Paul Hindemith - A more deserving composer

With the great fanfares attached to the anniversaries of Wagner, Verdi and Britten it was inevitable that a composer or two should slip under the radar. One such instance was Poulenc, who died 50 years ago – though thankfully his contribution was recognised in London by several performing groups, notably the City of London Sinfonia, who contributed two excellent concerts of his chamber and vocal music.

The other composer to miss out was Paul Hindemith, who died 50 years ago today, on 28 December 1963. Hindemith has never enjoyed a particularly great presence in the concert hall – neither he nor Poulenc featured at this year's BBC Proms – but this year has at least seen a resurgence of new recordings of his work.

Hindemith's absence from the concert hall is frequently baffling, because only a small proportion of his works fulfil the dull, academic caricature that insists on following him around. It is true that there are some pieces that are dry and more difficult to get on with, but doesn't every composer have their weaker moments? For each of those there is one that sparkles with wit, invention and originality.

With this in mind, I wanted to share why Hindemith is one of my favourite composers, to explore on the surface some new recordings and to suggest some works it would be good to know better.

Hindemith's orchestral output, for starters, is full of colourful scores. The most played of these tend to be the symphony constructed from his opera Mathis der Maler, the ballet Nobilissima Visione, the Symphonic Metamorphoses on themes of Weber and the Konzertmusik for strings and brass.

Three of these can be heard together on a fine new disc from the BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra and Martyn Brabbins, just released on Hyperion. The strings and brass shine on the latter piece, whose bold writing really blows away the cobwebs. In Brabbins' hands the Mathis der Maler Symphony is shown off as the masterpiece it is, with broad melodies that often have a softer centre, as well as powerful orchestral tuttis that have an enchanted air, thanks to Hindemith's frequently inventive orchestration. Finally the Symphonic Metamorphoses on themes of Weber are great fun, energetic and witty.

Nobilissima Visione is my personal Hindemith choice. In the suite it has a March and Pastorale of silvery beauty, and a noble Passacaglia that builds to a powerful and blazing conclusion. This is quintessential Hindemith, with a theme that moves in directions often contrary to the listener's expectations while somehow making complete sense.

By way of contrast I would recommend the Piano Concerto, The Four Temperaments, a theme and four variations for piano and strings that finds Hindemith at his most mischievous but also has revealing and intimate asides. It bursts with melodic content, and its combination of humour and poignancy would make it an ideal concert piece. While that is sadly not likely to happen soon there are a number of good recordings – either newly issued on Naxos as part of a 2CD set of the Complete Piano Concertos with Idil Biret, Toshiyuki Shimada and the Yale Symphony Orchestra, or on an older disc with Carol Rosenberger, James De Priest and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, who add the Nobilissima Visione suite.

Hindemith wrote for such colourful characters as Benny Goodman and Dennis Brain. His Concerto for clarinet and orchestra is a charming piece

with a beautifully written solo part, while the Horn Concerto, a challenging work technically, is also extremely rewarding.

Meanwhile a recent release on CPO this year is the Christmas Fairy Tale (Tuttifäntchen), a charming and lightly scored for singers and chamber forces, though it is perhaps too weighted in favour of narration over music. Its closing song, an arrangement of Adeste Fideles (O Come All Ye Faithful), provides a winsome finish.

Hindemith wrote a lot of music, which is possibly part of the problem in getting it recognised though he showed what an extraordinarily resourceful composer he was by writing sonatas for tuba, trombone and cor anglais among others. My first encounter with him was through three short but surprisingly baleful pieces for cello and piano, the Three Easy Pieces – the first of which was a Grade 3 piece. The cello pieces have the same sort of qualities and can be heard on a disc of the complete cello music from Sébastian Hurtaud and Pamela Hurtado.

Also this year Hyperion have issued fine discs of the complete Violin Sonatas, ably performed by Tanja Becker-Bender and Péter Nagy, and the Piano Sonatas, impressively deconstructed by Markus Becker. Among the chamber music my choice would have to be the Kleine Kammermusik, a spiky piece for wind quintet with some good tunes, spicy harmonies and fine writing for woodwind.

Finally another aspect of Hindemith's output that should be noted is his vocal music, and there is an excellent new disc from the Hänssler label of his Mass and Six Chansons. The Mass in particular is a substantial piece, difficult to sing but rewarding to listen to in a recording as open as this.

I would urge you, then, to discover the music of a composer whose greatness has often been lauded in the same breath as Stravinsky, Schoenberg and Bartók, but whose music no longer enjoys anything like their profile. I wager you won't be disappointed!

My Hindemith anniversary playlist on Spotify can be accessed here

Barenboim and Boulez in Liszt and Wagner, Royal Festival Hall

Daniel Barenboim, Berlin Staatskapelle / Pierre Boulez
@ Royal Festival Hall, London, 13 June 2011

An irresistible combination of performers took to the stage for the latest instalment in the Royal Festival Hall's Shell Classic International season – and threw curious shades of light on the Liszt bicentenary celebrations in the process.

While Daniel Barenboim may have played the music of the composer for many decades, Pierre Boulez is not known for his pedigree in Liszt, save for some isolated performances of the symphonic poems. Yet perhaps surprisingly it was Barenboim's contribution to the two piano concertos that made for some communal head scratching come the concert's close, despite the standing ovation.

The first concerto, which ended an enterprising examination of Liszt's relationship with Wagner, a close friend, was the most difficult to understand. The opening felt constricted in tempo, and Barenboim's first statement on the piano was laboured in tempo, giving not the impression of a virtuoso bursting out of the blocks, but one holding up the progress of the music, and its momentum, in the process.

There were many fine things about this interpretation, but they derived principally from the orchestra, with a succession of gorgeous solos from flute, oboe and clarinet in the slower music. Barenboim played with great skill and finesse, but the sense of unbuttoned energy that Liszt's fast music so often conveys remained at arm's length.

The second concerto was similarly constricted at times but was generally more successful, the arrival at its crowning march theme bringing with it a far more stirring outcome. While the work has a curious structure it is notably forward looking in its harmonic language and in the relationship between piano and orchestra. Boulez especially enjoyed these aspects; despite Barenboim's instinct to conduct what is after all his own orchestra. Oh to be a fly on the wall in rehearsal!

While the two piano concertos had their interpretative issues, Wagner's Siegfried-Idyll and Faust Overture were on far more secure ground. The former especially was gorgeous, the orchestra of 30 exactly double the size employed by the composer to serenade his wife, Cosima, on Christmas Day in 1870. The sound was heavenly, Boulez controlling the seamless melodies as they unfurled with delightful restraint, concentrating on purity of line and texture.

This provided a satisfying contrast with the Faust Overture, which showcased the orchestra’s lean and earthy sound through a performance that crackled with atmosphere. Wagner is not associated with Faust normally but was obsessed by Goethe's tale at an early age. The Overture, something of a collection of themes intended for a longer symphony, provided good, old fashioned Romanticism, with Boulez showing that even at the age of 85, he remains no slouch in the conducting department.

A fascinating evening of music making, then, and a privilege to see two of the greatest classical musicians alive take the stage together, even though their combined music making raised more questions than it did answers.