well as on mankind’s perennial hopes and illusions”
The initial gestures of the Largo are luminous; an abrupt chord on the harp, droplets of marimba skittering around timpani stabs. A web of female voices warmly intoning an invocation drawn from Psalm 4 engender a deeply felt but tentative mood whose uncertainty is reinforced by stop-start interjections from tuned percussion. Male voices join the throng as the movement proceeds in an increasingly anxious vein before a brief Furioso for strings (the only purely instrumental panel in the symphony) overwhelms it – this is a rapid, rather threatening utterance which recalls the astringency of Shostakovich’s writing in the fleeter movements of his Symphony No 14. It duly yields attacca to a plangent third movement marked Solemne in which the voices’ dense polyphony is pitted against atmospheric (but distantly recorded) woodwinds in a setting of Psalm 35, an earnest plea on behalf of the oppressed. There are abrupt changes of pace throughout which serve to amplify the tension in this music and by now it is clear that listeners will need to make allowances for this live recording of what was, after all, a world premiere; the sonics certainly favour the tutti chorus which frequently overwhelms the orchestra.
The central fourth movement Lento is pivotal. Meyer reverts to predominantly homophonic choral textures in this rather severe setting of Psalm 64, as if to emphasise the unambiguous message at the core of that text, translated in the booklet as “Hear me O God as I voice my complaint; hide me from the conspiracy of the wicked, from that noisy crowd of evildoers.” If these words seemed powerful six years ago, they strike one as positively chilling in March 2022. The dark brass and string colours provide apt accompaniment; yet although the panel’s essence is transmitted faithfully enough I detect a degree of hesitancy amongst singers and players which frequently impacts on the flow of these slower movements. One wonders if a couple more rehearsals might have helped clarify this challenging material.
A terse Feroce movement follows; this involves a virile polyphonic six-part setting of Psalm 2, initially acapella but accompanied eventually in rather fragmented terms by brass, percussion and strident strings. The text evokes the eternal conflict between the forces of darkness and light. It’s undeniably exciting if excessively hectoring in tone, whilst its impact is substantially compromised by the inundation of much of the orchestral detail, including an important trombone solo (Thomas Weselmann implies this is a significant moment in the context of the movement) which proves virtually inaudible. The subsequent Ecstatico section begins attacca with another volatile orchestral chord, whilst the choir’s projection of Psalm 123 returns to the syllabic homophony of the fourth movement. The heavy tread of chromatic accompaniment softens gradually until the choir share a grave, unaccompanied confession which translates as “Our soul is filled with the scorning of those who are at ease, and with the contempt of the proud.” The harmony slowly evaporates leaving still voices in a quiet unison, which leads directly into a 15 minute finale marked Lo stesso tempo, whose first gestures recall the concluding movement of Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms. Further echoes of that masterpiece emerge as Meyer’s setting of Psalm 120 proceeds, in its unexpected syncopations, the austere writing for voices, dramatic shifts in pace and especially in its spare instrumental combinations. The sincerity and depth of feeling is never in doubt, but when the Fidei speique referred to in the work’s subtitle at last emerge during the symphony’s final pages (the text shifts here to Psalm 117), Meyer unveils material which communicates exhaustion rather than consolation.
The very idea of writing a Ninth Symphony has become mired in symbolism for many composers over the last 150 years. Meyer’s attempt at a universal statement is bold yet uneven. There is some imaginative instrumental writing for sure (especially for tuned percussion) but ultimately the piece seems too fragmented and certainly lacks the coherence of his Symphony No 8. The sense that the work is to be endured rather than enjoyed is reinforced by a performance which frequently seems under-rehearsed and a recording in which the engineers have clearly struggled to realise a convincing balance, presumably due to Meyer’s ever varying instrumental demands for each movement, a seemingly insurmountable challenge for them in what was after all a live recording of the premiere. Those collecting the Dux Meyer series will undoubtedly snap the disc up but for other readers sufficiently curious to hear this composer there are better places in the canon to start. On this evidence the Symphony No 9 is a tough listen; better perhaps to wait for a better prepared and recorded studio account.
Richard Hanlon
