Copland: Symphony for Organ, Rodeo, Billy The Kid, Appalachian Spring, Music for the Theatre, Symphony nr. 3, Quiet City

I'm going to close this very eclectic listening month with a report on the music of Aaron Copland that I've been surveying the last two, three weeks. How did I get to Copland? After having encountered the Jongen Symphonie Concertante I looked up some other orchestra and organ works and came across Copland's which was not in my collection but which came in soon enough via the Bernstein Sony box. So I listened to that, and I added Billy The Kid (which was also unfamiliar to me) in the Mata/Dallas SO recording. Went on to Rodeo and Appalachian Spring, both from a Telarc CD with Louis Lane conducting the Atlanta SO. I compared Lane's Spring with Bernstein's on a digital DGG recording with the Los Angeles SO. Another Telarc disc (Levi, also with the Atlanta SO) includes Copland's Music for the Theatre. More recently I reacquainted myself with his Third Symphony in the much lauded Bernstein 1986 recording with Quiet City as a filler.

I learned from all this that Copland is not my favourite composer. The only recording I really appreciated was Louis Lane's rendering of the Fanfare, Rodeo and Appalachian Spring. That is a truly memorable disc as Lane (for many years Szell's assistant at the Cleveland) captures the spirit of these works so admirably well. He plays them with the right mixture of grandeur and unfussyness, avoiding Bernstein's larmoyant take on this composer. In the latter's case, the Americana tilt into the sentimental and become really unpalatable. Lane's Fanfare for the Common Man is the only one I have heard that makes sense as a piece of jubilation. His Rodeo has a quietly granitic quality that really speaks to me. His Appalachian Spring, without any doubt Copland's greatest score, exhibits the clarity of line and purpose we find in Shaker furniture and utensils.

I was much less impressed by the other things I heard. Billy The Kid struck me as episodic and not as inspired as Rodeo. Music for the Theatre is a genuinely fun piece, mixing jazzy locutions with the composer's trademark idyllic rusticity. The Symphony for Organ, Copland's first substantial piece composed for his teacher Nadia Boulanger, is a very odd and strained affair with a sullen first movement and an incongruent scherzo that already looks ahead at the Wild West ballets. The Symphony nr. 3 finally, allegedly the composer's magnum opus, lacks a convincing symphonic superstructure. All the individual movements are nice enough to listen to but the whole doesn't gel. Bernstein, in his late recording, tries maybe to spin a little too much yarn from Copland's wool. Some say Antal Dorati's reading with the Minneapolis SO is the one to have, but it has sadly never appeared on CD.

Maybe I'm giving Copland short shrift here and do I need to have more patience. Or perhaps I just haven't been in the mood, immersed as I've been in French repertoire. I'm set to revisit this composer sooner or later.

Dupré: Symphony for Organ and Orchestra

Marcel Dupré's Symphony in G minor, op. 25 (1927) is yet another work that is languishing in a dusty corner of the organ plus orchestra repertoire. A shame as it has a lot to offer, even to the casual listener. I've had this Telarc recording in my collection for ages and it has always been a pleasure to revisit this imaginative work that betrays a composer with a sense of proportion, melodic resourcefulness and a masterful feeling for color (with an exemplary blend of organ and orchestral timbres very much in evidence). The slow movement 'Lent' is ravishing in its languorously extatic, wave-like motion. The other three movements are more nimble and athletic. Altogether the work lasts just over 25 minutes. Dupré uses the tremendous forces fielded for this work in a very restrained way. Fortissimo's are few and far between.

The recording is on the whole quite successful. It was taped in London's Royal Albert Hall, a cavernous 7000-seat auditorium, and Michael Murray plays the house organ. This behemoth has just shy of 10.000 pipes and is powered by a 45 horsepower blowing plant which is clearly audible in the recording. The maestro on duty is Jahja Ling, currently with the San Diego Symphony, who coaxes a most svelte sound from the Royal PO. Technically it is a fairly restrained recording, with the orchestra positioned seemingly far away from a cheap seat in the Gallery. Typical for the early days at Telarc (1986) the sound is rather grainy and washed, reinforcing the impression of opulence to the detriment of analytical crispness. I suspected that the PPP reinforced this impression which I proceeded to calibrate against Robert Shaw's recording of Duruflé's Requiem. And indeed its soundstage, which always had been huge, has amazingly expanded. It is as if the choir is sitting beyond the confines of the living room. But the drawback is that the dynamics are slightly more recessed than I remember. So be it.

