Briefly Noted: Igor Levit drinks the philtre

Wagner, Act I Prelude from Tristan und Isolde (Henze, Liszt, Mahler), Igor Levit (released on September 9, 2022) Sony Classical 886449503582 | 1h41

The Russian-German pianist Igor Levit is on a Tristan und Isolde kick. His new two-disc set, titled Tristan, pairs Hans Werner Henze's ground-breaking Tristan, from 1974, with the Wagner work that inspired it, especially the notorious Act I prelude, transcribed by Zoltán Kocsis. The Henze is an elusive, unclassifiable work, combining piano solo, electronic tapes, and orchestra. This thoughtful rendition, recorded in November 2019, features the Leipzig Gewandhaus under Franz Welser-Möst. An authoritative booklet essay by Anselm Cybinski lays out the work's many other musical quotations and allusions (Brahms, Mahler, and Chopin among them) as well as the multiple layers of meaning encoded in it.

Levit surrounds this enigmatic modern piece with romantic works he sees as related. From Liszt he takes the A-flat major nocturne known as Liebesträum No. 3, derived from a song set to poetry by Ferdinand Freiligrath. The poem, quoted and translated in the booklet, is the antidote to the love-death of Wagner's opera, a plea for lovers to remain alive, and therefore love, as long as they may. The disc concludes with "Harmonies du Soir," the eleventh piece from the same composer's Études d'exécution transcendante, an evocation of the night in which Wagner's lovers try to hide their passion.

This "program of Tristanesque works," as Cybinski puts it, includes Ronald Stevenson's piano arrangement of the first movement (Adagio) of Mahler's Tenth Symphony. One could see this selection as representing the point of view of King Marke on the Tristan story, as Mahler wrote it in the period after he learned of the affair between his wife, Alma, and Walter Gropius. Stretched out to over 27 minutes, this version grows organically from its opening (given to the violas in the orchestral score), that has considerable resonance with the main motif of Wagner's Act I prelude.

Levit returned to Washington this week, for the first appearance since his striking local recital debut in 2017, presented again by Washington Performing Arts. Thursday's excellent concert, in addition to exquisite Schumann and a new piece commissioned from jazz pianist Fred Hersch, added one last Tristan nugget to this program. On the second half, Levit played the Kocsis transcription of the Act I prelude from this recording, following it with a Faustian interpretation of Liszt's vast B minor sonata.

The juxtaposition made me realize, for the first time, that the final measure of Wagner's prelude is identical to the first measure of the Liszt sonata: two short staccato strikes on G in 6/8 meter. Wagner ends up on G without really giving the listener much reason to think of that as the keynote of the prelude, and Liszt immediately obscures the note with the descending scalar pattern that opens the sonata. To draw attention to this conjunction, Levit elided the two pieces, not only eschewing any pause between them, but making Wagner's last two notes simultaneously Liszt's first two.

CD Reviews: Rautavaara's 'Rubáiyát' / Stenz's Henze

Charles T. Downey, CD reviews: Late works by late composers Rautavaara, Henze
Washington Post, August 26

E. Rautavaara, Rubáiyát (inter alia), G. Finley, M. Pohjonen, Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra, Helsinki Music Centre Choir, J. Storgårds (released on May 13, 2016) Ondine ODE1274-2 | 59'29"

Einojuhani Rautavaara, Finland’s leading composer, died in July. This new disc from the Ondine label, which has produced more than 40 recordings of Rautavaara’s music, contains some of his final works. If the death of Pierre Boulez earlier this year signaled the end of serialism’s attempted stranglehold on composition, Rautavaara had already found one way around that dogmatic dead end. Having experimented with the 12-tone technique and other modernist approaches, he changed direction after his fourth symphony (“Arabescata”) and, more convincingly than some other more purely neo-Romantic composers (Pärt, Tavener, Górecki), sought a mixture of tonal harmony and melodic dissonance.

