Messages

Langgaard did foray outside the standard romantic idiom at time (most famously with the Music of the Spheres (although even that...) and to a lesser degree, the opera Antikrist) but most of his orchestral material remains quite firmly rooted in romanticism. The piano stuff's a different matter, though.

Yes. I hear some interesting overlaps between late Gernsheim (b. 1839) and the generation of Felix Woyrsch (particularly) and Fritz Volbach (both born around 1860).

I was specifically referring to this recording (a run-through, it seems) of Rudorff's G minor (2nd) symphony by a community orchestra in Brooklyn:

Edit: I've cleaned this up a bit and made it available in the downloads section.

Thank you for that information! I sincerely hope that we will soon have recordings of both the B flat major and G minor symphonies (googling will reveal a runthrough of the latter by an amateur orchestra, but the quality is not great).

Thanks, Ilja. That's a perceptive analysis. Might we talk of a progression from a Mendelssohnian/Schumannesque idiom to a more Brahmsian style, filtered through his own creative inspiration?

Yes, I think that sums it up pretty well – with the addendum that Gernsheim moved to a more personal, post-Brahmsian style in the final stage of his life, as illustrated by Zu einem Drama.

It seems to me that Gernsheim was one of those people who flourish in isolation rather than among company. In 1874 he became the director of the Rotterdam Musical Society and the Rotterdam Conservatory. At the time Rotterdam was a bit of a musical backwater even by Dutch standards, and with Gernsheim's tasks being relatively light, this left him much more time to compose than before. During his sixteen years in Rotterdam we see him write two and a half symphonies, a violin concerto, and countless chamber and choral works, and mature his style considerably. A work like the 3rd Symphony shows a much more confident composer than the piano concerto; it also sounds much more Brahmsian. During his Rotterdam tenure, Gernsheim kept up a steady correspondence with Brahms, Dietrich and others, but he also attended far fewer concerts (Amsterdam was really the only venue of significance within a day's travel), which might have caused a more focused development (although this is pure speculation on my part). Combined, this might explain why the concerto doesn't really sound all that much like later Gernsheim.

I've taken some time today listening to this recording. I remember that a few years ago Gernsheim's piano concerto, Urspruch's concerto and the one by Rufinatscha became available in the same week, either through a commercial release or on Youtube. Back then I felt that the Rufinatscha was something of a disappointment, but the Gernsheim and particularly the Urspruch were very good works indeed. Thankfully, this release of the Gernsheim is even better than the one that appeared on Youtube back then (which also featured Oliver Triendl, but with the Nürnberger Symphoniker conducted by Radislaw Szulc). Triendl is as reliable as ever, but the Philharmonisches Staatsorchester Mainz seems to be more engaged than the Nürnbergers, and the sound is also better. It's a gorgeous piece, even if it's not quite of the same level and personality as Gernsheim's mature works.

The two other pieces on the CD are known from earlier recordings and here the results are more mixed. Hülshoff and Bäumer's approach to the cello concerto is quite different from Gerhardt and Lintu's. While the latter emphasized the rhapsodic, Konzertstück-like aspect of the piece, the former seem to approach it more like a "true" concerto, giving a definite lyrical treatment. I'm not sure yet which I like more, but it's good to have two somewhat contrasting visions of the piece regardless.

For me, Zu einem Drama is Gernsheim's orchestral masterpiece, but unfortunately this is where I feel Bäumer lets us down somewhat. His version is almost two minutes slower than the older Arp recording and it's difficult to justify that extra time. The problem is mainly one of articulation, and the sonics don't help: at times the playing feels labored by comparison, and the dynamic passages can get outright mushy. Compare Bäumer (5:10) to Arp (4:43), for instance.

By the way, Zu einem Drama is divided into three parts here; no doubt a consequence of Youtube's, Spotify's and others' renumberation per individual stream. Be prepared to see future releases get divided into micro-sections.

A very thoughtful piece, also because it limits itself to incorporating biography insofar as it is relevant to the music; texts about Bendix far too often obsess about his private life. Barnard is perhaps a bit too kind to the Shestakov cycle, which for me remains a textbook example of how not to unearth unsung repertoire.

From what I can gather from the excerpts, the symphony is in, the rest out (Cringlemire Garden being something of a borderline case).

My guess would be no. According to the Internet Archive, the Sixth symphony was:

Recorded in October [with the Berlin Philharmonic], 1928, and issued as Deutsche Grammophon/Polydor 95193 through 95155 [probably a typo; 95195 would sound more likely] (single-sided numbers B 21115 through B 21120). If the 1948 Gramophone Shop Encyclopedia is to be believed, the set was still available twenty years later, even though the competing version (by Beecham on Columbia, made as a result of the prize this symphony had won - see below) had been deleted.

Atterberg's recording times in at 8:43 / 9:17 / 7:05. In other words, he could have taken about a minute more for the first movement and two minutes more for the finale; only the Adagio is close to the disc's maximum capacity.

Of course, we can't be certain the engineers didn't encourage Atterberg to apply a quicker pace in order to avoid risks, but we'll never know, I guess.

The Third Symphony is a different matter, as it was recorded much later to my knowledge, although I can't find much about it to support my memory.

Regarding the piano concerto recording, it might have been. But I'm not so sure about the recording of the Sixth Symphony, let alone the Third (where he's not even all that fast) since these were radio recordings.

Not saying it's the only influence, but having reference recordings that are quicker or slower might well have helped to influenced live performances as well, I would think. Of course, now that restrictions on recorded lengths haven't really been an issue for some time, so you would expect it to be come a less dominant factor.

Been thinking about this, and it doesn't seem strange to suppose that the necessity to cram music pieces into the 4 1/2 or so minutes of a single 79-rmp record led to faster average tempi in orchstral playing overall. Nor, conversely, that the creation of media that allowed for much longer recordings (33 1/3-rpm LPs, but also reel tapes and audio cassettes) contributed to the "big slowing down" of the mid-20th century.

Sorry if I was being unclear - I was referring to the booklet that accompanied the recent Büttner 2nd Symphony recording. Which for some reason mingles rather strange value assessments with lists of composers and conductors. 

Agree with all of that, most of all the clarity of the writing. This can also be witnessed in the other two pieces in the recording, the Per Aspera ad Astra overture and the Two Roads to Victory (Through Arms — Through Love) symphonic poem. To me, the first sounds like a modern science-fiction film score in some places, whereas the second brings definite silent era German cinema vibes (e.g., Caligari). The small ensemble also lends both pieces a certain frailty (particularly Two Roads to Victory) which suits them very well. Exquisite stuff.

By the way, the booklet is also excellent, and was a refreshing change from the gobbledegook that peppered the Büttner booklet.