Pop Medley

The sequel. I started with another spin of the complete Blue Nile Peace at Last. Then a series of songs by Randy Newman from a rather awfully remastered 'Best of' CD. Followed up with

• Jah Nuh Dead, Marcus Garvey (in both the original and dub versions) from Sinéad O'Connor's Throw Down Your Arms,
• Tango Cancion and Paris, Texas from Gotan Project's Lunàtico (a spectacular recording), 
• Matta, Signals and An Ending (Ascent) from Brian Eno's Apollo, 
• most of the first disc of Eels' Blinking Lights and Other Revelations,
• If I Was A Tap Natch Poet and Reggae fi May Ayim from Linton Kwesi Johnson's More Time,
• Let There Be Music, Ride and I Love Music from Prefab Sprout's Let's Change The World With Music,
• Hope There's Someone from Anthony and the Johnson's I Am A Bird Now, 
• Ground on Down from Ben Harper's Fight for Your Mind,

From LKJ's beautiful Reggae for May Ayim (an Afro-German poet who killed herself because she was diagnosticised with MS):

wi give tanks
fi di life
yu share wid wi
wi give tanks
fi di lite
yu shine pon wi
wi give tanks
fi di love
yu showah pon wi
wi give tanks
fi yu memahri

Landowski: Concerto for ondes Martenot - Concerto for Trumpet and Electro-acoustic Instruments

I revisited Marcel Landowski's Concerto for ondes Martenot, string orchestra and percussion and complemented it with the Concerto for Trumpet, orchestra and elecro-acoustic instuments. Although the latter was written more than twenty years later then the former (1976 and 1954, respectively), they partake very much of the same kind of atmosphere. I can imagine that this music strikes many listeners as rather dour and uninspired, but I feel it speaks eloquently to me. Landowski's themes are almost artless and mundane, but his forte is in the subtlety of his coloristic palette and in the skillfulness with which he is able to capture a mood. There is nothing that jumps out, neither the idiom's post-romantic or post-impressionistic leanings, nor its occasionally avantgardistic pretensions. His use of electro-acoustic instruments is wonderfully sensitive and eschews any kind of showmanship. Sometimes it looks like the composer deliberately wants to explore a restricted band of tonality and mood. The three movements of the Concerto for Trumpet (titled Cantiques d'un soir (Andantino), Chant pour une feuille morte (Allegro moderato) and Cortège (Andante) respectively) all assume a pensive and, as in the Concerto for ondes Martenot, almost mournful posture. That is in a way remarkable given the rather bright and martial character of the trumpet as a solo instrument. The piece is prefaced by a quote from the poet Paul Eluard: "Au bout du chagrin une fenêtre ouverte". The 1977 performance by dedicatee Maurce André and the Orchestre Philharmonique de Strasbourg, led by Alain Lombard, is commendable. The technical qualities of the Erato recording are sadly not in the same league.

The Blue Nile: Peace at Last

Gave The Blue Nile's Peace at Last another spin. This was one of the very first CDs that was swapped with PC in our over-a-decade long exchange project. I'm still very fond of that album. It has always been a recording to reckon with but with the PPP now in place it sounds just jaw-droppingly awesome. I could go on about the bass that has more slam and a soundstage that has widened and deepened and the voices and instruments that sound more timbrally authentic. But the bottom line is that it is just very immersive and moving to listen to music where everything 'fits' and that just sounds 'right'.  In progressively upgrading the hifi set, the improvements in sound become ever more subtle but the pleasure one derives from them seem to increase in an inversely proportional way.

Pop Medley

Today I connected the digital and analogue sources in my hifi setup to an AC regenerator. This takes polluted AC from the grid, turns it into a DC signal and then back into a much cleaner sine wave. The result ought to be increased 'blackness' of the musical background, greater soundstage, and smoother and more relaxed sound. After a first listening round I wasn't totally convinced. Sure, I noticed how the soundstage widened and how the music became more distant and relaxed. The drawback, I found, was that it seemed marginally less involving. The whole sonic experience snapped into focus, however, when I isolated the regenerator from the rack with three spare Boston Audio Design TuneBlocks. Suddenly I had soundstage and focus. Over dinner then we briefly came to speak about Joy Division and so I proceeded to listen to two of the band's favourite tracks. From one thing came the other and 2,5 hours later I emerged dazed but re-energised from my listening session. If the proof of a new audio component's worth lies in the extent to which it is able to persuade you to put on that next CD, the Power Plant has passed the test with flying colours. Honestly, the sound from my system is at this point heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

This was my playlist of the evening:

