Toivo KUULA (1883–1918)
Festive March, Op. 13 (1910) [8:31]
South Ostrobothnian Suite No. 1, Op. 9 (1906-1909) [27:55]
South Ostrobothnian Suite No. 2, Op. 20 (1912-1913) [24:57]
Prelude and Fugue, Op. 10 (1909) [9:27]
Turku Philharmonic Orchestra/Leif Segerstam
rec. 2015, Turku Concert Hall, Turku, Finland
Reviewed as a 24/96 download from eClassical.com
ONDINE ODE1270-2 [70:50]
This is one of my 'innocent ear' reviews, the result of
yet another late-night trawl through eClassical’s online catalogue.
I’d not knowingly heard a note of this Finnish composer’s music,
but looking at the track list and seeing Leif Segerstam at the helm I felt
this release merited closer inspection. It’s the latest in Ondine’s
series devoted to Kuula’s varied output. The Helsinki-based label Alba
have also issued several discs of music by this composer, at least one of
which has been reviewed
on these pages. They're not alone, for Rob Barnett welcomed a collection of
Kuula’s songs and orchestral pieces from Dutton (review).
It must have been difficult for Finnish composers of the early 20th-century
to escape Sibelius’s very long shadow. One might surmise that Kuula,
who became the master’s first pupil in 1909, would have found it harder
than most; but seconds into the Festive March and it’s clear
that even at this early stage Kuula has a fresh, inspiriting voice. Penned
in Paris for the thirteenth anniversary of the Suomen Laulu choir back home,
this march is deftly scored and winningly played. It’s a pleasing mix
of solemnity and lightness, with none of the missteps one might expect from
a relatively early opus.
Indeed, it would seem that compatriot Leevi Madetoja’s description of
Kuula’s oeuvre as ‘self assured’ is only half the story.
That’s borne out by the two South Ostrobothnian Suites,
whose folkloric energy and rhythms are superbly realised by Segerstam and
the Turku Philharmonic. The three central sections of the first suite –
Folk Song, Ostrobothnian Dance and Devil’s Dance
– make use of folk material Kuula collected himself. Landscape
and Song of Dusk are essentially tone paintings; the former,
graced by Satu Ala’s lovely cor anglais solos, manages to suggest
Sibelius without merely imitating him. The latter is a moodier daub, its timp
rolls particularly tinglesome.
I find Segerstam a rather quirky conductor at times, but revisiting his thrilling
account of Schnittke’s First Symphony reminded me of just how magnetic
he can be (review).
He’s certainly immersed in Kuula's music, which he shapes and projects
with obvious care and affection. The Turku orchestra play well for him, and
Ondine’s recording is excellent. The antiphonal horns at the start of
the second suite – The Bride Arrives – are very well
caught, and the piece ends on a perfectly pitched note of quiet jubilation.
It gets better, with masterly woodwind writing – and playing –
in Rain in the Forest. Once again Segerstam is both sensitive
and proportionate. Gorgeous.
Those attributes are very much to the fore in the beautifully articulated
Minuet that follows. I particularly like Kuula’s propensity
for starting simply and becoming more complex; it’s so unobtrusively
done and the material is never overworked. There’s charm too, notably
in the wispy Dance of the Orphans, not to mention a raft of ghostly
timbres in The Will-o’-the-Wisp. As always Kuula avoids the
usual clichés, no mean feat in an overpopulated field such as this. Even more
remarkable the 12-minute piece doesn’t outstay is welcome. No doubt
that’s helped by Segerstam’s feel for the score’s dramatic
nodes and his unerring ability to maintain tension and build genuine climaxes.
The concluding Prelude and Fugue is unusual in that the orchestral
fugue, written in 1908-1909, precedes the prelude, which followed shortly
thereafter. Far from being a rather dry, formal exercise the prelude has a
restless energy and point that came as quite a surprise. The fugue seems more
traditional at first, but then Kuula reverts to his party trick - artful elaboration.
Not the most memorable piece here, but very accomplished nonetheless.
What a find; I look forward to exploring Kuula’s output in more detail.
Dan Morgan
twitter.com/mahlerei
Another review ...
