Tyberg: Symphony nr. 3

Prior to this CD's appearance in 2010 in the Naxos catalogue, the composer Marcel Tyberg was a totally unknown figure in recent musical history. Tyberg was an Austrian of partly Jewish descent who sadly perished in Auschwitz on New Year's Eve in 1944. Shortly before his abduction by the Nazis he entrusted his collection of manuscripts to an Italian pupil for safekeeping. Nothing happened with them and they were transferred to the ownership of the pupil's son who settled in Buffalo as a medical specialist. In 2005 he contacted JoAnn Falletta, chief conductor of the Buffalo PO, who decided the music was serious enough to embark, with members of the orchestra, on a time-consuming process of copying out and correcting the parts of the Third Symphony. Eventually they were able to present the work for the first time to the world in 2010. Naxos was courageous enough to want to record it. The story can be read in somewhat more detail here.

The Third Symphony must have been one of Tyberg's very late works, written in the late 1930s. It runs to 37 minutes and is traditionally laid out in four movements - an introductory allegro, a scherzo, adagio and concluding rondo finale (full performance on Youtube here). The musical language is unabashedly epigonic, with constant reminders of Bruckner's and Mahler's idiom. The opening of the symphony features a solo tenor tuba which transports us right back to Mahler's Seventh or Third. The remainder of the movement sounds totally Bruckner (say Third Symphony) with characteristic organ-like orchestration, block-like architecture and rustic melodies. The Scherzo might have been lifted straight out of an as yet undiscovered Mahler symphony. The Adagio is likely the most distinctive movement of all. It's quite beautiful, elegiac movement that is quite effectively scored. If Tyberg would have made it to the US he might have cut a good figure as composer for the white screen. The finale is a boisterous rondo which breathes the pastoral air from some of Dvorak's furiant-based symphonic movements and dances.

The Third Symphony is perhaps not a mindblowing masterpiece, but that doesn't mean that it isn't a pleasure to listen to. In fact, it is thoroughly enjoyable. Despite its lack of originality the symphony comes across as a balanced whole, with well proportioned movements, adequately distinctive melodic material, dense but skillful orchestration and a pleasing (if not genuinely adventurous) harmonic landscape. I would put it a couple of notches under Magnard's Fourth and even a notch under Guridi's Sinfonia Pyrenaica and Biarent's Symphonie (to name a few examples of less well known symphonic repertoire that I've explored over the previous months).

The performance by the Buffalo PO led by JoAnne Falletta is thoroughly engaged. The Naxos recording lacks a realistic spatial perspective but is adequate.

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.