This is an exceptionally exciting programme of Philadelphia
recordings, several of considerable rarity in their original form. Not
only that but the variety and breadth of the repertoire is consistently
stimulating. I have known and loved Stokowski’s arrangement of Veni
Emmanuel for a number of years and never fail to be moved by it – by
the deep coagulatory basses, the coiled amplitude of the trumpets, and
the ravishing seamless violin line; these are paradigms of Stokowski’s
Philadelphia sound and a testament to his orchestral greatness. Both
the de Falla and Turina dances are of galvanizing flexibility – Stokowski
was always to remain a superb exponent of dance rhythms. Arcady Dubensky’s
The Raven comes from two very rare Picture Record 78s, taken down on
35mm optical film during the performance in December 1932. As befits
Dubensky’s Russian birth – he’d studied at the Moscow Conservatory but
left shortly after the Revolution – the Raven, on Poe’s poem, is a "Melo-Declamation
for Narrator and Orchestra" and is absolutely saturated in Tchaikovskian
influence. It is replete with shiveringly supernatural arpeggios and
de Loache’s stentorian narration is rather compelling in itself – he
had already sung in the American premieres, under Stokowski, of Boris
Godunov, Wozzeck and Gurrelieder (the last in April 1932 and famously
recorded). Hidemaro Konoye’s arrangement of Etenraku is a fascinating
piece of orchestration, glistening, exotic, ravishingly played. His
depiction of the Imperial procession is hypnotically intoxicating and
Stokowski was always fascinated by Oriental music. Konoye had something
of a vogue at this time, recording Mozart with the Berlin Philharmonic
and making the first recording of Mahler’s Fourth Symphony, no less,
back in Tokyo in May 1930 – once, maybe still, available on a Denon
CD. As head of the Imperial Music Academy and founder of the Japanese
New Symphony Orchestra he was a major figure in Japanese cultural life.
Colorado-born Harl McDonald was closely associated with both Stokowski
and the Philadelphia Orchestra – today he might be a Composer-in-residence.
An ex member of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, a pianist and choral conductor
he was consistently championed by the conductor, who performed his lighter
works (on this disc) and the weightier Symphonies. In The Legend of
the Arkansas Traveller we hear a battery of folksy musics – folk fiddles
and braying donkeys amongst them – in the best traditions of light music.
The separately performed Rhumba from the Second Symphony is a no holds
barred, rip roaring and undemanding movement but given rocket propelled
force by the performers. Henry Eichheim provides more orientalism and
Pictorialism too in his two pieces. This Nocturne derives from his Oriental
Impressions Suite and here he proves just as adept an orientalist as
his almost exact contemporary Granville Bantock. When Eichheim accompanied
Stokowski on a tour of India, Burma and Java the composer made a set
of symphonic variations, called Bali, which were inspired by themes
heard in a Balinese temple. Premiered by Stokowski in 1933 Eichheim
laced the score with gamelan motifs and threaded gongs into the evolving
fabric. But the compromises inherent in this symphonic undertaking rather
compromise the structure, which fails to coalesce, as it should. The
oriental and occidental remain stubbornly unfused. Harl McDonald returns
with his Double Piano Concerto. McDonald was an out-of-doors man (he
had been brought up on a cattle ranch) and this is music of the open
air. It is chock-full of orchestral incident, lyrical and excellently
proportioned. It manages to weld Romantic rhetoric, big tunes, variation
form and the Juarezca, a Mexican dance; add to that cascades of notes
from the pianists and you have a thoroughly engaging big band concerto.
As a bonus there are two Sousa marches – the sprightly Manhattan Beach
has never been published before (as is also the case with the Turina).
The Raven is printed in full and the notes by Edward Johnson are, as
ever, splendidly informative. The sound is a little topped and tailed
for my liking and it’s a real shame that no matrix or issue numbers
have been provided. So much here is obscure that this is a prerequisite
for historic material of this kind. Still, nothing can detract from
the luxurious pleasure this disc affords. It’s very special.
Jonathan Woolf
Leopold Stokowski