The Music of Kalevi Aho
By Dan Morgan
Kalevi
Aho (photo:
Maarit Kytöharju/Fimic)
BIS supremo Robert von Bahr
is one of the recording industry’s more enterprising
figures, combining so-called ‘core repertoire’
with contemporary works. Among the latter
is Finnish composer Kalevi Aho (b. 1949),
most of whose output has been recorded by
BIS over the past two decades or so.
Few living composers are
fortunate enough to have the solid backing
of a single record label, not to mention the
enthusiasm and support of conductors such
as Osmo Vänskä and John Storgårds.
This commitment and continuity ensures that
Aho’s music is performed in the best possible
artistic and technical environment, whether
it’s the youthful First Symphony (1969)
or the ambitious Twelfth (2002-03).
Composer and performers
Kalevi Aho was born in Forssa,
south-western Finland, in 1949. His musical
education began in earnest at the Sibelius
Academy in Helsinki, where he was taught composition
by Einojuhani Rautavaara (b. 1928), considered
by many to be the greatest Finnish composer
since Sibelius. Aho then went on to lecture
in musicology at the University of Helsinki,
becoming professor of composition at his alma
mater in 1988. Four years later he was
appointed the Lahti Symphony Orchestra’s composer-in-residence,
and since 1993 has devoted himself to composition.
Aho’s works and discography
owe much to his longstanding relationship
with the Lahti band and their artistic director
at the time, Osmo Vänskä. Not only
have the orchestra commissioned a number of
his best works they have also provided a standard
of performance that most composers can only
dream of. Sadly Vänskä has since
moved on to Minneapolis and, at the time of
writing (September 2008) has decided to relinquish
his position with the Lahti orchestra. That
said the premiere and subsequent recording
of Aho’s Twelfth Symphony suggests
John Storgårds will be as strong an
advocate of this composer’s music as any.
In the concertos Aho is lucky
enough to have some exceptional soloists,
among them Christian Lindberg (trombone),
Sharon Bezaly (flute), Gary Hoffman (cello),
Lewis Lipnick (contrabassoon) and Martin Fröst
(clarinet). Throw in the BIS recording team
and some good venues – Lahti’s Ristinkirkko
and Sibelius Hall – and you have the makings
of a memorable cycle. And there’s more to
come, with von Bahr committed to recording
the rest of Aho’s works, most notably the
Fifth and Sixth Symphonies.
Receptive listeners should
find much to enjoy here. Most established
genres are represented – symphonies, concertos,
songs for orchestra and chamber works – all
of which highlight the consistency and strength
of Aho’s musical imagination. This composer
seldom fails to engage and hold one’s attention,
especially in the symphonies, where he has
a good grasp of the long span and an uncanny
instinct for instrumental colours. But most
of all one warms to the freshness and spontaneity
of these works.
Note: This
survey covers the bulk of Aho’s output, as
recorded by BIS. Future releases and discs
that also contain the works of others will
be reviewed individually on MusicWeb’s main
site – see the Additional reviews section
at the end of this article. Links to reviews
by other contributors are included.
The recordings
Symphony
No. 1 (1969)* [27:53]
Hiljaisuus (Silence) (1982) [4:56]
Violin Concerto (1981-82)** [27:38]
*Sakari Tepponen – violin solo (fourth movement)
**Manfred Gräsbeck – violin
Lahti Symphony Orchestra/Osmo Vänskä
rec. 29 May & 1 June 1989, Ristinkirkko
(Church of the Cross), Lahti, Finland
BIS CD 396 [61:45]
Given Sibelius’s reputation as one of the great
symphonists of the last century, contemporary
Finnish composers may be forgiven for feeling
a little overshadowed. Fortunately for the young
Aho, Rautavaara’s advice and support proved
decisive in shaping this symphony, which began
life as a string quartet.
The work is in four movements, the mysterious opening
and ascending brass figures of the Andante strongly reminiscent of Shostakovich.
excerpt Indeed, this is confirmed by the
noted music publisher Fennica Gehrman, in a short article on the Finnish
Musical Information Centre website.
There is no obvious programme here, but in his refreshingly
unpretentious liner-notes – a welcome feature of this entire cycle –
Aho does speak of ‘nightmares’ and ‘psychological crises’. Even without
these pointers the Andante has a certain bleakness – desolation, even
– although there’s none of the trenchancy one associates with Shostakovich
in similar mood. That said the grim little waltz in the Allegretto could
so easily be attributed to DSCH, not to mention the quiet but insistent
tread in the lower strings. excerpt
By contrast the Presto kicks off with an arresting
moto perpetuo that drives this fugue like a musical dynamo. excerpt
This movement has some of the most individual writing so far. That said
the shade of Shostakovich hovers nearby, the laconic waltz tune and
a splintered remnant of the opening theme bringing the symphony to an
enigmatic close.
The other works on this disc – Hiljaisuus (Silence)
and the Violin Concerto – date from the early 1980s. According
to Aho, Hiljaisuus, a Finnish Radio commission that was to last
no more than five minutes, was intended as an introduction to the recently
completed Violin Concerto. It’s a strange swirl of a piece, a
mix of unsettling glissandos and unearthly sonorities. Sample the short
passage at 4:02 and you may be forgiven for thinking you’re listening
to Ligeti. excerpt
The Violin Concerto has more momentum and contrast
than Hiljaisuus, although it shares the latter’s concentrated,
more dissonant idiom. It isn’t the most grateful start to a violin concerto,
the solo part – sensitively played by Manfred Gräsbeck – rather
less prominent than one might expect. That said it would be difficult
to hear it above the orchestral eruptions that punctuate the first movement.
excerpt At 8:30 the soloist is given some
insistent phrases that rise above muted timps, culminating in an equally
restrained close.
The repeated phrases at the start of the second movement
– marked Leggiero – lead into music that fluctuates between light and
shade. The soloist has some rhapsodic passages all to himself before
we plunge into the spectral waltz of the finale. La Valse
this isn’t, but the wild, somewhat demonic element is certainly present.
Gräsbeck phrases these tunes like a Mahlerian Ländler –
listen to the passage beginning at 3:37 – before he is crushed by a
massive orchestral climax worthy of Bartók in Miraculous
Mandarin mode. excerpt
Whatever hints there may be of other sound worlds Aho
has fashioned something altogether individual here, combining a range
of ear-pricking sonorities with music of considerable punch and power.
Nothing quite prepares one for the gentle, introspective close to this
concerto which, as I have discovered, is something of an Aho trademark.
excerpt
Despite its obvious influences
the symphony is remarkably assured for a student
work. It’s economically scored, light on its
feet and direct in its appeal, the chamber-like
qualities much enhanced by the airy recording.
The concerto is more roughly hewn; it’s a
protracted tussle between soloist and orchestra,
yet it has real presence and power. All credit
to the Lahti Symphony Orchestra – just 40
years old when this recording was made – who
play these scores with commitment and care.
An excellent entrée to Aho’s
distinctive sound world.
Symphony
No. 2 (1970/1995) [21:14]
Symphony No. 7 ‘Hyönteissinfonia’
(Insect Symphony) (1988) [46:03]
I. The Tramp, the Parasitic Hymenopter and
its Larva [7:04]
II. The Butterflies (The Foxtrot and Tango
of the Butterflies) [4:33]
III. The Dung Beetles (Grief over the Stolen
Ball of Dung) [3:52]
IV. The Grasshoppers [6:11]
V. The Ants (The Working Music of the Ants
and War Marches I and II) [11:13]
VI. The Dayflies and Lullaby for the Dead
Dayflies [12:45]
Lahti Symphony Orchestra/Osmo Vänskä
rec. January 1998, Ristinkirkko, Lahti, Finland
BIS CD 936 [68:17]
see also
review
[PGW]
The Second Symphony
is also a youthful work – the composer was
just 21 at the time – but it differs from
the First in that it’s cast in a single
movement. After the premiere in 1973 Aho decided
to rework the middle section, a task he didn’t
attempt until 1995. The result is a compact,
tightly structured piece – it’s a triple fugue
– which the composer candidly admits was intended
as an antidote to some of the more ‘difficult’
music of the 1960s.
