Three emigrés:
Gál, Gerhard and Goldschmidt
What's in a name?
Or more particularly, what's in the
first letter of a (sur)name? For many
people, the three finest composers ever
to set crotchet to stave are Bach (J.S.),
Beethoven and Brahms (though increasingly
some might substitute Bruckner for the
last-named), and more than one composer/arranger
in the world of commercial pop has named
an alternate trilogy of Bach, Bartók
and the Beatles as being formative influences
on their careers. In the twentieth century,
the Germanic symphonic tradition was
kept alive by Hindemith, Karl Amadeus
Hartmann and Henze (albeit somewhat
hit-and-miss in the early stages of
Henze's output) above all others. These
last three shared more than just the
initial letter of their surname, not
least varying degrees of discomfiture
initiated by the Nazi regime and periods
of exile or emigration (internal in
Hartmann's case) from their homeland.
Britain, like the United States, became
a haven for many such displaced composers,
three of the most accomplished being
the Austro-Hungarian Hans Gál
(1890-1987), the Catalan Roberto Gerhard
(1896-1970; of Swiss-German parentage),
and Berthold Goldschmidt (1903-96).
Gál and Goldschmidt were forced
to flee from Hitler's Reich because
of their Jewish ancestry; Gerhard was
a political refugee from Franco's Spain.
Gál was a composer
of traditionalist bearing. Born in what
are now the outskirts of Vienna, as
a boy he lived in a building one of
the other (elderly) occupants of which
had - also as a child - once thrown
snowballs at Beethoven! Gál studied
piano with Richard Robert (teacher of
Clara Haskil, Rudolf Serkin and Georg
Szell), counterpoint with Brahms' erstwhile
familiar Eusebius Mandyczewski, and
music history with Guido Adler. In the
fullness of time he became a prolific
and distinguished composer, with four
operas, four symphonies (the fourth
a 'sinfonia concertante' with flute,
clarinet, violin and cello soli), three
concertos (violin, piano, cello), four
concertinos (piano, violin, organ, cello),
and a Suite for viola or saxophone and
orchestra; many other orchestral works
including the Pickwickian Overture
(1939-44), Idyllikon (1958-9)
and Triptych (1970), plus several for
mandolin orchestra; four string quartets
(broadcast on Radio 3 in the late 1980s),
a string quintet, clarinet quintet,
piano quartet, piano trio, clarinet
trio; sonatas, sonatinas and suites
for a variety of instruments; many songs
and choral works including a large scale
cantata, De profundis (1948).
As a composer, Gál
never adopted a particularly radical
stamp (one of the main reasons for his
music's neglect in the post-war artistic
climate). He felt serialism to be a
fundamentally misconceived approach
to composition but harmonically his
works were often not unadventurous,
though operating within a firmly tonal
universe. Only three works are currently
available: Promenade Music for
wind band, a rattlingly boisterous score
written for the 1926 Donaueschingen
Festival, the lovely Serenade for string
orchestra (1942; probably Gál's
most broadcast work) and Clarinet Sonata,
Op. 84 (1964). Fine as these are, they
are insufficient to provide a true perspective
on his output or a firm idea of his
expressive range. The four symphonies
and four string quartets are perhaps
the most pressing items for recording,
the former leavened with some of the
smaller orchestral overtures; the three
concertos (with their matching concertinos)
also deserve attention. It is a great
shame that Georg Tintner, who recorded
the Serenade and made such an impression
with his Bruckner cycle for Naxos, could
not have moved on to Gál's symphonies
before he died. With similarly sympathetic
direction, such as from a Järvi,
Welser-Möst or Gary Brain (who
has done a tremendous job for Czeslaw
Marek on Koch), this music would make
a tremendous impression, and given that
around half of it was written during
Gál's Scottish exile, can legitimately
be considered at least in part British.
Roberto (or Robert,
which is the Catalan form) Gerhard was
born in Valls, not far from Barcelona
and Tarragona. During the early part
of the First World War he studied with
Enrique Granados, but when Granados
was killed when the S.S. Sussex
was torpedoed by a German submarine
in the English Channel, Gerhard switched
to Granados' former master, the composer
and ethnomusicologist Felipe Pedrell
(1841-1922), whose previous students
had also included Albéniz and
de Falla. Following Pedrell's death,
Gerhard opted not to pursue the nationalist
aspirations of his teacher or those,
mingled with Stravinskyan neo-Classicism,
of de Falla and his acolytes (including,
for example, Ernesto Halffter). Instead,
he went to Berlin in 1925 to study with
Arnold Schönberg. The Austrian
provided Gerhard with an intellectual
rigour and technique that he could not
have acquired in Spain, and which stood
him in good stead in the post-Second
war period. Gerhard returned to Barcelona
in 1928 with his Viennese fiancée
Leopoldina (Poldi) Feichtegger but kept
in touch with Schönberg, who with
his wife stayed with the Gerhards for
eight months during 1931-2. In January
1939 Franco's victory in the Spansh
Civil War and suppression of Catalan
autonomy forced Gerhard and his wife
to flee to France. After a brief spell
near Paris, they settled in Cambridge,
where Gerhard died thirty years later.
During much of his
time in England Gerhard remained, like
Gál, an obscure figure known
mainly only to the cognoscenti. However,
Gerhard had a couple of lucky breaks
with the successful premieres of the
ballet Don Quixote at Covent
Garden in 1950 and of his First Symphony
at the ISCM festival in Baden-Baden
in 1955. From then on, commissions began
to come his way (e.g. from the BBC in
1957 for the Second Symphony) and he
eventually secured a settled relationship
with the publisher OUP. During William
Glock's period at the BBC, Gerhard's
music was performed with increasing
regularity in modern music programmes.
Three more symphonies followed (he was
working on a Fifth when he died) plus
a Concerto for orchestra (1965), a large-scale
cantata drawn from Albert Camus' La
Peste (1963-4) and three pieces
in an 'astrological series', Gemini
(1966), Libra (1968) and Leo
(1969).
Gerhard's First, Third
and Fourth Symphonies all made it onto
LP, but had to more than wait their
turn to appear on CD. Those vinyl age
recordings are still unavailable, but
the cycle of four symphonies are now
represented by two complete recordings,
one from the French label Auvidis Montaigne
(originally, though, on Auvidis Valois)
as part of a complete edition of Gerhard's
works, the other from the British label
Chandos. Auvidis' recordings have the
works paired, No. 1 with the Third,
Collages (1960) for tape and
orchestra, and the Second, in its 1967-8
revision entitled Metamorphoses
completed by Alan Boustead (Gerhard
having died before he could complete
it, and having set it aside to work
on the abortive Fifth), with No. 4,
the New York (so-called only
because it was commissioned by the New
York Philharmonic and not to indicate
any illustrative aspect in the music
of the metropolis). The performances
of the symphonies by the Tenerife Symphony
Orchestra under Victor Pablo Pérez
are not the most polished, perhaps,
but there is plenty of commitment and
passion to their playing, and Pérez
clearly has the measure of Gerhard's
complex structures. Comparing them with
their LP forebears from the BBC Symphony
Orchestra under Antál Doráti
(No. 1, Decca) and Frederick Prausnitz
(Collages, for HMV), the Auvidis
performances come out on top, the Tenerifans
making more of Gerhard's mercurial invention.
Better still, though, are the BBC Symphony's
second runs at these works, under Matthias
Bamert. Helped by Chandos' rich, warm
sound, Gerhard's textures sound brightly
as never before, and are delivered with
absolute precision. Auvidis' sound is
occasionally a little two-dimensional.
The differences between the Pérez
and Bamert sets are most noticeable
in the First and Third, where the BBC
players' technique wins out. Bamert's
grasp of Gerhard's compositional logic
and sound-world is total and his versions
of both symphonies are the best to have
been set down. The different versions
of the Second make comparisons in execution
impossible (although fascinating musically),
but in the Fourth honours are even;
indeed, it could be argued that Pérez
has a slight edge in the way he makes
the music so expressive.
Chandos have not restricted
themselves to the symphonies either,
but mix them with other orchestral works.
The First is coupled with Olivier Charlier's
revelatory account of the Violin Concerto
of 1942-3, the Second (here in its original
1957-9 version showing it to be in many
respects a revisiting of the First -
compare the opening passages of the
two works and you will hear what I mean)
with the magnificent orchestral Concerto,
the Third with the fine Piano Concerto
(1950-1) and orchestral Epithalamion
(1966), and the New York with
the orchestral suite from the ballet
Pandora (1944-5). Chandos have
also recorded the whole of the early
symphony, Homenaje a Pedrell
(1940-1), only the third movement of
which, the well-known Pedrelliana,
has been covered by Auvidis. My recommendation
would certainly go first to Chandos'
series, and I hope they will in time
add the revised Metamorphosis
to their set. I also find their more
varied programmes set Gerhard's music
off in the best possible light. However,
if the symphonies are the main concern,
the Auvidis set is still more than acceptable,
and one can add the Chandos Concerto/Symphony
No. 2-perhaps the finest single disc
of Gerhard currently on the market-and
Homenaje a Pedrell discs for
completeness.
The French label have
started to turn their attention to Gerhard's
concertos with a disc of the Piano and
Harpsichord Concertos (which latter
Chandos coupled with Homenaje a Pedrell)
and the 1956-7 Nonet all performed by
the Barcelona Symphony Orchestra under
Lawrence Foster. The Auvidis performance
of the Harpsichord Concerto is a real
delight; crisply played and very truthfully
balanced, all the delicacy and bite
of Gerhard's early radicalism shine
through. Ursula Dütschler and Foster
work well together, and overall surpass
Tozer and Bamert on Chandos despite
the qualitative edge of the British
recording; there is also the matter
of the missing harpsichord entry at
the start of the Chandos slow movement
exposed by the late Lionel Salter when
reviewing the disc for Gramophone.
