Berthold 
                  Goldschmidt is probably best known for his collaboration with 
                  Deryck Cooke on Cooke's realisation of Mahler's 10th symphony, or as a mentor to the young Simon Rattle.  There was much 
                  more to him than that.  He was a composer who fell through the 
                  cracks of a Europe at war.  At the height of his young 
                  career, having scored a success with his opera Der 
                  gewaltige Hahnrei, he found himself 
                  suddenly a non-person in the Nazi state.  He fled to England, but by the time the war was over, a new music of raucous atonality 
                  made his uneasy lyricism seem anachronistic.  He battled on 
                  as a composer until the late 1950s when, like another lyrical 
                  British composer, George Lloyd, he decided that there was no 
                  place for his music in the climate of the times and stopped 
                  composing for good.  In the 1980s he took it up again, and by 
                  the time of his death in 1996, he had won some recognition and 
                  begun to find a place on disc. 
                
This 
                  CD is an important document.  It draws together music from across 
                  Goldschmidt's career, beginning with his promising youth and 
                  ending with a work written only the year before his death.  
                  There is, as you would expect, a shift in style across this 
                  vast 70 year time period, but there is also a strength of personal 
                  idiom that unites these works. 
                
The 
                  Passacaglia builds and builds, sounding 
                  a little like the opening movement to Shostakovich's 10th in its harmonic language, but of course 
                  it predates Shostakovich's symphony by a good quarter of a century.  
                  Goldschmidt said of his music that he always had the architecture 
                  of a piece in mind when writing it, and the architecture is 
                  clear and easy to take in here. 
                
The 
                  next piece on this disc paints a contrasting mood.  Dare I say 
                  it?  Yes, I do.  There is a perky Englishness to the 
                  jaunty overture to A Comedy of Errors, even if it does 
                  predate Goldschmidt's flight to England by a decade.  The piece is delightful, lower voices burbling away 
                  under the inanities of the violins.  There is something of Samuel 
                  Barber in here, again too early for it to actually be Barber.  
                  There is a touch of Petrushka too.  Goldschmidt's conducting 
                  here is affectionate, but it left me wondering what a firmer 
                  hand could have made of this piece.  At a stiffer tempo and 
                  more sharply etched articulation and dynamics, this would be 
                  a rollicking ride – the sort of opener you would want for the 
                  last night of the Proms, or any concert, for that matter.  Something 
                  to play alongside Malcolm Arnold's overtures: similar in spirit 
                  and in the writing for winds. 
                
Rattle 
                  certainly steers with a firmer hand on the tiller in his two 
                  contributions to this album, the abovementioned Passacaglia 
                  and the Ciaccona Sinfonica.    Rattle's commitment to 
                  the music and its composer is intense and evidenced not only 
                  by the sounds he draws from his Birmingham band, but also in 
                  the fact that he managed to convince EMI to allow him to record 
                  this music for Decca's Entartete series.  Rattle gave the first 
                  Proms performance of Ciaccona Sinfonica in 1993.  It 
                  is essentially a suite for orchestra in three movements, or 
                  a freely structured symphony, full of music is rhythmically 
                  alive, angularly tuneful and utterly compelling.  There is more 
                  than a whiff of Hindemith here, not so much of Hindemith's influence, 
                  I suspect, as much as a shared musical background, place and 
                  time.  The central andante sostenuto is especially long-breathed 
                  and compelling, leading into an uneasy gigue of uncertain key 
                  and slight mania. 
                
Hindemithian 
                  sounds appear again in Chronica, and the first movement, 
                  Intrada and March Militaire sounds like Hindemith furtively 
                  rewriting Petrushka behind Stravinsky's back.  There 
                  are Mahlerian touches too.  Kriezberg does a good job with the 
                  score, bringing pep to the faster music and painting Goldschmidt's 
                  delicate textures beautifully in the slower music.  He is a 
                  little undercharacterised, though.  For example, his reading 
                  of the Scherzo subtitled “Propaganda” seems a little 
                  straight-faced. 
                
Orchestral 
                  textures seem thicker, though not necessarily heavier, in the 
                  song cycle Les Petits Adieux.  In the absence of texts, 
                  I do cannot really figure out what François Le Roux is singing 
                  about, but he seems regretful and slightly angry.  These songs 
                  suit his light baritone, though his rapid vibrato may not be 
                  to all tastes.  The songs themselves are lush and beautiful, 
                  like something between Mahler and Berg.  Dutoit's Montreal forces 
                  play very well here, with the brass especially distinctive. 
                
The 
                  disc closes with a romance for violin, played with feeling by 
                  Chantal Juliet.  It opens with the violin alone, with only the 
                  occasional pizzicato chord behind her.  Then the winds join.  
                  It begins as long breathed lyrical phrases of ambiguous tonality, 
                  but becomes more vigorous in its uncertainly about the 2.30 
                  mark.  As with the opening piece on the disc, this Rondeau is a tightly composed structure with a clear architectural plan.  
                  If it is not the deepest music, it is still engaging and memorable. 
                
It 
                  is obvious why this music was suppressed by the Nazis.  The 
                  composer's surname on the title page was the only part of the 
                  score they needed to see.  His neglect in Britain is more puzzling, 
                  but relatively easily explained.  Goldschmidt made the cataclysmic 
                  choice to continue writing music in a tonal idiom at a time 
                  when atonality ruled.  Tonality has since come back into fashion, 
                  and  number of British composers have begun to enjoy a revival. 
                  Goldschmidt, like that other naturalised British European exile, 
                  Andrzej Panufnik, has not managed to catch that wave yet, being 
                  not quote British enough.  Hopefully that will change.  His 
                  music may not seem as original now as once it did, but it is 
                  individual and shot through with wit and a melancholy beauty. 
                
My 
                  review copy of this Arkiv CD did not come with liner notes, 
                  which are sorely missed for a release like this of relatively 
                  unfamiliar music.  I understand, though, that Arkiv now provides 
                  liner notes with its CD-Rs.  I would bet that they are fascinating. 
                
              
If 
                you care about the music of the last century and missed this disc 
                when first released, you should order it from Arkiv without delay.  
                It will more than tickle your interest and you will find yourself 
                wanting to play it again and again, as I have.
                  
                Tim Perry