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Peter EÖTVÖS
(b. 1944)
Levitation (2007) [19:53]
Carl NIELSEN (1865-1931)
Clarinet Concerto, Op. 57 (1928) [24:00]
Aulis SALLINEN (b. 1935)
Concerto for Clarinet, Viola and Chamber Orchestra, Op. 91 (2007)
[23:53]
Christoffer Sundqvist (clarinet), Kullervo Kojo (clarinet), Tommi
Aalto (viola)
Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra/Hannu Lintu (Eötvös and
Nielsen); Okko Kamu (Sallinen)
rec. 8-9 October 2009 (Sallinen), 11-13 February 2010 (Nielsen)
and 6-7 May 2010 (Eötvös), Kultuuritalo, Helsinki
ALBA ABCD 314
[68:11]
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Nielsen’s Clarinet Concerto is an unusual and uncompromising
work. Cast in a single movement, and with a strange orchestra
of strings, two horns, two bassoons and side drum, it casts
a powerful spell. The opening is pastoral and almost neo-classical
in atmosphere, giving no clue to the highly dramatic nature
of what is to follow. Conflict is at the heart of much of the
music, with repeated and sudden changes of mood. (The booklet
notes offer a clue to this, in that Aage Oxenvaad, for whom
the work was written, suffered from bipolar disorder.) The musical
language, too, ranges very widely, from sweet and gentle harmonies
to passages where the clarinet screams wildly in a highly chromatic
upper register. The work closes in a kind of calm, though all
is not resolved. The work has become a classic but has lost
little of its power to surprise and challenge. If you are mainly
looking for this remarkable work I feel duty bound to recommend
an alternative performance from the many distinguished ones
available, that by Martin Fröst on BIS. It is coupled with
the concerto by Kalevi Aho, complicating an already difficult
choice, as the present performance also has very worthwhile
and generous couplings. And it is, in any event, a very fine
performance. Christoffer Sundqvist is the principal clarinettist
of the Finnish Radio Symphony Orchestra, and his technical mastery
is never in doubt. He is brilliant in the more virtuoso passages,
and exquisitely tender where required, as in the introspective
unaccompanied passage in the first section of the work, as beautifully
played here as I have ever heard it. I don’t think he
has quite the range of tone colour as Fröst, and the orchestral
contribution is not quite so vivid, but the difference is marginal,
and Sundqvist’s performance, taken on its own terms, will
not disappoint.
And then there is the rest of the programme. The notes tell
us that each of the four movements of Peter Eöstvös’s
piece explores different aspects of the subject of levitation.
The first movement has street furniture - phone boxes and road
signs - flying about in a hurricane, whereas the second evokes
a recurring dream the composer has of his own body floating,
horizontally, over a landscape. The third movement describes
gondolas on - or presumably above - Venetian waterways, and
the last has Petrushka, buoyant, high above the world
that has dealt so cruelly with him. Since the notes, and presumably
the composer, give so detailed a “programme” it
seems logical to comment on it. In fact, there is not much in
the way of contrast in this work. Each movement is a kind of
mood painting, with no themes as such, but fragments, motifs,
mostly without any discernible pulse. If there were no gaps
between the movements I’m not sure that I should know
which one I was in, at least, not for the first few hearings.
Thus the first-movement conjures up the gentlest, most beguiling
hurricane you could imagine, and you will listen in vain, in
the third movement “barcarola”, for any suggestion
of the characteristic rhythm that normally goes with the name.
The writing for the three solo instruments - two clarinets and
accordion - is completely without show or bravado. All this
does not stop this piece creating a powerful impression. The
sounds the composer finds within the ensemble are exquisite
and, for the most part, astonishingly tranquil, restful, tender
and subtle. Maybe it’s another of those pieces that one
would appreciate more, or at any rate no less, if the composer
gave no information about it. I enjoyed it enormously the first
time I heard it, and it positively compels the listener to return
to it.
Getting to know the music of Aulis Sallinen - I would recommend
the opera The King Goes Forth To France (Ondine) or any
of the symphonies in the admirable CPO series - is an ongoing
pleasure that continues with the double concerto on this disc.
Its three movements deal with issues related to man’s
relationship with animals. The first is a gentle lament for
two dolphins drowned in a fisherman’s net in the Baltic
Sea, and the third pays homage to the noble bull destined to
die in the arena. Only the middle movement, “Les Jeux”,
which deals with games, seems to stretch the theme somewhat,
the parallels between animals and humans appearing to extend
no further than the fact that playing of any kind is unimportant
for the survival of a species. The work opens with a duet, accompanied
only by timpani, for the two soloists. Other instruments are
added gradually, and the movement progresses, via a series of
ravishing sounds, to create an unforgettable atmosphere of gentle
sadness and regret. Anger at man’s treatment of animals
appears in the final movement only in one or two rare passages
of display for the soloists. Otherwise this is an expression
of deep sorrow that we should be capable of such things. The
middle movement is a rapid, colourful scherzo, brilliant and
witty, beautifully written for the whole ensemble. The programme
is revealed by the composer in the booklet note, with almost
no reference to the music. At least the message is a simple
one - no complex theorising, nor, thank goodness, any attempt
to transform the shape of a dolphin into a musical cipher! And
the music itself is at once challenging yet easy enough on the
ear to be enjoyed even at first acquaintance, so commentary
is scarcely necessary. Even so - and once again - there is no
doubt in my mind that the work can be enjoyed just as much by
a listener unaware of the message behind it.
This is a beautifully recorded CD, and the performances from
all concerned are exemplary. The side-drum player in the Nielsen
is named in the booklet, but not - a serious omission - the
accordionist in the Eötvös. Sallinen provides the
short commentary on his own work, whereas the informative notes
on the other two pieces are by Jouni Kaipainen. All the notes
are translated into English by Jaakko Mäntyjärvi,
whom many readers will know as a distinguished composer in his
own right, especially of choral music.
William Hedley
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