In the Piano Concerto, Tozer's account
on Chandos is vibrantly played (no mishaps
with missing bars here) with nothing
to choose between him and Attenelle
on Auvidis; choice here lies with the
couplings, but Auvidis' superior version
of the Harpsichord Concerto and bonus
of the marvellous Nonet should outweigh
any concerns over duplicating the Piano
Concerto or Third Symphony.
The Pandora
suite apart, Chandos' only excursion
into Gerhard's stage or vocal output
has been with the sparkling opera The
Duenna ("La Dueña" in Spanish,
"La Dueon" in Catalan) in a wonderfully
vital, enthusiastic performance from
Opera North directed by Antonio Ros
Marbà, who conducted the groundbreaking
Madrid-Barcelona co-production in 1992.
Not the least remarkable aspect of the
opera is the brilliance of Gerhard's
word setting, he having created the
libretto from Sheridan's famous comedy.
(It should be remembered, though, that
the version recorded is that by David
Drew, made in 1991 but on the basis
of Gerhard's own intentions and incorporating
some new text.)
Some early reviewers
made much of the inexperience of some
members of the cast, but listening to
this terrific set again one is struck
by their unreserved commitment and the
fine ensemble of the company overall,
plus some splendid individual performances,
not least from Richard van Allan as
Don Jerome or Claire Powell in the title
role. Composed in the still 'Spanish-sounding'
idiom of his music in the 1940s (though
here and there are tell-tale signs that
he was domiciled in Britain) rather
than the more challenging cerebral manner
that came later, it is a real treat,
full of scintillating tunes and orchestration
and should frighten no-one (other than
avowed opera-haters). So, too, in their
much smaller ways, are the series of
ballets that Gerhard composed in the
1930s and 1940s, which Auvidis have
been recording, either with the Tenerife
orchestra under Pérez or the
Barcelona orchestra under Edmon Colomer.
Probably the best known of these still
are the "divertissement flamenco" Alegrías
(1942), which Pérez and the Tenerifans
recorded ironically for Etcetera and
which Auvidis have not yet issued, and
Don Quixote (1940-1, revised
1947-9) - or rather the 1947 suite of
Dances with which Doráti coupled
his disc of the First Symphony. At present,
only the full 1-act ballet is in the
catalogue (MO782114), coupled with the
1-act Ariel (1934-6), Albada,
Interludi i Dansa (1936), the orchestral
Pandora (the original having
been scored for 2 pianos and percussion)
and David Atherton's 1972 performing
suite from Soirées de Barcelona
(1936-9). As with their recordings of
the symphonies, Auvidis' accounts are
more than mere stop-gaps, the sound
perfectly serviceable. Should Chandos
ever cover this repertoire, however,
the competition will be stiff.
The Dances from
Don Quixote, Soirées de
Barcelona, Alegrías
and Pandora suite have all been
recorded in their smaller-scale piano/piano+
versions. Jordi Masó recorded
the first two in his survey of the complete
Gerhard piano music for Marco Polo (with
Gerhard's pupil Joaquin Homs' Second
Sonata as a filler). While his performances
are nicely prepared, they are a little
wanting in passion sometimes; take the
"Cave of Montesinos" section in the
Quixote Dances, for example,
which sounds rather flat when compared
against Doráti's orchestral version.
In these and in the two concert works,
the Dos Apunts ("Two Sketches", 1922)
and 3 Impromptus (1958), Masó
is not preferable to Andrew Ball and
Julian Jacobson on Largo 5119, which
is still available even though it is
not listed in the R.E.D. ex-Gramophone
Catalogue. Ball and Jacobson omitted
the Quixote Dances for Pandora
(with percussionist Richard Benjafield)
and the 2-piano Alegrías
creating a very fine, all-Gerhard issue.
Auvidis have charted
Gerhard's small but high-quality vocal
output in a 2-disc set (again originally
available separately), excluding La
Dueña but, because of the
awkward durations of the works, including
three not insubstantial orchestral works.
The first disc, the first volume of
Auvidis' Gerhard edition, in fact, features
the large cantata The Plague
(1963-4), based on Albert Camus' searing
allegory of Nazi-occupied France set
in plague-ridden Oran. In structure
the cantata is a series of musical tableaux
punctuating and expanding on the spoken
selections from Camus' text - declaimed
in English - which Gerhard felt encompasd
the essence of the tale (and which he
achieved most successfully, the whole
building to the graphic, horrifying
passage dealing with the death of a
child, one of the blackest and most
powerful passages in the entire novel).
Comparisons of the way he set the English
texts of La Dueña and
The Plague reveal clearly how
his expressive vision and technical
resource changed between the nationalist
tone of his early works and the more
avant garde, exploratory later style.
Yet both are as effective in their word-setting
as each other. Auvidis wisely brought
in the BBC Symphony Chorus to join the
Spanish National Youth Orchestra for
their account, though used the distinguished
French actor Michael Lonsdale (familiar
from several well-known films, such
as The Day of the Jackal and
Moonraker) in the role of the
speaker. This attracted much (largely
unfavourable) comment on the disc's
release in 1996, especially with the
memory of the work's Proms performance
the previous year with the same forces
but Jack Shepherd as narrator. Critics
picked up on Lonsdale's pronunciation
- a few words are oddly emphasised,
but only one, "pertubed" instead of
"perturbed", mispronounced outright.
If I have a criticism of Lonsdale's
performance it is that he sounds as
if he is watching the conductor too
intently, treating his monologues as
complete and separate in themselves
without trying to integrate them into
the sonic flow as did Alec McCowan on
the old, long-deleted Decca recording
from the early 1970s. Otherwise, Lonsdale
was a most apposite choice - the story
is French, after all, about French people
albeit told in English with music by
a Catalan; the spoken accent, like the
music's, is just another item of tonal
colour.
Auvidis' coupling
was the purely orchestral Epithalamion,
written two years later in 1966 but
revised extensively in 1969, and one
of Gerhard's most vivid later works.
Its appeal lies partly in the expert
orchestration for a very large body
of players, with a huge array of percussion
requiring eight players (including two
timpanists). Quite what prompted this
nuptial song is a mystery, but it was
composed very quickly, in under two
months. Malcolm MacDonald speculates
in the notes to the Auvidis recording
that the speed of composition may be
due to Gerhard's having recycled unused
sections of his 1963 film music to Lindsay
Anderson's This Sporting Life
(itself in the pipeline from NMC)
in it; if so, it might also explain
in part its descriptive character. The
Spanish Youth Orchestra have a really
fine stab at it, and are disadvantaged
only by the precision of the BBC Symphony
Orchestra, specialists in this kind
of repertoire, for Chandos.
Auvidis' second vocal
disc is also very worthwhile, featuring
five works written between the composer's
return from Berlin and the first full
year of his English exile (1941). The
earliest items are instrumental, the
two Sardanas (the Catalan national
dance), written in 1928 for the "cobla",
a local ensemble of wind instruments,
bass and drum. The first, however, is
given here in Gerhard's 1958 arrangement
for a standard wind ensemble only, but
there would have been plenty of room
for both versions; Auvidis missed a
trick here. That notwithstanding, this
is an excellent disc, expanding our
view of the composer (almost exclusively
coloured hitherto by his more radical
later works) with the delightful Cancionero
de Pedrell ("Pedrell Songbook",
1941) and earlier 6 Popular Catalan
Songs (1928-31), plus the marvellous
cantata L'alta naixença del
rei en Jaume ("The noble birth of
the sovereign lord King James", 1932).
The 6 Popular Catalan Songs began
life in a collection of 14 (1928-9)
with piano accompaniment, orchestrated
in 1931 and premiered in Vienna under
(of all people) Webern the following
year. Between them they contain references
to the sardana and other Catalan dances,
as well as a motif that recurs in Gerhard's
music throughout his career (finally
in the New York Symphony). In
these and the Cancionero, Gerhard
shows himself contentedly the nationalist
composer in the mould of Pedrell and
de Falla, while the cantata reveals
a composer whose musical vision could
embrace the larger forms, not least
in the passacaglia, despite the ironic
nature of the story (a tale of the conception
of the Catalonian king Jaume I, when
his mother substituted herself for one
of her husband's - King Pere II's -
mistresses). The cantata is a fine work,
wonderfully sung by the Coral Cármina.
Gerhard's chamber
output, the three "astrological" works
aside, remain unknown territory for
most listeners. Gerhard's two numbered
string quartets are both fine works,
dating from 1950-5 and 1960-2 respectively,
though seemingly the fourth and fifth
that he wrote. The first two have long
been lost, while the third - which dates
from the closing period of study with
Schönberg - has recently been rediscovered
(according to Julian White's note for
Métier's excellent disc of the
two mature quartets). No. 1 then comes
from the period of the Piano Concerto
and First Symphony when, having got
La Dueña out of his system
his style began to change into something
more astringent and radical. As with
the First Symphony, Gerhard's First
Quartet uses his own personal take on
the twelve-note method, but within the
traditional four-movement framework.
