Morihide Katayama’s
commentary for this Naxos product is
a model of its kind. Lucid and detailed,
it gives an admirable introduction to
the music of one of the ‘first fully-fledged
composers that Japan produced’. Kôsçak
Yamada was trained in Berlin, arriving
at the Musikhochschule there in 1910.
The Overture in D dates from
just two years later. Conservatively
scored (two horns and two trumpets make
up the brass section) it is light, almost
Mendelssohnian in its breeziness. It
does not outstay its welcome and as
one listens it becomes obvious that
this is written with a very confident
hand.
The Symphony is apparently
‘the first-ever symphony by a Japanese
composer’. Yamada had grown up surrounded
by military music in his youth, and
something of that high-spiritedness
is present in this piece. Apparently
the first theme contains part of the
National Anthem of Japan (Kimigayo,
a theme the composer was to keep on
using in his works as a metaphor for
Japan). The work is elegant, indeed
suave, the whole evidently springing
from a fertile well of ideas. There
is even something endearingly balletic
about some of the music. The Adagio
(non tanto e poco marciale) includes
a glorious oboe solo (around 1’44 –and
listen to how the clarinet creeps in
so magically!). There is much delicacy
to this Adagio – a marked contrast to
the virile Poco vivace that follows.
A breath of fresh air, this latter movement
trips along nicely. The Wagnerian chords
of the finale’s introduction may come
as a surprise after all this and despite
the rhythmic spring of the finale proper,
the Wagnerisms continue to cast an intermittent
shadow over proceedings.
Two tone-poems from
the following year (1913) provide the
last twenty minutes of the disc.
A poem by Rofu Miki
formed the initial creative impetus
for The Dark Gate. The poem was
written under the influence of Maeterlinck,
which might on paper indicate some Debussian
references. Instead, we are firmly in
(Richard) Straussian territory, from
the dark rumblings of the opening to
the brighter intensity of the contrasting
rising gestures. There is also an ominous-tinged
Romantic yearning that underlies the
whole.
Finally, and dating
from the same year, Madara No Hana
again takes its point of departure from
a poem, this time by Kazo Saito. The
subject matter of the poem refers to
flowers in a Buddhist heaven. The sound-world
Yamada conjures up here is decidedly
more fragrant, almost French à
la Ravel. It is here that Yamada’s sensitivity
to orchestral sound and balance is most
obviously on display and this makes
for a most satisfying conclusion to
the disc. The booklet notes suggest
that these two Symphonic Poems open
a gateway that would lead to the music
of Takemitsu – it is particularly in
Madara No Hana that this becomes
aurally obvious.
Highly recommended.
Takuo Yuasa’s interpretations show the
music in the best possible light (both
orchestras play superlatively for him).
The recording is excellent.
Colin Clarke
New Zealand Symphony Orchestra (Overture
in D), Ulster Orchestra (rest)/Takuo Yuasa.
