Beneath the Surface #3 – Bloch: Voice in the Wilderness, Schelomo; Caplet: Epiphanie

Composers: Ernest Bloch (Swiss-American, 1880-1959); André Caplet (French, 1878-1925)

Works: Bloch: A Voice in the Wilderness (1936), Schelomo (1916); Caplet: Epiphanie (1923); Ravel: Kaddisch (1914)

Performers: Raphael Wallfisch (cello), BBC National Orchestra of Wales / Benjamin Wallfisch

Label: Nimbus

Background and Critical Reception

Ernest Bloch has a fascinating biography. Born in Geneva, he moved around Europe before settling in the US in 1916, taking up citizenship eight years later. Early studies were with the great violinist-composer Ysaÿe in Belgium, while later in America he taught the maverick George Antheil and Roger Sessions.

A Jewish composer, Bloch often looked to his heritage and culture when writing music, as well as incorporating elements of the Baroque in dramatic works such as two Concerti Grossi for piano and strings. Yet his harmonic language could often be strikingly original, as it was in his Violin Sonatas, Symphony in C# minor and Violin Concerto. His time in America yielded a number of works delighting in his new-found heritage, such as the Sacred Service and the patriotic rhapsody for orchestra America. Despite his new found surroundings Bloch often made strong references to his Jewish roots, with modal scales that link closely to the musical language.

André Caplet, meanwhile (on the left in the picture) is known primarily as the composer who orchestrated a number of works by Debussy (also in the picture) – yet he was to win the Prix de Rome in 1901 with his cantata Myrrha, emulating last week’s composer Dukas. Of his Debussy orchestrations, Children’s Corner, Le Martyre de Saint-Sébastien and the celebrated version of Clair de lune all passed through his hands. Yet as a composer Caplet has a substantial output of that features some highly regarded if seldom heard vocal music. He died as a result of health complications sustained from World War I.

Thoughts

This disc is themed around the Holocaust, and was in fact released by Raphael and Benjamin Wallfisch and Nimbus to mark International Holocaust Remembrance Day on 27 January.

Bloch’s prayerful style of writing for the cello is ideally suited to the instrument, his melodies finding the strongest possible penetration from its tone. The disc opens with his Voice in the Wilderness, a 25 minute piece for cello and orchestra in six linked sections, written during a return to Switzerland in 1936. It is not as well known than Schelomo but is nonetheless a very emotive utterance.

Raphael Wallfisch probes hidden depths when the cello is cast adrift in its opening lament, before finding impressive strength in depth for the solo utterance that becomes the fifth section. The orchestra give him terrific support, and the clarion call of the third section is sharply caught by the recording engineers. The closing meditation is tremendous, with a really big but remarkably clear sound from the BBC National Orchestra of Wales brass. They are superb throughout, and here get a surefooted high register response from Wallfisch. The highlight for me was the terrific third section, marked Moderato, where there is a bright clarion call from the orchestra, with a real strength of feeling, before the cellist enters with assertive chords.

Bloch’s writing is quite modal, as described above, which often gives the music a closer relationship to folk melodies, meaning that sometimes his music is not a million miles from Vaughan Williams as a result. The cello’s ascent in the middle of the final section typifies this.

Schelomo, meanwhile, is a less sectional piece, about the same length as Voice in the Wilderness. Subtitled Rhapsodie hébraïque, it is a setting of melodies Bloch had written down as possible settings for songs of Solomon, from the Old Testament book of Ecclesiastes. Because Bloch felt his grasp of Hebrew was not strong enough to set them directly to music, the cello provided him with a solution – so this work is effectively a group of songs without words.

That would explain the highly charged lyrical content, and cellist and orchestra feel more united here, singing with one voice. There is time for contemplation but often there is a deep seated anger, bristling just beneath the surface but sometimes surging forward through crescendos in the whole orchestra.

Again in this recording the balance between the two forces is just right. Schelomo really comes across as a powerful and anguished work in this performance, and the orchestra play brilliantly, especially the brass. The ending is downbeat – a rarity for Bloch – and completely convincing here, with cellist and orchestra completely immersed in the music they have just made.