As with the fugues in the
First Symphony there’s no hint of dutifully
reconstructed baroquerie or dry didacticism;
instead, Aho uses fugues to create a remarkably
dramatic and cohesive symphonic whole.
And despite the echoes of Shostakovich in the First
Symphony it would be wrong to think of Aho’s early musical style
as ‘Shostakovich-lite’. Yes, DSCH could be the model for the
brooding theme that ushers in the Second Symphony but there is
enough in this unfolding music to suggest the composer is finding his
own ‘voice’. Just listen to that extraordinary sustained passage that
begins at 10:03, excerpt where we enter a more
individual, more rarefied soundscape altogether.
There is a pleasing directness
to Aho’s musical utterances that will appeal
to those who find much late-20th-century
music too dry or relentless. Even though this
symphony may only last 20 minutes there is
much to discover and enjoy here. As always
Vänskä and his Lahti band – the
mainstays of this cycle – are very well recorded,
especially in the symphony’s final, more spectral,
moments. excerpt
This well-filled disc also
offers a splendid performance of Aho’s Seventh
Symphony, penned after the composer took
a break to concentrate on his concertos and
other works. The intriguing subtitle, ‘Insect
Symphony’, is derived from the composer’s
opera Insect Life, which he entered
for a Savonlinna Opera Festival competition
in 1988. The work was rejected at the time,
so rather than abandon it altogether Aho decided
to recast it as a symphony. Incidentally,
Savonlinna’s loss was Helsinki’s gain, as
Insect Life was given a triumphant
premiere by Finnish National Opera in 1996.
The result is a set of six
pieces that contain conventional musical forms,
including a foxtrot, tango, marches and lullaby.
The first movement, ‘The Tramp, the Parasitic
Hymenopter and its Larva’, takes its cue from
the opera’s only human character, a drunk
vagrant who anthropomorphises the insects
he encounters. Investing them with human feelings
and foibles is not as twee or Disneyfied as
it may seem; indeed, Aho provides music of
considerable wit and character here.
The tipsy brass and bass-drum pratfalls of the first
movement are nicely done, excerpt and despite
the episodic nature of this work Aho manages to weld the sections into
a fairly convincing symphonic whole. There is music of real virtuosity
throughout that calls for contributions from solo piccolo, flute, trumpet,
tuba and cello. Naturally, the deliciously louche ‘Foxtrot and Tango
of the Butterflies’ demands an alto sax, stylishly played by Hannu Lehtonen.
It’s infectious stuff, the rhythms as sharp as a razor. excerpt
The tango especially has a sultry charm that is most enjoyable, the
players clearly relishing the chance to let their hair down a little.
The somewhat ungainly sounds
of the next movement manage to suggest the
squat shape of the hard-working dung beetles.
I suppose one could argue that this is the
kind of workaday accompaniment one might expect
from an Attenborough documentary but really
you’ll find nothing there that is as accomplished
as this. You won’t hear crude musical imitation
in ‘The Grasshoppers’ either; even though
there is an appropriate chirpiness to the
writing here.
The martial rhythms of the
working ants are subtly done, with fine contributions
from the Lahti brass and percussionists. It’s
strong, muscular music that never breaks its
stride, the sheer range of Aho’s colour palette
very impressive indeed. And there’s a satirical
edge to these marches that Shostakovich would
surely have enjoyed. Just listen to the gong’s
long, slow decay into silence at the end of
this movement, a simple device but hair-raising
nonetheless.
Aho is in a much more reflective mood when it comes
to the short-lived dayflies. Is there a philosophical dimension to this
movement? Perhaps; the music certainly has a fleeting, evanescent quality
that is most apt. Aho’s melodic strengths are very much in evidence
here, the music unfurling like the passing hours. It’s not all wistfulness
– there are some splendid climaxes too – but the symphony does draw
to a gentle, reflective close. Aho provides music of great tenderness
and beauty here, an extended lament, moving in its simplicity. excerpt
Even though the composer
can’t quite disguise the ‘bitty’ nature of
this score – one could argue that it’s more
of a suite than a symphony – it is bound together
by music of great originality and charm. Kudos
to all involved, especially the BIS engineers,
who have produced another astounding disc.
Not to be missed.
Symphony
No. 3 (Sinfonia Concertante) (1971/1973)*
[38:23]
Songs and Dances of Death (Modest Mussorgsky,
arr. and orch. Aho) (1984)** [19:58]
*Jaakko Kuusisto (violin)
**Matti Salminen (bass)
Lahti Symphony Orchestra/Osmo Vänskä
rec. 17 & 19 February 2001 (symphony),
12 May 2000 (Mussorgsky), Sibelius Hall, Lahti,
Finland
BIS CD 1186 [59:41]
See
also review
[CT]
If Aho uses fugues to forge
a link between his music and that of earlier
periods he does the same with this symphony,
subtitled ‘Sinfonia Concertante’. A classical
conceit – Mozart’s K.364 is probably the best
known example – this admixture of concerto
and symphony has persisted through the 19th
century and into the 20th. Latter
proponents of the genre include Prokofiev,
Martinů
and Walton.
In his liner-notes Aho admits the Third Symphony
was intended as a violin concerto but it metamorphosed into a sinfonia
concertante, the first movement of which – a darkly expressive Andante
– is dominated by the soloist. excerpt But
it’s the muted timps that make the most impact at the outset, surely
reminiscent of the start of Shostakovich’s bleak Symphony No. 11,
‘The Year 1905’.
That said the violin rises
out of the mists in a songful display. The
Finnish violinist, Jaakko Kuusisto, fends
off the encroaching orchestra with some lovely,
understated playing. The distinctly martial
mood of the Prestissimo doesn’t drown out
the soloist completely, although there are
some impressive drum thwacks here. Sensibly
the BIS engineers haven’t gone for a hifi
spectacular, but have produced a recording
of considerable range and sonic impact.
As always, though, it is the astonishing detail of
Aho’s score that registers most clearly. The Lahti band play very well
indeed – just listen to the superbly articulated brass at 6:23, baying
first and snarling later. excerpt Throughout
Vänskä manages a good balance between momentum and weight
on the one hand and detail and colour on the other. The movement ends
with a long, breathtaking crescendo for snare and bass drums.
The Lento may seem like an oasis of calm after the
turbulence of the previous movement but there is still a restlessness,
a sense of disquiet. It’s not the highly strung – some might say histrionic
– anxiety one associates with Shostakovich; no, it’s altogether more
controlled, stoic even, with an implacable tread that’s surely more
Sibelius than Shostakovich. However, the bells at 7:03 bring to mind
the tocsins (alarm bells) of ‘The Year 1905’. Once again
Aho – still in his early 20s at the time – surprises with music of astonishing
eloquence and beauty, as in the lovely string passage that begins at
7: 28. excerpt
The fourth movement – marked Presto – reprises the
muted opening of the first movement, the soloist dissembling briefly
before the menacing martial rhythms return. Ensemble is crisp and clear
throughout, the Sibelius Hall providing just enough warmth without clouding
all-important details. It really is an exemplary recording and proof,
if it were needed, that good production values can significantly enhance
one’s enjoyment of music, especially when it comes to new and unfamiliar
repertoire. excerpt
The filler is Aho’s arrangement
and orchestration of Mussorgsky’s Songs
and Dances of Death (1875-77). Of course
Mussorgsky is no stranger to such things –
witness Rimsky’s ‘version’ of Boris Godunov
and no less than 28 orchestrations of Pictures
at an Exhibition – and this song cycle
is no exception. Rimsky and Glazunov prepared
an orchestral score from the piano original
but the dark intensity of these death-obsessed
songs is best realised in Shostakovich’s 1962
reworking of the score.
The baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky
recorded the latter version with Yuri Temirkanov
and the St. Petersburg Philharmonic (Warner
Classics 2564 62050-2), which I have used
for comparison. Arguably his voice is not
quite dark enough for these songs – Aho’s
version was written in response to a request
from the formidable Finnish bass Martti Talvela
– but it’s the orchestration that is of real
interest here. In the CD booklet Aho says
he strived to preserve the work’s character
while enhancing it with what he calls ‘psychological
instrumentation’. An interesting strategy,
risky even, but does it work?
These four songs deal with a mother’s desperate attempts
to protect her child, Death’s flirtation with a pale young woman, a
drunken tramp collapsing in the snow and Death summoning his armies
on the battlefield. Shostakovich’s response to ‘Cradle Song’ is unmistakable,
from the winding cello theme at the outset to those bell-like sounds
that seem to mark the passing hours. It’s surprisingly austere, Aho’s
version perhaps more overt – theatrical even – with greater dynamic
and emotional contrasts. That said Shostakovich’s arrangement has a
marrow-piercing chill that is hard to beat.
Opening of the Cradle song
Death’s ‘Serenade’ isn’t
as erotically charged as it might be in Aho’s
version but then I wasn’t particularly convinced
by Matti Salminen’s vocal characterisation
either. excerpt
In comparison Hvorostovky has an arrogance,
a virility, that is much more appropriate
to this cruel seduction. Orchestrally Shostakovich
pares the music down to its essentials, not
a note, rhythm or nuance wasted. Just listen
to Death’s triumphant cry at the end, underpinned
by a simple timp stroke; Aho opts for a swirling
harp and mighty drum thwack, which is much
less subtle.
excerpt
In ‘Trepak’ Salminen – who is never less than polished,
if sometimes a little bland – sings with vigour and intelligence. excerpt
He is suitably taunting here, Aho’s orchestration exotic and larger
in scale than Shostakovich’s. But, and it’s a big but, it’s the latter’s
biting, more sardonic scoring that is most telling here.
Similarly Shostakovich’s Field Marshal is vocally more
communicative, the grim, bell-like orchestral figures tolling to great
effect. At the start Aho’s powerful drums are exciting but again one
feels that in this case less really is more. excerpt
As a virtuoso vocal and orchestral display this piece certainly
has its merits but if you want to get to the dark heart of these songs
Shostakovich knows the way.
A mildly disappointing disc,
on account of the Mussorgsky, but the symphony
certainly confirms Aho’s growing confidence
in the genre. Other influences may still be
discernible but they are gradually being supplanted
by music that is distinctively his own. One
of the characteristics of these symphonies
that I particularly relish is his ability
to surprise and seduce when one least expects
it.
As always, Vänskä
and his Lahti band are in fine fettle, the
recording a model of clarity and warmth. Not
perhaps the finest disc in the cycle but well
worth exploring nonetheless.
Kiinalaisia lauluja (Chinese Songs) (1997)*
[18:07]
I. Punainen aurinko (The Red Sun) (Text: Li
Yü) [2:20]
II. Miten taipuisa (How Pliant) (Text: Cho
Wen-chün) [2:21]
III. Kultainen lintuhiusneula (The Golden
Bird Hairpin) (Text: Li Yü) [2:22]
IV. Yöllä, aivan päihdyksissä
(At Night, Very Drunk) (Text: Li Ch´ing-chao)
[3:37]
V. Syksyn tuuli (The Wind of Autumn) (Text:
Li Yü) [4:20]
VI. Lumen keskellä kevään viesti
(Amid the Snow, the Message of Spring) (Text:
Li Ch´ing-chao) [3:02]
Symphony No. 4 (1972-73) [44:20]
*Tiina Vahevaara (soprano)
Lahti Symphony Orchestra/Osmo Vänskä
rec. June 1999, Ristinkirkko, Lahti, Finland
BIS CD 1066 [63:19]
Mahler’s Chinese settings in Das Lied von
der Erde spring to mind here, Anne Weller
noting that Aho chose his texts for their
‘joie de vivre ... combined with the
transitory nature of life’. Mahler would certainly
understand these sentiments and, yes, there
is a hint of late-Romantic weltschmerz
here too.
The opening of ‘The Red Sun’ – the six songs are grouped
in three pairs played without breaks – surely echoes the first of Korngold’s
bittersweet Abschiedlieder. It’s a fleeting resemblance and Aho
brings his own, lightly perfumed harmonies to bear. The soprano, Tiina
Vahevaara, sings with commendable passion, although some listeners may
find her a little too steely under pressure. excerpt
As always Aho manages a seamless transition to the next song, ‘How Pliant’,
which speaks of love and how to preserve and prolong those fleeting
moments – ‘May this year last ten thousand times longer!’
Aho deftly blends the scented imagery of these poems
with music of economy and restraint. Yet there is a charge, a tension,
in this song that Vahevaara captures rather well with her transported
singing. In ‘The Golden Bird Hairpin’ we are made keenly aware of the
passing of time – ‘At the moment of night the water clock stops’ – excerpt
and the mood continues to darken in ‘At Night, Very Drunk’. There
is a marvellous, tremulous quality to the orchestral writing here, a
heightened sensitivity to the song’s mood of growing despair.
In the final pairing, ‘The Wind of Autumn’ and ‘In
the Snow, the Message of Spring’, Aho adds a certain chill to the first
with music that swirls around and lifts the vocal line; the final song
opens with a bright, tolling figure, this time amidst a flurry of snow.
excerpt At last the intervention of a benign
deity brings new-found joy – ‘Now we drink wine from deep golden goblets!’
– and Aho responds with music of some vigour and weight. It’s not the
most grateful of parts – more a kind of oriental vocalise – but Vahevaara
acquits herself well in the work’s more ecstatic moments.
We now step back a quarter
century to Symphony No. 4 (1972-73).
Fennica Gehrman, whose FIMIC essay I referred
to in my introduction, believes this symphony
marks the end of Aho’s so-called ‘early period’.
Indeed, even a cursory audition of this score
suggests a shift in the composer’s musical
landscape. Not seismic, perhaps, but significant
nonetheless.
Begun while the composer was on a scholarship to Berlin,
the Fourth Symphony was only completed on his return to Finland
in 1973. Not surprisingly it has a fugal theme in the first movement
that resonates throughout. The gentle opening of the Adagio sounds wonderfully
poised and translucent, before descending via the lower strings to a
less idyllic plane. excerpt There is a
palpable tension here, the sudden brass fanfare at 4:14 echoed shortly
afterwards, before the timps confirm this growing sense of unease. excerpt
As always with this composer
there is a remarkable compactness, a simplicity
of design, that is lyrical and heartfelt.
More important there is a cumulative energy
in this Adagio, a thrust and intensity, that
we’ve not heard before. Yes, the transported
trumpets may remind you of Shostakovich, but
it’s the melancholy string theme at 10:00
that is most striking, the long, expressive
lines very moving indeed.
The original fugal theme
is continually tossed about in this lengthy
movement, yet the music doesn’t outstay its
welcome. Vänskä is particularly
adept at maintaining tension throughout, never
allowing the players to lose focus or momentum.