The first movement (1950) functions
as an acceptable sonata structure, Gerhard
aping the tonal motion expected of the
form by quasi-chordal subdivisions of
the note rows. Gerhard seemingly waited
until 1955 before adding the remaining
movements, a delicate, sparkling scherzo
Con vivacita, an intense, rigourously
controlled slow movement (Grave),
and a mercurial, at times disembodied
final Molto allegro. Quartet
no. 2 is quite different: a little over
half the length of its predecessor and
comprising seven study-like sections
unified into a continuous whole. The
layout has obvious resemblances to the
contemporary Third Symphony; starting
from an initial Lento, the quartet
passes through a variety of speeds and
tonal landscapes, like a set of variations
not on a theme so much as an entire
musical tradition. It is an enduringly
fascinating work that repays close study
and repeated hearings, especially in
such a sympathetic performance as here
from the Kreutzer Quartet (first violinist
Peter Sheppard Skærved provides
a secondary note). Although the disc
is only 38 minutes in duration (one
might have hoped for the missing early
third quartet - or should it be termed
No. 0'? - or the unrecorded Wind Quintet
written at the close of his studies
with Schönberg) at mid-price one
cannot reasonably quibble. Highly recommended.
So too is Métier's
other chamber disc, performed by the
piano trio Cantamen, which features
some real rarities and extraordinary
pieces. Best known is the violin and
piano 'duo concertante' Gemini
(for which see below), but the two pieces
that made most impression on me were
the Cello Sonata of 1956 (a reworking
in part of a 1946 Viola Sonata - can
we have this soon, too, please?) and
the Chaconne for solo violin written
three years later. It is a remarkable
fusion of serial procedure with folk-like
material, all the more so because it
appears to be done in so relaxed and
natural a manner. The Chaconne is more
straightforwardly serial, though its
twelve sections are far from straightforward.
It poses considerable technical challenges
(well, it was written for Yfrah Neaman)
and is played by Caroline Balding with
astonishing aplomb. And if that was
not sufficient, Cantamen give us the
apprentice Piano Trio of 1918: dedicated
to Pedrell, there is not a trace of
the familiar later Gerhard, or even
the composer of the 1930s vocal works.
As Meirion Bowen points out in the booklet,
its Spanish character seems viewed from
a French perspective, and there is more
than a hint of Debussyan and Ravellian
impressionism in its three extended
movements (it plays for a touch short
of half-an-hour). An obviously early
essay, it is overlong but never unwelcomely
so, and a gift for those who like to
tease their guests' "innocent ears".
The finest chamber
disc devoted to Gerhard yet issued,
however, is that performed by the Nieuw
Ensemble under Ed Spanjaard for Largo.
This brings together the three 'astrological'
pieces, Gemini, Libra
and Leo, with the 3 Impromptus
and Concert for 8 (1962). To refer to
Gemini, Libra and Leo
as the astrological series is perhaps
misleading, since in truth there is
really only a pair - Libra was
Poldi Gerhard's star sign, Leo
Gerhard's - while the name Gemini
was only added for publication four
years after his 'duo concertante' had
been written, to avoid being confused
with Stravinsky's. They receive highly
virtuosic performances from the Dutch
ensemble, who outclass even Cantamen's
version of Gemini, while John
Snijders' account of the Impromptus
is second to none. The accounts of Libra,
Leo and the Concert for 8 are
wonderfully precise and beautifully
clear; everything can be heard and the
music - which if not balanced carefully
can become mush with the interweaving
of the lines and sonorities (so that
one cannot hear the wood for the trees,
as it were) - allowed to achieve the
composer's expressive purpose.
Berthold Goldschmidt's
career is possibly the most extraordinary,
in terms of the vicissitudes of fortune,
of any composer of the twentieth century.
In the 1920s he was a wunderkind
both as a composer-with a publishing
contract from Universal at the age of
24-and conductor (as assistant to Erich
Kleiber in Berlin and later at Darmstadt).
The installation of the Nazi regime
in 1933 destroyed his career almost
overnight, though he did not leave Germany
for over three years. Arriving in Britain,
employment was scarce, although he did
work with the overseas service of the
BBC and the Jooss Ballet Company (for
whom Gerhard would compose Pandora).
His compositional career was divided
in two by a twenty-four-year hiatus
occasioned by the indifference of the
establishment and his sense of cultural
alienation, focussed on his second opera,
Beatrice Cenci, which won a prize
in the opera competition for the 1951
Festival of Britain but failed to secure
a performance (it was finally premiered
in concert only in 1988). After 1958
he produced nothing-beyond advising
Deryck Cooke with his "performing edition"
of Mahler's Tenth Symphony, the first
version of which he premiered in 1964-until
the rediscovery of his music initiated
by Bernard O'Keefe induced him to resume
for the last twelve years of his long
life. His final years were crowned with
one triumph after another, as his string
quartets and orchestral works were taken
up to great acclaim, and his operas
were recorded and staged, even in Germany.
When he died, Goldschmidt had become
one of the leading living composers-a
role many would aver he should have
attained much earlier in his career.
Goldschmidt's two
operas are both centred on women and
the outrageous treatment meted out to
them, though their style and ethos could
hardly be more different. In Der
gewaltige Hahnrei ("The Magnificent
Cuckold"), based on a controversial
satire by Belgian playwright Fernand
Crommelynck, Goldschmidt produced not
a comic opera-with the character of,
for instance, Nielsen's Maskarade-but
an opera of the absurd in which comedy
and the potential for tragedy run hand-in-hand.
Goldschmidt's score pulls few punches,
although the original productions were
officially censored so that when Bruno-the
magnificent cuckold of the title-endeavours
to provoke the seduction of his wife,
Stella, by forcing her to expose a breast
to her cousin Petrus, she had merely
to untie her long hair. The opera's
conclusion also avoids the de rigueur
happy ending and resolution required
of opera buffa: Bruno is left deserted
convinced of the rightness of his suspicions
as Stella reluctantly leaves him in
exasperation and to prevent a murder.
Beatrice Cenci, its libretto
taken from Shelley's violent and bloodthirstly
verse-play, is out-and-out tragedy with
no comedic aspect at all. The musical
portrait of the monstrous Count Cenci
is chillingly drawn, while the suffering
of the abused and condemned Beatrice
is most movingly achieved.
The music of both
operas is genuinely symphonic and eminently
theatrical in equal measure despite
their diverse characters. Unusually
both have been recorded-ironically for
different companies-by the same core
team: Roberta Alexander as leading lady,
with the Berlin Radio Chorus and Deutsches
Symphonie-Orchester Berlin directed
by Lothar Zagrosek, produced by Michael
Haas. Both accounts are magnificent,
blessed by splendid sound and excellent
casts. In Hahnrei for Decca,
Robert Wörle finds the right balance
for the self-deceiving Bruno, avoiding
the pitfall of over-the-top caricature,
with Alexander increasingly exasperated
by his unfounded suspicions; Helen Lawrence-who
first sang the role of Beatrice Cenci-is
here the aged nurse Mémé.
In the later work, Simon Estes' portrait
of Count Cenci is quite magnificent,
but Roberta Alexander is his match in
her remarkable portrayal of the title
character. Beatrice Cenci is
the finer of the two operas, perhaps
Goldschmidt's finest work of all, and
Sony's recording does it full justice
(although Decca's has the edge in pure
sound). The Sony cast is also strong
in depth, with Della Jones as Beatrice's
step-mother and fellow conspirator,
Lucrezia, Endrik Wottrich as the weak
and crafty Orsino who precipitates Cenci's
murder and then leaves the women to
trial and execution, and a young Ian
Bostridge playing-prophetically given
his recent acclaim as a song recording
artist-a singer at the Feast Count Cenci
gives in Act 1. Both releases are completed
by song sets, Hahnrei by the
Six Mediterranean Songs wonderfully
sung by John Mark Ainsley with the Leipzig
Gewandhaus Orchestra under Zagrosek,
Beatrice by four songs for voice
and piano ranging in time from 1933
to 1950 and beautifully sung by Iris
Vermillion accompanied by the nonagenarian
Goldschmidt himself.
For those ill-disposed
to opera, it is a great shame that Goldschmidt's
output of orchestral music is so scanty.
No symphony by him has survived, but
his three concertos from the early 1950s
have. The first was for violin (1952-3),
based on sketches from the early 1930s
and initially worked up into a concertino
in 1952. Then came the Cello Concerto
(1953-4), also based in part on earlier
music, in this instance a now-lost Cello
Sonata originally written for his friend
Emanuel Feuermann in 1932. Lastly came
that for clarinet, also begun in 1953
and premiered by Gervase de Peyer in
1955. The concertos' close proximity
of completion gives them a decided homogeneity
of style, but their musical characters
are very different, each derived in
large part from Goldschmidt's perception
of the instrument's basic character.
They also fit neatly onto a single compact
disc, which is how Decca released them,
rather incongruously in their "Entartete
Musik" series-most appropriate for Der
gewaltige Hahnrei which was indeed
banned by the Nazis, but not the concertos
since all three are essentially products
of the decade after the Nazis fell.
Decca's trio of soloists could scarcely
be bettered: Yo-Yo Ma, Sabine Meyer
and Chantal Juillet, all in top form.
The recording of the lovely Violin Concerto
is particularly special for being conducted
by the composer.
The sign of a composer
having truly "arrived" is when alternative
recordings of his major works are made,
and this has already started in Goldschmidt's
case. David Geringas had set down the
Cello Concerto for CPO two years before
Ma made his for Decca; it is a fine,
sturdy account, and if Ma has the greater
eloquence and virtuosity, Geringas'
is in no way inadequate as a performance.