The Caplet makes a fascinating coupling, and in his booklet notes Alexander Knapp draws out similarities between the styles of the two composers. In the case of Epiphanie there is a more obviously Eastern influence to the writing and some of the scoring here, from the tentative first forays made by the cello to the bigger, more confident display music that takes place in the centre of the second movement.

This confidence indicates that Caplet was a composer of whom more should be heard. The piece starts suspended in the treble register, with a sweetly voiced violin solo, and a distinctive sighing melody is heard. Yet the most original feature is the inclusion of a softly pulsing bass drum, a featured of Ethiopian music of which Caplet was aware. It gives the piece a completely new and original dimension, and opens the ears towards the composer’s inventive orchestration, which features some inventive colours from the woodwind as well as original cello writing. Again Wallfisch is alive to all of these elements, and plays with a technical surety that gives this piece the best possible advocacy, especially in the virtuosic final section.

The inclusion of an arrangement of Ravel’s Kaddisch is a nice and effective complement, especially given its Jewish origins. Raphael Wallfisch again plays with deep seated commitment, and his style is beautifully mellow. In the moments where the music is more suspended it is possible to detect pointers towards the meditative qualities of pieces such as John Tavener’s The Protecting Veil.

I could hardly imagine a better or more profound memorial for the members of the Wallfisch family killed in the Holocaust, to whom this disc is dedicated. Reading that part of the programme note alone provides a stark reminder in this, the World War I centenary year, that music has played a significant part in helping its performers and listeners come to terms in some way with the atrocities of the time.

Verdict

I found this disc very moving, especially in the context of the World War I anniversary. Raphael Wallfisch plays with an intensity that seems to be even greater than his other concerto recordings, while the orchestral playing and recording is exceptionally vivid. This is music whose melodies and colours can be greatly appreciated with repeated listening, where the music also becomes more directly affecting. It is very highly recommended.

Further Listening

Click on this link to access a Spotify playlist that begins with the four works on this disc in alternative versions, before exploring more Bloch through the Concerto Grosso no.1, the Violin Concerto, the three pieces for violin and orchestra Baal Shem and the rhapsody America.

Next week’s listening - Early and Late: An exploration of folk music from the Middle Ages and today from Denmark, Greenland and the Faroe Islands

Beneath the Surface #2 – Dukas: The Sorcerer's Apprentice, Cantate Velléda and Polyeucte

Composer: Paul Dukas (French, 1865-1935)

Works: The Sorcerer's Apprentice (1897), Polyeucte (1891), Cantate Velléda (1888)

Performers: Les Siècles, François-Xavier Roth

Label: Actes Sud Musicales

Background and Critical Reception

Paul Dukas was a French composer and critic, a man of few published works but one who is rightly regarded as one of the pioneers in his country’s abundance of fine composers in the twentieth-century. He has remained in the shadow of his more famous friend, Debussy, but in the little music he has left us there is clearly an accomplished mind at work.

Dukas was an intensely self-critical man, and a number of setbacks during his training at the Paris Conservatoire knocked his confidence. This means we only get to hear a very small proportion of his output, with just three works making it through to publication in the 1890s for instance. One of these, L’apprenti Sorcier (The Sorcerer’s Apprentice), by far his most successful work, enjoying prominence in his output at the expense of almost everything else. It was used by Disney for the Fantasia film in 1940, since when it has often been heard on television and adverts, and it makes a sparkling concert opener.

It is rare indeed for anything else by Dukas to be heard in the concert hall, which is a shame as there are a number of important works. His Symphony in C is highly regarded and has been recorded by conductors such as Charles Munch, Leonard Slatkin and Yan Pascal Tortelier, while his more descriptive music includes the single act ballet from 1912, La Péri. For the piano he wrote a formidable and unusual Piano Sonata in 1902, taking Beethoven as his inspiration in a work that lasts around 40 minutes, exerting massive technical demands on its performer.

Just one published opera survives in the Dukas output, the three-act Ariane et Barbe-bleue from 1907, adapted from a play by Maurice Maertelinck and admired the following year by Schoenberg, Berg and Webern. Like all of the composer’s music, however, it has not enjoyed the popularity of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice.