Typically the Adagio ends with one of Aho’s
lovely string melodies, fading slowly into
silence. Very atmospheric indeed.
The excitable Allegro – Presto
is chockful of ear-pricking detail, the playing
wonderfully supple and precise. It really
is remarkable how the composer deploys that
germinal theme in such original ways. And
at 4:45, surely that busy little theme brings
Prokofiev to mind? Certainly there is a motoric
element to this music that the latter would
have recognised. There is a real frisson of
excitement at the long, pounding peroration
that ends this movement. Goodness, this is
terrific music making, crowned with some visceral
– and well recorded cymbal clashes. excerpt
The half-lit Lento is altogether different. There is
a dirge-like quality at the outset that steers well clear of lugubriousness.
excerpt Once again I had to admire the composer’s
melodic and harmonic gifts, not to mention his ability to shift the
mood so seamlessly. Listen to that circus-like fanfare at 8:07. In other
hands it may seem incongruous but in Aho’s it sound entirely apposite.
And that, surely, is the sign of a composer firmly in control of his
material. excerpt
An exhilarating symphony
this, and another triumph for Vänskä,
his players and the BIS engineers. Even in
an age of high-resoution recordings this must
count as one of the finest recordings in the
cycle. The Chinese Songs are a desirable
filler, but as with the Songs and Dances
of Death I remain somewhat ambivalent
about Aho in vocal mode. But the symphony’s
the real draw here, and that I can heartily
recommend.
Symphony No. 5 (1975-76)
& Symphony No. 6 (1979-80)
At the time of writing (September
2008) neither of these symphonies has appeared
on BIS. In the case of the Sixth, there
don’t appear to be any commercial recordings
at all. However, there is a fine version of
the Fifth – coupled with the ‘Insect
Symphony’ – from Max Pommer and the Leipzig
radio orchestra (Ondine ODE 765). Read my
colleague Tim Perry’s enthusiastic review
here.
Symphony
No. 8 for organ and orchestra (1993)*
[50:07]
Pergamon, for four orchestral groups, four
narrators and organ (1990)** [10:29]
*Hans-Ola Ericsson (organ)
**Lilli Paasikivi, Eeva-Liisa Saarinen, Tom
Nyman and Matti Lehtinen (narrators); Pauli
Pietiläinen (organ)
Lahti Symphony Orchestra/Osmo Vänskä
rec. 23-25 May 1994, Ristinkirkko, Lahti,
Finland
BIS CD 646 [61:54]
This work, one of many commissions
from the Lahti Symphony Orchestra, is Aho’s
very own ‘Organ’ Symphony. A densely packed
piece in eight movements it’s also rougher
and more angular than the earlier symphonies,
with great cliffs of sound alternating with
quieter, more intimate moments that recall
his earlier works.
‘The tragedy of society and
the individual, and its musical setting’,
the title of Anne Weller’s booklet essay,
gives one an idea of what to expect from this
music. And although the Eighth marks
a somewhat traditional journey from innocence
to experience, what is less traditional is
Aho’s musical language, which is much more
uncompromising than before. Dissonances are
plentiful, the organist playing a series of
cadenzas in the three interludes, while adding
colour and weight elsewhere.
For once I couldn’t think of a comparable sound world,
such is the individuality of Aho’s writing here. The opening of the
Introduction starts at both frequency extremes; it’s a strange effect
and the first of many in this work. excerpt The
first somewhat manic Scherzo displays a growing tension that erupts
in a series of confrontations between organ and orchestra. Aho intersperses
these conflicts with quietly rhythmic – yet restless – episodes. excerpt
It’s curiously unsettling music, exacerbated by the
organ’s virtuoso display in the first Interlude and the strident dissonance
that opens the second Scherzo. There is still plenty of instrumental
detail audible but nothing prepares you for the epic battle that begins
at 3:26. Remarkably Vänskä keeps his forces on track and the
engineers never allow the music to slide into incoherence. This is demonstration
material that will surely tax even the best sound systems. excerpt
Aho knits these movements
together with considerable skill, so that
the bells and organ at the end of the second
Scherzo act as an effective ‘bridge’ between
it and the ensuing Interlude. Ditto the transition
from this Interlude to the ferocious music
of the third Scherzo.
If it’s spectacle you want just listen to the passage
that begins at 7:46 in this third and last Scherzo; it’s a shattering
stand-off between organ and timps, fading to a simple yet reassuring
Interlude. (And yes, there’s another one of those near miraculous transitions
here too.) example Indeed, there is a hypnotic
calm here – a sense of spirituality, perhaps – that may well remind
listeners of Messiaen at his most contemplative.
Organist Hans-Ola Ericsson
plays with great
sensitivity throughout and in the Epilogue
the low-frequency rumble of the instrument
as it underpins the orchestra is superbly
balanced by the BIS engineers. Now the agitated
timps are supplanted by gentle beats below
organ glissandi, the battle hard fought and
hard won. It’s this unfailing ability to ambush
his listeners that makes Aho’s scores so fascinating.
Pergamon,
written for the 350th anniversary
of Helsinki University in 1990, is based on
the so-called Pergamon Altar that dates from
the 2nd century BC. It’s an extraordinary
edifice, with a 371ft frieze depicting the
battle between the gods (in human form) and
the giants (fallen angels).
(Photo courtesy of G. Ray Thompson
Salisbury University click for enlarged
version) This gigantomachy, reconstructed
in Berlin’s Pergamon Museum, gives Aho plenty
of scope for thrilling orchestral effects,
starting with that massive gong and drum smash
and ensuing organ pedal.
But there’s more to this piece than simple sonics.
The texts, by the German writer Peter Weiss (1916-82), who fled Nazi
Germany and settled in Sweden, are spoken in German, Finnish, Swedish
and Ancient Greek. The four narrators are arranged around the auditorium,
their declamations swirling about the hall. excerpt
Clearly Aho is fascinated by spatial music, an interest that culminates
in his ‘Luosto’ Symphony, premiered on a mountainside.
Given Weiss’s antipathy to
the Nazis his response to this great battle
has obvious resonances. For his part Aho creates
a most unusual work, the voices sandwiched
between music that roars and shrieks at both
frequency extremes. In between there is much
to delight the ear; just listen to that strange
glissando that begins at around 3:12.
Even though this is one work
that needs to be heard live the BIS engineers
have done a remarkable job capturing the essence
of this ambitious score. As ever the Lahti
band play with great concentration and produce
some spine-tingling sounds along the way.
And while the piece has its apocalyptic moments
– sample the passage beginning at 7:16 – the
composer’s judicious use of orchestral effects
ensures Pergamon never becomes bombastic
or vulgar. A terrific filler and a splendid
piece in its own right. Altogether a very
successful coupling.
Symphony
No. 9 for trombone and orchestra (1993-94)*
[31:19]
Concerto for cello and orchestra (1983-84)**
[29:39]
*Christian Lindberg (trombone)
**Gary Hoffman (cello)
Lahti Symphony Orchestra/Osmo Vänskä
rec. 9-10 January 1995 (symphony), 7-8 September
1993 (concerto), Ristinkirkko, Lahti, Finland
BIS CD 706 [61:59]
Hard on the heels of the
Eighth comes another hybrid – Aho originally
called this work Sinfonia concertante
No. 2 – with the trombonist flamboyantly
adding his distinctive timbre to the orchestral
mix and giving voice to the work’s inner tensions.