Joy Division - The Eternal (from Closer)
Joy Division - Decades (from Closer)
The Blue Nile - Happiness (from Peace at Last)
The Blue NIle - Tomorrow Morning (from Peace at Last)
The Blue Nile - Over The Hillside (from Blue)
The Blue Nile - Headlights on the Parade (from Blue)
The Blue Nile - A Walk Across the Rooftops (from A Walk Across the Rooftops)
The Blue Nile - Tinseltown In The Rain (from A Walk Across the Rooftops)
Burial - Untrue (from Untrue)
Sigur Ros - I Gaer (from Heim)
Sigur Ros - Von (from Heim)
Scott Matthew - Black Bird (from Gallantry's Favorite Son)
Scott Matthew - True Sting (from Gallantry's Favorite Son)
The XX - Crystalised (from The XX)
The XX - Night Time (from The XX)
The XX - Stars (from The XX)
Wild Beasts - Invisible (from Smother)
Wild Beasts - Albatross (from Smother)
Johnny Cash - If You Could Read My Mind (from American V - A Hundred Highways)
Johnny Cash - I'm Free From The Chain Gang Now (from American V - A Hundred Highways)
Max Richter - Maria, The Poet (1913) (from Memoryhouse)
Max Richter - Laika's Journey (from Memoryhouse)
Elbow - The Birds (from Build A Rocket Boys)
Elbow - The River (from Build A Rocket Boys)
Elbow - The Birds (reprise) (from Build A Rocket Boys)
Elbow - Dear Friends (from Build A Rocket Boys)
PJ Harvey - Beautiful Feeling (from Stories From The City, Stories From The Sea)
PJ Harvey - The Wind (from Is This Desire?)
Anthony and the Johnsons - Hope There's Someone (from I Am A Bird Now)
The Blue Nile - God Bless You Kid (from Peace at Last)
The Blue Nile - Soon (from Peace at Last)

Schubert: Symphony nr. 8

I've just returned from a week in India where I barely sought access to music. I'm surprised myself by the fact that I'm deriving less and less satisfaction from listening on the road. Apparently I have enough with the music that is going on in my head. Or I am so spoiled by the stellar sound emitted by my hifi setup that the mediocre quality from my AKG travel headphones irks me. Anyway, whilst I was eager to indulge in some listening tonight, for all kinds of reasons I didn't feel like French repertoire. I turned to Schubert's Unfinished (D 759, 1822) instead. Kleiber's reading is a fixture in the catalogue although it is not generally seen as one of his greatest recordings. Some think it is too driven and this Amazon reviewer has some very acute observations on what seems like a rather monodimensional take on this perennial classic.

I listened to the LP first (in its original 1979 pressing) and had mixed feelings about it. Kleiber's approach is grandiloquent and even funereal (no problem with that) but at times it tilts into the static and somnolent. As the Amazon reviewer remarks, the pianissimos in this recording are really very quiet which makes the sforzando outbursts even more terrifying of course. But the downside, I found, is that the energy tends to sag a little in the quieter episodes.That being said, the VPO play startlingly beautifully and there is a lot to admire. The sound is particularly good, with an dark, earthy, burnished palette that fits the music superbly well. The soundstage is broad, the orchestra groups are nicely terraced and the solos very characterful. As with the String Quintet I could hear snippets of proto-Mahler, particularly in the almost Bohemian sounding wind choirs and in the overall 'Trauermarsch'-character of the second movement. In the Andante con moto's coda there is even a bar or two that  glances ahead to Mahler's Ninth.

Turning to the CD transfer, I was struck, once more, by the substantial difference between the two media. Relistening to the Andante I noticed how brightly lit and nervous it had become. Yes, there was more momentum in this reading but at the cost of an unpalatable agressiveness in the tutti. The CD made me empathise with commentators who were not enamoured with Kleiber's Toscanini-like swagger. So back to the vinyl which felt on the whole as a much more balanced and palatable reading, despite some of the misgivings pointed out above. Now, I have to make a proviso as it is also possible that some of flatness I experienced in the quiet passages is due to the fact that my Michell Gyrodec's speed is slightly under spec. I've been suspecting this for a while but I haven't had the opportunity to confirm this. I timed the second movement's duration on the LP at 11'08" whilst the sleeve indicates 10'31" and the CD booklet mentions 10'42". I have no idea whether this 20 to 30 second difference is significant (in terms of being on the 33 rpm spec or not) and, if it was, whether that would affect my experience of the music.

Landowski: Symphony nr. 3, Concerto for Ondes Martenot, 4 Pieces for Trumpet and Organ - Koechlin: Vers la Voûte Etoilée - Dutilleux: Timbres, Espace, Mouvement

 The 9 CD Landowski set came in and I was keen to relisten some of what I had heard in decidedly lo-fi fashion on Youtube. The Symphony nr. 3 'Des Espaces' (1964) consists of two contrasting movements: an introductory Grave (10'21") followed by a propulsive Allegro deciso (6'10"). Landowski conceived it as a concerto for orchestra and it shows in the lush, pointillist orchestral fabric. The title of the work expresses the composer's ambition to 'evoke the great spaces of the work as well as, inwardly, those spaces imagined sometimes in our dreams'. I find this an attractive work that in its orchestral brilliance, shimmering dark harmonies and voluptuous chromaticism reminds me strongly of early Dutilleux.

