Here at last is an
alternative to the worthy Centaur
recording of the Universe
Symphony that set Ivesians chattering
a decade ago. As everyone should be
aware, this is a ‘realization’ by composer
Larry Austin of a thick wad of sketches
left by Ives, as Deryck Cooke did with
Mahler 10 and Antony Payne with Elgar
3. The difference here is that Ives
virtually left an open invitation for
‘somebody’ to carry out his aspirations
for the work: ‘…in case I don’t get
to finishing this, somebody might like
to try to work out the idea’. That somebody
was Larry Austin and, rather like Cooke,
working on this piece became an all-consuming
passion for twenty years, with this
recording representing what appear to
be his final thoughts on it.
Listening afresh leaves
one open-mouthed in astonishment. However
much is conjectural (and one has to
admit it’s certainly a great deal) the
end result, though never easy or comfortable,
displays a breadth and sheer untamed
wildness that befit the inspiration.
If you are of the opinion that Ives
was a true visionary, a lone original
way ahead of his time, this version
will come as manna from heaven. If you
believe that that he was a wacky amateur,
that view may, unfortunately, also be
confirmed.
The Symphony runs for
around 36 minutes without a break, is
scored for multiple orchestras and is
in three broad sections: Past – from
Chaos, Formation of the Waters and Mountains;
Present – Earth and the Firmament, Evolution
in Nature and Humanity; Future – Heaven,
the Rise of all to the Spiritual. Titles
like these may have you thinking of
the wilder excesses of Scriabin, or
latterly of the nature soundscapes of
Hovhaness, but what emerges is nothing
like that. The longest section is undoubtedly
the first, a 20-odd minute build-up
that Austin now subtitles ‘Life Pulse
Prelude’. It starts in the very bowels
of the orchestra, and is basically a
slow, rhythmically-phased crescendo
for massive percussion ensemble. The
strict tolling of a solitary bell keeps
things in check, but around this pulse
are woven dense, often aleatoric sub-patterns
that constantly shift and grow. The
effect is very avant-garde, though curiously
comforting and sometimes redolent of
early minimalism.
The idea of different
instrumental combinations representing
gas clouds, rock formations etc., and
using any harmonic means to achieve
this (quarter tones, chord clusters,
collage effect) in 1911 is quite unbelievable.
The later sections of the work display
great timbral variety, though some listeners
may not get beyond the novelty value
of Ives’s vision. It is a difficult
experience in some ways, and demands
giving one’s self over to it in a suitable
frame of mind, rather as one might do
with Morton Feldman. The sceptic may
feel life’s too short to bother, but
I believe it is worth the effort.
In contrast to all
this dissonant excess, the Second
Symphony is a doddle. It still represents
all that’s good and bad about the composer,
but in so much more accessible a language.
Its roots are firmly in the 19th
Century, and there are the by now familiar
references to hymn tunes and popular
marches, as well as lashings of Bach,
Brahms and Wagner (among others), all
building towards a beautifully timed
‘wrong note’ chord at the end. Pure
madness, but so convincingly done as
to be impossible to switch off.
Recordings and performances
here are good. The Universe Symphony
is obviously the main draw, and this
is taken from a Saarbrücken Radio
broadcast. Michael Stern keeps a firm
hand on proceedings, ably helped by
his four co-conductors, one of whom
is Austin himself. This lends an air
of authority to the venture, and the
whole event is generally well captured
by the engineers, though this is one
to have probably been there for, visually
as well as aurally. Stern’s Second will
not sway those loyal to Tilson-Thomas
or Bernstein, but makes a very generous
filler. A must for Ivesians, or those
with a penchant for something different
– very different.
Tony Haywood
Saarbrücken Radio Symphony Orchestra/Michael
Stern 