Rouse studied with
Crumb and Husa. His first love was
rock music and he taught the history
of the movement at the Eastman School.
He reveres the great symphonists from
Shostakovich to Schuman from Pettersson
to Hartmann as well as the most prominent
names among the classical and late-romantic
eras.
The music of the
Second Symphony’s first movement
is both springy and hunted. The harmonic
language is game but essentially tonal.
An angry but transient tutti battering
moves us from the end of the first
movement to the whistling introspection
of the Adagio second. The Adagio
was written in memoriam Stephen Albert
who died in a car crash in 1992. The
composer Stephen Albert – whose works
were included on several Delos discs
- was a close friend of Rouse. This
movement reflects the lamenting tradition
of Berg and Pettersson. There is a
sanguine upbeat about the first movement
but this is absent in the finale which
blasts along with a grim countenance.
This is a cauldron which in its most
obstreperous moments will remind the
listener of Nystroem's Tempest
prelude. The symphony ends with
a steely visceral brutality developed
out of the wrenching earth upheavals
of Stravinsky's Le Sacre.
The 1993 Flute
Concerto was commissioned by the
flautist here and the Detroit Symphony.
It is dedicated to the composer's
wife Ann and is inspired by Rouse’s
British-Celtic ancestry. That's apparent
from the innocent and tremblingly
vulnerable sentiment of the first
movement. The alla marcia second
is a cold capering sprite. The Elegia
recalls the heartfelt yet chilly Adagio
of the Second Symphony yet lends the
mood a shivering slow dignity. The
Scherzo is redolent of Malcolm Arnold's
woodwind concertos in its brilliant
interplay of the emotions. The emotive
yet understated language of the finale,
Anhran, not for the first time,
reminds us of Samuel Barber at his
most affecting.
Phaethon is
the son of the Sun God, Helios – a
figure who drew orchestral pieces
from both Nielsen and Mathias. The
legend of Phaeton has our hero taking
the reins of his father's chariot.
Phaeton finds himself unable to control
the steeds and Zeus has to cast him
to his death in order to avoid a disaster
for Earth. We have the evidence of
the Second Symphony that Rouse knows
well the conjure-tricks for the hunted
and the threatening. These qualities
can be heard in the pumping spleen
of this little tone poem. It arrives
punching above its weight and complete
with screeching woodwind and miraculously
rampant brass (4.13). The heaving
and shuddering Stravinskian convulsions
of its last three minutes recall not
only the Rite but also the
rushing updraft of Robert Simpson's
Fifth Symphony.
The Rouse First and
Second symphonies began life in 1986
with the First being premiered by
David Zinman with the Baltimore Symphony.
Speaking of the First Symphony you
can hear it played by the forces who
premiered it on First Edition’s Rouse
volume (FECD-0026) in their ‘Meet
the Composer’ series. The disc also
includes Phantasmata.
Rouse is worth attending
to. His trade in rhythmic adrenaline
is as remarkable as his lyric-melancholic-reflective
facility.
Rob Barnett