This is by far the most impressive Korngold chamber disc I have heard and
it attracts a warm recommendation.
A decade divides these two works; a decade which injected a damask character
into the sunny pastures of Korngold's youthfully joyous music. The later
Suite (a work commissioned, after the L-H concerto, by Wittgenstein) is in
five movements. It breathes the experience of disappointments and presentiments
of an oppression that was soon to drive Korngold into the sunny but commercially
grasping arms of Hollywood. It is not all struggle and conflict although
those qualities are certainly there. The Lied and Walzer are a lighter relief;
the former a nugget of winsome beauty. They divide three movements afflicted
with a sombre romantic striving. The clouds part at least partially for the
still emotionally complicated finale.
That finale and its typically voluptuary saturation lead into the film music
soon to make Korngold's name internationally and ironically break his musical
reputation (at least until the more enlightened 1980s). The 1921 Quintet
starts in rapturously plunging melody - a mood sustained throughout the movement.
At 4.34 the high harmonics of the violin establish a dewily lachrymose garden
magic. The music is in no sense fragile and one only observes that (rather
like the Bax Piano Quintet dating from six years previously) the wonderfully
inspired music is straining at the chamber medium signalling Korngold's natural
predilection for the orchestra. The central adagio is a tissue of tinsel
(5.40) abraded by fevered and sometimes bruising visions (9.20). In this
Korngold achieves some of his most lovely music. The work is influenced by
Rosenkavalier and is desperately impressive. The panache and gamin playfulness
of the finale in which ideas rain down in profusion is captivating. Perhaps
strangely it is this work rather than the later Suite that predicts the lush
Hollywood scores of the 1940s. Certainly there were more than a few occasions
when visions of Robin Hood and The Sea Hawk hove in view.
The notes (English only) are good, in large type, and the photographs courtesy
of the Korngold Society of Hamburg, are well worth having. I wondered at
first whether the playing would be idiomatic. With an assemblage of names
would the whole affair be rather unfocused? In fact all concerned seem musically
at one with each other.
The CD will be wanted by all who have assiduously collected Korngold during
the CD era. In addition those whose interest is chamber music of the early-mid
twentieth century will want this disc for the valuable light it throws on
musical activity in Europe at that time.
And another view from Gary Dalkin
This enterprising album, which offers two contrasting chamber works from
the young Korngold, may come as a surprise to those only familiar with the
composer's famous film scores, or perhaps with his grand concert works, which
in any case often bear marked similarities to his film music.
The Piano Quintet was begun shortly after Korngold's great success
with his opera Die tote Stadt, and completed in 1921 when the
composer was still in his early 20's. Dedicated to his friend, the sculptor
Gustinus Ambrosi, the three movement work lasts, in this performance, just
over half-an-hour; Korngold himself was the piano soloist for the Hamburg
premiere in 1923. The opening movement is concentrated in its distilled lyricism,
offering a density of invention quite different to the later, inevitably
more directly melodic film music. One really startling moment comes when
a passage of intense melancholy abruptly takes a detour through brief atonal
piano writing and caustic strings. It lasts less than half-a-minute before
tonality triumphs and the movement ends, but from Korngold it is shocking
that it is exists at all. In the following 'Adagio' the piano pushes at the
edges of tonality in a questing, urgent exploration towards a most affecting
melody. This is music with a youthful uncertainty, wanting to resolve into
absolutes, yet asking introspective, self-doubting questions along the way.
When a 'big tune' finally arrives at '5:20' Korngold almost immediately strips
it down to the essentials of a stark mournful line, before rising to a peak
of angst. The material is derived from Korngold's own Songs of Farewell,
most particularly the third song of the set, 'Moon, thou Riseth Again' and
the music certainly contains the hallmarks of youthful emotional torment.
The 'Finale' opens with a bold statement by the violin, joined by confrontational
block piano chords and leading to a characteristically Jewish violin melody
which in turn develops into a spry rondo. A dazzling sequence of themes spin
through rapid variations, before the work is tied together with a return
The compactness of the material demands the fullest attention, as the young
Korngold obviously had so much to say he almost risks spilling it out all
at once. Listening to this music one almost wishes the composer had taken
more time to develop his melodies, rather than rushing on headlong like a
butterfly, turning first this way then that, always beguiling, but perhaps
ultimately achieving less than a more direct route might have obtained with
more economy. Less is more may well apply, though youth has always had more
energy than time to spare.
The Suite, Opus .23 (for 2 violins, cello and piano: left-hand) dates
from 1930, and in the nine years between the two works it is obvious that
Korngold has matured into a composer of considerably more control and authority.
Here the pacing is more measured, the use of piano against strings more carefully
structure to achieve precise emotional effects. By saying one thing at once,
Korngold makes sure we hear him clearly. The romantic melodies are stated
with great clarity, each instrumental line evidently part of the overall
structure such that the musical architecture is revealed in clean lines and
strong design. In five movements, the work is almost a concentrated symphony,
and could perhaps have been re-orchestrated into symphonic form had Korngold
chosen to do so. Certainly the development is more 'symphonic' than in the
Quintet, though the economy of instrumental forces has the advantage
of allowing us to appreciate Korngold's musical invention without the distraction
of his customary rich orchestration. Here, rather more so than in the earlier
work, the film music aficionado will find pointers to the style of the great
romantic melodramas Korngold scored in the following two decades.
The Suite was Korngold's second commission for the noted one-armed
pianist Paul Wittgenstein - the first had been a piano concerto in 1923 -
and was premiered by Wittgenstein Vienna in October 1930. Korngold runs the
gamut from fugue to waltz, with controlled dissonance set against a slow
movement based upon the composer's own beautiful 'Was du mir bist?'
from the Opus 22 lied, and again a finale spinning variations from an opening
rondo. This time the result is more appealing, for rather than demanding
our attention with an onslaught of invention, Korngold's writing makes every
phrase a pleasure.
Both pieces on this disc require playing of a high order, and the informal
ensemble respond with virtuoso performances. The booklet (which also features
some beautifully reproduced photographs of the composer) gives informative
notes both about the music, and about the musicians, who although apparently
not a permanently established group, all hail from the Washington D.C. area.
Cellist Steven Honigberg is clearly the driving force behind the recording,
for the booklet lists four other albums featuring his artistry, and he is
also the producer of this current release. With engineer Ed Kelly he has
achieved a very clear and unforced sound, with the instruments defined in
a natural soundstage making following the interplay between the parts
delightfully easy. The balance is good, and each instrument has a real sense
of presence. The fact that it has been produced to the highest standards
is further indicated by HDCD encoding, enabling those with the appropriate
audiophile equipment to benefit from the best possible sound quality.
The Piano Quintet is full of youthful passion, while the Suite
is certainly a stronger, more mature work. Taken together they present not
only a less well known facet of a fine composer whose 'serious' work is only
now coming to be known, but offer the opportunity to see the development
over a decade of a composer approaching two rather different works for comparable
forces. This is not a release to recommend to the hardcore film music buff,
for apart from this not being film music, there is little here which sounds
directly like Korngold's later soundtrack work. However, for the more adventurous
film music fan, and for those interested in a range of classical as well
as film music, this is a very interesting and rewarding album.
Gary S. Dalkin