He was accompanied by the Magdeburg
Philharmonic under Mathias Husmann,
who also give a good account of themselves
in the terrific Ciaconna Sinfonica,
which Rattle included at the Proms and
then recorded in 1995 for Decca, and
the Chronica Suite Goldschmidt
assembled variously in the 1950s and
1980s mostly from his ballet score of
that name for the Jooss Company. Rattle's
account of the Ciaconna is more
electric than Husmann's though this
may be due partly to the slightly duller
acoustic in Magdeburg; it also has the
advantage of being coupled with the
early Passacaglia for orchestra and
the composer directing his delightful
Overture The Comedy of Errors
and Rondeau for violin and orchestra
(again with the sweet-toned Chantal
Juillet).
Goldschmidt liked
to tell the story of how he once alarmed
Shostakovich in 1931 by announcing his
intention to set Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk
as an opera-which Shostakovich was working
on! There are certain superficial parallels
between them: they both came to prominence
with vibrant orchestral scores in the
mid-1920s (both composing piano sonatas
shortly after); string quartets feature
conspicuously in their catalogues of
works-though Goldschmidt's is much tinier;
both completed two operas, the first
satirical (Shostakovich's being The
Nose), the second based on a tragic
heroine. Goldschmidt's four string quartets
cover almost the whole of his career,
the lively First (begun while still
a sudent of Schreker's in Berlin) dating
from 1925-6 while the Fourth and last
was written in 1992. All have been recorded
by the Mandelring Quartet for Largo,
available across three imaginatively
planned discs which coincidentally include
all his piano music as well. The First
raises a further connexion with Shostakovich,
as an issue that has become something
of a bugbear to Goldschmidt devotees-the
superficial similarity of style of some
of Goldschmidt's chamber pieces with
early works by the Soviet master. This
prompted a stinging general rebuke of
the critical fraternity form Bernard
O'Keefe in the booklet notes to Der
gewaltige Hahnrei which while fair
enough to a degree, misses the point
that there are indeed very superficial
resonances of style between the two
composers' early styles. 'Innocent eared'
listeners of Quartet no. 1 will often
pick this up, and the fact that Shostakovich
would not write a quartet for another
dozen years afterwards is neither here
nor there. The two composers were born
just three years apart and evidently
shared certain artistic concerns (not
just in writing an early piano sonata-rivettingly
performed by Kolja Lessing-or being
attracted to Lermontov's Katerina Ismailova
as a suitable operatic heroine), so
such commonalties of manner are inevitable.
If there is a piece of Shostakovich
that Goldschmidt's First Quartet reminds
me of, it's the Russian's First Symphony,
written co-evally with the Quartet.
Both works are strikingly 'orchestrated'
for their ensembles and helped advance
their creators' burgeoning reputations-Shostakovich's
more internationally it is true, but
in Goldschmidt's case it helped secure
the support of the publishers Universal
and impressed Schönberg sufficiently
for the Austrian master to invite Goldschmidt
to attend his masterclasses. (Goldschmidt
declined; had he not he would certainly
have come into contact with Gerhard
as a fellow student.) Both works are
burlesque in character but have at their
heart long slow movements the structural
implications of which neither composer
solves entirely satisfactorily.
A more profound influence
on Goldschmidt's style was Hindemith,
though Goldscmidt never studied with
him (and indeed was once scathing to
me of the Hindemith gang who circled
round the composer often restricting
access to their teacher). Echoes of
Hindemith crop up in all the quartets
and pieces like the Piano Trio, idiomatically
recorded by the English Piano Trio for
Kingdom, but the important point is
that Goldschmidt made of these influeces
what he wanted. No finer exhibition
of that can be heard than his Second
Quartet, written in 1936 on the composer's
safe arrival in England. A striking
first movement confidently overcomes
all obstacles and is succeded by one
of Goldschmidt's most virtuosic scherzi,
a beautiful elegy entitled Folia
(in many respects the scherzo's sister),
and an invigorating dance-like Presto
finale that if nothing else is a long
exclamation of relief at finding security.
The Mandelring Quartet, occasionally
foxed by the First's unorthodoxy of
structure, do not set a foot wrong in
its successor, which must rank as one
of the finest quartets of the inter-war
period. It is coupled with two short
choral works, Letzte Kapitel
("Last Chapters", 1931)-with its apocalyptic
description of Mankind's self-extermination
in 2003-and Belsatzar (1985),
and the Third Quartet of 1989 which
reuses some of Belsatzar's material.
The single-movement Third is possibly
Goldschmidt's greatest, and was commissioned
as a direct result of the much belated
German premiere in 1988 of the Second.
Its primary musical material is two
'ciphers' (the composer's term) reflecting
his native Schleswig-Holstein (SCH-H,
i.e. E flat, C, B, B in German notation)
and Hamburg (HBG, i.e. B, B flat, G),
where he had been born. The work is
in many ways Goldschmidt's musical rapprochement
with Germany, not unlike Henze's Seventh
Symphony in motivation (although entirely
different in character and idiom), which
had been premiered, curiously, in Berlin
only a couple of years earlier. Again
the Mandelring are in excellent form,
as are the Ars Nova Ensemble of Berlin
in the choral numbers. Incidentally,
the suspiciously round-numbered disc
timings for Belsatzar (5' 00")
and the Third Quartet (20' 00") are
completely wrong: Belsatzar takes 6'
20", the Quartet 17' 01".
Largo's third disc
places a number of miniatures (2 Capriccios,
an Encore and some semi-didactic
pieces finalized in the late 1950s just
before his self-imposed silence) between
three important larger works: the string
trio Retrospectum (1991, dedicated
to his parents), the marvellous Variations
on a Palestinian Shepherd's Song (1934,
his largest piano work after the Sonata)
and the Fourth Quartet (1993). The variety
here does give a patchier feel to the
whole than the two earlier volumes,
but the quality of the music is unmistakeable.
The Gaede Trio are immaculate in Retrospectum,
a complex elegy to a world long dead.
The style of the Fourth Quartet takes
its compression and integration, and
that of No. 3, still further, making
this a work that does not make so immediate
an impact as the earlier works in the
cycle. Yet the payback from repeated
listening renders the effort worthwhile.
This disc features Kolja Lessing as
both violinist (in the 1991-2 Capriccio)
and pianist-acquitting himself equally
well in both disciplines, though Largo
resisted the temptation of multi-tracking
him in both parts of the Encore
for violin and piano.
Performances and recordings
of the works of all three composers
remain sufficiently infrequent-particularly
in the case of Gál-to allow for
no complacent homily on Britain's nurturing
of such distinguished guests; how could
it be when one-Goldschmidt-gave up writing
for nearly a quarter of a century? Others
have fared better it is true, the late
Andrzej Panufnik for example, but there
is still much to be done. Where then
to start in each composer's case? For
Gál, as only three works are
available, all three must be commended
equally until such time as a Rattle
or a Bamert or a Brain with the backing
of a large company takes up his cause;
for Gerhard, opera-lovers will take,
I am sure to The Duenna, otherwise
Chandos' five discs of his symphonies
with their varied couplings provides
the best way into his unique sound-world:
start with those of No. 1 and the Violin
Concerto, then the original Second and
Concerto for Orchestra. For Goldschmidt,
the best place way in is via the Decca
disc of the three concertos, and then
move to Largo's of Quartets 2 and 3
(again, opera buffs would do well to
go straight to Beatrice Cenci).
The music of all three composers deserves
the widest currency; since so much of
it was created within these shores,
it also deserves to be considered as
some of the finest British music of
the past sixty-five years.
Guy Rickards
Discography:
- GÁL
Serenade for string orchestra,
Op. 46 (1937) [+ Pfitzner: Symphony,
Op. 46, & works by Schreker,
Humperdinck, Morawetz, Reznicek].
Nova Scotia SO/Georg Tintner. CBC
SMCD5167
Promenade Music for wind band
(1926) [+ Hindemith: Concert Music,
Op. 41, & Symphony in B flat,
& works by Toch and Krenek].
Deutsches SO, Berlin/Roger Epple.
Wergo 6641 2
Sonata for clarinet and piano,
Op. 84 (1964) [+ Sonatas 1-2 by
Brahms]. Murray Khouri, John McCabe.
Continuum CCD1027
- GERHARD
Opera: La Dueña
("The Duenna", 1945-7). Soloists
and Chorus of Opera North, English
Northern Philharmonia/Antonio Ros
Marbà. Chandos CHAN9520 [2-CD
set]
Ballets: Ariel (1934-6).
Don Quixote (1940-1, rev.
1947-9). Pandora (1942-5,
rev. 1949). Soirées de
Barcelona (1936-9, arr. 1972
by David Atherton). Albada, Interludi
i Dansa (1936). Tenerife SO/Victor
Pablo Pérez.
Alegrias - "divertissement flamenco"
(1942) [+ works by Falla & Ernesto
Halffter]. Tenerife SO/Victor Pablo
Pérez. Etcetera KTC1095
Symphonies: No. 1 (1952-3); No.
2 Metamorphoses, (1957-9,
rev. 1967-8; compl. Alan Boustead);
No. 3 Collages for orchestra
& tape (1960); No. 4 New
York (1967). Tenerife SO/Victor
Pablo Pérez. Auvidis Montaigne
MO 782113 [2-CD set, Nos. 2 &
4 originally available separately
on MO 782102, and Nos. 2 & 4
on MO 782103]
Symphony Homenaje a Pedrell
(1940-1). Harpsichord Concerto (1955-6).
Geoffrey Tozer, BBC SO/Matthias
Bamert. Chandos CHAN9693
Symphony No. 1. Violin Concerto
(1942-3). Olivier Charlier, BBC
SO/Matthias Bamert. Chandos CHAN9599
Symphony No.2 (original version,
1957-9). Concerto for Orchestra.