Another captivating work is the earlier Concerto for Ondes Martenot, String Orchestra and Percussion (1954). Personally I have never taken to this weird instrument - which works by varying the frequency of oscillation in a vacuum tube. In Messiaen's work its contribution strikes me often as comical or even slightly vulgar. But in this concerto it has a beautifully suggestive part, singing out a kind of unearthly melancholy in tune with the overall mournful ambience of the piece. Sure, Landowski is not a great melodist, likely not even a particularly great musical architect, but much more of a colorist who knows how to coax a distinctive atmosphere from the orchestra. The accompaniment by the Orchestre de Chambre de Musique Contemporain led by Jacques Bondon lacks refinement but the solo part by Jeanne Loriod (younger sister of pianist and Messiaen's second wife Yvonne Loriod) is commendable. The recording date is unknown but must be from the mid-1960s as Bondon's OCMC was established in 1962 and only existed a couple of years under that name.

Landowski's feeling for unorthodox instrumental colours is also the main attraction of his Four Pieces for Trumpet and Orchestra (1977). It's a substantial work of about 22' consisting of four parts, each of which carries vague references to religious or mystical regimens: 'jour du secret intérieur', 'jour de quête de soi', 'jour des regrets et des pardons', 'jour de joie'. These kinds of religious, literary or philosophical-humanist references seem to be quite abundant in Landowski's work, although they never assume the fervour with which they are flaunted by Messiaen. The four pieces are quite interesting to listen to. Again it's more the mood of mystery and introspection that captivates rather than anything else.

Landowski is stylistically often associated to his teacher Arthur Honegger but from what I hear this doesn't seem to make much sense. Honegger's musical language is more severe and often has a granitic quality that Landowski's work seems to lack. I may change my mind after I have heard some of the latter's dramatic works but I'd be really surprised. No, for me there is a line towards more wayward figures such as Charles Koechlin, who left a sprawling and unorthodox oeuvre. I have started to collect some of his work that has appeared on the Hänssler label as part of a long-term project to record a significant part of this largely forgotten music. Making the transition from Landowksi's work to Koechlin's symphonic study Vers la Voûte Etoilée, op. 129 (1923-33, rev. 1939) feels very natural. There's the nocturnal atmosphere, the impressionistic colour palette, the sweeping chromatic lines, the heartfelt humanism that blooms from a confrontation with the tantalising cosmic expanses. Whilst Koechlin's orchestral textures are fuller than Landowski's there seems to me an unmistakable kinship between these two composers. The recording by the SWR orchestra led by Heinz Holliger is fine but in terms of sound quality it's sadly enough thirteen-to-the-dozen. However, we are not in a position to complain as there are no alternative recordings in the catalogue. 

I finished this evening's program with a piece by Dutilleux: Timbres, Espace, Mouvement (1978, rev. 1991), subtitled La Nuit Etoilée (as it was inspired by Van Gogh's delirious Starry Night). In it's original incarnation it's a two-mouvement suite ('Nébuleuse', 'Constellation') that constitutes an impressive demonstration of the composer's symphonic prowess. The piece has an epic sweep and a rethorical immediacy that enthralls. Clearly, here is someone that not only has a very fertile orchestral imagination but also the ability to marshal his material in a rigorous and convincing way.  Remarkable is that the orchestra does not include violins and violas but this hardly registers given the prominent and lively role of winds and percussion in this concerto for orchestra. Again, there are obvious resonances with the sound world of his almost exact contemporary Landowski. Baudo's recording with the Lyon orchestra is an early one (the 1985 Harmonia Mundi recording is not very impressive) and lacks an interlude for solo cellos that Dutilleux included only in the early 90s. I have that on a disc with the Bamberg orchestra conducted by Marc Soustrot issued on the Koch-Schwann label.

All in all this is another rewarding branch of French 20th century music. I am quite happy to have discovered Landowski who seems to naturally fill in a gap in this complex landscape. Reading some of the Gramophone reviews that have appeared over the years, I notice that Arnold Whittall gives Landowski short shrift. To my mind this is unjustified as there is a lot that seems to warrant closer investigation and patient listening.

