Hearing Langgaard’s Music of the Spheres for the
first time - review
- not to mention Thomas Dausgaard’s marvellous 2012 BBC
Prom performance of Symphony No. 11 convinced me of two things:
this composer’s indecent - if frustrating - originality
and this conductor’s affinity for his music. Recorded
over a decade, the works in this sumptuous Dacapo box were released
individually to wide acclaim. It’s not the only cycle
available; Ilya Stupel and the Artur Rubinstein Philharmonic
recorded seven volumes for Danacord in 1990/91, a set much praised
by John France in 2001 (review).
Born into a distinguished musical family, Langgaard set himself
against the somewhat dour Danish musical establishment with
his search for a Romantic/Symbolist idiom. CD 1 is devoted
to his First Symphony, premiered - and well received - in Germany
just before the Great War. Despite its bucolic title nothing
quite prepares one for the Straussian surge and Brucknerian
amplitude that characterises this exuberant work. As for the
full-bodied, thrustful playing it’s first-rate, and Dausgaard
proves a steady steersman, most notably in those frequent perorations
which, in lesser hands, could so easily seem otiose.
There’s magic in this symphony, the gentle mood of the
second movement, ‘Mountain Flowers’, wonderfully
sustained. Textures are surprisingly varied and there are few
signs of impending stasis, which is remarkable in such a youthful
opus. One might be tempted to invoke Sibelius in the third movement,
‘Legend’, or Strauss in the craggy climb of the
fourth, but Langgaard is obstinately original in his means and
methods. Only in the rambling finale, ‘Courage’,
does the symphony succumb to an element of doggedness and a
degree of opacity; that said, any misgivings are swept away
by a truly majestic coda that threatens to overbalance but never
does.
CD 2 contains the Second and Third symphonies, completing
what has been dubbed the composer’s first, youthful phase;
his symphonic forms are still broadly traditional and, in this
first version of Vårbrud especially, there’s
an almost classical symmetry to the writing. Even so, the splendid
brass and timp flourishes are as Romantically inclined as ever,
with a dash of Korngoldian spray for good measure. Contrast
that with the lyric inwardness of the second movement, whose
marking ‘religioso quasi adagio’ is sensitively
interpreted. This is music - and music-making - of rare beauty
and line that briefly sets this composer apart from the crowd.
The maddening thing with Langgaard is that fine writing jostles
with music that’s much less impressive. Take the strange
third movement of the Second, where the add-on soprano Inger
Dam-Jensen combines necessary reach with a somewhat distracting
vibrato. Not an entirely convincing work then, but it has some
stand-out moments. As for the Third Symphony, it’s essentially
a piano concerto whose lusty choral part brings Busoni to mind.
Despite playing of commendable impetuosity and sparkle it’s
hard to escape the sense that it’s all rather aimless;
as always there are some fine passages, but not even Dausgaard
and that heart-racing finale can disguise the work’s waywardness.
It seems fitting that the Third Symphony should be subtitled
‘Flush of Youth’, for it marks the end of Langgaard’s
first ‘phase’; the next encompasses the rather more
rigorous Fourth and Fifth symphonies. ‘Fall of the Leaves’
has strength and sinew, its terseness tempered with rare episodes
of striking luminosity. Should we infer a programme here? I’m
not sure it’s helpful, for the symphony’s many linked
sections suggest internal rigour and structural ambition rather
than naive pictorialism. Even the three-minute Tranquillo eschews
simple charm for a somewhat more gnarly appeal.
Bluff would be a good description of these two symphonies. The
Fifth is given here in both its original and revised versions.
They make for a fascinating comparison, the earlier score’s
softer edges supplanted by something more bracing and direct
later on. Those jaunty, recurring climaxes in the first movement
are a case in point; it’s as if Langgaard has taken a
solvent to his canvas and revealed the vivid colours and firm
brush strokes beneath the diffusing grime. As Danish Fifths
go, both are suitably imposing, and Dausgaard’s persuasive
readings give them real stature and strength. Not as sophisticated
or polished as Nielsen’s or Sibelius’s towering
examples perhaps, but engaging nonetheless.
CD 4 covers Langgaard’s third phase, from 1925
to 1945, and encompasses the Sixth, Seventh and Eighth symphonies.
At the outset one is struck by the inwardness of the Sixth and
its lightness of touch. Dacapo’s Super Audio recording
is very impressive indeed, bringing out the transparency of
the score’s quiet passages as well as the rude irruptions
of brass and timps. At times there’s a more than a hint
of controlled Ivesian chaos in the writing, which makes ‘The
Heaven-Rending’ a thoroughly entertaining - and occasionally
unsettling - listen.