BBC SO/Matthias Bamert. Chandos
CHAN9694
Symphony No. 3 Collages
for orchestra & tape (1960).
Piano Concerto (1951). Epithalamion
(1966, rev. 1969). Geoffrey Tozer
(pf), BBC SO/Matthias Bamert. Chandos
CHAN9556
Symphony No. 4 New York
(1967). Suite: Pandora (1942-5).
BBC SO/Matthias Bamert. Chandos
CHAN9651
Harpsichord Concerto (1955-6).
Nonet (1956-7). Piano Concerto (1951).
Ursula Dütschler (hpschd),
Albert Attenelle (pno), Barcelona
SO/Lawrence Foster. Auvidis Montaigne
MO 782107
Cantatas: The Plague (1963-4).
Epithalamion (1966, rev.
1969). Michael Lonsdale (spkr),
BBC Symphony Chorus, Spanish National
YO/Edmon Colomer. L'alta naixença
del rei en Jaume (1932). 6
Cancons Populars Catalanes (1928-31).
Cancionero de Pedrell (1941)
+ Sardanas I-II (1928). Anna
Cors (sop), Francesc Garrigosa (bar),
Coral Cármina, Barcelona
SO/Edmon Colomer. Auvidis Montaigne
MO 782115 [2-CD set, The Plague
& Epithalamion originally
available separately on MO 782101,
the rest on MO 782106]
Piano Music (complete): Dos Apunts
("2 Sketches", 1921-2). Suite: Soirées
de Barcelona (1936-9, arr. c1958).
Dances from Don Quixote (1940-1,
arr. 1947). 3 Impromptus (1950)
[+ Joaquim HOMS: Sonata no. 2].
Jordi Masó. Marco Polo 8.223867
Music for 1 or 2 pianos: Alegrías
- "divertissement flamenco" for
2 pianos (1942). Dos Apunts (1921-2).
Suite: Soirées de Barcelona
(1936-9, arr. c1958). 3 Impromptus
(1950). Suite: Pandora for
2 pianos & percussion (1942-3).
Andrew Ball & Julian Jacobson
(pfs), Richard Benjafield (perc).
Largo 5119
Piano Trio (1918). Sonata for
cello & piano (1956). Chaconne
for solo violin (1959). Gemini
for violin & piano (1966). Cantamen.
Métier MSV CD92012
String Quartets nos. 1 (1950-55)
& 2 (1960-2). Kreutzer Quartet.
Métier MSV CD92032 (mid-price)
'Portraits & Horoscopes':
Libra for seven players (1968).
3 Impromptus, for piano (1950).
Concert for Eight (1962). Gemini
for violin & piano (1966). Leo
for chamber ensemble (1969). Nieuw
Ensemble/Ed Spanjaard. Largo 5134
- GOLDSCHMIDT
- Opera: Der gewaltige Hahnrei,
Op. 14 (1929-30). Soloists, Berlin
Radio Chorus, Deutsches SO, Berlin/
Lothar Zagrosek. Decca 'Entartete
Musik' 440 850-2 [2-CD set]
Opera: Beatrice Cenci (1949-50).
Soloists, Berlin Radio Chorus, Deutsches
SO, Berlin/Lothar Zagrosek. Sony
S2K66836 [2-CD set]
Passacaglia, Op. 4 (1925). Overture
The Comedy of Errors (1926).
Ciaconna Sinfonica (1936).
Rondeau for violin & orchestra
(1995). Chantal Juillet (vn), CBSO/Sir
Simon Rattle, Berthold Goldschmidt.
Decca 452 599-2.
Violin Concerto (1933, rev. 1955).
Cello Concerto (1953). Clarinet
Concerto (1954). Chantal Juillet
(vn), Philharmonia/Bethold Goldschmidt.
Yo-Yo Ma (vc), Montreal SO/Charles
Dutoit. Sabine Meyer (cl), Berlin
Komische Opera O/Yakob Kreizberg.
Decca 'Entartete Musik' 455 586-2
Cello Concerto (1953). Ciaconna
Sinfonica. Suite: Chronica
(1932-9, rev. 1953/85). David Geringas
(vc), Magdeburg PO/ Mathias Husmann.
CPO999 277-2
Piano Trio (1985) [+ Trios by
David Matthews & Malcolm Lipkin].
English Piano Trio. Kingdom KCLCD2029
"Früher und Später":
String Quartet no. 1, Op. 8 (1925-6).
Piano Sonata, Op. 10 (1926). Clarinet
Quintet (1983). Mandelring String
Quartet. Kolja Lessing (pno). Ib
Hausmann (cl). Largo 5117.
Letzte Kapitel for voices, piano
and percussion (1931). String Quartets
nos. 2 (1936) & 3 (1989). Belsatzar
for unaccompanied chorus (1985).
Mandelring String Quartet. Alan
Marks (pno). Ars Nova Ensemble,
Berlin/Peter Schwarz. Largo 5115.
Retrospectum for string trio (1991).
Variations on a Palestinian Shepherd's
Song for piano, Op. 32 (1934). Capriccio
for solo violin* (1991-2). Capriccio
for piano, Op. 11 (1927). Little
Legend for piano (1928/57).
Scherzo for piano (1922, rev. 1958).
From the ballet, for piano
(1957). Encore, for violin
and piano (1993). String Quartet
no. 4 (1992). Gaede Trio. Kolja
Lessing (pno & vn*). Hansheinz
Schneeberger (vn). Mandelring String
Quartet. Largo 5128.
2003 update
-
Thankfully, since
2001 the picture of Gál’s
range has begun to flesh out a little
with several releases from a variety
of labels. Not co-ordinated enough
to denote a real revival, it has
nonetheless enlarged his available
discography by a factor of four
or five. Most obscure and hard to
find (and, sadly, not acquired for
review here) are two discs of Gál’s
music for mandolins on the Antes
label in Baden. More accessible
is a splendid CD from Olympia of
the complete music for two pianists,
performed vivaciously by Anthony
Goldstone and Caroline Clemmow (whose
previous issues include a revelatory
account of Holst’s The Planets).
The works tend to the lighter side
of this composer’s output, especially
the suites Three Marionettes
(1958) and the six Serbian Dances
(1916), both of which are hugely
entertaining. There’s a hint of
Hindemith in the former and very
early Bartók in the latter.
The Concertino, Op. 43 (1934), has
resonances—quite deliberate—of the
baroque but Gál’s evocation
is quite different to more famous
neo-classicists. It is also an arrangement
by the composer of the Piano Concertino
mentioned above, the second piano
taking the role of the string orchestra
but in such a way as to feel like
a purposely written duo. The Three
Impromptus of 1940 does not quite
scale the same heights, but it is
most diverting and it seems astonishing
that the piece had to wait 53 years
for a performance. The disc concludes
with a four-hand arrangement of
the six-hand Pastoral Tune
(1954).
Delightful as the
works considered all are, they still
only hint at Gál’s stature
as a serious sonata composer. At
last, recordings are filtering through
of some of his more major items,
particularly his sonatas. The D
major Violin Sonata (1933, his unpublished
second), is the opening item of
David Frühwirth’s much-acclaimed
2-CD set "Trails of Creativity",
examining music from Vienna, Berlin
and London from between the wars.
(Released on the Avie label, this
is perhaps the highest profile recording
to feature Gál’s music, receiving
a Gramophone Editor’s Choice
listing.) The Sonata is typical
Gál: a lyrical initial Allegretto
succeeded by a robust, swirling
scherzo (the style of which reminded
me of Bruckner, with a hint of middle-period
Shostakovich in places) and a compound
slow-movement-plus-fast-finale.
Frühwirth, who with accompanist
Henri Sigfridsson premiered the
sonata in—unbelievably—November
2001, plays with great skill, though
his tone is a little edgy at times,
especially compared with the sweet-toned
Annette-Barbara Vogel, whose account
of the first Violin Sonata, Op.
17 (1920), has been released by
Cybele. Of similar dimensions to
the D major, the B flat minor feels
like a much bigger work; just compare
the openings of both. A product
of the more expressionistic twenties
(though without adopting a trace
of atonality), it could almost be
a transcription of a Concerto. That
does not hold true of the companion
piece, the Cello Sonata Gál
wrote in 1954. This is another splendid,
lyrical work, in a harmonically
leaner idiom, splendidly performed
(by Fulbert Slenczka and René
Lecuona (pianist in both sonatas),
so it’s a shame Cybele did not also
include, say, one of the various
violin or cello suites, the Sonata
for unaccompanied cello, or the
thirty-minute-long Piano Trio in
E (1925); at just under 50 minutes,
there was room. Still, this minor
cavil should deter no-one from obtaining
this disc. Cybele have as yet limited
distribution (none, for instance
in Britain), but can be accessed
via the web on www.cybele.de.
Additions to the
discography:
Works for Mandolins,
Volume 1. Bella Musica Edition
BM-CD 31.9177
Works for Mandolins,
Volume 2. Bella Musica Edition
BM-CD 31.9171
Complete Music
for Piano Duo: 3 Marionettes,
Op. 74 (1958). Serbian Dances,
Op. 3 (1916). Concertino, Op.
43 (1934). 3 Impromptus (1940).
Pastoral Tune (1954).
Anthony Goldstone, Caroline
Clemmow (pfs). Olympia OCD 709.
Sonata in D
for violin and piano (1933)
[+ works by Rathaus, Rosse arr.
