Converse’s studies proper – after graduation 
                from Harvard – began with George Chadwick in Boston and subsequently 
                with Rheinberger in Munich. The air of German academicism has 
                clung tenaciously to Converse’s posthumous reputation despite 
                the fact that The Pipe of Desire (1905) was the first American 
                opera to be performed at the Met in New York in 1910. His theatrical 
                career though never blossomed; later works never receiving stagings. 
                Looking at his worklist in Baker’s one can see that he did his 
                fair share of contributing to the oratorio tradition. What, one 
                wonders, is Job like – a dramatic poem for soloists and 
                chorus first performed at the Worcester (Mass) Festival in 1907 
                and the first American oratorio to be performed in Germany? Indeed 
                his oratorio and cantata output was notable. He clearly relished 
                settings for voice: La Belle Dame sans merci dates from 
                1902. He had excellent opportunities to write for such notables 
                as Schumann-Heink for whom he wrote Hagar in the Desert, a 
                work she took to Hamburg in 1908. 
              
 
              
But what little reputation Converse’s name now 
                carries is inextricably bound up with the tone poem. Here in one 
                of the latest instalments of Naxos’s American Classics series 
                we have three such examples. The Mystic Trumpeter is based 
                on Whitman’s Leaves of Grass and Converse employs five 
                sections in his tone poem, broadly moderato, amoroso, Allegro 
                con molto fuoco, Adagio lamentoso and a grazioso final section. 
                The sectionality is highlighted by poetic superscriptions (Mystery 
                and Peace, Love, Joy etc) though the composition is seamless and 
                deft. There is no doubt that Converse was a splendid orchestrator; 
                the examples are everywhere to be heard. However, equally and 
                ominously, the words "superb orchestrator" are often 
                synonymous with "lack of distinctive harmonic and melodic 
                invention." This is not invariably the case but it is part 
                of the Converse Problem. The overarching Wagnerianisms and Straussian 
                influence on The Mystic Trumpeter are hard to avoid though 
                they are never blatant or crude. The work is sympathetically laid 
                out with a particularly emotionally charged melodic curve from 
                11.10 though for much of the time the thematic material hangs 
                fire. The final eruptive anticipations of Joy, the final section, 
                are brassy and delightful however. Flivver Ten Million 
                (‘flivver’ is slang for one of Ford’s cheap cars) is a twelve-minute 
                piece following hard, it is always alleged, in the musical footsteps 
                of Honegger’s Pacific 231 in its depiction of industrial 
                power. That said, I doubt, judging from the date of composition, 
                and style, that Converse could have heard much Honegger much less 
                Mossolov. Given his literary inclinations Converse headed the 
                eight sections with cod expressive titles such as The Din of 
                the Builders, The Joy Riders, and my favourite Phoenix 
                Americanus – the Hero, righted and shaken, proceeds on his way 
                with redoubled energy, typical of the indomitable spirit of America 
                (great fun). Here’s Converse in relaxed mood, loosening himself 
                from those academic shackles, for a brief respite of pictorial 
                colour. So this atmospheric piece takes in hammer blows and construction 
                noises, imbued all the while with a Straussian mini-epic quality. 
                There are Ford car horns, a little romantic interlude, good time 
                percussion, a pesky triangle, whistles and wails before an automotive 
                pile up concentrates the musical mind. After which there’s some 
                flaky Barnum and Bailey stuff before an inconclusive ending – 
                a rather abrupt one, as if the celebratory life force just unleashed 
                is somehow still going on, distantly, unheard. Perhaps the most 
                accomplished of the three works, in terms of sheer deft and imaginative 
                writing is concerned is Endymion’s Narrative. The previous 
                year Converse had set The Festival of Pan, itself based 
                on Keats’ ‘Endymion’. The later work concentrates on the struggles 
                of the mind. It opens with solo string lines and extreme romantic 
                tracery, becoming more energetic and decisive but still embodying 
                and exemplifying those still very current academic influences 
                previously alluded to. It’s a finely constructed if ultimately 
                not particularly distinguished symphonic poem that shows the thirty-year 
                old not yet quite settled though also displaying a degree of potential. 
              
 
              
The much earlier Louisville/Mester recording 
                of Flivver Ten Million and Endymion’s Narrative is 
                back in the catalogue (Albany TROY 030-2). I’ve not heard it – 
                but Naxos does include The Mystic Trumpeter. At 53 minutes 
                this is not an especially generous timing and whilst I’m by no 
                means prescriptive about this sort of thing it would have been 
                valuable to have included, say, the Elegiac Poem or the 
                early overture Euphrosyne (Boston, 1903) amongst others 
                that could have been selected. Still, those not seeking unmistakable 
                greatness might find Converse’s canvass sympathetic enough for 
                company. 
              
 
              
Jonathan Woolf  
              
See also 
                review by Rob Barnett