The oldest piece on this release is four choral excerpts from Rautavaara’s last opera, “Rasputin.” They are some of the best parts of that unwieldy and fascinating work, premiered in Helsinki in 2003. In particular, the last of them, “Loista, Siion, Loista!” (“Shine, Zion, shine!”), is a riotous orgy of sound, with litany-like repetitions and apocalyptic clatter of percussion. “Into the Heart of Light” (Canto V), premiered in 2012, was the last of Rautavaara’s Canto string orchestra pieces, a series of compositional self-portraits he had been creating since the 1960s. While Canto V opens in lush tonal harmony, the frequency of dissonance is heightened, until in the last four minutes, the violins soar together in an arching series of chromatic clusters. Clashing minor seconds suggest the intensity of bright light.

John Storgards leads loving, informed performances by the Helsinki Philharmonic and Helsinki Music Center Choir. In “Balada,” premiered in 2015, Rautavaara set surrealist Spanish poetry by Federico García Lorca, somewhat awkwardly and monotonously, in a work — sung here by tenor Mika Pohjonen — that was originally conceived as an opera but that perhaps should have been left in Rautavaara’s desk drawer.

The baritone Gerald Finley and London’s Wigmore Hall played a crucial role in Rautavaara’s completion of a long-planned song cycle on the hedonistic verse of medieval Persian poet Omar Khayyam. Finley premiered the version for piano in 2014, using the rhymed English translation by Edward FitzGerald, “Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam,” and he is the skilled soloist here in the orchestral version. Instrumental interludes flow from the ends of the first four songs, as if, in the composer’s words, “this music did not want to stop and simply should flow onward,” like the wine that yields miracles.

***

H. W. Henze, Symphony No. 7 (inter alia), Gürzenich-Orchester Köln, M. Stenz (released on June 10, 2016) Oehms Classics OC446| 65'46"

The German composer Hans Werner Henze was a brilliant orchestral colorist. The best parts of his late opera “L’Upupa und der Triumph der Sohnesliebe” (“Upupa and the Triumph of Filial Love”), for example, were the intricate, gorgeous combinations of wind instruments, delicate tinkling percussion, and recorded sounds of bird wings and birdsongs. The German conductor Markus Stenz, now the principal guest conductor of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra, who conducted the world premiere of “L’Upupa” at the Salzburg Festival in Austria in 2003, has recorded two collections of Henze’s orchestral music with his former group, the Gürzenich-Orchester Köln, the second released this summer.

The new disc centers on Henze’s seventh symphony, composed from 1983 to 1984. Henze conceived the work’s four movements in homage to the traditional Germanic symphony. The first movement, “Tanz,” is rhythmically effervescent. Masses of chaotic dissonance rise up here and in the otherwise lush “mourning ode” movement that follows. Henze connected the symphony to the life of Friedrich Hölderlin, a poet who had a mental breakdown in Tübingen, living his last 36 years in a tower room overlooking the Neckar river. The finale, an instrumental rendition of Hölderlin’s poem “Hälfte des Lebens” (“Half of Life”), is the best part of this often too-cacophonous symphony; here, Henze’s orchestration is at its most colorful, somehow sheltered from total chaos. Stenz delivers one of the fastest recordings of this work on record.

Henze was even more effective in smaller orchestral pieces. The “Seven Boleros” are short, evocative pieces for a large orchestra, originally written for Henze’s opera “Venus and Adonis.” Fandango and other Latin rhythms enliven the texture. Fun saxophone solos are complemented by traces of castanets and snare drum. Any conductor thinking of programming Ravel’s “Boléro” should instead put this in its place, while still calling the program “Boleros” to get people to buy tickets.

Two miniatures round out the selection. “L’Heure Bleue,” a chamber arrangement of music from “L’Upupa,” is a musical tribute to the infinite changing shades of blue at dusk on the Mediterranean coast, as Henze saw it from his home in Italy. “Overture for a Theater” was commissioned by the Deutsche Oper Berlin to mark its 100th anniversary, in 2012; it’s a barnburner that ends with an apocalyptic clamor. It turned out to be the last piece Henze completed; he died only a few days after he attended the performance.