In her liner-notes Anne Weller
points out that the Eighth and Ninth
symphonies – paired at the latter’s premiere
– are musical opposites, one dark the other
light. A quick run-through of the Ninth
rather confirms this, with Christian Lindberg’s
mellifluous entry in the first movement quite
without angst or aggression. Even the animated
orchestration suggests an altogether more
optimistic mood. In fact just listen to the
passage that begins at 2:44, a lightly sprung
piece of baroquerie with some beautifully
articulated playing from the soloist. excerpt
As I mentioned in my review
of the First Symphony Aho seems to
see himself as part of a great musical tradition;
the Ninth is no exception, combining
contemporary sonorities and melodic juxtapositions
with formal elements from the past. Aho manages
this very well, the various elements blended
with great naturalness and skill. Far from
seeming an odd progression the first movement,
Presto, presents us with an invigorating musical
collage, passages of Beethovenian thrust and
energy jostling with late 20th
century timbres and dissonances. It’s a heady
mix but Vänskä, Lindberg and the
Lahti band despatch it with great virtuosity.
Even the three mighty drum thwacks at the end of the
first movement can’t dispel the music’s more genial mood, especially
in the Adagio that follows. Lindberg’s playing here is very impressive
indeed, the elegiac trombone rising over a grumbling bass. excerpt
Another one of Aho’s rather magical slow movements, but it’s not without
music of a more uncompromising nature. Yes, taken at face value this
may be a sunnier piece but there is still an inner dialectic here –
witness the collision of trombone and orchestra. And at 8:19 you may
be forgiven for thinking you were listening to a sackbut as the music
slides seamlessly into late Renaissance/early Baroque mode.
The most ebullient music belongs to the third movement,
whose opening Presto has real sparkle and sprightliness. As always Lindberg’s
virtuosic playing is first-rate, in what seems to be a good-natured
tussle with the drum-dominated orchestra. No existential angst here,
just writing of great skill. For a bit of fun just listen to the tipsy
trombone passage that begins at 3:37. This is music written – and played
– with plenty of humour. Vänskä brings it all to a triumphant
close. excerpt
By contrast the Cello
Concerto is a much spikier, more unforgiving
work. That’s clear from the cello’s opening
melody and the orchestra’s dark, sustained
dissonances. Glissandos abound in the orchestra,
creating a remarkable sense of ‘otherness’,
with only the ghostliest of rhythms emerging
at 2:50 in the first movement.
The cellist, Canadian-born Gary Hoffman, is convincingly
recorded, combining warmth with detail. excerpt
There is a Godot-like sense of alienation in this oblique ‘dialogue’
between soloist and orchestra, with a slow-burning but increasingly
powerful passage that begins at 4:18. That said the music takes on a
rollicking gait as well, this flash of humour soon subsumed by the weightiest
of perorations.
The first movement ends with an extended, more reflective
passage for the soloist before evaporating with a gentle shimmer. There
is nothing enigmatic about the powerful, stabbing rhythms that launch
the second movement. This is writing of great power and concentration,
a foil to the extended – and virtuosic – solo cadenza that follows.
excerpt In the end, though, it is the orchestra
that triumphs with a roof-raising climactic passage that begins at 11:03.
excerpt Once again I could only marvel at
the depth and scale of this recording, it really is astonishing. But
there is always a surprise in store and rather than end with a bang
the concerto ends with a whimper, fading out just as the first movement
faded in.
Not an easy listen, this.
One may flinch at the wide dynamic range of
Aho’s score but there’s no doubt the composer
has absolute control of his material. Vänskä
also knows where this music is going and delivers
what must surely be a benchmark reading of
this wild and wonderful work.
Syvien
vesien juhla, fantasia orkesterille (Rejoicing
of the Deep Waters, fantasy for orchestra)
(1995) [11:03]
Symphony No. 10 (1996) [46:54]
Lahti Symphony Orchestra/Osmo Vänskä
rec. March 1996 (fantasy), February 1997 (symphony),
Ristinkirkko, Lahti, Finland
BIS CD 856 [58:44]
Aho’s opera Insect Life may have been
rejected at first but that didn’t stop him dabbling
in the genre. Rejoicing of the Deep Waters
is based on his opera, Before We All Have
Drowned, which has since been performed
in Helsinki and Lūbeck.
And even though it was written for the
city of Lahti’s 90th anniversary
it’s certainly not celebratory in tone. In fact
the work begins with a lovelorn surgical nurse
throwing herself off a bridge, the ensuing story
told in a series of flashbacks.
There is certainly a dramatic thrust to this score,
yet it is framed in a surprisingly conventional musical idiom. And despite
the seemingly grim plot there is little Nordic angst on show here, confirmed
by the music’s almost classical restraint and sense of proportion. Indeed,
it’s just like a conventional overture, with a discernible dramatic
‘arch’, and if it has a message it’s in the final words of the opera:
‘Listen, so that you learn to listen / and save us / before we are all
drowned.’ It makes an attractive, if lightweight, curtain raiser to
the more substantial symphony that follows. excerpt
Speaking of classical structures,
Aho’s Tenth Symphony – a joint commission
from the Lahti Symphony Orchestra and the
Finnish Association for Mental Health – has
its origins in a performance Aho heard of
Mozart’s Symphony No. 39, played by
the Lahti band. An intriguing source of inspiration,
perhaps, but not one that readily comes to
mind when listening to this towering score.
Admittedly, as Anne Weller points out in her liner-notes,
Aho only uses the first three notes of the Mozart symphony’s main theme
to launch his Tenth Symphony. The Allegro certainly starts off
with some delicacy and charm excerpt but it’s
soon clear this is not going to be a sunny work. The ever-present timps
rumble like distant thunder as we move into a darker, gong-tormented
world and back into another, more elegant, lightly sprung phase. Throughout
there is an admirable clarity and lightness of step that is most appealing.
As always Aho is a master of unusual contrasts and
unexpected timbres. The extra resources required – among them soprano
and alto trombones and a piccolo clarinet – give you some idea of the
work’s colour palette. The Prestissimo has some fevered string playing
against a rather ghostly background. excerpt
It’s unsettled – and unsettling – with a macabre rattling figure underlining
it all. Macabre would certainly be one way of describing the mood of
this movement, whose timps and-tam tam rear up from time to time.
It’s not nearly as uncompromising as it sounds. Indeed,
out of the turmoil arises a luminous little melody that takes us to
the end of the Prestissimo and segues neatly with the yearning string
theme that begins the 20-minute Adagio. This is music of great intensity,
not a million miles from the innig Adagios we associate with
Mahler. excerpt Not only that, there is a wonderful
transparency to the writing here that also reminds me of Mahler, albeit
with Aho’s own imaginative touches.
Don’t expect angst, for this
Adagio is shot through with passages of great
poise and tenderness. Extraordinarily, Aho
binds these disparate sound worlds into a
very convincing whole, the hushed playing
of the Lahti band riveting throughout. And
the peroration that begins to build at 8:42
has an unmistakable, echt-Mahlerian
feel, matching weight with detail. Most importantly
this symphony never postures or lapses into
empty rhetoric; indeed, Aho’s unfailing directness
and drive are what make this music so invigorating.
Yes, there is a series of cataclysms – shrieking clarinets
and timps – yet Aho does ‘modulate out of the key of self-abasement
– to borrow Forster’s phrase – into something more stoic, noble even.
And what an extraordinary climax to this movement, a long fade to silence,
followed by a quirky, virtuosic Vivacissimo. excerpt
Again I was struck by the natural perspectives and balances in this
recording. It’s the sound one might hear from a good seat in the stalls.
Longueurs? Vänskä
makes sure there aren’t any. And just when
you think the end is in sight Aho throws in
another eruptive passage that carries the
symphony to its powerful close. Stirring stuff,
adroitly done.