Sammons, Korngold, Walton, Busch,
Wellesz, Weill arr. Frenkel,
Gurney]. David Frühwirth
(vn), Henri Sigfridsson (pf).
Avie AV0009.
Sonata in B
flat minor for violin and piano,
Op. 17 (1920). Sonata for cello
and piano, Op. 89 (1954). Annette-Barbara
Vogel (vn), Fulbert Slenczka
(vc), René Lecuona (pf).
Cybele 360.901.
Guy Rickards
-
2005 update
Since my last update,
Hans Gál’s presence in the
catalogue has continued to grow
slowly, with his First Violin Sonata—the
B flat minor from 1920—receiving
a second recording, a most unusual
situation for this composer. And
a fine alternative it is too, strongly
played by Nurit Pacht accompanied
by Konstantin Lifschitz as part
of a fascinating 2-CD set from Nimbus
entitled Continental Britons:
The Émigré Composers.
Pacht’s tone is not, perhaps, quite
as sweet as Annette-Barbara Vogel
on Cybele (see the 2003 Update above),
but her vision of the work strikes
me as even more apt for Gál’s
lyrical inspiration. With Lifschitz
in fine form at the keyboard this
new version seems more like chamber
music though still with that same
bigness of stature the later D major
eschewed. In the central Allegretto
there is a foretaste of Shostakovich
but it is the slow finale that really
impresses. This is followed by the
set of Five Songs Gál composed
around the same time, between 1917
and 1921, to a Britten-like mixture
of poems with diverse provenance,
ranging from German late medieval
to Christian Morgenstern and translations
from the Chinese. Published in 1929,
these are apparently the only songs
Gál acknowledged, despite
being the author of nearly one hundred
as well as cantatas and operas.
The Five Songs, beautifully sung
by baritone Christian Immler to
Erik Levi’s immaculate accompaniments,
showcase the composer’s melodic
genius, the late Romantic style
still very much of its time—even
though so much of Austrian culture
was being blown apart by the outfall
from the Great War. In a way, Gál’s
music in these songs and the Sonata
show how it might have developed
had that catastrophe never taken
place. Certainly the innocent melody
of the second song, Der Wiesenbach,
or the two Chinese songs, Drei
Prinzessinnen and Abend auf
dem Fluss, seem surreal when
set against the songs and operas
Hindemith was unleashing on an unsuspecting
Weimar Republic at exactly the same
time.
Nimbus’ set also
includes two works by Berthold Goldschmidt,
both dating from his British exile.
The Old Ships is a rollicking
setting from 1952 of a poem by James
Ellroy Flecker, later included in
the voice-and-orchestral Mediterranean
Songs. Immler gives it a very
characterful interpretation and
the song makes a most effective
contrast to Gál’s Five (as
well as something of a stylistic
segué towards Matyas Seiber’s
magnificent Violin Sonata which
succeeds it. Seiber’s centenary
falls this year, so I hope this
is the first of a good number of
recordings to explore the remarkable
music of this fine composer, who
died tragically before his time
in a car accident, shortly after
composing the sonata). Goldschmidt’s
other piece is more substantial,
the late Fantasy for oboe,
cello and harp from 1991. A wonderfully
lyrical single-span work, like much
of the output of his final years,
its pastoral idyll is hemmed in
from all sides by darker, more disturbing
passages. The close is affirmative
but in no way triumphal and the
tone throughout is rather one of
questing or exploration of the tonal
landscapes the music encounters.
It is one of the strongest works
here, high praise indeed considering
other gems like the Gál pieces
above or the triptych of compositions
by Egon Wellesz, including the magisterial
1948 Octet, superbly realised here
by the Ensemble Modern, Frankfurt.
Mention seems appropriate of Peter
Gellhorn (1912-2004), another refugee
from Hitler’s Europe, who worked
with the Carl Rosa, Sadler’s Wells,
Covent Garden and Glyndebourne Festival
opera companies, as well as the
BBC Singers for a time. He is represented
here by a bitter-sweet Interlude
(1937) written for his duo partner
Maria Lidka. I cannot recommend
Continental Britons too highly.
Superbly played and recorded (and
I have by no means been an uncritical
admirer of Nimbus’ sound quality
in past releases), a set of fascinating
music unjustly overlooked with the
passage of time.
Back to Gál
again for the next disc, on the
Belgian Megadisc label, of oboe-and-piano
repertoire under the ponderous title
‘Paths’. Gál’s delightful
Oboe Sonata (1964) is the final
work in a programme of works by
composers with a European Jewish
heritage, opening with Pavel Haas’
Op. 17 Suite (1939-41) and Stepan
Wolpe’s contemporaneous Sonata.
These three pieces are very different
in expressive focus; indeed, one
might be forgiven for thinking the
Haas and Wolpe pieces had been switched,
given the earnestness of Haas’ Suite
and Wolpe’s reputation for compositional
rigour. The lyrical impulses in
Haas’ Suite give its origin away
although this does not strike me
as a work that had to be
written for this combination, unlike
the other two works. Composed at
the point the Nazi net had tightened
round its composer, its somewhat
forbidding demeanour is unsurprising
but the positivism born of hope
expressed in the final pages is
truly uplifting. Yet this is hardly
chamber music as one expects it.
By contrast Wolpe’s neoclassical-sounding
Sonata is more what one have anticipated
from Haas, although given Wolpe’s
once having been a student of Busoni,
this manifestation of Young Classicality
is not so out of character. Its
determined joviality does become
a tad steely by the finale, but
this is a bracing and appealing
piece, mostly shades of light in
contrast to Haas’ storm-cloud-riven
Suite. The quietude of Gál’s
Sonata is refreshingly free of extramusical
concerns after its wartime companions.
Its three movements follow a sunny,
largely untroubled course that,
were the music not as perfectly
imagined as it is, might otherwise
seem trivial in such company. There’s
a Brahmsian touch to the melodic
writing although not really to its
structure, a brief Pavane—unusually
marked Allegro—sitting between
a lovely Tranquillo con moto
first movement and lively Allegro
sostenuto assai finale. The
performances are very decent, though
a little airlessly recorded. The
close miking of Piet van Bockstal’s
oboe allows the action of the keys
to be clearly audible in parts of
the Wolpe and Gál sonatas
(Haas’ thicker scoring obscures
this) but otherwise the sound is
well balanced between both players.
Since the original
version of this article there has
been precious little activity in
the recording studio involving Roberto
Gerhard’s music, even though he
remains the best-recorded of the
three. However, the third issue
in Naxos’ British Piano Concertos
series has rectified the late neglect
a little, with a third version now
of the 1951 Piano Concerto, played
by Peter Donohoe, who also directs
the Northern Sinfonia. Gerhard’s
concerto was scored for piano and
strings and all four works on this
new disc are for the same basic
layout (the others are by Alec Rowley,
his jocular First of 1937-8 which
includes ad lib percussion parts,
Christian Darnton—a slightly disappointing
Concertino from 1948—and Howard
Ferguson). Gerhard’s Spanish origins
are audible most clearly in the
enchanting slow movement, Diferencias,
although the helter-skelter momentum
of the concluding Folia has
something Hispanic about it. The
opening Tiento is similarly
hectic, though a touch more cosmopolitan
in tone. In this concerto Gerhard
used twelve-note material but tempered
this by casting the movements in
the spirit of older, specifically
Spanish forms. I have no hesitation
in welcoming this as the best available
account of the concerto, crisply
played by Donohoe whose touch is
surer still than either Attenelle
(Auvidis) or Tozer (Chandos) and
very decently recorded. If it does
perhaps yield a touch in recording
quality to Chandos’ de luxe sound,
Naxos’ fits Gerhard’s music like
a glove. But Donohoe’s performance
is superlative and the Northern
Sinfonia play wonderfully well for
him in all four concertos. That
of the Ferguson is also very fine
indeed, and Rowley’s a real, if
minor, find.
Additions to the discography:
GÁL Sonata in B flat minor
for violin and piano, Op. 17 (1920).
Five Songs for medium voice and
piano, Op. 33 (1917-21). GOLDSCHMIDT
Fantasy for oboe, cello and harp
(1991). The Old Ships, (1952). GELLHORN
Interlude. [+ works by Wellesz,
Spinner, Tauský, Seiber,
Reizenstein, Rankl]. Erik Levi (pf),
Konstantin Lifschitz (pf), Nurit
Pacht (vn), Christian Immler (bar)
Nimbus NI 5730/1
GÁL Sonata for oboe and
piano {+ works by Haas, Wolpe].
Piet van Bockstal (ob), Yutaka Oya
(pf). Megadisc MDC 7805
GERHARD Concerto for piano and
strings [+ concertos by Darnton,
Rowe, Ferguson]. Peter Donohoe (pf),
Northern Sinfonia. Naxos 8 557290
-
2005 update 2
By some way the
largest single issue devoted to
Hans Gál is Avie’s 3-disc
set of his complete output for solo
piano, running to 189 minutes all
told.[review]
This comprises his solitary Sonata
(1927) and the two Sonatinas (1949-51),
two very different sets of preludes
with an independent cycle of fugues,
a suite and two small groups of
pieces. Their disposition across
the discs is largely sensible, with
the large sets of 24 Preludes (1960)
and 24 Fugues (1980—his ninetieth
birthday present to himself!) taking
discs 2 and 3 respectively apiece,
and the remaining works—which all
predate the Preludes—occupying disc
1 (which consequently runs to almost
79 minutes). Avie avoid placing
the earlier set of 3 Preludes, Op.
65, from 1944 on the same disc as
the larger, later group, even though
that would have brought disc 2’s
duration up from 50 minutes to 59.
