Jenö TAKÁCS (1902-2005)
Serenade after ancient Contredanses from Graz, Op. 83b (1966) [11:47]
Rhapsody for Violin and Strings, Op. 49a “Hungarian Tunes” (1941) [7:18]
Concerto for Piano, Strings and Percussion, Op. 60 (1947-2000) [27:03]
Passacaglia for Strings, Op. 73 (1960) [13:21]
Three Pieces for Strings (1993) [6:26]
Nina Karmon (violin), Oliver Triendl (piano)
Georgian Chamber Orchestra Ingolstadt/Evan-Alexis Christ
rec. 13-16 October 2020, Stadttheater, Ingolstadt, Germany
Reviewed as 16-bit download from press preview
CAPRICCIO C5438 [65:59]
This recording presents the serious and not-so-serious sides of the itinerant pianist, composer, and pedagogue Jenö Takács. Born in what was then the town of Cinfalva in western Hungary under the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Takács studied with Joseph Marx and Paul Weingarten at the Vienna Music Academy and then under Hans Gal, and Guido Adler at the University. By the end of his life, Takács had toured as a concert pianist in Western and Central Europe, the Balkans, and the United States, taught piano and composition at conservatories in Egypt, the Philippines, Switzerland, and Cincinnati, Ohio, directed the Pécs Conservatory, and finally returned to his birthplace, now known as Siegendorf and located in Austria. Both Austria and Hungary officially celebrated his 100th birthday. Takács died in 2005, having outlived the nearly the entire twentieth century.
Despite his cosmopolitan life, Takács’ musical voice seems rooted in Hungarian folk music, with other influences coming and going over time. This was already true before Takács met Béla Bartók in 1926 although their friendship apparently sparked Takács’ interest in ethnomusicology. Elements of Arabic music appear in Takács’ music during his time in Egypt in the 1920s and 30s. His classical training emphasized counterpoint and formal clarity and while teaching in America Takács added an interest – although marginal – in the serialism of the Second Viennese School.
Each of these influences is evident to a greater or lesser degree in the works on this album. To begin with the lighter side of things, the Serenade after ancient Contredanses from Graz works, as they say, “As advertised.” Six simple dance melodies arranged in a suite of contrasting moods provide brief but charming entertainment. Takács originally scored the Serenade for large orchestra but later made this arrangement for strings. I found the second movement, itself titled “Serenade,” to be particularly evocative in its minor-key longing. The Georgian Chamber Orchestra treat these contredanses as seriously as the larger works on the program, turning in polished and characterful performances.
The Rhapsody for Violin and Strings takes its cue from similar works by Bartók and Liszt. In two-part form with a slow introduction (“lassú”) and fast conclusion (“friss”), Takács takes the soloist through several authentic Hungarian songs and dances. There is also an interpolated cadenza by English cellist and composer Graham Waterhouse written at the request of the present soloist. The whole piece is suitably rhapsodic and virtuosic, with everything compressed into less than eight minutes. Soloist Nina Karmon handles her part, including the devilishly difficult cadenza, with style and an appetite for ever-greater challenges.
The largest work on this album, the Concerto for Piano, Strings, and Percussion, remained in revision for nearly half the composer’s lifetime. Takács himself, as well as Alfred Brendel, performed an early version in 1947 and 1951, respectively, but not until 2000 was the present version published. In whatever guise, the concerto synthesizes many of Takács’ influences into one composition while remaining indebted to Western formal traditions. The first movement is in sonata form but again exhibits Takács’ fondness for rhapsodic moods. Arabic percussive influences in both the orchestra and solo part, as well as the shade of Bartók, are audibly present. The slow movement, a dark Fantasia, contrasts the reserved mood of the strings with unsettled, threatening gestures from the piano. The finale is in rondo form, with both Hungarian and Arabic material again present. Indeed, so pronounced are both these influences in the Concerto that Joseph Marx, Takács’ former teacher, declared Takács the “Egyptian Bartók.” Even the liner notes to this recording recognize the temptation to call this piece, with tongue in cheek, “Bartók’s Fourth Piano Concerto.” Pianist Oliver Triendl, already a stalwart proponent of unfamiliar repertoire on record, finds no difficulty too great while providing an authoritative and stylish performance.
The Passacaglia for Strings was fashioned from an unfinished piano sonata. Despite its unchanging bass pattern, anchored in the key of C, Takács nevertheless approaches atonality and serial pitch organization in some of its variations. This is an utterly serious, even grim, piece of music, and the orchestra treats it as such while retaining its polish and energized execution.
The disc ends with another set of miniatures, even smaller than the first. The Three Pieces for Strings are a lighthearted, not to say incongruous, travelogue from a “Celtic Pastorale,” to the antics of “Paprika Jancsi,” a kind of Hungarian Pulcinella, and ending with an “American Rhapsody” to the fiddle tune of Turkey in the Straw. Incongruous as it may be, it is also great fun, and Evan-Alexis Christ and his players make the most of that fact.
What to make of Jenö Takács? In some ways, despite his peripatetic travels, his music remains that of a poor man’s Bartók. This is most noticeable in the overtly “Hungarian” Rhapsody and, particularly, in the Piano Concerto, where both the percussive and nocturnal mannerisms of the older composer are evident. This does not mean Takács’ music cannot be enjoyed for its own sake, however. The smaller, less pretentious pieces are full of charm and whimsy, the Passacaglia shows how far-reaching Takács could be aesthetically, and the concerto is effective even when its model is obvious. The Georgian Chamber Orchestra under Evan-Alexis Christ, together with soloists Karmon and Triendl, present the best possible case for exploring Takács’ eclectic output. The sound is excellent and the balances between soloist and orchestra ideal. For the curious, then, and those who are content when composers do not display the utmost originality at every turn.
Christopher Little