De Falla: The Three Cornered Hat, Nights in the Gardens of Spain - Debussy: Images - Chabrier: Espana - Moszkowski: Spanish Dances

The Decca Sound box is a jewel. Martinon's take on the Ibert Divertissement made me jump out of my listening chair and the same thing happened when I put on Ansermet's classic 1961 version of De Falla's Three Cornered Hat. Wow, how this music sparkles and glows! There is a liveliness and truthfulness in this recording that is otherwise reserved for vinyl. It is as if you are standing at Ansermet's desk. The Suisse Romande orchestra fans out around you and all the desks are as crisply audible as you could wish for. The sound is dynamic, spacious, layered, texturally rich and finelly chisseled. And, what is most extraordinary is that the musicians have faces. That is very rare in a CD recording but much more common with LPs. I've never particularly taken to Ansermet, but now I could for the first time appreciate the mastery of his conducting. Although the old maths teacher looks the part of a stodgy Kapellmeister, he is not. To the contrary, the music has plenty of fire whilst maintaining an almost classical poise. Unbelievable that Ansermet was already well beyond 70 when he recorded these works. The 'bonus' on this same disc is a recording of Debussy's Images (the 'bonus' comes on top of the music that is referred to on the original LP sleeves). It's as good, if not better, than any I have heard recently. Again, the recording is stellar with the French composer's awesome mastery of orchestration on hi-fidelity display.

I followed up with a collection of Spain-inspired pieces - Chabrier's Espana and a set of Spanish Dances by Moritz Moszkowski (1854-1925). This is a 1957 Kingsway Hall recording that sounds as fresh and buoyant as if it was recorded yesterday. There is none of the astringency or boxyness that characterises many older recordings. The music is not particularly great but Ataulfo Argenta's reading with the London SO makes for a superbly entertaining intermezzo. Honestly, I'd never heard of this guy but his amazing bio on wikipedia makes for compulsory reading.

Finally, De Falla's nocturnal Gardens with Alicia De Larrocha and Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos leading the London Philharmonic. This is a more recent digital recording from 1983. Clearly a very different sound picture. The crackling freshness has made way for an opulence that I usually associate with the Concertgebouw in their eponymous hall. Needless to say it fits this music - with its dark Rachmaninovian splendour - particularly well. De Larrocha and de Burgos draw us into a world of moody contemplation, eschewing orchestral pyrotechnics in favour of a somberly lyrical take on the score. Just letting this music wash over you, slumped in your listening chair, glass of wine in hand, is a superbly hedonistic indulgence.

Debussy: La Boite à Joujoux - Mussorgsky: The Nursery

It's already a while ago that I listened to Debussy's La Boîte à Joujoux, a ballet score he wrote in 1913 and can hence count amongst his late works. I got to know this via Michael Tilson Thomas' recording on Sony, which has always charmed me. It's a very subdued score steeped in half-light in which the composer immersed himself in the mysterious and haunting fantasies so characteristic for childhood. As Debussy wrily remarked in a letter: "The soul of a doll is more mysterious than even Maeterlinck supposes; it does not readily put up with the claptrap that so many human souls tolerate." Martinon's recording with the French ORTF orchestra is really excellent and even more characterful than MTT's. It also helps that it comes on pristine vinyl.

In the booklet that accompanies the Sony recording there is a reference to Mussorgsky's song cycle The Nursery, for which Debussy reputedly had much admiration (the Debussy-Mussorgsky connection is not clear to me and I'd like to read a bit more about this). I happened to have a recording of this work on a Hyperion CD which also includes some his other, better known, cycles. It features Nikolai Demidenko at the piano and the bass Anatoli Safiulin as the vocal soloist. The latter's discography is very slim and there is very little info on him around. Anyway, I find his rendering of this cycle top drawer. These are not children's songs but psychologically sophisticated tableaux about childhood. The words are all Mussorgsky's. Safiulin engages in really very funny tantrums and histrionics as he recounts the story of the small boy that is punished because he upset Nanuchka's needle work (but he didn't do it, of course, it was the cat), or of the lad who wanted to keep his cat Sailor from devouring the canary and hurt himself in the process. The wittiest is the song about the boy who was playing in the garden when he was 'attacked' by a big beetle who subsequently dropped down for dead. Was the beetle dead or just feigning? That is the existential question with which the kid breathlessly accosts his nanny. Both texts and music come across as very sophisticated. There is certainly none of the coarseness of which Mussorgsky has been accused time and again. The cycle dates from 1870, just when the composer started to be drawn into his confrontation with Boris Godunov. I think at one point I will certainly spend much more time with this composer.

Martinon: Symphony nr. 4 - Mennin: Symphony nr. 7 - Landowski: Symphony nr. 3

I have some catching up to do. In the next few weeks I will have precious little time to listen and keep up the diary. First I just want to make a note of some cursory listening I did last Friday. As I was impressed by Jean Martinon's rendering of Ibert's Divertissement (and also of Debussy's Boite à Joujoux, of which more anon), I did some internet research to learn more about this French conductor. And so I discovered that he was not alone a successful conductor but also a notable composer in his own right. I was particularly intrigued by a reference to his Symphony nr. 4 'Altitudes', which drew its inspiration from the activity of mountaineering. It's in three movements, each of which is labelled by a suggestive title: La Porte des Etoiles (Allegro agitato), Les Jardins Verticales (Adagio misterioso) and La Traversée des Dieux (Tempo di scherzo). I found a recording accessible via the internet which I listened to on my computer. I can't say I was particularly enamoured by the piece which comes in an angular, expressionistic idiom. The connection with the mountain world is maybe reflected in the music's jagged contours. Anyway, it likely warrants repeated listening.

