Charles Munch Vol. 43 = BACH: BWV 1041; F. SCHMITT: Symphony No. 27; PROKOFIEV: Violin Concerto No. 2; ROUSSEL: Suite in F Major; BERLIOZ: Les nuits d’été; RAVEL: Bolero – Yves St-Laurent YSL T-1541 (2 CDs = 66:35; 59:40, complete credits below) [www.78experience.com] *****:
The recorded legacy of French conductor Charles Munch (1891-1968) finds an excellent addition in these concerts, from Strasbourg, France (15 June 1958) and Edinburgh, Scotland (19 August 1964), respectively, from Yves St-Laurent. The major contribution to the Munch discography lies in the June 1958 world premiere of the Second Symphony by composer Florent Schmidt (1870-1958), his final, completed work and dedicated to compatriot composer Gustave Samazeuilh. For a composer long associated with a gloomy, even morbid sensibility, the “rediscovered,” three-movement symphony reveals the optimism and excited energy of youth, set in a tonal syntax that remains immediately appealing. Composer Schmitt attended this concert, his last public appearance, adding a distinctly valedictory sensibility to the occasion. Of note, the second movement, marked Slowly without Excess, projects a serenity and hymnal spaciousness not in the composer’s wonted style. The outer movements, on the other hand, enjoy a swaggering bluster and impulsive, whimsical energy made alert by exotic scoring, including the use of acerbic brass, tam-tam, celestra, triangle, cymbals and xylophone.
The program includes two collaborations with American violinist Isaac Stern (1920-2001) in J.S. Bach’s c. 1730 Violin Concerto No. 1 and the Sergei Prokofiev’s 1935 Violin Concerto No. 2, of which only the latter has had any previous life in the Munch catalogue (with Jascha Heifetz). Stern and Munch provide a brisk reading of the Bach, with Stern’s sporting a rather nasal violin tone that blends well with the Gallic style Munch has honed here with his French ensemble as well as in home Boston. The second movement Andante spins out in a lovely, sustained arioso, while the final Allegro assai manages to keep Bach’s polyphony clean and articulate while Stern’s solo dances in the aisles.
Prokofiev composed his G Minor Concerto for Robert Soetens, having already written a two-violin sonata in 1932 for Samuel Dushkin and Soetens that premiered in Paris. The first recording of the work, from RCA, featured Heifetz in Boston, the Symphony led by Serge Koussevitzky. Stern recorded the work with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic for CBS. Stern brings a quiet intimacy to his solo, opening phrases, soon joined by basses and violas rather grumbling in B minor. The accompanying strings soon intone B-flat major, while the music assumes a more militant demeanor. The main arioso melody exerts a restrained but passionate resonance as we enter into the strictures of sonata form combined with lyrical variants of the original theme.
The heart of the Concerto, its second movement Andante assai, consists of grandly expressive melody from Stern over pizzicato strings that soon evolves into a series of multiple variations that veer away from the initial E-flat major into distant realms in B major. The orchestra woodwinds provide an ideally responsive, rhythmically alert, choir as the music proceeds. A secondary section adds an element of mystery to the occasion, made of fragments of the theme and then a new woodwind tune over a busy string accompaniment. One variant assumes a rough edge in horns and shifts in scale from Stern, until the low winds, pizzicato strings, and Stern’s double stops return to the captivating, last presentation of the opening melody. The mystery sequence appears one last time, marcato and ff, to soar in expression before the roles reverse, Stern in pizzicato while the low instruments intone the theme in the form of a dirge.
The Iberian quality of the last movement, Allegro ben marcato, embraces a rondo with interspersed episodes, colored by castanets and bass drum, all in askew rhythms. The dance becomes quite dervish-like, wild and furious, moving once more into that remote atmosphere of B major. Stern demonstrates good control of the sprawling range of the violin’s coloratura, the manic, aggressive motion eventually striking three crushing chords to conclude a whirlwind performance.
The 19 August 1964 concert begins with Albert Roussel’s 1926 Suite in F, a three-movement concession to the neo-Classicism embodied most significantly in Stravinsky. Roussel here has arrived at his mature style, concise, scaled for a chamber symphonic ensemble, to retain some degree of personal intimacy in spite of its good humor and extrovert sensibility. The three movements receive the titles Prelude (Villanelle), Sarabande, and Gigue, and Munch imparts a cosmopolitan verve into each of the sections, rambunctiously muscular or angularly lyrical, at will. The virtuosity of French National Orchestra brass, battery, and wind choirs makes its presence felt at once. A touch of bitter-sweet melancholy pervades the middle movement. At moments, the music leaves its sentimental mood to become ardent and fervent, only to relent to its more resigned sensibility, Lento. The final dance just might invoke, irreverently, a bit of Dukas by way of Scotland and Stravinsky, the rhythms fleet and insistent.
Berlioz composed his cycle in 1841, Les Nuits d’été, setting poems by Théophile Gautier (1811-1872), published in 1838. Berlioz scored the cycle for mezzo-soprano or tenor, though Thomas Hampson, a baritone, has performed the songs. Here, American coloratura mezzo-soprano Marilyn Horne (b. 1934) does the vocal honors with suave delicacy and studied inflection of tone and emotional emphasis. Munch did record the cycle admirably for RCA with Victoria de los Angeles (LM 1907). Horne’s husky tone renders the famed Le spectre de la rose with especial, mortal flavor, the “envious destiny” of death, guaranteed by Paradise. The anguish of lost love permeates Sur les lagunes, whose bass tones seem to carry both gondola and messenger to a darkly veiled underworld. “Ah, without love to sail upon the sea!” After the opening Spring optimism of the Villanelle, we have come far, and the world shivers with regret. Absence insists, “Come back! Come back, beloved!” The fifth song, Au Cimetière, combines conceits we find in Poe and Mahler, the love of the dead while we are condemned to live on. In exquisite sotto voce, Horne intones the “white tomb/Where floats/ The shadow of a yew tree. . .the wings of the music one feels slowly returning a memory.” Does the final song, L’île inconnue, promise a long-delayed bliss? Or do the moving oars of the boatman reveal an underlying doubt amidst all the protestations of exotic locales of consummation? Stirred, vehement applause after this rendition.
The concert ends with the ubiquitous 1928 Bolero of Maurice Ravel, what he termed “orchestral tissue without music.” The snare drums and harp set a constant tempo for what becomes an arced crescendo of spectacular sonic impact in which each instrumental choir contributes. Ravel always insisted the tempo, in ¾, should not be too fast, while Toscanini opined a fast tempo alone could redeem the piece. Munch opts for moderation, but the instrumental character is so bright and fervent, we lose no sense of cumulative impact. When the full string complement reveals itself, at 8:45, we have been mesmerized by the repetitive throes of singing emotion. The rest is pure exaltation, energetic release of whatever “balletic” impulse inspired dancer Ida Rubinstein to request the work from Ravel. As a means to say farewell to composer Florent Schmitt, the piece succeeds in brilliant spades.
—Gary Lemco
Charles Munch Vol. 43
BACH: BWV 1041;
F. SCHMITT: Symphony No. 2, Op. 137;
PROKOFIEV: Violin Concerto No. 2 in G Minor, Op. 63;
ROUSSEL: Suite in
F Major, Op. 33;
BERLIOZ: Les nuits d’été Op. 7;
RAVEL: Bolero
Isaac Stern, violin/
Marilyn Horne, mezzo-soprano/
Orchestre national de la RTF,
Charles Munch, cond.
