Be warned, if you know
little or nothing about Ernst Toch don’t
rely on the liner-notes. Not only are
they poorly translated they’re also
inaccurate, as a visit to the Ernst
Toch Archive website at UCLA will confirm.
Not an auspicious start, then, but what
of the music?
Born in Vienna in 1887,
Toch was a concert pianist and self-taught
composer. He won the Mendelssohn prize
for composition in 1910, taking up a
teaching position at the music college
in Mannheim three years later. His most
productive period seems to have been
from 1934 onwards, when he dabbled in
most genres, including opera and film.
He left Europe before the war and, like
Schoenberg and Korngold, settled in
California. Some of his best work was
yet to come, his Third Symphony picking
up a Pulitzer in 1956.
Toch was reasonably
prolific; there are some 30 or so available
recordings listed at online CD sites,
mainly the symphonies, the cello concerto
and chamber works. Interestingly, some
are coupled with pieces by Hindemith,
Schreker and Weill, which may give you
some idea of Toch’s compositional style.
Certainly the Symphony
for Piano and Orchestra – his second
piano concerto – sounds closer to Schreker
and Weill than Hindemith. Although there
is a neo-classical formality to the
work – it is in four movements – there
is also an element of fun and fantasy
in the writing, with sparkling textures
and an opening piano salvo at 1:24 that
is strongly reminiscent of Prokofiev.
Although Toch may have been considered
avant-garde in pre-war Europe there
is nothing remotely dry or ‘difficult’
about this concerto; indeed the first
movement is full of bustle and general
joie de vivre.
The mischievous opening
to the second movement – Lebhaft – is
pure Prokofiev, with some perky interjections
from the woodwinds later on. The recording
is exceptionally transparent in both
its Red Book and SACD forms, which highlights
the composer’s many colouristic touches.
The sombre rocking theme that starts
the third movement is never ponderous,
although perhaps one might wish for
a weightier string sound at times. That
said Rotman and his band shape this
Mahlerian Adagio with great feeling.
Only the entry of the piano breaks the
spell, bringing with it another melancholic
strand that culminates in two quiet
– and entirely unexpected – tam-tam
strokes.
The final movement
– Cyclus Variabilis – is the longest
and perhaps the most eclectic of all.
It has a strong Bartókian flavour,
with rhapsodic bursts from the piano
and much spikier orchestral textures.
And surely those bass lines have more
than a hint of Berg about them? These
comparisons aside, one is constantly
struck by Toch’s lucid, chamber-like
scoring, especially in the movement’s
more spectral passages.
But this is also a
piano concerto and Diane Andersen’s
controlled virtuosity is well judged,
especially in those fevered passages
that begin at 8:40. True, the ascerbic
brass and percussion probably sound
like Weill, but make no mistake this
is not mere pastiche. That final tam-tam
stroke is another of those quirky Tochian
touches – unheralded but wonderfully
apt.
The Staatskapelle Halle,
a relatively new ensemble formed in
1948, is recorded in a pleasing acoustic,
with a near ideal balance between piano
and orchestra. Andersen, a pupil of
Stefan Askenase, is a champion of less
well known music, including Toch, with
whom she seems to have a genuine affinity.
Textures are admirably clear, rhythms
well defined and the orchestra is commendably
alert, alive to all those competing
musical influences.
That is certainly the
abiding impression in the Quintet
for piano and strings. Also cast
in four movements – The Lyrical Part,
The Whimsical Part, The Contemplative
Part and The Dramatic Part – this work
is a strange mix of drollery and gravitas.
Recorded in the rather unprepossessing
Concertgebouw, Bruges, the sound is
more up-front than before. That’s no
bad thing, as the instrumental strands
are always easily discernible. Guy Danel’s
expressive cello playing is particularly
enjoyable, Andersen now much more of
a partner in the mix. And yes it sounds
surprisingly lyrical, despite its more
declamatory style.
The Danel Quartet pride
themselves on tackling a wide repertoire,
from Beethoven to Bartók and
Shostakovich, and they certainly deliver
plenty of the latter’s tang and bite
when called for. The last three minutes
of the first movement are marvellously
done, simultaneously inward and ardent.
If one is looking for comparisons here
the Shostakovich E minor Piano Trio,
Op. 67, comes to mind.
Predictably The Whimsical
Part has a fleeting, mercurial quality,
never quite settling in one mode or
mood. The Contemplative Part has some
hushed and introspective string writing
– the piano doesn’t appear until much
later – and there’s the sense of a mature
and original talent at work. There is
a touching wistfulness too – just listen
to those rising figures that peak and
start to fall gently from 8:55 onwards.
Nothing genteel about
the whirling final movement, with its
run of pizzicato strings and tangled
melodies. This is Toch with a glint
in his eye, full of high spirits and
genial good humour. The players attack
the music with great fervour and flair,
bringing out the movement’s more astringent
harmonies. But it is their sheer weight
and intensity of focus that is most
impressive.
Talent have done a
sterling job with this release, both
sonically and artistically, but what
a pity the packaging and liner-notes
are so crude and amateurish. Carping
aside, this is confident, fully formed
music that really ought to be better
known. Well worth a handful of your
hard-earned shekels.
Dan Morgan
And a further
perspective from Rob Barnett
CPO have done proud
by Toch's symphonies and they also have
a selection of his numerous quartets.
He is now no stranger to the catalogue.
His life story is recounted elsewhere
but its geographical centres are Vienna
and the USA. This is perhaps glimpsed
in the music on this disc from DOM Talent.
The Symphony for Piano
and Orchestra also rejoices under the
title of Second Piano Concerto. In this
duality Toch was not alone. Josef Holbrooke's
Eighth Symphony for Piano and Orchestra
is also designated as his Third Piano
Concerto. As for the Toch work it is
in four movements. The first two are
a lively confection pulled between various
poles. The sardonic writing is redolent
of early Shostakovich. One can also
hear the glint and glitter of Prokofiev,
a dash of jazz, a soupcon of Stravinsky's
wiry neo-classicism and the shadow of
a roughly contemporaneous work: John
Ireland's Piano Concerto. Toch calls
a halt for the more romantic adagio
- relaxed in one sense yet tense with
the harmonic ambiguity of Mahler's string
writing. We return to the fantastical,
frenetic and spikily macabre for the
long Cyclus Variabilis finale
which ends enigmatically with a mysterious
tam-tam stroke. The premiere, which
was to have taken place in Germany,
was frustrated by the arrival of the
Nazis. In fact the first performance
took place during Toch’s exile in London
and the conductor was Henry Wood in
1933-34.
The Quintet was commissioned
by Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge. The composer
seems to have reset his compass for
the first movement which sounds a little
like one of those surgingly romantic-impressionist
chamber works by Bonnal or Ropartz.
The hectic yet quiet frenetics return
as familiar territory from the op. 61
work in the second movement. Once again
the third movement is in adagio mode
yet this time with references to the
honeyed ambivalence of Zemlinsky and
Karl Weigl. The finale is a wild hay-ride
of stony brilliance, straining tocsins
and tense dissonant work for the strings.
The movements are entitled The Lyrical
Part, The Whimsical Part,
The Contemplative Part; The
Dramatic Part.
I heard this hybrid
SACD in its standard CD format
in which it sounded forthright and strong.
Rob Barnett
for details
1 2 Diane Andersen (piano) 
TALENT
RECORDS DOM 2929 70 [68:31]
