Sven-Eric Johanson, a composer in his sixties, 
                stares out at us with wild hair and Dali-esque waxed moustachios, 
                from the cover of this 1995 issue from Proprius. We are not given 
                his date of birth as far as I can tell from the Swedish-only notes. 
                He has written prolifically including twelve symphonies and the 
                Saga of the Rings (after Tolkien). His range can perhaps 
                be perceived from these pieces from which we may guess that he 
                has a quirkily humorous and certainly effective approach to writing 
                for voices as in the nine Shakespeare Fancies which are 
                for four voices and an audaciously adventurous piano which makes 
                light of fragments of Grieg's Spring in Lovers Love 
                the Spring and in other songs with Beethoven's Fifth Symphony. 
                These English language settings remind me of Geoffrey Bush's pacy 
                and lively vocal settings as in the wonderful Summer Serenade 
                (try it on Chandos) and Hesperides. 
              
 
              
The nine Shakespeare songs are Sylvia; 
                Under the greenwood tree; Blow blow thou winter wind; 
                Fancy; O mistress mine; Lovers love the spring; 
                Winter; Dirge; Hark hark the lark. These 
                songs have most recently been recorded on a Danacord collection 
                of Shakespeare settings although there a full choir is used. Here 
                the definition and word enunciation is more sharply etched. 
              
 
              
After two choral works of the 1970s Proprius 
                proffer two works for solo piano from the 1950s. The Ten 
                Epigrams (each separately tracked) are brief lively Schoenbergian 
                essays, terse, tending to a sort of liquid free-flowing impressionism 
                mostly dreamy with a single outburst in the tempestuous little 
                Eighth Epigram. The Sonata is an unforgivingly discontinuous 
                exercise declaring unreservedly its credentials from the 'plink-plunk' 
                school. The Epigrams are more approachable. The Sonata 
                for solo flute occupies the same territory as the Epigrams 
                and in the third movement even tries its hand at levity. 
              
 
              
Leaving the Schoenbergian domain Johanson sweeps 
                forward to the demure and flavourful Variations on a Crusaders' 
                theme for wind quintet. These are banded as a single track. These 
                demonstrate harmonic complexity but are highly melodic with flavours 
                of Iberian medieval instrumental ensembles mixed with Stravinsky's 
                Symphonies for Wind Instruments - nothing more intimidating 
                than that. The Variations end with the softly rounded crusaders' 
                theme stated in melodious harmony bringing the Variations full 
                circle. 
              
 
              
The Johanson symphonies include No. 1 Sinfonia 
                Ostinata (1949), No. 5 Etemenanki (Elements Symphony) 
                and No. 8 Frödingsymfonin for soli, chorus and orchestra. 
                The Twelfth Symphony, dedicated 'in memoriam Arnold 
                Schoenberg' is designated by the composer as a 'chamber symphony'. 
                It is in four movements and especially in the outer movements 
                tramps dissonant foothills combining a sun-dappled atmosphere 
                with the lyrical warmth Johanson seems to have found since the 
                1980s and with which he has always been in touch in his vocal 
                works. Solo instrumental lines emerge and float free in neo-Baroque 
                concerto grosso style. In the third movement allegro scherzoso 
                a helter-skelter chase is painted in chatter and rattle. 
              
 
              
A switch-back ride through the wildly varied 
                realms of a Swedish composer just as home in tangy Schoenbergian 
                motley as in the modern zany choral tonalism. 
              
Rob Barnett