An extensive booklet yields few hard
facts, omitting even the date of the
first symphony and preferring to tell
us that "In his works, Tal devotes
particular care and precision to the
moment of memory", that "he
uses the twelve tone row in order to
formulate the musical process in time,
not determinate it", that "Only
one thing is certain: Tal does not prescribe
any emotional course to which the music
is forced to adapt. In his works, the
emotionality arises from his musical
thought, with its searching meticulousness
and technical precision of composition",
as well as much other precious information
in the same vein.
An Internet search
produced the following: Josef Tal was
born Joseph Grünthal on 18 September
1910 at Pinne (now part of Poland but
then in Germany). He studied at the
Hochschule für Musik in Berlin
where Hindemith was among his teachers
and then migrated to Eretz Israel in
1934 where he taught piano and composition
at the Jerusalem Academy of Music, becoming
its Director from 1948-1952. Only a
tiny handful of compositions, mostly
for piano solo, are listed as dating
from before 1952, so his resignation
from the Academy evidently represented
some kind of watershed in his life.
Later, in 1965, he joined the faculty
of the Hebrew University and eventually
became head of the musicology department.
Tal composed steadily
until quite recently, completing 6 symphonies
– the last three dated 1985, 1991 and
1991 – , 5 operas – Asmedai (1968),
Massada 967 (1972), The Tower
(1983), The Garden (a chamber
opera, 1987) and Josef (1993)
– , some big choral/orchestral works
– Succoth Cantata (1955), The
Death of Moses (1967), Parade
of the Fallen (1968) and With
all the Soul (1978) – and many chamber
works including 3 string quartets (1959,
1964, 1976). Practitioners of instruments
with a small repertoire may like to
note that he has written Concertos for
flute (1977) and oboe (1980), both with
chamber orchestra, a Sonata for oboe
and piano (1952) and (surely this must
be almost unique?) a Duo for trombone
and harp (1989) and a Movement (1980)
for tuba and piano. As can be seen from
the titles, Jewish themes have predominated.
He has shown interest at various times
in both serialism and electronic music.
Of the four works recorded
here, it is the First Symphony which
seems to me to have the greatest claims
on an international public. It is clearly
shaped with an old Jewish lament forming
its centrepiece. This melody, with its
dark orchestral colouring, is rather
suggestive of the second theme in the
second movement of Sibelius’s second
symphony, but in view of its traditional
origin perhaps we should be wondering
where Sibelius got it from. An impressive
and spacious movement in any case. The
first movement begins and ends slowly
but this encapsulates some brightly
dissonant and energetic counterpoint
which reminds us that Tal had studied
with Hindemith and, at any rate to my
English ears, recalled the work of the
British Hindemith pupil, Arnold Cooke.
More fiery energy starts the last movement,
followed by reminiscences of the Jewish
lament which led to a wonderfully infectious
"fresh and youthful" rhythm
which almost brings the work to a gloriously
triumphant close – but instead, it ends
with a question mark. A very fine symphony.
The Second Symphony
is, we are told, serially based,
but it promises to wear its techniques
lightly. It opens with little of the
unremitting angst which some say is
the inevitable result of serial writing
whether the composer intends it or not.
The colours are generally bright and
the rhythmic movement clear. Thereafter,
I’m afraid, it lapses into a sort of
all-purpose post-serialism and my attention
was intermittently held. Perhaps this
is another way of saying that it is
more difficult to grasp than the first
symphony and perhaps I should try harder,
but surely even the most difficult work
should offer some sort of incentive
to the listener to go back and hear
it again?
The Third Symphony
seems to head further down the path
of sterility. On a first hearing I tried
to be patient because various episodes
seemed to promise to lead somewhere,
but the second time round it seemed
a very pointless exercise when I knew
all too well that it was going to end
up nowhere. The work seems deliberately
discontinuous and limited in its forms
of expression and even its orchestral
palette; a liking for the vibraphone,
for example, has now degenerated into
an obsession.
The "Festive
Vision" belongs, we are
told, with the series of symphonies,
though it is not part of them. After
an impressive beginning, dogged discontinuity
sets in; some rhythmic build up arrives
later but the material itself is more
conventional than that of the symphonies,
suggestive of a second-hand mix of other
composers’ festive visions.
In an introduction
to the booklet, entitled "The fairy
tale called reality", Tal himself
writes simply and poetically:
"Once upon a time
there was a composer who was able to
see a hundred years into the future
using his little telescope.
"One morning he
was sitting in the concert hall of the
NDR RADIOPHILHARMONIE … The orchestra’s
musicians were sitting on the stage.
Before him stood their conductor Israel
Yinon. At a sign from him they all rose
and began to play and dance. All the
chairs danced with them and so did the
empty cases surrounding the composer
… the big concert hall became filled
with the notes of all six of the composer’s
symphonies. When the final note had
sounded all the musicians applauded
by stamping their feet on the trembling
floor of the stage.
"The ‘Festive
Vision’ arose within the composer, and
straightway the dance began all over
again: And the microphones and the speakers
and all the electronics used in the
CD recording danced with them …"
Alas, poor man, I fear
the beauty of these simple words is
more in his mind than his music; but
still, to have created the first symphony
is no mean achievement.
Christopher Howell
NDR Radiophilharmonie/Israel Yinon 