Music: Rapid-Fire Romantic

The distinguished English critic and specialist in Scandinavian music, Robert Layton calls Franz Berwald “the most commanding composer Sweden has thus far produced, and the leading Scandinavian symphonist before Sibelius.” This is the bicentennial of his birth in 1796, but few know his name.

When Franz Liszt met the sixty-one-year old Franz Berwald in 1857, he told him, “You have true originality, but you will not be a success in your lifetime. However, you must go on….” That must have been hard advice for a sixty-one-year old man to hear, but it was true. How true Liszt could little have imagined. Berwald’s reputation began to grow only in the latter half of the twentieth century.

This year’s bicentennial celebration should do much to enhance that reputation. There have been two new traversals of his four symphonies, from Hyperion and Naxos, added to recent reissues of two sets recorded by DG and EMI. Also, Hyperion has released the first CD of a new venture to record all the chamber music. The results are delectable. Berwald’s music is at the perfect conjunction of the Classical and the Romantic, sharing the strengths of both. He has an almost Beethovian rigor and energy, a Schubertian melodic gift, Mendelssohnian charm, and a sense of orchestral color from Berlioz. Yet his music is not at all derivative: Within a few bars, you will know it is Berwald speaking. But if he was that good, why didn’t his star rise earlier?

First of all, Berwald came from a musical backwater. Stockholm in the early and mid nineteenth century did not have a full time orchestra. Its musical tastes were mired in mediocrities from the prior century. The locals were not equipped to understand or appreciate Berwald’s music. In 1819, a critic in the Stockholm Argus chastised Berwald for his “eternal modulations and painful, unbearable dissonances.” He advised him that, by turning to “True Art … his future work would no longer offend the susceptibilities of the cognoscenti through so many divergences of accepted practice.” No one remembers this critic’s name.

Apparently, Berwald did not learn his lesson. In 1821, the Argus again complained of his work. It found the Violin Concerto “highly ungrateful” with an “awkward layout.” What’s more, continued Argus: “Berwald provided an accompaniment of such a strikingly ludicrous nature that it gave rise to almost general laughter in the auditorium.”

Laughter did not greet Berwald’s music in the other parts of Europe to which he traveled. He was a hit in Vienna, where he lived for several years. In Salzburg, he was made an honorary member of the Mozarteum. But most of his life was spent in his native Sweden and there he had to find other occupations to support himself. Following his very successful establishment of an orthopedic institute in Berlin, where he lived from 1835 to 1841, Berwald became manager of a Swedish glass works and then a saw mill. Throughout these years, Berwald was denied a number of prestigious musical appointments in his homeland. Finally, the year before his death in 1868, he was grudgingly given the chair in composition at the Stockholm Royal Academy of Music.

Another reason Berwald may have been neglected is suggested by twentieth century music critic Edward Tatnall Canby. As Romantic music was entering a period of bloat or, as he calls it, “artistic elephantism,” Berwald, quite to the contrary, was writing “nervous music, taut, jittery, jammed full of short, explosive ideas, stuttering, rapid-fire motives, eloquent melodies that suddenly end before their time, or move into tense harmonic sequences, coiled on themselves like springs.” Canby exaggerates to make a point, but he captures an aspect of Berwald’s work that may not have been to everyone’s taste. Berwald favors the repetition of rhythmic patterns and short motifs, often “hammered” in the Beethovian manner, out of which will suddenly flower a gorgeous melody. The music can have a startling abruptness, as in astonishing openings of several of the symphonies.

But there is more. Through a unique combination of formal innovations (such as placing scherzos in the middle of slow movements), dramatic harmonic modulations, brilliant orchestrations, and lyrical melodies, Berwald captures a spontaneity, sparkle, and freshness that still communicate. The music is sprightly, often mercurial, vigorous, charming, and, at times, Mendelssohnian in its magic. Berwald also conveys a special sense of expectancy—not at all the foreboding of the dark Romanticists—but of building excitement at what is ahead, that marks him as an optimist.