SEE ALSO:
Charles T. Downey, Opera on DVD: 'Rasputin' (Ionarts, November 29, 2006)

Michael Hoffmann, The unquenchable spirit (The Guardian, November 19, 2004)

Friedrich Hölderlin, Hälfte des Lebens (Half of Life)

Christoph von Dohnányi Takes the Reins at the NSO

The National Symphony Orchestra is back from what was, by all accounts, a successful tour of Europe and Oman. For their first concerts here this month, the musicians welcomed back conductor Christoph von Dohnányi, for his first guest appearance since 2006. The German conductor, celebrated especially for his years leading the Cleveland Orchestra, is now in his 80s, but he seemed energetic and in control at the podium (at the end of an active month of guest conducting), in a fine program that paired the modern and the Romantic, heard on Friday night at the Kennedy Center Concert Hall.

Although the NSO recently played an orchestration of Wagner's Wesendonck-Lieder by Hans Werner Henze, it had apparently not played a single piece of the celebrated German composer's music until von Dohnányi led this performance of the Adagio, Fugue, and Maenads' Dance, a distillation of music from his opera The Bassarids. In this mythological work, the ruler of Thebes, Pentheus, tries to ban the cult of Dionysus from his city, only to be tricked by the god into disguising himself as a woman, taking part in the frenzied celebrations in honor of the god, and ultimately being torn to pieces by the crazed Maenads, among whom are his own mother and sister. The music is quite beautiful, with Romantic turns of melody and opulent orchestration (especially some memorable bits for alto saxophone and enough percussion to stun a small cat -- at full bore, the piece makes a lovely racket), with the climaxes shaped carefully by von Dohnányi, the musicians following him closely. The orchestral version concludes with the Maenads' Dance, a wild rumpus of sound that begins with a sudden outburst and ends with the death of Pentheus, personified in an ardent cello solo.

Other Articles: Anne Midgette, NSO program of Henze and Brahms is a feast for the ears from the Fatherland (Washington Post, February 22) Zachary Lewis, Christoph von Dohnanyi revisits Henze and Mahler with Cleveland Orchestra (Cleveland Plain Dealer, February 22) Jeremy Eichler, With a sage guide, a tour of a cathedral in sound (Boston Globe, February 15) David Wright, Dohnányi, Lupu and BSO contrast modest Mozart with bold Bruckner (Boston Classical Review, February 15) David Weininger, Dohnanyi back with a well-crafted program at BSO (Boston Globe, February 8) Anthony Tommasini, Prometheus, Raw and Fiery (New York Times, February 1)

Next up was an overplayed favorite, Mendelssohn's E minor violin concerto (op. 64), last heard just a few months ago from Anne-Sophie Mutter at the NSO season opener. This time the soloist was French violinist Renaud Capuçon, last heard with the NSO in 2007 (and in a chamber music concert in 2010). The piece was marked by some disagreement between Capuçon, who seemed to want to push the fast tempos very fast, and von Dohnányi, who sometimes put the brakes on in the tutti sections, while keeping his beat in line with his sometimes erratic soloist. It made for an exciting, impetuous, adrenaline-fueled, slightly seat-of-one's-pants performance, with the highlight in a melancholy, not lingering middle movement.

The last time von Dohnányi was here, in 2006, he conducted the first Brahms symphony. Justly renowned for his Brahms -- in recordings with the Cleveland Orchestra (classic) and also the Philharmonia Orchestra (good) -- von Dohnányi led a magisterial performance of the fourth symphony (E minor, op. 98), opening the first movement with a tempo not too slow, allowing the halting melody to sigh over a surging accompaniment, making the whole piece smolder rather than blaze. Thanks to von Dohnányi's containment of sound and control of tempo, this was an expression of somber, even stifled passion, just the way I like my Brahms, with a subtle, heart-meltingly sweet second movement (fine sounds from the horns) and energized but not overly fast third movement, with seamless transitions. The confidence heard from the NSO, a few clunkers in the oboes and horns in the Brahms aside, seemed to flow from the assured hand at the helm, creating a forceful and noble finale, based on the chaconne with which Bach concluded his Cantata 150. Here the piece had a tidal pull, abating slightly for the gentle flute solo and somber low brass moments but flowing implacably to its end.