This new disc from Les Siècles and François-Xavier Roth begins with that piece, but uses it cleverly as an overture for the main act, a first ever recording of the cantata Velléda. This is a piece Dukas submitted for the Prix de Rome in 1888, setting a prescribed text by Fernand Beissier. It secured him second place (the prize winner was Camille Erlanger) in a year that also included Debussy’s La Damoiselle élue.
Velléda tells the story of an impossible love affair between a Roman (Eudore) and a druidess (Velléda), who is driven to suicide by her own father. It is set as a cantata in a prelude and three substantial scenes, the whole work clocking in at roughly half an hour.

The disc ends with the overture Polyeucte, a response to Pierre Corneille’s tragic tale completed in 1891, when the composer’s confidence was at a particularly low ebb. However this piece was modelled on a template from the Prix de Rome itself, and is described in the booklet for this release as the ‘polar opposite’ of L’apprenti sorcier.

Thoughts

Often the best way to discover a composer’s less familiar side is to listen to a disc that contains one of their most popular works. This new release is ideal, for by beginning with L’Apprenti Sorcier it sets the scene perfectly. The thoroughbred receives a really enjoyable performance here, partly because Les Siècles are performing it on instruments of the period. With a little less vibrato but no compromise on instrumental colour, the slightly reduced forces give a sharply defined performance, operating at quite a quick tempo. Roth brings out the jauntiness of the bassoon theme and its repetitions elsewhere in the orchestra, while not losing the ability to make his audience jump with sudden loud dynamics, and the whole performance puts a smile on the face.

After this the prelude to Velléda feels like a luxury, with some lovely languid orchestral textures boosted by a softly swooning violin solo. As the music unfolds you can really get an idea of Dukas’ orchestral craft, as he creates some beautiful sounds.

It is at this point that the influence of Wagner reveals itself – and this was a key element for a large number of French composers, Debussy included, who were writing at the time. As Velléda progresses so it is clear Wagner’s penchant for long phrases and sumptuous textures is something Dukas also aspires to. Vocally he writes very well, and both soprano Chantal Santon and tenor Julian Dran, playing the lovers, benefit as they float above the orchestra.

The Polyeucte overture is a treat. It is also highly Wagnerian but does not become heavy going thanks to its lucid orchestration, which Roth brings out in this colourful performance. Most of it is slow, and though the underlying current is quite tragic, the music is poignant and largely warm hearted. The faster episodes are optimistic and supply energy where needed, but the piece ultimately subsides to a restful close.

Although these are live recordings they are very well reproduced.

Verdict

I’m not quite sure that Velléda is the best piece to start with for Dukas – the Symphony in C might be a better bet – but if you are not yet familiar with The Sorcerer’s Apprentice then I would endorse this beautifully documented disc without hesitation. Once you’ve heard Velléda a few times you ought to find it easier to get swept up in the drama, while Polyeucte is a thoroughly enjoyable and colourful postscript.

Further Listening

A Spotify playlist will appear shortly

Next week's listening tbc

Beneath the Surface #1 – Kabalevsky: Cello Concertos nos.1 & 2

Composer: Dmitri Kabalevsky (Russian, 1904-1987)

Works: Cello Concerto no.1 in G minor Op. (1949); Cello Concerto no.2 in C minor Op.77 (1964); Suite from Colas Breugnon, Op.24 (1938)

Performers: Torleif Thédeen (cello), NDR Radiophilharmonie Hannover / Eiji Oue, Adrian Prabava (conductors)

Label: CPO

Background and Critical Reception

Dmitri Kabalevsky was born in St Petersburg, and studied piano and composition at the Moscow Conservatory where his teachers included Miaskovksy. An uncredited obituary from the Musical Times, quoted on Wikipedia, describes his music rather uncharitably as 'popular, bland and successful'.

Kabalevsky wrote a lot of music for his first instrument, including four piano concertos and a large amount of solo piano music, but he was also comfortable writing for strings. As well as the two Cello Concertos there is a single-movement Violin Concerto, while his chamber music includes two String Quartets and numerous works for violin and cello with piano accompaniment.