Symphonic
Dances (Hommage à Uuno Klami) (2001)
[27:39]
I. Prelude [3:13]
II. Return of the Flames and Dance [4:53]
III. Grotesque Dance [5:15]
IV. Dance of the Winds and Fires [13:56]
Symphony No.11 for six percussionists and
orchestra (1997-98)* [31:42]
*With the Kroumata Percussion Ensemble
Lahti Symphony Orchestra/Osmo Vänskä
rec. January 2002 (Symphonic Dances),
February 2002 (Symphony No. 11), Sibelius
Hall, Lahti, Finland
BIS CD 1336 [60:09]
see also review
[CT]
The Symphonic Dances
are derived from Pyörteitä
(Whirls) an unfinished ballet by Uuno Klami
(1900-61). In his detailed liner-notes Aho
explains that he orchestrated the first and
second acts (available on BIS CD 656) and
was then asked to write the music for the
missing Act III. However, plans for the ballet
came to nought, so Aho retitled the work for
concert performance.
Pyörteitä
is based on part of that epic of Finnish and
Karelian folklore, the Kalevala, which inspired
no less than 12 works by Sibelius. Klami’s
ballet focuses on the forging of the Sampo,
which Aho describes as a ‘magical object that
brings eternal happiness and prosperity’.
In the first act Ilmarinen the smith can’t
quite make the genuine article, no matter
how much his slaves stoke the furnace. Act
II, set in space, features a number of astral
dances, and in the climactic third act Ilmarinen
and his minions harness the power of the winds
and finally create the Sampo.
Powerful stuff and a marvellous opportunity for Aho
to let rip. Indeed, my review copy of this disc was plastered with stickers
extolling its sonic virtues. The Prelude opens with bells and swirling
harps, before slipping into music of real vigour and bite. Listeners
may be reminded of other ballets – Stravinsky’s Firebird and
Prokofiev’s Ala and Lolli perhaps – but as always Aho gives this
music a distinctive flavour of its own. excerpt
As for the recording, it
certainly lives up to the promotional hype.
There is detail aplenty and the climaxes expand
without a hint of strain. I was particularly
impressed by the depth of the soundstage,
which creates a more ‘layered’ sound, allowing
one to hear inner detail. It’s certainly motoric
– sample the passage beginning at 1:37 – but
this exhilarating score manages to combine
fluidity with power. It really is music that
cries out to be danced to.
The ‘Grotesque Dance’ brings together lurid sounds
– listen to those brass whoops at 4:09 excerpt
– and moments of surprising tenderness before the orchestral gales
begin to blow in the ‘Dance of the Winds and Fires’. Once again I was
struck by the sheer inventiveness of this score, which has plenty to
please the ear and set the pulse racing. Special thanks to the musicians
and conductor, who inject just enough adrenaline into a score that could
so easily sound overblown. And just in case you think it’s all too driven
listen to this lovely postlude that begins at 11:30. Simply gorgeous.
excerpt
Originally a commission from
the Swedish Concert Institute the Eleventh
Symphony was to include the Kroumata Percussion
Ensemble. Anyone who has sampled the latter’s
discs will know they are an exceptional band.
As Aho relates in his liner-notes he took
the time to visit them during the compositional
process. The work was premiered by the Lahti
orchestra on 10th March 2000, as
part of the inauguration of their new Sibelius
Hall.
The orchestra is slimmed down and the six percussionists
provide a marvellous range of sonorities and rhythms throughout. The
first movement – Untitled – is also strangely unformed at the outset,
with the quietest of introductions emerging from the primordial silence.
excerpt It’s another of those captivating
moments one has come to expect from this composer, the spacious acoustic
allowing the music to bloom and grow with ease.
Even with a reduced orchestra Aho manages some powerful
percussive climaxes but that theatricality is tempered by a commendable
economy of style. The emerging rhythms take some time to establish themselves
but when they do they come across with tautness and precision. excerpt
The music then slips seamlessly into a gentle Andante. The heckelphone
is soon supplanted by vital, thrusting rhythms one usually associates
with Bernstein in Broadway mode. As for the Kroumata ensemble they are
a class act, their competing rhythms very well articulated and recorded.
Sample the passage that begins at 8:44 and you’ll get some idea of the
extraordinary virtuosity of these players. excerpt
The final movement – Tranquillo
– harks back to the quiet opening of the symphony.
More than that, it looks forward to the Twelfth
Symphony in its use of space. Here the
percussionists are arrayed around the hall,
the distinctive sound of the 10-stringed kanteles
– traditional zither-like instruments – adding
to the disembodied swirl of this movement.
excerpt
In a theatrical flourish reminiscent of
Haydn’s ‘Farewell’ Symphony Aho directs the
percussionists to leave the hall, playing
ancient cymbals as they go. Granted, a multi-channel
recording would probably capture the shifting
aural perspectives more effectively – as indeed
it does in the Twelfth Symphony – but
it’s still a wonderful sign-off.
Symphony
No. 12 ‘Luosto’ (2002-03) [48:56]
I. The Shamans [13:16]
II. Winter Darkness and Midsummer [14:00]
III. Song in the Fells [9:36]
IV. Storm in the Fells [11:06]
Taina Piira (soprano)
Aki Alamikkotervo (tenor)
Lahti Symphony Orchestra and Chamber Orchestra
of Lapland/John Storgårds
rec. March 2007, Sibelius Hall, Lahti, Finland
BIS SACD 1676 [48:56]
Just as the finale of Aho’s
Eleventh Symphony owes something to
Haydn the Twelfth draws on an earlier
tradition of outdoor music. The most familiar
examples of this are Handel’s Music for
the Royal Fireworks – itself the model
for Sir Malcolm Arnold’s Water Music,
Op. 82 – and Haydn’s Feldparthien,
but rather than a barge or castle grounds
Aho chose to set his work on a mountainside.
The
CD booklet has a fascinating photograph of
the premiere (click to enlarge), also conducted
by John Storgårds, on the wooded slopes
of Mount Luosto, in Finnish Lapland. The BIS
recording was made in the now familiar Sibelius
Hall, with the large orchestra and chamber
forces placed on opposite sides of the auditorium.
The latter are joined by the saxophone and
soprano soloist, with various brass and percussion
instruments arranged around the periphery.
Of course it’s only an approximation of the
open-air version, which must have been extraordinary,
but this multi-channel SACD does offer the
listener a genuine ‘surround-sound’ experience.
The two-channel stereo layer gives you a fair
idea of the spatial nature of this symphony,
but this is one work that really demands a
multi-channel system to maximise the effect.
This is also perhaps the most Sibelian of Aho’s symphonies,
in that it taps into Finland’s primeval past, a time of dark superstitions
and wild, untamed landscapes. Of course sacred mountains played a central
part in this pagan world, so it’s entirely appropriate that Aho should
choose the title ‘Luosto’ for this symphony. Indeed, the first movement
– ‘The Shamans’ – makes this ritualistic link with some of the most
ferocious drumming imaginable. Anyone who has heard the Kodo drummers
of Japan will have an inkling of what to expect here. excerpt
(In his detailed and entertaining liner-notes Aho admits he considered
the barrel-like Japanese o-daiko drums but settled for traditional
bass drums instead.)
It’s powerful, visceral music laced with moments of
genuine beauty and sweep, as in the passage that begins at 3:13. excerpt
There is grandeur, too, as befits the mountain setting, the two
bands playing with enormous energy – listen to that crescendo at 7:20.
The use of rain sticks and other exotic instruments make for an exotic
and overwhelming musical experience. excerpt
There is much more to this symphony than brute force
– as the eloquent close of ‘The Shamans’ confirms – and in the second
movement we pass into a world of contrasts, winter night and summer
light. In the first half eerie brass echo, as if in a void – Haydn’s
ohne Form und leer, perhaps – and a blazing es ward licht
as the sun appears at 4:10. What follows is music of haunting beauty,
superbly played and recorded. excerpt By whatever
yardstick one might choose this is a composer at the height of his powers
– confident, forthright, original – and the closing pages of this movement
are as memorable and moving as anything one might expect from Sibelius
or any of the great symphonists.