This concert repeats this evening (February 23, 8 pm) in the Kennedy Center Concert Hall.

Henze, 86, and Carter, 103

Henze, L'Upupa und der Triumph der Sohnesliebe Henze, Symphonies 1-6 Carter, Complete Piano Music

Carter, Complete String Quartets Carter, What Next? Music of Elliott Carter, Vol. 8 (16 Compositions, 2002-2009) Carter, Cello Concerto

Two giants of modern composition died this week: Hans Werner Henze on October 27, at 86; and Elliott Carter on November 5, at 103. For all of their importance to connoisseurs, neither of these composers has much traction even among fans of classical music. Henze's music gets played very little on this side of the Atlantic: although we have admired the gorgeous orchestration of his operas, we have written relatively few reviews of performances of his music, most of them from Germany. The last piece by Henze played by the National Symphony Orchestra, for example, was not one of his compositions but his rather wonderful orchestration of Wagner's Wesendonck-Lieder. The neglect on this side of the Atlantic is puzzling, because although Henze's music is recognizably modern -- meaning that many tradition-minded listeners will bristle -- it has a Romantic opulence, especially in the evocative orchestration, that has much to offer an audience.

Allan Kozinn, in a fine obituary of Elliott Carter in the New York Times, quotes the American composer thus: “As a young man, I harbored the populist idea of writing for the public, [but] I learned that the public didn’t care. So I decided to write for myself.” Audiences seem to have perceived that thumbing of the nose in their direction, and Carter's music is generally a very hard sell to audiences other than those who listen to new music ensembles. Even so, we have written much more about Carter's music because it is played more often here than Henze's, although the majority of our reviews have been of recordings or little pieces inserted into programs of other music. The monuments of Carter's extensive oeuvre -- he was composing almost into his final days on this earth -- are the string quartet cycle (for the second half of the 20th century what Bartók's six quartets were for the first half), his existentialist black comedy of an opera (What Next?), the small body of piano music (recorded by Ursula Oppens), and the major concertos. The style of Carter's music contains multitudes, from his early, more neoclassical works, through merciless complexity, and ending in Haydnesque, even whimsical miniatures. The links on either side of this article will take you to a few favorite examples of the music of both Carter and Henze. Feel free to add some of your own choices in the comments section.

We are reaching many milestones in modernism as the 100th anniversary of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring approaches. As more of the heroes of confrontational composition join the great Darmstädter Ferienkurse in the sky, perhaps it will be time for composers at least to ponder the idea of not intentionally alienating their listeners.

Ionarts-at-Large: Henze to RunAway From

Since Beethoven’s Eroica, politics-as-inspiration for music seems to have taken a steady downhill trajectory. I wouldn’t claim that Hans Werner Henze’s 1970 chamber opera El Cimarrón (“A Recital for Four Musicians”) is the nadir, but I know I’d rather sit through Der Friedenstag than Hans Magnus Enzensberger’s Marxist tripe put to modestly musical plink-plank-plunk again. Lars Kaalund’s production of the first-person account of Cuban runaway slave Esteban and the story of his escape, endurance, and exploits, was apt and budget friendly, with mobile modules for the performers, an empty box, a suspended tree trunk, and a few bed sheets.

H.W.Henze, El Cimarrón , N.Isherwood, M.Anderson, M.Caroli, R.Rossi Stradivarius

Written for baritone (Gregg Baker in an impassioned, tenacious performance), guitarist (Per Pålsson), flute (Kerstin Thiele), and percussion (Mathias Friis-Hansen—though all musicians are called upon percussive duties to some degree), Henze’s music rises between the sung and spoken words like bubbles rising between fish, but it never presents an actual accompaniment for the exposed narration. Outstanding moments are few: Henze’s writing for Guitar (with hints of his Royal Winter Music permeating the soupçon of Cuban flavor) briefly shines through. And there is some compelling percussive force to the ‘chapter’ “Women”, in which Esteban gives an account of his proto-Wilt-Chamberlain-like appreciation of the other sex (and the occasional horse). The rest vacillates between well-intentioned demeanor, busy-ness, and unintended camp. Song rarely takes flight, the flute works its grating, tedious magic, and at best the story is playfully crude. Nothing of the fantastic grand post-romantic Henze operas, like The Bassarids or Elegy for Young Lovers, can be found here. Instead, you get animated social-consciousness theater that has aged badly in every way.