But they are products of different
parts of his life with the Op. 65
triptych belonging with the keyboard
pieces of his first and middle periods.
The first disc
is not arranged chronologically
but presents the works (all from
the period between 1910 and 1951)
in a pleasing and varied sequence
dictated more by matters musical
than accidents of time (although
it is instructive to play the works
in order of composition to chart
the composer’s stylistic development).
Starting with the Sonata, the longest
work outside the late cycles of
preludes and fugues, was an obvious
step, but do not be fooled by its
relaxed opening, Tranquillo e
semplice marking or relative
brevity: there is plenty of compositional
rigour in its apparently easy flow.
The sunny disposition is broken
here and there by darker elements
which are manifest in the ensuing
Quasi menuetto scherzo and
the variation-form Andante.
The concluding Allegro con spirito
is all bustle and brings the work
to a most satisfactory conclusion.
If the Sonata has a drawback it
is that its outer movements end
well within their length and perhaps
lack the gravity one expects of
the Sonata Form, especially in comparison
with Gál’s other keyboard
output of this time. Indeed, there
is a touch more of the visionary
about the Suite, Op. 24, of 1922,
even in the Präludium,
though its piano writing is considerably
freer with elements of Impressionism.
The work’s lighter nature is exemplified
best by the central Capriccio,
a gem of a movement and full of
bright invention against which the
gloom of the succeeding Sarabande
funebre seems initially out
of character, although it thinks
its way to something more serene
before the concluding Gigue
whirls along to a brilliant finish.
It is fascinating to compare this
Suite with Hindemith’s celebrated
Suite: 1922; there is no
hint of Weimar provocation in Gál’s
writing.
I think it was
a mistake to follow the Suite with
both Op. 58 Sonatinas. Charming
as it is, the First (1951) with
the ironically earlier Second (1949),
makes its more modest companion
seem a touch perfunctory, while
the bigger conception and bolder
lines of No. 2 (still contained
within a dozen minutes) overpower
the early 3 Sketches that
follow it – indeed the latter, beautifully
written set from thirty-nine years
before seem a touch gauche by comparison
with the Sonatina’s more cosmopolitan
idiom. The juxtaposition of styles
does put into very sharp relief
how far the composer had developed,
but for one whose output is lyrical
testimony to the virtues of development
this seems almost like a discrepancy
since his own works do not display
that kind of discontinuity of manner..
The four-movement Second Sonatina
is perhaps the most balanced of
all Gál’s shorter works here
and of more moment than most. (It
shares the Sonata’s light and shade.)
The driving, but never driven, initial
Allegro con fuoco, gives
way to a lovely Arioso and
delightful Scherzando, rounded
off by a vibrant final Vivace
and the whole makes, expressively
and musically, a finer climax to
this opening disc.
Clearly, its close
with the prelude-like 3 Small Pieces,
Op. 64 (1933), and 3 Preludes, Op
65 (composed 11 years later), was
intended as a natural link to the
second disc and the set of 24. With
the latter, one breathes—for all
the continuity of his compositional
voice and concerns—air from a different
world. If the Gál of the
1920s and ‘30s showed stylistic
traces of Schubert as much as Hindemith,
in 1960 he had continued to develop
and his music began to include resonances
of other contemporaries, such as
Prokofiev, Stravinsky and Shostakovich.
The new brilliance in his keyboard
style leaps from the page right
from the outset of No 1 in B major,
while there are elements of Gallic
sensibilities, even a touch of de
Falla, in the ebullient Second in
B minor. Gál began composing
the Preludes to stave away tedium
during a fortnight’s hospital stay.
He set himself the task of writing
one a day while there, which accounts
for their relatively modest individual
size (they range in duration here
from 1’ 10" – the First – to
3’ 28", No 17). Later he revised
and extended the set to two dozen,
one for each major and minor key
in the tempered scale, creating
a set some 50 minutes in length.
The tonal scheme is unusual, not
ascending stepwise chromatically
but rather each pair (one major,
one minor) following a more angular
line the intervals of which embrace
thirds, fifths and even the tritone:
B – E flat – G – C – E – A flat
– D flat major/C sharp minor – F
– A – D – F sharp – B flat. the
tempi are mostly moderate-to-rapid,
with only No. 10 in E minor (Grave)
and 14 in D flat (Adagio)
outright slow movements. Many have
a dance-like character (e.g. Nos.
2, 3, 5 and 7) and there is a good
deal of swift-moving lyricism throughout
(try No. 14 in C sharp minor, marked
Presto, with its lilting
moto perpetuo, or No 15 in F major
to hear what I mean). As should
be expected by now, the expressive
range of these little gems is enormous,
from the aphoristic to the serene,
the vivid to the urbane, with all
the piano colours he could command
at as well as through his fingertips,
from delicate filigree to pesante-like
block chords, to high, stratospheric
passages. The set is a veritable
Aladdin’s Cave of pianism and McCawley’s
performances do the music proud,
his virtuosity even more compelling
(sample No 22 in F# minor) than
with the more varied fare on disc
1.
Twenty years later,
Gál added a set of 24 Fugues,
one in each major and minor key.
This time they do ascend chromatically
from C to B, following the pattern
of Bach’s 48 (though just once and
with no preludes) and the contrapuntal
rigour they display – very compactly
for the most part (only one here
exceeds 4 minutes in duration) –
is evocative of the Baroque master.
So too are many of the fugue subjects,
so for this reason alone trying
to preface them with their tonal
equivalents of 1960 would not make
for balanced pairings. In fact the
Fugues, despite their relative brevity,
stand very well on their own, the
sequence feeling like some gigantic
supra-fugue embracing the entire
tonal spectrum. There is not a hint
of repetition in their discourse
(no mean feat in itself) and each
has that quiet, serene inevitability
so familiar from Bach’s fugal writing.
It must be said, however, that harmonically
they are quite different, progressing
with twentieth-, not eighteenth-century
tonal logic. The fugues’ structures
are very neatly arranged, for example
where the brief Seventh (the shortest
of all at 1’ 17") makes the
perfect foil for the Sixth (the
longest, at 4’ 11"). There
is more variety of tempo also, which
serves to underscore the clockwork-like
precision of the music—as with Bach’s
and equally without becoming predictable—that
one does not hear in the Preludes.
McCawley again has a firm understanding
of the ebbs and flows and construction
of each individual piece and the
cycle as a whole—confirmed in his
way with the valedictory Twenty-Fourth,
in B minor. He seems the ideal interpreter
of this music which deserves much
wider currency than it has enjoyed
until now. Avie’s recordings are
beautifully clear, full without
being over-rich, with good depth
to the acoustical image. An exemplar
for all recordings of unfamiliar
repertoire (despite my minor caveats
concerning the order on disc 1),
I cannot recommend this set too
highly.
Addition to the
discography:
GÁL The
Complete Works for Solo Piano. Leon
McCawley (pf). Avie AV2064.
[Features: 3 Sketches, Op. 7. Suite.
Op. 24. Sonata, Op. 28. 2 Sonatinas,
Op. 58. 3 Small Pieces, Op. 64.
3 Preludes, Op. 65. 24 Preludes,
Op. 83. 24 Fugues, Op. 108.]
2007 Update
-
ÉMIGRÉ
TRIO UPDATE
Hans Gál’s
discography continues to broaden
and diversify, a situation that
is heartening as it is long overdue
and only what this fine composer
and his beautifully constructed
music deserves. When the original
round-up review on Gál, Gerhard
and Goldschmidt was written in 2001
there were just three works on disc,
with no alternatives; now, in the
year that marks the twentieth anniversary
of his death at the age of 97, his
complete output for string quartet
(see below), piano solo (most of
which have received a second recording,
again see below) and piano duo/duet
along with a healthy smattering
of instrumental sonatas and smaller
ensemble pieces have been issued
on disc by a variety of companies.
The net result of this activity
has been to bring some much needed
balance to the availability of the
music of these three marvellous
but still all-too-often overlooked
composers of the twentieth century
and allow a much greater familiarity
with that of Gál in particular.
Following Leon
McCawley’s magnificent survey of
the complete piano music on Avie
(see the second 2005 update above),
Martin Jones and Nimbus have produced
a very fine set featuring the bulk
of his output in a 2-disc set, omitting
only (but majorly) the hour-long
set of 24 Fugues from 1980. It is
unclear why they took that decision:
if because they thought replicating
Avie’s issue would be uncommercial,
producing two in one go seems to
fall between two stools—neither
a complete set nor selective enough
to comprise a ‘Best Of’ programme.
As it is, the disposition of works
across Jones’ two discs provides
alternative insights and playing
contexts for the music, with the
two Sonatinas from 1958 leading
off the first disc and progressing
via the early Sketches, completed
in 1911, and Suite of 1922 (it’s
year of composition providing an
intriguing alternate view of Weimar
Republic music to Hindemith’s iconic
Suite) to the Sonata of 1927. This
makes for a more satisfying musical
progression than on Avie’s discs
where the Sonatinas, following the
Suite, were overshadowed by the
latter’s more questing demeanour.
Moving the two small triptychs of
Small Pieces and Preludes—separated
by a single opus number but composed
eleven years apart—to the second
disc with the later set of 24 Preludes
also makes perfect sense, exploring
Gál’s writing of preludes
(or prelude-like) miniatures over
nearly three decades.
Jones’ performances
throughout are a model of poise
and clarity, evincing a persuasive
understanding and affection for
the pieces themselves. Compared
to McCawley’s versions there are
several interesting differences
of viewpoint, not least of tempo.