The work was written for the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, of which Martinon was chief conductor at that time (1963-1968, following in the footsteps of the redoutable Fritz Reiner). There has been an RCA recording with Martinon and the CSO, where Altitudes is coupled with Peter Mennin's Symphony nr. 7. I aurally scanned that too via Youtube. It's quite a bold an attractive work, matching the Martinon symphony in its uncompromising stridency, but formally and harmonically it seems to yield more easily to the ear. I have one recording of Mennin's Eighth and Ninth symphonies (on New World Records) in my collection. Clearly, this is a symphonist with a very serious mien. The Seventh has certainly picqued my interest.

Finally, I made an interesting discovery in the personality of Marcel Landowski, a French composer which was all but unknown to me (1915-1999). I listened to his Symphony nr. 3 'Des Espaces' on Youtube, a recording with the French National Orchestra under Georges Prêtre. This seems to be a captivating work that seemed to connect readily to the lush soundworld of his colleague Henri Dutilleux. Warner has issued a 9-CD set which collects a significant number of symphonic works (4 symphonies and a number of concertos). I will not hesitate to add that to my collection.

Ibert: Divertissement, Escales

I have some catching up to do. Over the past week I've been listening to yet another French composer whose work I am barely familiar with. I had only Jacques Ibert's Divertissement (1928) on a Chandos CD coupled with works by Milhaud and Poulenc. At the time it struck me as a fun but utterly unremarkable piece. Fun it certainly is, but it seems there is a better case to be made for this music that Yan Pascal Tortelier did on that Chandos collection (with the Ulster Orchestra).

Divertissement is a 15-minute suite of 6 numbers drawn from incidental music Ibert wrote for a farce written by Eugène Labiche (in 1851). It's an improbable story about a horse that eats a straw hat from which follows a series of burlesque tableaux culminating in complete mayhem. Ibert's suite - a raucous, nose-thumping pastiche - captures the mood perfectly. I listened first to a Dorian recording by the Dallas SO led by Eduardo Mata. The disc is part of a superb 6-CD collection ('The Eduardo Mata Years') that includes many of Mata's best recordings in colourful 20th century repertoire (Shostakovich 7 and 9, Prokofiev's Nevsky, Stravinsky's Sacre, Respighi's suites, a few American scores and, remarkably, Chausson's Symphony). All the recordings date from the early 1990s. Mata presents a finely groomed, almost phlegmatic version of the suite, an impression that is reinforced by a sophisticated, somewhat distant recording. It's as if one is safely ensconced on the 20th row of the rather splendid but empty Eugene McDermott Hall in Meyerson Symphony Centre. It's impressive enough to listen to.

But I was quite surprised to hear what Jean Martinon and his Paris Conservatory Orchestra made of it in their 1960 recording at the Maison de la Mutualité in Paris. This recording is part of the recently issued 50-CD collection 'The Decca Sound'. It's an eclectic but truly glorious selection of recordings to showcase 60 years of engineering excellence from the Decca labs. In 'Originals' fashion all the cardboard slipcases present the original LP artwork. Quite nice. Compared to the Dorian recording, the Martinon disc - featuring work by Ibert, Saint-Saens, Bizet and, as a 'bonus' his 1958 taping of Borodin's Second Symphony with the LSO - provides a totally different sonic picture. One is at the conductor's desk with the musicians arrayed closely around. In no way, however, the recording sounds boxy. There is a pleasing ambience around the instruments. I don't know whether all of these discs have been especially remastered for this collection but I wouldn't be surprised if they were. There is a fair amount of tape hiss on this one, but it's not at all unpleasant or distracting. What is striking is the fantastic liveliness, almost in an analogue fashion, of the recorded sound. The slightly nasal tonal balance reinforces this vinyl-like quality. The Divertissement is a real treat. One can hear that Martinon and his band are having a ball, yawning trumpets, barking horns and police wistle included. But there is more. I was struck by the interpretative complexity that Martinon was able to coax from these harmless pages. By no means he turns them into a Mahler Ninth. The typical French esprit remains very much in evidence. But still, the Nocturne probes unsuspected depths, the Valse pearls like champagne and the Parade vacillates between a nightly patrol and Comedy Capers. I came away refreshed and invigorated from listening to this music, likely very much how Ibert had intended it to be!

Finally there is Escales ('Ports of Call'), a work I hadn't heard before. It's a luscious suite with three colourful postcards from Mediterranean ports in Italy, Tunisia and Spain respectively. Ibert relishes in exploring the musical clichés associated to these locales - Arabian melody and castanets included. His mastery of the orchestra is a treat and Eduardo Mata is quite happy to let his players indulge in the marvelous colours and scents conjured by the score. I thought the Rome-Palerme movement was particularly captivating. A symphonic spectacular if there ever was one.