The wordless vocalises of
the tenor and soprano soloists dominate ‘Song
in the Fells’, a celebration of the open spaces
painted in glowing orchestral colours. As
pastoral music goes there is nothing hackneyed
here, thanks to Aho’s seemingly inexhaustible
palette. excerpt
But even in this idyllic setting there is
some discord – a hint of the coming storm
at 4:56 – and I imagine many listeners will
think of Berlioz’s ‘Scene aux champs’ at this
point. Needless to say the soloists both sing
with great ardour, their voices carrying across
the wide open spaces.
‘Storm on the Fells’ must have made quite an impact
on the mountainside with its distant rumbles of thunder. Richard Strauss’s
Alpine drenching is something of a benchmark in ‘storm music’ but Aho’s
is a more subtle affair, built over a longer span and with tension building
superbly along the way. He also uses wind machines, the singers all
but drowned out by the ferocious weather. And at 4:29 there is another
of those frisson-making drum-led crescendos before the thundering orchestra
and cracks of lightning give even Herr Strauss a run for his money.
excerpt In the Alpine Symphony the music
that follows the storm is the most lovely; and so it is here, beginning
at 7:34. The soloists return and there is a real sense of renewal and
optimism as the work draws to a quiet but radiant close. excerpt
‘Luosto’ is simply wonderful
and will be one of my discs of the year. It
sets the bar very high, though, and I just
wonder how Aho can possibly reach it – let
alone clear it – with his next symphony. It
would certainly be an ideal Prom piece, well
suited to the Royal Albert Hall. Now I would
beg, borrow or steal a ticket for that....
Concerto
for tuba and orchestra (2000-01)* [28:30]
Concerto for contrabassoon and orchestra
(2004-0)** [34:22]
* Øystein Baadsvik (tuba)
* Norrköping Symphony Orchestra/Mats
Rondin
**Lewis Lipnick (contrabassoon)
**Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra/Andrew Litton
rec. 23 & 24 February 2006, Grieg Hall,
Bergen, Norway (contrabassoon concerto); November
2006, Louis de Geer Concert Hall, Norrköping,
Sweden (tuba concerto)
BIS CD 1574 [63:42]
see also review
[DC]
Andrew Litton isn’t a conductor
I readily associate with contemporary music
so I was curious to hear what he’d make of
this oddball concerto for contrabassoon. As
for the tuba concerto, yes, there are others
– by Ralph Vaughan Williams and a number of
contemporary composers – but I’m not aware
of any written for contrabassoon. In any event
Aho made a point of familiarising himself
with this duo’s strengths and weaknesses before
putting pen to paper.
The Norwegian tubist Øystein Baadsvik is an
obvious choice for this recording, given that he has premiered some
40 works for the instrument. In his liner-notes the composer speaks
of the tuba’s ‘songful’ qualities and that’s certainly borne out by
the first entry in the Andante. Aho tends to focus on the tuba’s more
liquid middle register here, but the instrument’s rasp and bray is unmistakable
in the passage that begins at 3:49. excerpt That
said, Baadsvik plays with great accuracy, whatever the composer’s demands,
and he is given an excellent recording to boot.
Mats Rondin and the Norrköping orchestra are both
new to me and as good as they sound I longed for the Lahti band’s authority
and special brand of magic in this music. I certainly can’t fault the
orchestra’s virtuosity in the Allegro, even if they do sound a little
undernourished at times. No such qualms about the soloist, who is nothing
short of heroic – sample the passage beginning at 3:50 – producing some
glorious sounds along the way. excerpt
The pizzicato strings that open the Larghetto are well
caught, the tuba’s first quiet entry astonishingly secure. I was reminded
that this gruff, vaguely comical instrument can actually play cantabile,
a quality the composer seems to encourage here. Listen to the passage
at 7:00 and you’ll hear some of the strangest and most original noises
you’re ever likely to hear from a tuba. Not since the Tetraphonics disc
of saxophone pieces have I heard the sound of a brass instrument so
artfully exploited. excerpt
A thoroughly enjoyable concerto,
superbly played and recorded. By the end any
small misgivings I may have had about this
band – and indeed this concerto – simply evaporated.
Well worth hearing and certainly deserving
of a place in the concert hall.
The traditional contrabassoon
has a number of weaknesses, many of which
were addressed by the Fox instrument released
in 2001. Designed by the New York Philharmonic’s
Arlen Fast the new system of octave keys improved
the instrument’s upper reach and tackled issues
of poor articulation and uneven tone. According
to the instrumentarium in the CD booklet –
a useful touch – the concerto’s dedicatee,
Lewis Lipnick, uses one of these improved
instruments.
Lipnick and the Bergen Philharmonic gave the first
performances on 23rd and 24th February 2006, which
form the basis of this live recording. From the brooding start of the
first movement – marked Mesto (sadly) – it’s clear the new system results
in a cleaner, more secure sound, even in its mournful lower registers.
excerpt
Aho claims this is one of his most 'monumental’ concertos
and it certainly grows to an imposing climax in the first movement.
Litton builds the tension very well indeed and the orchestra sound suitably
rich and sonorous. From 6:40 onwards one hears just how lyrical this
new instrument can sound; very beguiling indeed. excerpt
And there is no problem with articulation or volume either, as it’s
perfectly capable of holding its own in percussive company.
This is an imaginative and
varied piece, with some outstanding playing
from all quarters. Litton, who doesn’t always
strike me as the most charismatic of conductors,
certainly has the measure of this work, especially
the contrasts of the trenchant second movement.
And just listen to Lipnick’s low notes at
3:14; very impressive indeed.
The final movement, Misterioso, which sounds like a
lament at times, reminds me a little of Shostakovich. Here, more than
anywhere else this work sounds less like a concerto, the orchestra underpinning
and complementing the soloist. excerpt The
ending is muted, resigned even, the soloist fading to silence. There
is no applause – indeed it’s hard to believe there is an audience there
at all.
The BIS team have done a
very good job of conveying the special feel
of a live performance without compromising
on sound quality. There’s certainly no sign
of the slightly ‘dead’ acoustic one often
gets with a hall full of concertgoers. A very
desirable disc that increases one’s admiration
for these under-rated instruments and their
players.
Quintet
for Oboe and String Quartet (1973)* [29:13]
Seitsemän inventiota ja postludi (Seven
Inventions and Postlude) (1986/1998)**
[15:34]
Quintet for Flute, Oboe, Violin, Viola
and Cello (1977)† [18:56]
Sinfonia Lahti Chamber Ensemble
*Jukka Hirvikangas (oboe), Jyrki Lasonpalo
(violin I), Esa Heikkilä (violin II),
Anu Airas (viola), Ilkka Pälli (cello)
** Jukka Hirvikangas (oboe), Ilkkä Palli
(cello)
†Outi Viitaniemi (flute), Lasse Junttila (oboe),
Jaakko Kuusisto (violin), Anu Airas (viola),
Ilkka Uurtimo (cello)
rec. March 1999, Kuusankoski talo, Kuusankoski,
Finland; May 1999, Ristinkirkko, Lahti, Finland
BIS CD 1036 [64:51]
We go right back to the beginning
of Aho’s musical career with the first quintet
on this disc, composed in 1973. In his booklet
notes Aho confesses his love for the oboe;
as with the tuba in the Tuba Concerto,
he took the trouble to familiarise himself
with the oboe's capabilities, the idea being
to ‘extend the instrument’s expressive range’.