Photo courtesy Oslo Opera, © Jörg Wiesner

From the 2011 ARD Competition, Day 6

Squeezed between Salzburg and the last few dates of the Ultima Contemporary Music Festival, I am back again at the annual ARD Music Competition. The 2011 lineup of instrumental categories includes Piano, Trumpet, Oboe, and Organ, back for the first time in twelve years. Being a bit late to the party, I got into the game only on Saturday the 3^rd, for the second round of the trumpets in the BR Studio 2.

Up fourth, but the first trumpeter I’ve got to hear, was Jonathan Müller (Germany) performing Hans Werner Henze’s “Sonatina for Solo Trumpet” as the required modern piece (other choices being Luciano Berio’s Sequenza X and neoclassical Jean Françaix’ Sonatine pour trompette et piano [apparently the withdrawn original version]) and the flashy Concert Piece No.1 by Vassily Brandt, ‘founder of the Russian trumpet school’. During the Brandt piece, Müller featured a jarring fortissimo, penetrating, glaring sound—as if in constant fanfare-mode. A fact ameliorated by attempts at mezzo-piano, but not qualitative changed… with precise attacks, but scared ones. He certainly has the ability to play what he needs to play, but not—my feeling—the excess control to play with it. The same approach worked better for the short Henze three-part 1974 Sonatina (Toccata, Canzona, Segnali), not the least because the soft and sharp mutes used take the edge off his tone a bit. With modern music, it is either extremely difficult to tell qualitative differences because of excessive complexity, or extremely easy when one interpretation sounds like just-notes and another like music. The former can be expected in a competition setting (notoriously unmusical events, as far as music-events are concerned); unfortunately it sounded largely like a technical exercise here, too.

His countryman Simon Höfele chose Françaix as the ‘modern’ piece, except that Françaix rarely sounds modern. The Sonatine seems difficult without sounding like an Étude in the first part, has a melodious and pretty, muffled lyrical quality in the second, which is followed a brief cadenza-like unaccompanied part (least satisfying, musically, by far), and finally a romp & circumstance of a bumbling ride with gaiety before letting fly. A satisfying piece, seemingly well played. A bobble in his valiant opening and a few mistakes couldn’t distract from a beautiful and sensitive rendition that made sense out of the occasionally hollow Brandt composition. Höfele’s pleasing, comfortable tone was combined with a beautiful real piano; trumpeting in lavish velvet. He might have hit a few percent fewer notes than his predecessor, but played in a different league musically and expressively. The gratuitous runs were integrated into the fabric of the Konzertstück—and no longer sounded gratuitous. Far and away the best performance of the five I heard.

Frenec Mausz (Hungary) performed the Oskar Böhme Concerto in f-minor and the Henze Sonatina: the former in confident, harmonious, and one-dimensional sound; maudlin-Christmasy in the slow movement, and eventually with a turn toward the strident in his tone. The Henze was tackled with hesitation, not gusto, neat staccato attacks, but the prescribed pianissimo was nonexistent and the dynamic range generally flattened.

Senne LaMela (Belgium) began with the Henze. A promising start with nicely separated notes and only the occasional struggle descended into a lot more struggle during the second movement before emerging most successfully in the (apparently least tricky) third movement, getting more out of the dynamic markings than any of the other four Henze-performances I heard. If he had only forgone the circus trick of playing the piece from memory he might have made yet even more out of the work. With brilliance to his tone and playing, he threw himself at the Brandt-piece, which might have been thoroughly impressive had it not been marked by too many mistakes and slips. His confident, perhaps too-confident, demeanor on stage meant a calm, no-nonsense, gimmick-free presentation and he thankfully desisted from the eye-rolling before notes, as if hitting the next one depended more on the grace of G_d above than the musician himself. Too bad the brilliance eventually detracted more than it added, because the ears sought (in vain) differentiation, subtlety, and occasional softness… something trumpets are in fact able to deliver.

