Fantasie
August Hendrik Winding (1835-1899)
Drei Fantasiestücke, Op 19
Johann Carl Eschmann (1826-1882)
Zwei Fantasiestücke, Op 9
Robert Schumann (1810-1856)
Fantasiestücke, Op 73 (1849)
Niels Wilhelm Gade (1817-1890)
Vier Fantasiestücke, Op 43
Carl Reinecke (1824-1910)
Fantasiestücke, Op 22
Georg Arzberger (clarinet)
Julian Riem (piano)
rec. 2022; Ludwig-Thoma-Haus Dachau, Germany
FARAO CLASSICS B108117 [67]
The notes to the current recording are presented in the form of an interview, an approach that sometimes provides few insights into the featured music. But in this case, the performers are joined in conversation by Katarina Farbová, a clarinetist and music historian, who gives a succinct but informed background to the fantasy pieces that are the subject of the program. She cites author E.T.A. Hoffmann, a seminal influence on German Romanticism, who introduced the idea in his
Fantasiestücke in Callots Manier. Following the lead of French painter Jacques Callot, Hoffmann wished to “create fantastic images and figures in the mind of viewers—things that do not exist in the real world but have an almost metaphysical nature.” Farbová goes on to explain that in one of Hoffmann’s
Fantasiestücke, “Kreisleriana,” the writer “credits instrumental music in particular with the ability to express transcendental content and thus sees it as the most romantic of all arts.”
Somebody was heeding Hoffmann’s call, namely Robert Schumann, whose early piano works reflect the author’s influence. Kreisleriana, Op 16, is Schumann’s direct reference to Hoffman’s creation, the wildly eccentric violinist Johannes Kreisler. Then there are Carnaval, Op 9; Nachtstücke, Op 23; and the tellingly titled Fantasiestücke, Op. 12. Schumann would go on to create at least two more sets named
Fantasiestücke: one for piano trio (Op 88) and the much more successful set for clarinet or cello, Op 73, which appears on the current program.
Schumann wrote the work during his most creative year, 1849. Much of the production of that year, sadly enough, is not heard today, and for good reason. But
Fantasiestücke is a different matter entirely. Written quickly, which was the case when Schumann was truly inspired,
Fantasiestücke was a backward glance at the composer’s early years of Romantic enthusiasm, and it is a little gem. In three movements, it captures as many different moods: the first movement dreamy, the second breezy, the third passionate and mercurial (Rasch under mit Feuer, “Fast and with Fire”). I’ve often thought that if you want a precis of German musical Romanticism, you could hardly do better than to listen to this last movement, along with the first movement of the Rhenish Symphony.
The current program also explores some of Schumann’s imitators. All of them aligned themselves with the Schumann-Mendelsohn axis of Romantic composers, Carl Reinecke being a student of Schumann, while Niels Gade was a close friend and admirer. Danish composer August Winding studied with both Gade and Reinecke, and Swiss composer Johann Eschmann studied with Mendelssohn, so we have a tight little group of composers represented here.
Both Winding and Eschmann were noted writers of lieder, especially Eschmann; both offer movements that sound like songs, or even arias, without words. These movements alternate contrasting sections, some light and airy, some brooding, in the minor key. That’s pretty much the pattern in the pieces on offer here. Most of the movements are short, cast in song form—ABA—except in cases where the A’s and B’s return a couple of times, rondo fashion. Of the two relatively unknown composers, I favored Eschmann’s contribution to the genre. He gives us two fairly sustained movements, the second (marked Romanze: Nicht zu langsam – Allegro} over eight minutes in length, with big contrasts between the slower opening and the final allegro, which ends with a big rhetorical flourish.
Both Gade and Reinecke give us four varied movements. Of the two, Gade offers movements of relatively consistent emotional quality. The longest movement, though, Ballade, tells a story that seems to have some heavy import. It begins with dramatic rolled chords in the piano followed by a dirge-like melody sung by the clarinet. The B section that follows—and returns—is more passionate and, perhaps, hopeful. As with all this music, we can bring our own interpretation to the stories that composers tell.
Reinecke rings some subtle changes on the Schumann model. He offers a Presto that unfolds like a Mendelssohn scherzo, all skitter and fairy dust. Then he turns to a waltz (Deutscher Walzer), a well-behaved little dance until the Intermezzo (marked Allegro), which is frenzied enough that many dancers would choose to sit this one out. Despite the academic-sounding title, Canon, the last movement is a tender dialog between clarinet and piano with some darker moments along the way.
All the performances, including that of Schumann’s well-known work, are admirable. In the Schumann, the first movement, marked Zart und Audruck (“Tenderly and with Expression”), is especially dreamy in fine Schumann fashion. And if I’ve heard a little more “fire” in that last movement, overall, this is a delightful performance of an often-performed work.
To sum up, some very enjoyable rarities, along with a classic, presented with style and grace by two committed musicians. An excellent recording as well. Certainly worth a listen.
Lee Passarella
Published: October 31, 2022