The first of the two movements opens with a bright,
songful introduction on the oboe, soon underpinned by the warm strings.
excerpt As with the orchestral works there
is a remarkable clarity to the writing and a real sense of musical purpose.
Even in the extended and more animated passages there is a lively dialogue
between oboe and strings, at times building to moments of great intensity.
Fortunately the engineers have found a good recording
balance, so the oboe never sounds overbright, even when played in
extremis (at 10:18, for example). Which is just as well, as this
instrument is the dominant force in this partnership. Just listen to
the birdlike figures in the passage beginning at 5:39 and the virtuosic
playing that follows.excerpt For a composer
still at the beginning of his career this is assured, confident stuff.
And the strings play with great bite and passion in the exhilarating
section that begins at 9:43.
The first movement cadenza
is even in tone and very clearly articulated,
whatever the register. Jukka Hirvikangas is
certainly the master of his instrument, and
that goes for the nimble rhythms of the second
movement – listen to the breathtaking passage
that begins at 2:32.
excerpt There is much to savour here,
and although the oboe’s expressive range is
tested it’s only in the second movement that
the overall mood darkens and the music becomes
more inward than extrovert. That said, Aho
brings in some wonderfully sensuous, rather
Latin, rhythms at 11:18. But the day belongs
to the oboist, whose virtuosity is simply
astonishing, now ebullient now reflective
but always crisp and clear.
Seven Inventions is a much later work, derived
from one of Aho’s earlier ones, the chamber opera Avain (The
Key). The movements, played without a break, show the composer in a
more austere, astringent mode, the music pared down to its essentials.
Sonorities and colours are also darker and more complex, although Hirvikangas’s
bright-toned oboe sings throughout. excerpt
In the melting fifth movement, marked Andante, he has the field to himself,
excerpt but in the sixth the mood suddenly
changes. Ilkka Pälli’s cello playing is especially dark and intense
from here onwards. excerpt The final
Postlude is one of those classic Aho movements that fades to an enigmatic
silence.
By contrast the shrill opening
bars of the Quintet for Flute, Oboe, Violin,
Viola and Cello are altogether more bracing.
excerpt The composer
admits he set out to ‘explore the outer limits
of virtuosity in chamber music’, Outi Viitaniemi’s
flute adding much to the music’s somewhat
febrile character. It has the usual vigour
and rhythmic interest we have come to expect
from Aho but perhaps there’s more focus on
colour and timbre. Certainly he makes great
demands on his players – sample the rising
passage at 3:54 – and the results are never
less than compelling. excerpt
Indeed, for those who don’t
like chamber music in general – and the contemporary
variety in particular – this piece has all
the colour, drama and thrust one could hope
for, without ever becoming incoherent or overbearing.
I was impatient for the end, not through boredom
but because Aho usually springs some surprises
in the final pages. Happily this quintet is
no exception; sample 15:00 onwards and you’ll
hear music of great originality and flair.
This is another welcome release,
characterised by a bright, clearly etched
recording and playing of great polish. There’s
always a fine line between sheer virtuosity
and musical substance but the balance here
seems just right.
Quintet
for Bassoon and String Quartet (1977)*
[37:02]
Quintet for Alto Saxophone, Bassoon, Viola,
Cello and Double Bass (1994)** [32:36]
Sinfonia Lahti Chamber Ensemble
*Harri Ahmas (bassoon), Jyrki Lasonpalo (violin
I), Ulla-Maija Hallantie (violin II), Anu
Airas (viola), Ilkka Pälli (cello)
** Hannu Lehtonen (alto saxophone), Harri
Ahmas (bassoon), Anu Airas (viola), Ilkka
Pälli (cello), Eero Munter (double bass)
rec. December 1997 (*) and December 1996 (**),
Ristinkirkko, Lahti, Finland
BIS CD 866 [70:42]
Four years after the Quintet
for Oboe and String Quartet Aho wrote
one to showcase the talents of Juhani Tapaninen,
the Finnish Radio orchestra’s solo bassoonist.
Like the Seven Inventions it is cast
in several movements, played without a break,
and it also has a clear, overarching narrative.
The Ouvertüre starts comically enough, with instrumental brays
and slides, the overall sound bright and clear. The Gershwin-like melody
played over pizzicato strings is particularly memorable (2:26 onwards
excerpt ) as is the one at the beginning
of ‘Parodie’, the second movement. There is a bluesy languor at this
point, but more than that it’s a deft piece of pastiche on Aho’s part.
excerpt
There are some harmonically dense and complex passages
here, with pizzicato strings sounding surprisingly vehement, followed
by a lighter, freewheeling Scherzo. There is plenty of wit and buoyancy
in this music, which demands great precision and unanimity from the
Lahti players. This is clearly one of those occasions where one senses
the musicians enjoying themselves; just sample the strings’ bracing
attack at 4:28. excerpt
The Cadenza is another of
those virtuosic movements that manages to
combine bravura playing with a modicum of
feeling. Some wonderfully assured playing
here, especially from the strings, and bassoonist
Harri Ahmas makes the unwieldy lower notes
seem surprisingly well rounded and well projected.
And what a wistful conclusion, thanks to cellist
Ilkka Palli’s generous, warm-hearted playing.
The Finale is light and airy, textures admirably clear
throughout, the bassoon proving it is more agile than one might expect.
excerpt And in Epilog Aho moves from a
stentorian opening through a kaleidoscope of colours and Morse-like
blasts from the bassoon to a quiet, spare close, complete with strangely
muted string pizzicatos.
The alto sax is in charge
of the second quintet on this well-filled
disc, its distinctive timbre ringing out from
the very start. The instrument doesn’t sound
as bluesy as one might expect, more like another
colourful thread to be weaved into this musical
tapestry. The double bass makes a considerable
impact in the first movement, ballast to the
high-flying sax – just sample the passage
beginning at 3:00 and marvel at Hannu Lehtonen’s
transported playing. excerpt
And what to make of those jaunty rhythms beginning
at 8:16 and 8:50? Aho again proves he is adept
when it comes to slipping from one mood or
mode to another, making it all sound so natural
and seamless.
The first movement is so
packed with incident – after all, it lasts
nearly 18 minutes – one might be tempted to
think there’s nothing left to say in the remaining
two. Not so, although the opening of the Allegro
is as insistent as that of the Largo. Aho
manages to get so much weight and momentum
out of his players at this point that it’s
sometimes difficult to believe there are only
five instruments in the mix. excerpt
This is certainly the composer at his motoric
best, repetitive yet always gripping. Just
listen to that fevered blast on the alto sax
at 3:26 – hair-raising.
The Andante contains some
arresting sounds, from the brooding intro,
complete with wailing sax, to the more impenetrable
thickets that follow. There is so much material
here one might feel a little bewildered, and
while the musicians have a firm grip on the
music I did find myself wandering towards
the end. Perhaps the sheer virtuosity of the
piece, remarkable as it is, becomes a little
relentless after a while.
I imagine most listeners
will come to Aho through his orchestral works
which, in my view, show this composer at his
considerable best. As for the chamber pieces
these might well ensnare those who don’t usually
warm to the genre, as they have a symphonic
weight and logic about them. For those who
already know the symphonies they make an interesting
appendix to this composer’s other works and,
as such, should be included in your collection.
Additional reviews and updates
Symphonies No. 2 & 7: Peter
Grahame Woolf
Symphony No. 3 & Songs and Dances
of Death: Christopher
Thomas
Symphony No. 11 & Symphonic Dances:
Christopher
Thomas
Nordic Spell (inc. Flute Concerto):
Jonathan
Woolf - Dan
Morgan
Tuba & Contrabassoon Concertos:
Dominy
Clements
Clarinet Concerto: Göran
Forsling
September 2008