Biarent: Symphonie

My reconnaissance of turn-of-the-century French repertoire, with Debussy as the center of gravity, continues to yield unexpected and very happy discoveries! Last week I ordered a limited edition 50 CD collection issued by the Belgian label Cypres at the occasion of the Orchestre Philharmonique de Liège Wallonie Bruxelles' 50th birthday. They are sold at the bargain price of 1 euro/CD and offer a tantalising overview of the orchestra's recorded history, from 1960 to the present day. My interest was particularly piqued given their strength in the French repertoire. I used to know the orchestra well as in the 1980s it was one of the ensembles we tended to go and listen to quite often when they gave guest concerts in the Brussels Bozar's Henry Leboeuf hall. Distinctively bearded Pierre Bartholomée, the orchestra's chief conductor in those years, was certainly one of the most familiar stage presences to me. Likely I'll discuss the contents of this CD box in more depth at a later stage. For now I want to zoom in on just one of the treasures I quite haphazardly drew from this box earlier today.

My hand happened to pick out a recording from a Belgian composer I'd never heard of before: Adolphe Biarent. Wikipedia doesn't tell us much apart from the fact that he was born in 1871 and died in 1916. That makes him pretty much an exact contemporary of Claude Debussy (1862-1918) and Alberic Magnard (1865-1914). He studied in Brussels and Gent, won a Belgian Prix de Rome in 1901 and spent the rest of his life animating musical life in Charleroi. He left a modest oeuvre, consisting primarily of orchestral and chamber works. That's about all we know of him.

His only Symphony in D minor dates from 1908. Obviously I didn't know what to expect but I was hooked after just a few minutes by the first movement's (Allegro assai ed agitato) noble theme proposed by unison trombones and horns. What followed was a half an hour long symphonic fresco that kept me spellbound by its epic grandeur and tight organisation. The musical language is conservative by all standards. It actually reminds me most of the vigorous romanticism brandished by the Wagner of the 1840s and 50s (Fliegender Holländer, Tannhaüser, Lohengrin). Harmonically and architecturally Biarent obviously also leans on César Franck (cyclic principle; incidentally the work is in the same key as the Frank Symphonie). Nevertheless there is a freshness and sweep in the conception that is utterly compelling. This music just feels honest and right and it is intelligently put together to boot.

The initial allegro is bold in the surefooted way it plays out the contrasting material: a nervous theme given to the strings and the somber, almost Brucknerian intonations of the brass. The movement ends on a chilling, crescendo peroration from the trombones. The second movement is a short (4'42") but memorable Adagio that obviously draws on Wagner's Lohengrin but there are also echoes from Franck's Psyche and Symphonie. It's quite touching in its purity and conciseness. An even shorter scherzo follows, flowery in its springy rhythm and delicate orchestration. Themes from the earlier movements are skillfully woven into the orchestral fabric. There are beautiful soloistic passages for the clarinet and horn. All this in a movement of just over 3 minutes long. The lengthy and complex finale (over 13') picks up on the stormy atmosphere of the first movement. There is an almost Lisztian grandeur to the unfolding symphonic conflict. Again there is an imposing, almost ghostly theme that is given as a motto theme to the darker brass. A central episode brings some relief with lighter harmonies and wistful Mahlerian trumpet signals. But soon the conflict flares up again. Lavish harp glissandos announce the work's redemptive and ruminating closing paragraph. A rousing and triumphalist coda brings the symphony to an end.

I have heard the symphony now four times today and I am thoroughly impressed and happy with this discovery. I keep wondering how much glorious music has been barely recorded, or worse, never has seen been able to find an audience at all.  Luckily enough there is more on this and another CD in the orchestra's jubilee box.

The recording dates from 1995 and the Liège Orchestra led by Pierre Bartholomée is to be especially commended for an utterly inspired and characterful reading of this neglected work. Technically and interpretatively this production leaves nothing to be desired. I look very much forward to further exploring this marvelous set of 50 CDs.

Prefab Sprout: Jordan. The Comeback - Let's Change the World with Music

I was lucky to find a very decent vinyl copy of Prefab Sprout's Jordan. The CD is wonderfully recorded, really punchy and vivacious. I was startled to hear how different, in a way, the LP sounds. The overall sonic image is similar, but the LP is much more luscious and airy. And the resulting listening experience is different. The whole thing comes across as much more laid back and mellower. Which works well with the wistful undertone of the LP. I really like them both, LP and CD, and it will depend on mood whether one or the other will see rotation.

