Joseph
                      Martin Kraus was almost an exact contemporary of Mozart
                      and has been dubbed ‘the Swedish Mozart’. He was born five
                      months after Mozart on 20 June 1756 and died a year and
                      ten days after the great composer on 15 December 1792.
                      He was actually born in Miltenberg in Germany but moved
                      to Stockholm in 1778 to work in the court of King Gustav
                      III. I first came across Kraus thanks to the initial CD
                      in the Naxos series dedicated to him. It contained the
                      overture to 
Olympie and three rather remarkable
                      symphonies which I came to love. Volumes 2, 3 and 4 of
                      the series followed without too protracted a delay and
                      I was hooked. Why hadn’t I heard of Kraus before? Geography
                      can sometimes act against such recognition and it didn’t
                      help that several of Kraus’s symphonies had been misattributed
                      to other composers for many years.
                  
                   
                  
                  
Like
                      Haydn in Eszterháza, Kraus’s isolation from mainstream
                      Europe caused him to develop along an original musical
                      path. Some of his earlier music sounds a little like 
Stürm
                      und Drang Haydn, while some of the last music has a
                      Romantic style that makes one wish he had lived into the
                      nineteenth century. Then we might have seen some fireworks!
                      Kraus had a wonderful lyrical gift. Some of his melodies
                      rival Mozart’s in their seeming endlessness – something
                      one hears several times in the aforementioned symphonies.
                   
                  
So
                      what of this issue? I was keen to hear it and discover
                      some more of this remarkable composer’s work. The first
                      thing to say is that this music is far lighter than many
                      of the symphonies. This was written for the theatre, not
                      for solemn occasions. The two 
Pantomimes which sandwich
                      the main item on this disc, the ballet 
Fiskarena,
                      were written while Kraus was still a young student in Mannheim
                      and the circumstances surrounding their composition remain
                      a mystery. Were one not to know the title, the first 
Pantomine in
                      D might pass off quite comfortably as a three-movement 
sinfonia.
                      It is attractive music but gives little away of what was
                      to come, although the beautiful solo oboe writing in the 
Adagio already
                      displays Kraus’s melodic talents. Bertil van Boer, editor
                      of Kraus’s music (hence the ‘VB’ numbers) and writer of
                      the excellent booklet notes, suggests that the 
Pantomine in
                      G is an even earlier work than its D major counterpart.
                      Its music is more four-square and the insertion of a short 
March between
                      the first and slow movements gives this 
Pantomime more
                      the character of a 
divertimento. The two movements
                      Kraus composed for insertion into a 1787 Royal Stockholm
                      Opera production of Gluck’s 
Armide are attractive
                      trifles – pure ballet music.
                   
                  
The
                      main fare on this CD is the dramatic ballet 
Fiskarena (The
                      Fishermen). It was first staged on 9 March 1789 by the
                      Royal Opera and won immediate popularity. The plot and
                      choreography have long been lost and so any suggestions
                      as to the goings-on in the Overture and twenty brief numbers
                      that follow can only be educated guesses. This matters
                      not a jot, however as the music is attractive enough to
                      stand on its own, including two nautical hornpipe-like 
Angloises
                      and a gipsy 
Ungherese just before the rousing 
Contradanza
                      Finale.
                   
                  
This
                      CD, then, reveals a lighter side to Kraus’s art than that
                      in earlier instalments in this series. It is a side to
                      which the composer was firmly committed in Stockholm and
                      so it is important in the appreciation of Kraus’s work
                      to have this illuminating disc.
                   
                  
As
                      in earlier volumes of this Kraus series, the Swedish Chamber
                      Orchestra under Petter Sundkvist play these works as if
                      by second nature, revealing their delightful colours and
                      intricacies. The recording matches the performances perfectly,
                      with a natural and well-balanced acoustic that allows the
                      music to speak entirely for itself.
                   
                  
Derek Warby
                  
                  see also reviews by Tim
                  Perry and Jonathan Woolf