I have been a huge fan of Bohuslav Martinu for as long as I can remember,
and count the best of his works as some of the best music the 20
th
century has to offer. As is well known he was probably too prolific
a composer for his own good, and it has to be admitted that there are
a few pieces of lower calibre which probably deserve a less prominent
place in his oeuvre. What this release shows us is that there are also
swathes of early works which have lain unheard for far too long.
As Michael Crump points out in his excellent and extensive booklet notes,
Martinu’s turning point came in 1923 when he chose to study abroad.
Arriving in Paris he was soon entirely absorbed into the artistic firmament
in that city at the time. What these pre-Paris pieces show are a precociously
talented composer finding his feet in terms of style, but bearing in
mind that he was already writing pieces such as the
Czech Rhapsody
in 1918 these works are by no means the scratchings of a naïve local.
Even the earliest work
Posvícení or ‘Village Feast’, only his
second known composition, has a folk-style verve which wafts healthy
fresh air at us from a past which seems not quite so distant at times.
The
Orchestral Movement is full of exotic colour, showing a
young composer already determined to expand the standard orchestra with
harp, celesta and piano. There are some sneaky moments of Gershwin-like
bluesy chord sequences, and the influence of Ravel is fairly pervasive
in a piece which is a gorgeously rich tapestry of orchestral colour.
The
Nocturno shares impressionistic characteristics with the
Orchestral Movement, with hints of the scrunchy chords of Martinu’s
later style glimpsed, parallel chords and that orchestral use of the
piano all fingerprints which would forever remain part of his compositional
DNA.
The programme opens with the tiny
Prélude en form de scherzo
which comes closest to the jazz style we know and love from pieces like
the
Revue de Cuisine. This
Prélude was orchestrated
from the second of the
Eight Preludes for piano so is the only
piece here with any degree of familiarity. The
Little Dance Suite
is not so little at nearly 43 minutes, and the booklet recalls how the
piece was rejected at the rehearsal stage by Martinu’s great supporter
and friend the great conductor Vaclav Talich. “…I have remembered this
sad misadventure often, when I have been tempted to make a composition
lighter…” It would be unfair to discount the
Little Dance Suite
as vapid froth, but there is even less in the opening
Tempo di valse
to connect it to recognisable Martinu quality than some of the earlier
works. There is a laudably open feel to the orchestration and a distinctly
Czech feel to some of the melodies, but very little actually happens,
and there are some distinctly corny moments as well, mostly involving
percussion of one kind or another. The best sections are those in which
the Martinu characteristics glow through – dimly it has to be said –
but there is no mistaking the luminosity of some of the wind writing
in the
Scherzo, and the final
Allegro à la Polka,
while having very little to do with any kind of Polka, does see the
composer hitting his stride more consistently, with plenty of eccentric
fizz and a fine ‘big tune’ with which to round everything off. This
can’t really be considered great art, but these are the kinds of stepping
stones which all great artists need to surmount before being able to
achieve their best.
The recording for this Toccata release is very good indeed, set in a
satisfactory studio acoustic and capturing plenty of that colour and
detail which is a requirement even for these early Martinu scores. The
orchestral playing is also first class for the most part. If you are
embarking on the Martinu voyage of discovery this should however not
be your first port of call. I would recommend the remarkable and moving
Double
Concerto and
Field
Mass, the
First Symphony or indeed any of the other
symphonies,
or perhaps the
Rhapsody-Concerto
for this. There are plenty of mature masterpieces to choose from. Once
hooked and interested in exploring further, this series of early orchestral
works looks like becoming an indispensable part of the Martinu discography,
and I applaud its arrival wholeheartedly.
Dominy Clements