Takashi Shinozaki (Japan) performed the same works as his Hungarian colleague. Very colorful with the soft mute in the Henze Canzona, with soft and true pianissimos and harmonica-like sounding flutters, he turned in the most interesting second movement of the Henze, falling short only on the last few bars where the diminuendo from ffff to ppp came out as a move from mezzoforte to mezzopiano, at best. The Brandt, performed with a different trumpet, was not 100% on pitch, largely note-correct, but didn’t sound internalized (understandable, that, actually), and altogether taken a touch slower and seemingly more nervously than his predecessors did.

More tomorrow from the Organ & Oboe semi-finals.

The Double Life of Franz Welser-Möst Ionarts at Large: Welser-Möst in Henze & Mozart

“We should play music, whenever it’s good music” answers Franz Welser-Möst to the question why he programmed Hans Werner Henze’s First Symphony with Mozart’s Piano Concerto in E-flat K482 and the “Prague” Symphony for the his concerts with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra (October 30^th/31^st). His rejection of playing modern music only when it’s a world premiere is part of the same subtle, conservative dissent as his decision to put a Mozart Symphony at the end of the concert, rather than open with Mozart and finish with a romantic barnstormer; “grand, effect-orchestrated monsters”, as he calls them.

Hans Werner Henze, Symphonies 1-6, H.W.Henze / BPh, LSO DG / Brilliant

Not that he’s no good at the latter. The Henze, arguably one such grand work, comes across elegiac and polished – sounding much more like a romantic symphony in the vain of Fortner (Henze’s teacher) or K.A.Hartmann, than a 20 year old composer’s Darmstadt debut. How much of that the tone-row based, loosely dodecaphonic, 1946 symphony owes to its 1964 and 1991 revisions I don’t know, but listening to the almost unchanged lyrical second movement (Notturno, lento) I venture to say: much less than it owed to the orchestra’s obviously well-rehearsed performance and the noble, aloof air FWM lent it.

In the evidently under-rehearsed concerto (pianist Gitti Pirner played nimble, understated and very affable Mozart), the orchestra earned demerits for a first movement full of flubs. They recovered in time for the symphony, which was given as full-bodied Mozart, just the way large symphony orchestras should play Classical music if they are not to sound silly. That big-band Mozart is not just a necessary exercise in de-coagulating an orchestra’s sound, clogged from too much heavy romantic fare, has been proven beyond all doubt by the Krips recordings with the Concertgebouw Orchestra (Philips) which remain the acme of the art of tip-toeing with a body of 50 string players.

FWM didn’t achieve Kripsian lightness, but since the Prague Symphony’s three movements look forward to a grander type of symphony as much as Beethoven’s first two symphonies look back, it can take the heft that the BRSO gave it. FWM’s main achievements were lavishness without indulgence, gentility without preciousness, and (perhaps surprisingly) a sense of untamed excitement in the Presto.


If the programming and the type of Mozart performance were indicative of FWM’s approach to music, the Henze lent itself more to the display of orchestral tone, colors, and control that make him an exceptional conductor and respected among continental European critics, even if the BRSO, one of the handful of Germany’s finest orchestras, didn’t quite achieve the sound that FWM’s refined Cleveland Orchestra is capable of.

It is that orchestra from the shores of Lake Erie that hugely impresses European critics whenever FWM takes them on tour, because America’s youngest of the “Great Five” can teach their Old Europe counterparts lessons in nuance, luminosity, subtlety, transparency, and delicacy. Something I’ve had a chance to observe in Salzburg in the summer of 2008 with three orchestral programs and a performance of Dvořák’s Rusalka, the latter of which made seasoned critics look at each other with an admiring look of “you can do that?”. There and then I’ve heard FWM turn descriptive music into absolute music, elicit the utmost lucidity out of the chosen works, albeit at the price of circumnavigating their emotional extremes.