He also completed a number of stage works, of which the three-act opera Colas Breugnon, completed in 1938, is the best known, with its overture often extracted for concert performance or compilation discs.

In my experience Kabalevsky has often been tagged on to the coat tails of Shostakovich and Prokofiev, as he writes in a style that can sometimes be seen as derivative of them. Thankfully some record companies, Naxos, Chandos and CPO in particular, have moved to rectify this with recordings of the concertos and chamber music.

Thoughts

My immediate thoughts of this disc and its music are very positive. The two Cello Concertos are very different animals. The first is quite playful, the cello writing sometimes carrying the influence of Tchaikovsky, but it also has a soft centre that reveals itself fully in the elegiac second movement, where Torleif Thédeen really invests a lot of passion into his playing. The pizzicato theme that begins the first movement is nicely done and establishes the good spirits of the piece, while the finale zips along, a little elusive at times but working through to an enjoyable conclusion.

By contrast the second concerto is a brow-beaten work that begins rather ominously. It has a greater depth of feeling than its companion and has a largely stern expression, too, turning in on itself as the cello keeps its own private company – as if marking the passing of a friend. Played without a break, it begins ominously over low double basses, before cutting abruptly to a jagged scherzo. The woodwind eventually calm this down before the main subject returns. The second movement melts, the emotional centre of the work, before the last movement - largely energetic - moves towards a major key. Kabalevsky still manages to charm in the faster music, his melodic invention strong as ever.

The extra 'filler', the Colas Breugnon Suite, is good fun. While not as emotionally rewarding, it still has a strong energy and a frothy mood that makes it easy to listen to – and there are once again a number of good tunes, tempered by a tragic element that surfaces in the third movement, marked Fleau Publique. Adrian Prabava conducts a good performance and enjoys the humour the score has to offer.

Verdict

This is an excellent disc from CPO, extremely well played and recorded, although the booklet notes have a rather loose translation at times. The music itself is confidently written, and Kabalevsky proves to be an extrovert composer with a keen sense of structure and melody who rarely outstays his welcome. The two concertos complement each other very well, one humourous and the other ravaged, and while the Suite may stretch its ideas out a little it still manages to charm. Fans of Shostakovich or Prokofiev are urged to try it out!

Further Listening

A Spotify playlist containing the Cello Concertos, the Piano Concerto no.2, the Cello Sonata and the Overture to Colas Breugnon can be found here.

Next week's listening - Dukas: Velléda, Polyeucte and The Sorcerer's Apprentice

Introducing Beneath the Surface

Second Lute Song (I) – Gloriana by Jane Mackay – her visual response to Benjamin Britten's music, used with many thanks to the artist. Her Sounding Art website can be found here.

As a new year starts I am taking up a musical resolution, alongside the other writing about pop and classical that I'm doing. This is to listen to and review one new album per week of music – mostly classical – that is not often heard.

There are several reasons for this, and most lie in the spirit of discovery. In my experience the classical music that gets the most exposure does so because of a big name artist, a big name composer, a major record label – or a combination of those three. And yet a look at a mail order company such as MDT confirms there are several hundred classical CDs released every month. Many of these do not receive much coverage even in the specialist press and websites.

While new recordings and performances of Beethoven symphonies are without question valid and welcome, they often take the spotlight away from some of classical music's deserving lesser lights. Some of these reward further investigation and should have a much greater presence!

So this is what Beneath the Surface is all about – discovering new music through new releases. This can be either the work of a new composer or an unfamiliar work from an established composer. Even Beethoven has his dark corners!

I aim to listen to one new release over the course of a week and then write about it. This year I would like to include some of those composers enjoying anniversary years, so you can expect the symphonies of Andrej Panufnik, born 100 years ago, some C.P.E. Bach and Gluck (both born 300 years ago) and even a bit of the Russian composer Liadov, who died 100 years ago. Where possible I will provide links to streaming and further listening.

We begin tomorrow with the two cello concertos of Kabalevsky, but who knows where this listening enterprise could take us?

If you read this and have a composer or release you think would deserve closer inspection, please do not hesitate to get in touch! I'm keen to involve as many people as possible.