When I interviewed America’s great composer David Diamond (b. 1915) in Crisis several years ago, he lamented that he most likely would not live to see his eleven string quartets recorded. “I think the story may end up being like Shostakovitch’s,” he said. “Nobody really knew anything about his string quartets until after his death.” I am happy to say that the Maestro, though ailing, is still with us, and I have before me Volume 1 of the Potomac String Quartet’s projected series of Diamond’s eleven string quartets on the Albany label. This is great news for American music. Albany is one of those courageous smaller labels that have championed American music on its merits, ignoring what the marketing gurus of the major recording companies have said to justify their neglect of this country’s musical treasures.
Diamond is also fortunate to have as his champions the four members of the Potomac Quartet, three of whom are members of the National Symphony Orchestra. I have heard this group in concert and now on CD. Their love for and dedication to this music is evident, as is their abundant skill, in these performances of the Concerto for String Quartet (1936), String Quartet No. 3 (1946), and String Quartet No. 8 (1964). Speaking of his quartets, Diamond told me, “What is peculiar is that I was looking through the dedications. One-half of them are in memory of somebody or dedicated to very close friends for their birthdays. And that tells me something about why they have a kind of elegiac quality, especially the Third and the Fourth, too.”
One could not overstate the elegiac beauty and deeply touching nature of the Third Quartet. Richly contrapuntal, quintessentially American, and directly expressive, these three Diamond works may exhibit changes in style over the three-decade period of their composition, but they also demonstrate a consistency of quality and inspiration that will leave you wondering why we have had to wait so long for a recording project of this kind. This year at the Voice of America’s auditorium in Washington, D.C., the Potomac Quartet will give several free noontime concerts of Diamond quartets. (Those lucky enough to live or be nearby should call 202-619-2538 for further information.)
Another Crisis interviewee, Gian Carlo Menotti (b. 1911), is often thought of as an American composer, though he has always maintained his Italian citizenship. Chandos Records is paying major attention to Menotti’s oeuvre, not just his well-known operas but also his orchestral works. This is all to the good since the performances emanate from Menotti’s own Spoleto Festival and are directed by the marvelous English conductor Richard Hickox. Chandos’s new release offers the Concerto for Violin and Orchestra, one of the sweetest, most lyrical works of its sort from the mid-20th century, beautifully played by violinist Jenifer Koh. It is accompanied by premier recordings of three short cantatas for voice, chorus, and orchestra, all of which reflect Menotti’s spiritual concerns. The first two have texts from the writings of St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross. The third is Menotti’s own take on the death of Orpheus. Taken together, these four works reveal sides of Menotti’s work with which few are familiar. You will not regret making their acquaintance.
The Geirr Tveitt recording boomlet is continuing with further fine work from the Naxos and Bis labels. Both are championing the cause of this wonderfully colorful composer from Norway (1908-1981), most of whose work was destroyed by a fire in his home in 1970. Naxos has issued the remaining two of Tveitt’s Hardanger Suites, Nos. 2 and 5, that were not included in the first Naxos CD, reviewed in this space last year. Bjarte Engeset and the Royal Scottish National Orchestra deliver this marvelously eccentric folk-like music with the panache and verve it deserves.
In the dream-comes-true category, Bis has released Tveitt’s Concertos Nos. 1 and 2 for Hardanger Fiddle and Orchestra, with violinist Arve Moen Bergset and the Stavanger Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Ole Kristian Ruud. The Hardanger fiddle is a Norwegian folk violin with sympathetic strings and a lot of character. Tveitt’s Concerto No. 2 has long been one of my favorite works, but its only previous incarnation on the now-defunct Aurora label disappeared long ago. It is a great treat to have it back, especially with the bonus of the First Concerto, which I had never heard, and the tone poem “Nykken,” which concerns the antics of a water sprite. I find this music irresistible, even when conductor Ruud is a little heavy-handed with his rhythmic tread—as if it were necessary to remind us of the music’s folk-dancing roots. But that is a quibble; don’t miss this invigorating music.
The Ondine label features two gorgeous new works by the unstoppable Einojuhani Rautavaara (yet another Crisis interviewee): the Harp Concerto, with harpist Marielle Nordmann, and Symphony No. 8, “The Journey,” played by the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra, under Leif Segerstam. There is no composer writing in a more sweepingly Romantic, tonally anchored way than Rautavaara does today. And he is wildly popular for it—a strange but wonderful way for Finland’s once premier avant-gardist to round out his long and fruitful career. If you were entranced by Rautavaara’s Symphony No. 7, “Angel of Light,” you will not be disappointed here.
Alexandre Tansman (1897-1986) used to enjoy a substantial reputation. He was a prolific Polish-born composer who spent much of his life in Paris. He was a prominent member of the Ecole de Paris, along with Bohuslav Martina. He abhorred “systems” and apparently dabbled in every available musical style rather than give his allegiance to any one. That eclecticism may have cost him his chance for enduring popularity.
Koch Schwann has released a recording of his exhilarating ballet, Bric a Brac, and his Symphony No. 4, played by the Bamberger Symphony Orchestra, under Israel Yinon. Bric a Brac is sheer delight. Apparently, it used to play on a double bill with Stravinsky’s Petrushka, and it is Stravinsky’s influence, along with that of Gershwin-style jazz, that is most prominent in this high-spirited, bustling work. The symphony is a more somber affair with a decidedly dissonant edge to it. It sounds congested in places. I cannot tell if this is from the recording or the orchestration. Regardless, this disc is a revelation. If Tansman wrote more music of the quality of this ballet, I hope Koch Schwann will let us hear it.
I have not been following Marco Polo’s ongoing traversal of Slovak composer Alexander Moyzes’s symphonic canon because I found the first release, containing his Symphonies Nos. 1 and 2, ordinary to the point of boring. The new release of his Symphonies Nos. 9 and 10 proves that I failed to divine the seeds of his future success in the symphonic form.
While these works reflect their neighborhood influences from the Czech Republic (Moyzes studied at the Prague Conservatory) and Hungary, their clear lineage is to Mahler and Shostakovitch, without being overly imitative of either. Listen to the magnificent Andante from the Symphony No. 9 for a grimly martial, Shostakovitch-like march and to the third movement from Symphony No. 10 for a Larghetto of almost Mahlerian quality. Insinuatingly attractive tunes, transparent orchestration, and clear formal structures of development make these approachable works well worth exploring. While I remain unconvinced by Moyzes’s first two symphonies, I am definitely going to catch up on the other Marco Polo releases in this series to see what I have been missing. The performances by the Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra, under Ladislav Slovak, are compelling.
Of course, we cannot predict what will survive as the legacy of 20th-century music. But if it is a portion of the above, future generations may well conclude that the 20th century wasn’t that bad for music after all; too bad the people at the time didn’t know.