A Celebration Of Obscure Composers

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The New York Sun

The three composers chosen by Leon Botstein for his American Symphony Orchestra’s concert at Avery Fisher Hall on Sunday afternoon have much in common. Each wrote in the 20th century. Each espoused tonality at a time when this stance was considered retrogressive and unfashionable. Each was a citizen of Switzerland, where Mr. Botstein was born. And each received a fine performance of his works by the ASO.

The Swiss soloist Christian Poltera performed an intense reading of Frank Martin’s Cello Concerto. Mr. Poltera has a rich tone and a healthy vibrato, employing both for maximum dramatic effect.

The Adagietto of this piece is particularly striking, a highly serious essay on contrasting sonorities. Martin makes much of the mallet instruments, and many colorful accents emanate from vibraphone and glockenspiel. The piece also includes several jazzy sections, one featuring the alto saxophone and another a duet between this instrument and trumpet, with a seriously syncopated background. The orchestra sounded especially well rehearsed in these sections, navigating the complex rhythms with apparent ease and producing a highly pleasing ensemble sound.

Mr. Botstein is committed to unearthing the rarest of rare works, and every once in a while he features a virtually unknown composer who deserves an extended hearing. Several years ago, I became enamored of the music of Egon Wellesz through one of the ASO concerts; since then, I have studied his symphonies with great sat isfaction. This day the unknown was Othmar Schoeck, a student of Max Reger in Leipzig and the foremost composer of songs from the German section of Switzerland. Schoeck wrote more than 400 lieder in a flowingly Romantic style, but hitched his wagon to the fascists’ and ended his days sick, lonely, and largely forgotten.

“Nachhall” (“Echo”), from 1955, was his last major work. Colored by the hopelessness of advancing age, heart problems, and isolation, it is a song cycle that incorporates, as was pointed out by the ASO’s composer in residence, Richard Wilson, in his pre-concert lecture, the soothing rhythms of the yodel. The dozen songs, set to text by Nikolaus Lenau, are reminiscent of the great compilations of Schubert, particularly “Winterreisse.” The orchestral accompaniment has many Mahlerian touches, not the least of which is a subtle shading of the countryside. Deeply felt and melancholy, this is a major discovery that deserves international exposure.

The baritone John Hancock did a good job throughout, but he encountered some problems with volume and diction. When he was on, he was emotionally centered, honest, and heartfelt. But too often he was underpowered and insecure in his top line. (I would love to hear Thomas Hampson interpret these songs.) The orchestra, however, was first rate, daubing instrumental color in wisps of suggestion rather than buckets of schmaltz.

After intermission came two precise and exciting performances of the music of Arthur Honegger. This composer was born, raised, and buried in France, but his parents were Swiss, and he spent World War I in the neutral country. Honegger is like Carl Nielsen in that his symphonies are 20th-century masterpieces but are severely underperformed.

The Fifth is a deeply spiritual piece, commissioned by the Boston Symphony and premiered here in America. The symphony has an appellation: “Di tre re.” This refers to the ending note “D” of all three movements, but it may also reference the three kings of the epiphany. (Honegger had previously penned the “Liturgical” Symphony). The opening Grave movement, an arrestingly powerful chorale, was intoned beautifully by the ASO brass. In fact, the horns had a terrific day.

The second movement is especially inventive. A 40-note theme is treated as a unit and is cleverly played backward (retrograde), upside down (inversion), and upside down and backward (retrograde inversion). This type of puzzle-like construction is not just a stunt, but rather a unifying principle.

Finally, Mr. Botstein conducted a frenetic realization of Honegger’s most popular piece,”Pacific 231.”This music portrays a locomotive getting up a head of steam and just as suddenly losing it. The title refers to a particular axle pattern – Honegger, like Dvorak, was a train buff. This is a glorious, crowdpleasing cacophony, and this was an energetic, disciplined reading.


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