Bartók’s Miraculous Mandarin became an orchestral study of color, not a graphic depiction of sexuality and violence. Bartók’s Viola Concerto suddenly made sense in a way it only can if the orchestra operates at a level only few bands could negotiate. Pianissimos are true pianissimos under Welser-Möst, the clarity even in thickly instrumented works such that every instrument’s position is identifiable on stage. His idea of expressive softness never let singers be swamped in a muddle of sound, nor soloists crowded out of the soundstage.

If there is that much excellence to be found, one has to wonder why Anglo-American critics’ reactions have been and are so negative. The difference between FWM’s ability in conducting opera (readily acknowledged even in Cleveland) and orchestral pieces does not begin to explain the difference in perception. Why London was so scathing, I don’t know. As far Clevelanders are concerned, could they be spoiled for the orchestra’s sound? Continental critics credit the Cleveland Orchestra’s very excellence of sound at least in part on FWM’s abilities. In Cleveland it is considered a given.

Europeans, meanwhile, are busy being amazed at the sound qualities and don’t seem to miss the often lacking sense of excitement. It is perhaps a question of refinement vs. excitement and one of repeat exposure. FWM is not the man for the extra kick, the thrill, the utter excitement – but he’s the man for a honed, incredibly civilized sound. His sensibilities lend themselves more to opera in a time where we expect orchestral fare to hammer and pound us into submission or elate us with pure intensity and vigor. The quality of quality itself might be a bit more tricky to appreciate when faced with it 18 weeks of the year, especially if what sounds like subtlety to these ears sounds becomes a wash of “gray” to those that are regularly exposed.

For better or worse, FWM is a custodian of sound, and should his orchestral story be one of emotional depths unplunged, the idea of refinement over excitement seems appealing to critics and audiences in Europe when it comes to welcoming him as a guest- or ­opera- conductor. For the Vienna State Opera Orchestra, Welser-Möst’s current European post, that should be exactly what they need. Clevenlanders, meanwhile, yearn for the return of refinement with excitement. Welser-Möst’s contract as music director expires in 2018 never.

Recommended Recordings (Welser-Möst):

FWM's reputation is that of an unexciting conductor who doesn't rise beyond surface-sheen and remains emotionally shallow and interpretatively bland. Any of these five recordings should prove that stereotype wrong (or at least too general to stick), especially the Schmidt recordings and the Alpine Symphony which I recommend as a HiFi, near-cinematic audio spectacle.

F.Schmidt, Sy.4, F.W-M / LPO F.Schmidt, Book of 7 Seals, F.W-M / BRSO / René Pape, Chr.Oelze, et al.

R.Strauss, Alpine Symphony, F.W-M / Gustav Mahler YO A.Bruckner, Sys.5 & 7, F.W-M / LPO

E.Korngold, Sy. in F-sharp, Songs, F.W-M / Phil.O, B. Hendricks A.Pärt, Sanctuary, F.W-M / LPO

(This article has appeared in the Jan/Feb 2008 edition of the American Record Guide.)

Hans Werner Henze's L'Upupa

Hans Werner Henze, L'Upupa und der Triumph der Sohnesliebe, Matthias Goerne, Laura Aikin, Salzburg Festival, 2003 (released on DVD in March 2005)

After a long career in operatic theaters, German composer Hans Werner Henze reportedly created his final opera, in the summer of 2003, for the Salzburg Festival: L'Upupa und der Triumph der Sohnesliebe (Upupa, or the triumph of filial love). This summer, that opera was produced at the Opéra de Lyon from June 24 to July 2. Last March, a DVD of the original Salzburg production was released, which arrived last week from Netflix in the Ionarts mail box. After spending some time watching it, I can say with great confidence that I want to go to the Salzburg Festival one of these years, because it's a beautiful production. Also, Matthias Goerne has a wonderful voice, as Jens has written in his assessments of his recordings (Schumann songs and Beethoven/Schubert).