Ultimately, Berwald’s stature rests upon his four extraordinary symphonies, all written between 1841 and 1845, along with five symphonic poems. These four works are one of the unknown orchestral treasure troves of the nineteenth century. Only one, the Sinfonie Serieuse, was performed in his lifetime. The greatest, the Sinfonie Singuliere, had to wait until 1905 for its debut.

Of the two new recordings, the Hyperion set is sonically special: It is demonstration class. It is the most brilliantly transparent recording of these works, with a marvelous sense of presence that reveals every inner strand of Berwald’s deft orchestration, as well as conductor Roy Goodman’s keen sense of dynamic shading. For good measure, two overtures are included, along with the very tantalizing surviving fragment of an early Symphony in A major, written in 1820.

The music, performed by the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra, is very crisply articulated, almost self-consciously so, but Goodman’s and the orchestra’s evident joy at playing these works so well is infectious. Goodman is particularly adept at conveying Berwald’s Mendelssohnian charm and magic in the adagios of the symphonies (listen to the gorgeous andante from the Sinfonie Capricieuse), and the allegros are performed with verve. His only miscalculation, and it is a major one, comes in the first movement of the 3rd Symphony. His very fast tempos and a thinness in the strings undermine the required dramatic build. As a result, the movement is top-heavy in brass and the climax is off-kilter. (One assumes this is an interpretative choice, since the same orchestra under Esa-Pekka Salonen does this movement almost perfectly with full string sound.) But the rest of the symphony is very well done, especially the exhilarating Finale.

The set under Okku Kamu with the Helsingborg Symphony Orchestra on Naxos is an extraordinary bargain, two separate CDs for less than the price of one. It is not as sonically spectacular as the Hyperion, but is perfectly acceptable. Kamu takes a spacious view of these works and lets them breathe naturally. This kind of expansiveness can actually enhance the dramatic build, as it does in the first movement of the Sinfonie Singuliere, where Kamu takes an extra minute and a half over Goodman to telling effect. Naxos adds one overture and the beautiful Piano Concerto from 1855 (not performed until 1904). This is more than a starter set and, because of the absurdly low price, can fit into any Berwald collection.

Deutsche Grammophon has rereleased a mid-priced Neemi Jarvi’s set of the symphonies with the Gothenburg Symphony Orchestra first issued ten years ago. Jarvi’s are the performances that seem bent on proving Canby’s characterization of this music as “jittery” and “rapid-fire.” Jarvi strives to emphasize what might have shocked audiences 150 years ago. Unfortunately he chooses do this by adopting uniformly fast tempos—the opposite of Kamu’s approach. It doesn’t suit the music.

For a very special, individual performance of the Sinfonie Singuliere, along with Sinfonie No. 4, turn to Esa-Pekka Salonen and the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra on Musica Sveciae (MSCD 531). Like no one else, Salonen brings out the exhilarating grandeur and power of the Singuliere first movement.

After his disappointment at not having his symphonies performed, Berwald turned to chamber music compositions, producing four numbered trios (and fragments of several others), two quintets, and several quartets. The marvelously quirky piano trios and quintets are delicious works, teeming with drama and delight. They are essential to any lover of good chamber music.

The trios are available in very fine performances on two Marco Polo CDs. The new Hyperion release offers the Piano Trio No. 2, with the earlier Quartet for Piano and Winds and the Grand Septet, both superb works. The performances by the Gaudier Ensemble are as finely detailed as one could wish. They seem to know just when to linger over one of Berwald’s felicities and when to stoke the fires. This augurs well for future releases which I hope will soon brings us the quintets.

As a general response to Berwald’s work, I can only repeat conductor Hans von Bulow’s amazement in respect to several chamber pieces he heard in 1858: “Yesterday we had a most agreeable evening. The Trio No. 3 of Berwald is truly a work of utter beauty. Look over the three trios, as well as the two quintets by this ‘ancient’ musician-of-the-future, and you will marvel. Berwald was born in 1796: It is hard to believe!”

Author

  • Robert R. Reilly

    Robert R. Reilly is the author of America on Trial: A Defense of the Founding, forthcoming from Ignatius Press.

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