One composer damned to musty obscurity not too long ago was Eugen d'Albert; while regarded as one of history's legendary pianists, his composing activity – which spans an especially interesting period from the 1880s to the early '30s – was seen as a stick-in-the-mud retention of German post-romanticism and therefore an unnecessary pursuit. However, his 1903 operetta Tiefland never left the repertory of the German-speaking stage, and it is the Theater Osnabrück that is co-branding CPO's release Eugen d'Albert: Symphony Op. 4 – Seejungfrauen Op. 15, which features the in-house symphony, the Osnabrücker Symphonieorchester under the baton of general music director Hermann Bäumer. The Osnabrück Symphony is a notably compact band usually numbering around 45 pieces, but it has a big sound nonetheless, captured generously in this fine CPO recording.
This long-term edition of symphonies by Johannes Brahms and Antonín Dvořák, performed by the Bamberger Symphoniker led by their chief conductor Jakub Hrůša, springs from a wish to stimulate a deliberate, interiorized and unbiased listening experience. Associating these two Romantic geniuses, bound by a unique friendship, in one edition enables a new viewpoint. It immediately becomes apparent that the two last symphonies of Brahms and Dvořák have more than their key in common - yet this also illuminates their differences.
Sergey Ivanovich Taneyev (1856-1915) is an exceptional figure in 19th-century Russian music. He had nothing in common with the Russian National School. Taneyev's abstract approach to composing was in stark contrast to the outbursts of emotion that we encounter in many of his contemporaries. People tend to call him the Russian Brahms, were it not for Taneyev's disapproval of his music. Taneyev was a composition student of Tchaikovsky and, as a pianist, provided the premieres of Tchaikovsky's works for piano and orchestra. A close friendship developed between the two, which would last until Tchaikovsky's death, despite the sincerity with which Taneyev was one of the few in the Tchaikovsky area to dare to criticize his work.
Finnish composer Kalevi Aho’s Fourth Symphony (1972) contains, in its three movements, elements both typical of his early work and prophetic of things to come. The first movement’s fugal exposition reveals a continuation of that concern with musical shape and form already quite evident in Aho’s previous symphonies. His skillful use of counterpoint to convey an impression of sadness or dread echoes that great master of creepy fugue writing, Bartók. The second movement unleashes a violent whirlwind of sound very much in the spirit of Mahler’s or Shostakovich’s more nihilistic moments, and its instrumental virtuosity very much anticipates the composer’s most recent, concertante-style symphonic writing.
Szell's performance is again of quite a different order, one of the very finest ever put on disc, white hot even beyond Bernstein's. The late John Culshaw, producer at the sessions in Walthamstow Assembly Hall in 1962, used to enjoy telling the story of winding up an already angry George Szell. That inspired tyrant of a conductor was furious at the start of the session to find that many players were not the same as those who had just given the concert performance with him. When he came back to listen to the first playback Culshaw deliberately kept the controls rather low, making the result seem dull. That prompted Szell, back on the podium, to unleash a force in the subsequent takes that has to be heard to be believed.
If you can get past the 1940s monaural sound (and if you are not already familiar with this performance, you will get a shock). This is the gentlest, most right sounding rendition I have ever heard. The tempi are uncommonly brisk, though they never sound that way. The third movement has never sounded more beautiful. Halban is perfect in the finale. Walter passed away before he could record this work in stereo. His later performances were very different and I'm still not sure whether or not his later slower tempos and even greater expression were an improvement.
When the Bamberg Symphony and their principal conductor Jakub Hrůša went on tour in Germany with Mahler’s Fourth Symphony in January 2020, no one would have thought that this symphony in particular would become a kind of “symphony of fate” of the year, for only two months later, the performance of major symphonic works was impossible for a long time after the “corona lockdown” in Germany, which hit cultural institutions particularly hard.