In the main, McCawley is the fleeter
and more fluent but compared to
Jones now seems rushed in one or
two instances—the 10th
Prelude, for example, which is marked
Grave after all, or the final
Sketch, where Jones’ slightly more
relaxed speed pays greater dividend.
Overall, though, theirs are complementary
approaches which both serve Gál’s
cause very well indeed and choice
between them will depend on how
much one wants to have included
the late Fugues and the recorded
sound. Nimbus’ is a touch more recessed
than Avie’s; I prefer the latter’s
more immediate feel, but its rival’s
is more than adequate. As for the
Fugues, my recommendation is that
they should be heard so I hope Jones
will get round to recording these
as well.
Gál the
organist-composer is one of the
most obscure areas in a career far
too little known anyway, but he
was an adept enough player to perform
regularly in Viennese churches in
his youth when the bulk of his modest
output for the solo instrument was
written. The Membran label has issued
this on a single, generally well-recorded
disc featuring István Mátyás
at the console. The earliest item
is a pair of 2 Sacred Songs, Im
Himmelreich ("In Heaven")
and Dort oben ("Up
there"), composed for soprano,
viola da gamba—but more usually
played on the cello, as here—and
organ in 1923. Straightforward,
rather touching settings of brief
poems from the Middle Ages and seventeenth
century, they provide welcome contrasts
of texture in what is obviously
an organ dominated programme. A
shame that soprano Adrineh Simonian
is placed over-prominently. Gál
followed this up in 1928 with a
14-minute-long Toccata, the
most impressive work on offer on
this disc, which showcases just
how well he create larger structures.
Cast in a tripartite form of Introduction
(a stormy Allegro), Variations
and Fugue, it is a major addition
to the Austro-German organ repertoire
of the twentieth century and why
it is not a staple repertoire item
is baffling. The Prelude and Fugue
in A flat and Phantasie, Arioso
& Capriccio (both from 1956)
do not attempt the same intellectual
rigour, compositionally adroit as
they are, which may be why Gál
did not assign them opus numbers.
But then neither did he to the charming
Concertino for organ and strings
of 1948, in which the organ plays
unaccompanied in the central Adagio.
In the outer Allegro ma non troppo
and Allegro molto comodo,
the Orchester Wiener Akademie (Vienna
Academy Orchestra) are ably conducted
by Martin Haselböck.
Gál’s music
for string quartet comprises six
works (leaving aside a few vocal
items where a quartet features in
the accompaniment), spread unevenly
through his long career. The earliest
surviving composition on Meridian’s
survey is the charming set of 5
Miniatures completed in 1914.
The technical assurance they reveal
is remarkable—although by now no
real surprise—so it was inevitable
he would turn his attention to the
quartet medium as a whole. The First
in F minor appeared just two years
later (and was premiered by the
Busch Quartet, no less), with the
Second in A minor following in 1929.
Apart from the delightful set of
Improvisation, Variations and
Finale on a theme of Mozart—originally
scored for mandolin, violin, viola
and liuto (or cello)—of 1934, there
was a forty-year gap before he wrote
for this combination again, the
Third (B minor) and Fourth (B flat
major) Quartets being written in
1969 and 1970 respectively.
Listening to No
1, a model of Classical poise and
clarity but with a rather Brahmsian
sound, put me in mind of Sibelius’
early quartets, particularly the
Finn’s B flat major (Op 4), written
in the year Gál was born
(1890). Both were composed when
their creators were of an equivalent
age (25 or so) but, despite the
fact that it was Sibelius who secured
enormous international success and,
for a time, cult status, it is Gál’s
which is the more impressive quartet.
Not the least reason for this is
that Gál wrote the work as
part of a living, breathing tradition
whereas Sibelius could only mimic
it at one or two removes from his
experience of playing Classical
quartets as a student. Gál’s
First, the only one of the four
not to bear descriptive titles for
each of its movements, may outwardly
be as conventional in form as Sibelius’
but internally is rather less so,
with unusual and decidedly early-twentieth
century harmonic progressions as
well as folk-like melodies. Its
melodic and harmonic flows are seamless
and two of its most engaging characteristics.
The opening Moderato, ma con
passione is succeeded by a typically
fleet-footed scherzo and solemn
Adagio, the longest and eventually
most intense movement in the work.
The Allegro energico, un poco
sostenuto finale carries as
much of the musical weight of the
whole as the opening span, to which
it is related thematically.
In his Second Quartet
Gál varied the basic ground-plan
adopted in the other three, by adding
a fifth movement (a folk-like Intermezzo
capriccioso which dovetails
into the Allegretto commodo
Rondo finale). A rather more personal
creation, in depth of expression
and style, than the First, No 2
marked a definite advance in his
handling of larger, multi-movement
forms and the quartet medium as
a whole. After a compact opening
Preludio marked Un poco
agitato, the ensuing Toccata
moves into not dissimilar terrain
to early Bartók in its vigorously
rhythmic flow. Again the slow movement,
here a Canzone marked Andante,
is the quartet’s expressive fulcrum.
What a shame that the vicissitudes
of his life disrupted his cultivation
of the form for so long).
The Third Quartet
is to my mind the finest of the
cycle, deriving something of its
seriousness of purpose from its
opus number, 95: the same as that
of Beethoven’s Quartetto serioso.
Gál’s succession of Energico
(marked Allegro molto moderato
and at 10’ 04" in this recording
the second longest movement in the
whole set), Scherzando, Cantabile
and Con umore, while sounding
like a set of character pieces,
adds up to a most substantial work.
While audibly the product of the
same mind as the first two quartets,
Gál’s harmonic language in
No 3 had undergone subtle changes
and refinement, no longer core Viennese
but more international in scope.
There are hints at times of the
early Shostakovich quartets in the
writing, something that carries
over into the Fourth, though the
Lamento opening movement
is light years away from the gloom
and despair of the Russian’s later
works (with which it is contemporary).
The mastery of the Fourth, which
brings the cycle to a most satisfying
close, is total. The performances
by the Edinburgh Quartet, who premiered
Nos 3 & 4, are simply superb
and should bring these splendid
works to a much wider audience.
Meridian’s sound is first rate,
the acoustical picture ideal for
the music. Highly recommended.
While Gál
has benefited from some belated
and long overdue attention in the
recording studio (and we now need
to have recordings of the symphonies,
concertos and operas), there has
been little or nothing devoted of
late to Goldschmidt. I have not
caught up with NMC’s recent film
score disc which includes the music
Gerhard wrote for Lindsay Anderson’s
This Sporting Life (1963),
but I have with Ingrid Culliford’s
splendid rendition of the Capriccio
for unaccompanied flute on a Lorelt
disc which slipped through the net
of my original survey. Entitled
‘Flight’, the title track is George
Benjamin’s evocative fantasia and
is coupled with two pieces by York
Bowen, Alwyn’s Sonata and Maconchy’s
Colloquy. Gerhard’s Capriccio
was composed in 1949 for Gareth
Morris (for whom the sonatas by
Alwyn and Bowen were also written)
and is therefore especially welcome
as an example of middle-period Gerhard.
Although playing in a continuous
span for over six minutes, Capriccio
is a kaleidoscopic virtuoso piece,
full of shifting moods, alternating
speeds, exuberant dances and reflective
calm. If this all sounds evocative
of the Iberian landscape then this
is one of those works of this composer’s
that bears the hallmarks of his
Spanish and Catalan heritage albeit
of a very different stamp to that
of de Falla, the Halffters or Montsalvatge.
Ingrid Culliford brings out the
myriad colours of Gerhard’s solo
writing in a beautifully paced performance,
excellently recorded by Mike Skeet
as long ago as 1995.
Additions to the
discography:
GÁL: Piano Music. Martin
Jones (pf). Nimbus NI 5751-2
(2CD set)
CD1: 2 Sonatinas, Op 58
(1951). 3 Sketches, Op 7 (1910-1).
Suite, Op 24 (1922). Sonata,
Op 28 (1927).
CD2: 3 Small Pieces, Op 64
(1933). 3 Preludes, Op 65 (1944).
24 Preludes, Op 83 (1960)
GÁL: Concertino for
organ & strings (1948).
Toccata for organ, Op 29 (1928).
Two Sacred Songs for soprano,
cello and organ, Op 21 (1923).
Prelude and Fugue in A flat,
for organ (1956). Phantasie,
Arioso and Capriccio, for organ
(1956). István Mátyás
(org), with Adrineh Simonian
(sop), David Pennetzdorfer (vc),
Vienna Academy Orchestra / Martin
Haselböck. Membran 60162
GÁL: The Complete String
Quartets. Edinburgh Quartet.
Meridian CDE 84530-1 (2CD set)
CD1: Quartet No 1 in F
minor, Op 16 (1916). Quartet
No 4, Op 99 (1970). Improvisation,
Variations and Finale on a theme
of Mozart, Op 60b (1934)
CD2: Quartet No 2 in A
minor, Op 35 (1929). Quartet
No 3 in B minor, Op 95 (1969).
5 Intermezzi, Op 10 (1914)
GERHARD: Film score "This
Sporting Life" (1963) [+
works by R R Bennett, Britten,
Luytens]. BBC Symphony Orchestra
/ Jap Van Steen. NMC NMCD073
GERHARD: Capriccio
for solo flute (1949) [+ works
by Alwyn, George Benjamin, Bowen,
Maconchy]. Ingrid Culliford
(fl), Dominic Saunders (pf).
Lorelt LNT107
Guy Rickards
See also
Margaret Moncrieff Kelly on Hans Gal
Paul
Conway on Gerhard
|
|