I have been reading up a bit on what happened to Prefab Sprout after Jordan and the story about their follow-up CD is really intriguing. In fact, the work didn't see the light of day until 2009 and was long regarded as 'lost'. Why this happened, is not clear. Wikipedia writes this:

During an interview (...) McAloon explained that in 1993 at a meeting with Sony he presented a tape of about fourteen songs as the follow-up to the lengthy Jordan: The Comeback. Apparently there were too many people in the room and the meeting did not go well. Although Sony wanted him to trim the record down to a more manageable length, for whatever reason there was a misunderstanding and McAloon understood that they wanted him to expand on just one or two of the ideas (rather than just trim 1 or 2 of the songs from the album). He then went away for a year and a half and developed one of the 3 minute songs into a 30 song piece of music. After a period he realised that was not what they wanted, but by this point it was too late.

In the sleeve notes, McAloon writes:

Now it goes without saying that I would have liked to have recorded Let's Change the World with Music with Marty, Wendy, and Thomas; I believe they wanted to, but we missed our moment so it wasn't to be. Why? I have no idea. Beats me. Anyway, one day in May '93 we made a poor move. But hey, water under the bridge. I blinked and went back to the drawing board. Back then, all that really mattered to me were those yawning caves of blue.

Tantalising. The 'yawning caves of blue' McAloon refers to go back to his fascination for the Beach Boys' 'lost' album Smiles. In a magazine he read about the experimental music on this album as 'containing glitter and sunshine, yet there were profound shades of blue like yawning caves or climbing through thick ivy". This phrase stuck with McAloon and it was this that animated him when he sat down to write the follow-up to Jordan:

I put everything I had into the songs, some which employ - funnily enough - overtly spiritual metaphors: music as a consoling force, an inspiration, even - perhaps - music as the voice of the sublime. Occasionally I leaned on the kind of language and imagery you might find in gospel music. I was trying to capture some of the stuff that makes soul, or gospel by that kind of language, would you? You would have seen what I was up to . That's right. I was talking about transcendence. Transcendence through music. Yep. That's what I was up to seventeen years ago.

Paddy McAloon wrote all the songs and performed, recorded and produced the lot in his private studio too. What kind of album is it? It is an animated album and draws life from the same spiritual vein as Jordan did. It is an album about a deep, abiding love in the force of music to heal and give meaning to our lives. McAloon wears his love, almost naively so, on his sleeve. The song titles speak volumes: Let There be Music, I Love Music, Music is a Princess, Last of the Great Romantics, Sweet Gospel Music ... But despite the lyrical outpourings it's an album that is propelled forward by an energetic beat. Most of the material is decidedly uptempo. Ballads there are almost none (Great Romantics, perhaps). The arrangements are surprisingly luscious, given that McAloon did it all by himself. But it's all synths; there is almost no acoustic instrument to be detected in the thicket. Hard to say which are my favourite songs: the introductory trio - Let There Be Music, Ride, I Love Music - is a great opener, but I'm also very fond of Earth: The Story so Far, Falling in Love, and the absolutely infectuous beat on Sweet Gospel Music. The only letdown, maybe, is the very end where neither Meet the New Mozart nor Angel of Love are able to capture the poignant mixture of impermanence and hope that makes Jordan such as memorable experience.

The recorded sound on Music is compact and rather heavy on the lower and mid range of the spectrum. But it's not at all displeasing. I've spent some very enjoyable hours glued in my chair whilst Let's Change the World With Music washed over me at high volume settings. Thanks, Paddy.

JM Jarre: Equinox - ELO: A New World Record

I started the new year with some rediscovered vinyl, from the old days. That means the late 1970s when as a teenager I started to spend some of my pocket money on LPs.

Jean-Michel Jarre's Equinox has always been one of my favourites. It's probably the best he has ever done. It's a beautifully sequenced suite of very atmospheric tracks. The LP still sounds great. Soon after, however, I grew disenchanted with Jarre. His China concerts were a rehash of the Equinox/Oxygène/Chants Magnétiques stuff and his later work - Zoolook (1984), En attendant Cousteau (1990), etc - struck me as significantly less inspired. In the 1990s I lost track altogether. Also I never took to his penchant for Babylonian laser-and-fireworks shows which he unleashed all over the globe. Nevertheless, it is difficult to deny that JM Jarre has made his mark and his wikipedia lemma makes for fascinating reading.

The Electic Light Orchestra's A New World Record dates from 1976 and has seen years of heavy rotation. I believe I also had the double album Out of the Blue, but that has disappeared from my collection. It's been 30 years at least since I have last heard the stuff. I still know many of the lyrics by heart. I think most of the songs have aged gracefully. And certainly, this kind of symphonic rock was instrumental in nudging me gently towards the real thing which I discovered just a few years later. Sadly, this LP has been dreadfully recorded: an overproduced, 'radio-friendly', muffled sound with clipped dynamics.