Like, I supect, many others, I first made the acquaintance of Kuula’s
orchestral music some four years back when Dutton released a CD of various
works including the Second South Ostrobothnian Suite and the Prelude
and Fugue as well as a collection of orchestral songs conducted by Martyn
Brabbins. I was disappointed to see that this new disc included a second performance
of the Suite, which would inevitably involve a degree of duplication
for those who (like myself and Rob Barnett, reviewing
the Dutton release for this site) were impressed with an initial acquaintance
with Kuula and wished to extend their horizons further; but it appears that
the Dutton CD is no longer readily available, so this compilation now has
the field effectively to itself. And those whose knowledge of the composer
extends no further than his songs and smaller works really should make the
acquaintance of this music while this disc remains in the catalogues. In fact
more than half the contents of this CD comprise what would appear to be the
first recorded versions of the Festive March and the first of the
Ostrobothnian Suites although cautiously Ondine make no such claims.
For those who have yet to make the acquaintance of Kuula’s music, however,
this disc is to be thoroughly recommended. It is always tempting to think
that any composer whose music is little-known deserves their fate to some
extent; if their contemporaries were unimpressed with their output, it is
unlikely (although not impossible) that future generations will find reason
to disagree with that verdict. But in the case of Kuula, who died young as
the result of a bar-room brawl (he was a heavy drinker), his contemporaries
hardly had time to come to terms with his music before his death; and those,
such as Sibelius (at one time his teacher), who were in a position to judge
were highly impressed with his output. Apart from various sets of incidental
music, there is a decided shortage of orchestral music on which to base a
view – his first symphony remained unfinished at the time of his death
– and this disc does contain all the non-theatrical music which he composed
in the orchestral medium.
The Festive March which opens the disc is a good rollicking piece
of ceremonial music, rather similar in feel to an Elgar Pomp and Circumstance.
It appears to be have been originally a choral work, with words included in
the central section to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the Suomen Laulu
Choir in 1910; but it works well as a purely orchestral piece. The two Ostrobothnian
Suites, with their roots in Finnish folk material, have clear echoes
of Sibelius; and the cor anglais solo in the opening Landscape movement
(finely played by Satu Ala) has very decided debts to the Swan of Tuonela.
The Folk song, scored for strings alone, has hints of Grieg’s
Death of Aase from Peer Gynt and rises to a fine emotional
climax. The two dances that follow are less distinctive, but the final Song
of Dusk is more in the nature of a miniature tone poem lasting over nine
minutes.
The second suite, as those familiar with the Brabbins recording can testify,
is a more substantial work including two further miniature tone poems in the
form of Rain in the forest and The will-o’-the-wisp,
the latter being the longest single piece on this disc. The influence of impressionism
is clearly felt here, as in the Song of Dusk from the first suite,
but the overall sound is more that of Delius (himself a frequent visitor to
Scandinavia) than Debussy or the French school. The opening of the suite comes
heralded with Karelia-like horn fanfares; and the Minuet,
not at all classical, features woodwind bird-calls which have the flavour
of Lemminkäinen about them. The final Prelude and Fugue,
far from an academic exercise, starts delicately but soon develops all the
rumbustious panache of Bach orchestrations by Elgar or Stokowski. But it would
be all too easy to define Kuula by the hints of other composers to be found
in his music, without acknowledging the singular nature of his own inspiration
and his very distinctive voice. His early death robbed us of the chance to
see how he would have developed in later years, but there is already a decidedly
original sensibility at work here. Will-o’-the-wisp in particular
has a really original approach to its subject, looking forward to such later
composers as Bax, Bartók and even the Norwegian Geirr Tveitt (another composer
long overdue for popular discovery). Kuula accepted that individual movements
from his suites could be extracted for separate performance, and this substantial
piece in particular could well establish itself as a concert favourite.
Comparisons of Segerstam with Brabbins in the Suite and the Prelude
and Fugue show that the new release is slower than the earlier one in
every track with the exception of the second and fourth movement of the second
suite, where the durations are more or less identical. The differences elsewhere
can be quite startling – over a minute and a half in the final movement
Will’o’-the-wisp – but at no point does Segerstam’s
more measured approach seem excessive. At all events, music of this quality
can easily tolerate different interpretations, and the absence of the Brabbins
disc from the current listings makes comparisons somewhat irrelevant. As I
have remarked recently when reviewing Segerstam’s cycle of Sibelius
incidental music with same orchestra, the playing and the recording are both
superlatively good. For those who missed the Brabbins release and have an
interest in Finnish music of the early twentieth century, this disc is an
absolute must; and its contents, comprising as they do all of Kuula’s
purely orchestral scores, have an obvious attraction in their own right.
Paul Corfield Godfrey
Previous review: David
Barker (Recording of the Month)
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