Listen to the opening of Symphony no. 
                1, with its pastoral wind, its inviting 
                horn-calls and its sense of forward 
                movement and tell me if this is not 
                lovelorn romantic symphonic writing 
                par excellence. There is an ardently 
                sung second subject just over two minutes 
                in and the movement, beautifully crafted, 
                maintains its promise, not least thanks 
                to the poetry and vitality with which 
                Karel Šejna handles it. By and large 
                the whole symphony makes a satisfying 
                whole though the actual thematic material, 
                sumptuously and masterfully handled 
                as it is, becomes more rudimentary later. 
              
Fibich’s 
                was the music of infatuation, literally 
                so in the last ten years of his life, 
                which were dominated by his relationship 
                with and adoration for his pupil Anežka 
                Schulzová, a relationship 
                documented almost daily in his extensive 
                series of piano miniatures "Moods, 
                Impressions and Reminiscences". 
                These would seem to show that he remained 
                locked in that exalted state of first 
                infatuation which normally either matures 
                into something deeper or, more often 
                than not, fades into nothing, and the 
                pieces themselves became storehouses 
                of thematic material which he developed 
                in his larger works, including the Second 
                and Third Symphonies. 
              
 
              
Infatuation and obsession 
                are closely related and I now ask the 
                reader to hear my second sample, the 
                opening of Symphony no. 2 . There is 
                the same sense of symphonic movement 
                as before, paragraphs are masterfully 
                constructed, the sound-world is sumptuous. 
                But this little theme, based on two 
                notes, has to bear the weight of a virtually 
                monothematic first movement and then, 
                since this was the first Czech cyclical 
                symphony, pervades the remaining movements 
                as well. Is it strong enough to do so, 
                or does it express only too well the 
                lack of objectivity which obsession/infatuation 
                can induce? Much of the remaining material 
                amounts to arpeggios and scales and 
                so I cannot agree with the booklet-note 
                writer that this is Fibich’s finest 
                symphony. Some commentators have found 
                an Elgarian tone in the slow movement; 
                maybe, but Elgar’s best themes can usually 
                be remembered afterwards. All the same, 
                I found subsequent hearings tended to 
                increase my liking for the work rather 
                than the reverse. Once again, Šejna’s 
                ardour and commitment are infectious. 
              
 
              
But now listen to the 
                opening of the Third Symphony. Lovers 
                of Sibelius will note that Fibich here 
                achieves (quite independently, in view 
                of the date) a similar sense of a steady 
                journey across a variegated landscape. 
                The music is always in motion, thanks 
                to ostinato accompanying figures which 
                start up in one section of the orchestra 
                just as they are dying down in another, 
                and it is always growing. This movement 
                seems to me a quite remarkable achievement. 
                The next begins with what we evidently 
                have to accept as a Fibich characteristic: 
                a rather stereotyped baroque-based figure, 
                albeit richly harmonised. But this soon 
                gives way to a gloriously sung Adagio. 
                The remaining movements have plenty 
                of dash even when the themes themselves 
                are sometimes rudimentary but all things 
                considered this third symphony makes 
                a very satisfying whole, Fibich’s sense 
                of forward movement and orchestral colour 
                more than outweighing any thematic weaknesses. 
              
 
              
"At 
                Twilight” was another Anežka-inspired 
                piece, recalling the composer’s walks 
                with Anežka and her father on Žofin 
                Island. It is a remarkable expression 
                of first infatuation. Although Fibich’s 
                music is not generally so recognisably 
                Czech as that of Smetana 
                or Dvořák, the latter’s Water Goblin 
                and Wild Dove both seem to be present 
                on the island. However, these are anticipations, 
                not echoes. Those whose only knowledge 
                of Fibich is restricted to his Počme 
                for violin and piano should be pleased 
                to encounter it in its original form 
                – the violinist Jan Kubelík was 
                responsible for its extrapolation as 
                a separate piece. The idea was that 
                a single violinist could bring a more 
                personal expression to it than massed 
                violins, but perhaps he reckoned without 
                the unanimity 
                and expressive nuance of this orchestra 
                of Kubelíks and Ševčíks and Josef 
                Suks under Šejna’s inspired direction. 
                The set is completed by an earlier choral 
                piece whose legendary tone looks forward 
                to Sibelius’s choral writing. 
              
 
              
At the time of many 
                of these 
                recordings Karel Šejna (1896-1982) was 
                briefly conductor of the Czech Philharmonic 
                (1949-1950), following Kubelík’s departure 
                on account of his anti-communist sympathies 
                and prior to the appointment of Karel 
                Ančerl. Perhaps one day the full 
                story of the political-musical 
                machinations of those times will one 
                day be told, including as they do the 
                slander campaign against the great Vacláv 
                Talich. And, without disrespect for 
                Ančerl, one wonders why such a 
                fine conductor as Šejna was allowed 
                so brief a tenure. However, his 
                particular sympathy for Fibich must 
                have been recognised, since he was called 
                back in 1961 to complete the cycle. 
                The 1950/1 recordings, despite a certain 
                amount of distortion, are full-blooded 
                and enjoyable while the Third Symphony 
                gets a stereo recording that sounds 
                pretty good for its date. Later Czech 
                recordings of this music have been few 
                and not very highly rated; if you want 
                modern digital sound the three symphonies 
                are available from Chandos by the Detroit 
                Symphony Orchestra under Neeme Järvi. 
                Nos. 1 and 2 have also been recorded 
                for Naxos by Andrew Mongrelia. Personally 
                I find that the captivating sound of 
                the Czech Philharmonic of the day, with 
                its rustic winds, thrilling brass and 
                soaring strings, together with Šejna’s 
                special insights, more than compensate 
                for any shortcomings in the sound. I 
                must point out, though, that the Second 
                Symphony plays about a quarter of a 
                tone above pitch. I am aware that in 
                Eastern European countries of those 
                days a higher tuning pitch was sometimes 
                used, but on the other hand the First 
                Symphony was recorded at about the same 
                time and here the pitch is right. 
              
The set is enthusiastically 
                recommended to lovers of romantic symphonies 
                and is available at superbudget price.. 
              
              
 
              
Christopher Howell