Also on Ionarts: Summer Opera: Henze's L'Upupa (July 22, 2005) From Goerne to His Distant Beloved (July 18, 2005) Matthias Goerne in Schumann Songs (February 20, 2005) Philip Glass World Premiere and Matthias Goerne (January 21, 2005)

The libretto, written by the composer himself, is a strange story synthesized from Arabic tales and other sources. The huppoe, the mysterious golden bird of the title, is the source of all the trouble. (The hoopoe's place in mythology is well established. King Solomon discovered the existence of the Queen of Sheba through the hoopoe and communicated with her by tying messages to its wing.) When the bird suddenly stops visiting Al Radshi, the Grand Vizier of Manda, his obsession with the bird leads him to send his three sons on a voyage of initiation. The worthiest of them, Al Kasim (Matthias Goerne), meets his demon, the spirit who will guide, transport, and protect him. Although he complains a lot, the Demon (played by tenor John Mark Ainsley, although Henze designed the role for English tenor Ian Bostridge) sticks by Al Kasim through each successive test.

The score is intricate and gorgeous, calling for a large ensemble heavy on winds and tinkling sounds, including two harps, two pianos, celesta, five percussionists on bells and Chinese instruments. The orchestration is mostly quite delicate, however, focusing more on transparent color than on thickness of sound. Henze also uses taped sounds of beating wings and bird calls, which evoke the mythological bird much better than the mechanized one in a cage used in this production.

Henze may be out of the opera business, but he continues to compose, having recently premiered a new work for orchestra, Cinq messages pour la Reine de Saba, commissioned by Radio France. That piece recycles some unused fragments for L'Upupa. Amsterdam's Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra will premiere another new orchestral work, Sebastian im Traum (based on the poem of the same name by Georg Trakl), this December.

Summer Opera: Henze's L'Upupa

Two summers ago, Hans Werner Henze premiered a newly commissioned opera, purportedly his last, for the Salzburg Festival, L'Upupa und der Triumph der Sohnesliebe (Upupa, or the triumph of filial love). Andrew Clements reviewed the production (Excellent adventure, August 15, 2003) for The Guardian, and Shersten Johnson reviewed the new DVD (HENZE: L’Upupa oder Der Triumph der Sohnesliebe, June 28, 2005) for Opera Today. This summer, that opera was produced at the Opéra de Lyon from June 24 to July 2. I found only one major review of the production (Une «Huppe» colorée, June 28), by Eric Dahan for Libération (my translation):

Under the arches bleached out by the desert sun or in luxuriant gardens bathed in moonlight, this is the story of a father who wants to capture a legendary bird, which represents the sum of all his joys and desires, and because of that puts the life of a devoted son in danger. Inspired by an Arab tale, which takes up a famous Biblical episode in the life of King Solomon, Upupa is a chance for the composer, raised at Darmstadt but now at a distance from orthodox serialism, to place his name in a direct line with the Mozart of The Magic Flute.

By the theme of a voyage of initiation full of tests, which leads the hero on the immense black wings of a demon or makes him confront masked warriors brandishing kendo staffs, much more by its musical language. This is a fully serial language but enriched by major and minor seconds, changes of themes, and unexpected colors, from which Henze weaves an ultrapolyphonic and motorlike score, through the use of wind ostinatos, characterized by a strong density of events and a rhythmic verve reminiscent of Bartók and Stravinsky, and finally a delicate exoticism through the use of Chinese percussion.

Playing the allegorical fairytale card, Dieter Dorn's direction and Jürgen Rose's sets and costumes are in harmony with Henze's sensibility and with his understanding of his art as a consolation or redemption of a destroyed childhood. This relates to him because in 1945, when he returned to Germany, he learned that his father would never come back from the front. In Lyon, baritone Detlef Roth replaces Mathias Goerne in the role of the son, Al Kasim, and countertenor Fabrice di Folco replaces Axel Kohler in that of Adschib, but returning singers include the American soprano Laura Aikin as Princess Badi'at and Alfred Muff as the father, in this beautiful odyssey from Sprechgesang to cantabile and from the darkness of torment to the light of reconciliation.

Have any of Henze's operas ever been performed here in the United States? I had only to look in my press materials from Santa Fe Opera to learn that six American premieres of Henze's operas were given right here. (Thanks to Garth Trinkl, who noted that in the comments section of this post before I got back to it, as well as a production in San Francisco.) I'm still looking for others.