The Seventh Symphony, given here in its revised version, certainly
has moments of tremendous swing and energy - not to mention
thrilling perorations - but some may find the overall effect
rather opaque at first. Despite its Romantic roots there’s
none of the heart-on-sleeve appeal one might expect here. Instead
we’re confronted with an understated, pleasingly shaped
work whose many felicities don’t reveal themselves on
first acquaintance. As for the Eighth, which includes a tenor
soloist and chorus, it has a ceremonial swagger that’s
well caught by the deep, sonorous recording.
Indeed, when it comes to invention the Eighth is the most delightful
offering so far; moreover, the often arm’s-length nature
of the earlier symphonies is replaced with something altogether
more genial and carefree. The choral singing is both animated
and incisive, a thrilling counterpart to the strange brass punctuations.
Where the Third just slides into bombast at this point the vocal
contributions here - including that of tenor Lars Petersen -
bring real surge and splendour to the piece. Odd as this may
sound, if you like Haydn this good-natured music is sure to
please.
We’re at the end of phase three in CD 5, which
kicks off with the Ninth Symphony, subtitled ‘From Queen
Dagmar’s City’. It shares with the Eighth a buoyant
mood, an generosity of spirit if you will, that really shines
through in the freewheeling first movement. The humour and point
of the second movement is pure delight, and the playing is as
deft as one could wish. This is Langgaard at his most accessible,
craft and content in a pleasing equilibrium. The bells of the
third movement are a surprising turn, and the finale is imbued
with a gentle, beaming charm that’s utterly beguiling.
The single-movement Tenth, ‘The Hall of Thunder’,
is altogether more trenchant and has some of the strangest sonorities
yet heard on this set. Now this piece really does beckon
us into Nordic folklore, although any overt programme is tempered
by writing of familiar rigour and added instrumental virtuosity.
A tad unrelenting, perhaps, but I daresay new listeners will
be entranced by the boldness and brio of the piece. As with
all the symphonies in this phase, the Tenth is relatively short,
although the eternally spinning Ixion’s wheel of the Eleventh
Symphony lasts barely six-and-a-half minutes. Dausgaard’s
performance of the piece at this year’s Proms went down
a storm, the six tubas outrageous and off-the-wall but undeniably
entertaining.
CD 6 takes us into the fourth and final phase of Langgaard’s
life, from 1946 until his death in 1952. At just over seven
minutes the Twelfth Symphony, ‘Hélsingeborg’,
is as pithy as its immediate predecessor. The Danish orchestra
are as committed as ever, even if the opening could have been
tidier. There are vestiges of that earlier openness, but is
it fanciful to sense a drawing down of blinds at this point?
The Thirteenth, with its intriguing subtitle ‘Belief in
Wonders’, is much more conventional in construction and
length, yet it has flashes of the easeful Langgaard - perhaps
more wistful this time - that infuses the Seventh, Eighth and
Ninth symphonies.
His late works are certainly assured, and the Thirteenth has
a haunting quality that I found most affecting. This isn’t
a composer who induces such sentiments elsewhere, and I suspect
in lesser hands the piece wouldn’t seem as heartfelt as
it does here. The Fourteenth, ‘Morning’, with its
stirring choral start, is simply splendid. Indeed, I was reminded
of that mighty greeting to the dawn at the end of Schönberg’s
Gurre-lieder, such is the blaze of sound Dausgaard gets
from his singers and players. That said, in the second movement
Langgaard modulates into something rather more reticent - otherworldly,
even - in which the orchestra play with chamber-like concentration
and delicacy. This is music of Mahlerian farewell, superbly
performed and recorded; and while it’s not quite the summation
it appears, it’s certainly the most serene and lovely
writing here.
As with so many sets of this nature the final disc - CD 7
- is a bit of a hotchpotch. The last two symphonies - Nos. 15
and 16 - get strong, muscular performances; the former, subtitled
‘Sea Storm’, is considerably enlivened by parts
for bass baritone and male chorus. Frankly the piece needs some
help, for it strays into the doldrums far too often. It’s
hardly the strongest of Langgaard’s symphonies, but it’s
not bereft of all colour and excitement, especially in the turbulent,
gong-splashed finale. Soloist Johan Reuter is firm and sonorous
and the wide dynamics of the recording are especially welcome
in the choral climaxes.
There’s renewed heat and vigour in the Sixteenth Symphony,
teasingly titled ‘Sun Deluge’, even if it’s
a tad overbearing. There’s a degree of brashness too,
which is quite invigorating at first but soon palls. No, as
a final utterance No. 14 strikes me as much the finest of Langgaard’s
last symphonies; as well played as Nos. 15 and 16 are, their
incipient banality is likely to be something of a turn-off for
newcomers to these works. Loath to end on anything resembling
a bum note, I’m happy to say the elegy to Grieg has a
dark splendour, Sphinx a glorious inscrutability and
Res Absurdia?! a manic countenance that’s more
likely to appeal to explorers of this dippy Dane’s odd
but invigorating œuvre.
Langgaard fans probably own the individual releases already,
but even so the solid quality of this box is very tempting indeed.
Those who merely wish to sample this often infuriating music
won’t be keen to splash out on the entire set; I’d
suggest Nos. 7,
8, 9
and 14
are Langgaard’s most impressive symphonies, and the ones
I will return to most often. Oh, and don’t forget to try
Music of the Spheres too (Dacapo;
Chandos).
Some of these SACDs predate the advent of Super Audio recording,
but with very few exceptions the sound quality here is first-rate.
The discs are housed in half-sleeves anchored to the box; this
is rather irksome, as one has to grasp the edge of the playing
surface to slide them out.
Music of near genius, quirk and quiddity; this bumper set has
it all.
Dan Morgan
http://twitter.com/mahlerei
see also review by Rob
Barnett
Langgaard
review index
Track-listing
CD 1 [60:30]
Symphony No. 1 ‘Klippepastoraler’ (Mountain Pastorals)
BVN 32 (1908-11) [60:30]
CD 2 [65:43]
Symphony No. 2 ‘Vårbrud’ (Awakening of Spring)
for soprano solo and orchestra BVN 53 Original Version (1912-14)
[37:36]
Symphony No. 3 ‘Ungdomsbrus - La melodia’ (The Flush
of Youth - La melodia) for piano solo, orchestra and choir BVN
96 (1915-16, rev. 1925-33) [28:07]
CD 3 [57:31]
Symphony No. 4 ‘Løvfald’ (Leaf Fall) BVN
124 (1916, rev. 1920) [23:38]
Symphony No. 5 (Version I) BVN 191 (1917-18/1926) [14:22]
Symphony No. 5 (Version II) ‘Steppenatur’ (‘Sommersagnsdrama)
(Steppe Landscape) (Summer Legend Drama) BVN 216 (1917-18/1920/1931)
[19:31]
CD 4 [56:54]
Symphony No. 6 ‘Det himmelrivende’ (The Heaven-Rending)
BVN 165 (1919-20, rev. 1928-30) [21:41]
Symphony No. 7 (Version 1926) BVN 188 (1925-26) [16:25]
Symphony No. 8 ‘Minder ved Amalienborg’ (Memories
at Amalienborg) for chorus with tenor solo and orchestra BVN
193 (1926-28, rev. 1929-34) [18:48]
CD 5 [53:35]
Symphony No. 9 ‘Fra Dronning Dagmars by’ (From Queen
Dagmar’s City) BVN 282 (1942) [21:22]
Symphony No. 10 ‘Hin Torden-bolig’ (Yon Hall of
Thunder) BVN 298 (1944-45) [25:53]
Symphony No. 11 ‘Ixion’ BVN 303 (1944-45) [6:20]
CD 6 [63:41]
Symphony No. 12 ‘Hélsingeborg’ BVN 318 (1946)
[7:06]
Symphony No. 13 ‘Undertro’ (Belief in Wonders) BVN
319 (1946-47) [27:40]
Symphony No. 14 ‘Morgenen’ (The Morning) - suite
for choir and orchestra BVN 336 (1947-48/1951) [28:55]
CD 7 [61:43]
Drapa (On the Death of Edvard Grieg) BVN 20 (1907, rev. 1909-13)
[5:27]
Sphinx - tone painting for orchestra BVN 37 (1909-10, rev. 1913)
[6:46]
Hvidbjerg-Drapa for choir, organ and orchestra BVN 343 (1948)
[3:06]
Danmarks Radio (Radio Denmark) fanfares for orchestra BVN 351
(1948) [1:18]
Res absùrda!? for choir and orchestra BVN 354 (1948)
[5:35]
Symphony No. 15 ‘Søstormen’ (The Sea Storm)
for bass baritone solo, male chorus and orchestra BVN 375 (1937/1949)
[17:40]
Symphony No. 16 ‘Syndflod af Sol’ (Sun Deluge) BVN
417 (1950-51) [21:52]
Inger Dam-Jensen (soprano); Johan Reuter (baritone); Lars Petersen
(tenor); Per Salo (piano); Danish National Choir; Danish National
Vocal Ensemble; Danish National Symphony Orchestra/Thomas Dausgaard
[7 SACDs: 60:30 + 65:43 + 57:31 + 56:54 + 53:35 + 63:41 + 61:43]
