Uuno Klami came from the generations that toiled under 
          the vast sun-sapping shadow of Sibelius. Composers struck out in new 
          directions to assert individuality and their own voice. While people 
          of the estimable stature of Ernest Pingoud and Väinö Raitio 
          tapped into the fresh breezes blowing in from Prokofiev, Klami reached 
          towards the impressionistic models of Ravel and Debussy and the Stravinsky 
          of The Firebird. Later he dabbled in jazzy patterns and Parisian 
          brilliance. 
        
 
        
After the murky All'Ouverture, a sort of sepia-draped 
          Karelia, comes the delicate pastel-wash fantasy of the Sea 
          Pictures. Klami loved the sea. This work will almost certainly appeal 
          to anyone who already likes the Ravel of Ma Mère l'Oye, 
          the Nielsen of Pan and Syrinx and the Sibelius of The Oceanides. 
          The Deserted Three-Master has a fine swinging tune and Captain 
          Scrapuchinat has a quiet pummelling note-figure that sounds like 
          the distant heart-beat of a steamer. The suite of six movements ends 
          with the so-called 3 Bf (a reference to a windforce point on 
          the Beaufort scale) which is modestly notorious for its unblushing appropriation 
          of a distinctive melodic cell (and one or two other things) from Ravel's 
          Bolero. 
        
 
        
The Kalevala Suite grew very gradually, only 
          emerging fully formed in 1943. It is the freshest of works from a composer 
          having the temerity to venture into territory considered the peculiar 
          property of the Master of Järvenpää. It is a Sibelian 
          piece in which pounding Karelian material meets the deliquescent style 
          of The Firebird and to a lesser degree of The Rite of Spring 
          and Petrushka. The tender Cradle Song of Lemminkäinen 
          is rather too sleepily outlined by Segerstam but the remainder of 
          the works go with a swing and gripping sway. Most impressive is the 
          effervescent Sibelian welling sunrise of The Forging of the Sampo 
          which resolves into a metallic eruptive blasting anvil cannonade. 
        
 
        
The recordings appear to be digital with the only exception 
          being the Cheremissian Fantasy. 
        
 
        
It really is way past time that Finlandia gave a new 
          lease of life to their recording of Psalmus for chorus and orchestra 
          (FACD369). This work in its monumental writing for chorus takes something 
          from Stravinsky in Oedipus Rex and Symphony of Psalms but 
          a lot more from Sibelius's Kullervo. 
        
 
        
I have never regretted my expensive gamble on Klami 
          back in 1979. I was mooching around the London classical record shops 
          (Harold Moores, Direction Dean Street, HMV etc) with my long-suffering 
          wife and we found ourselves, not by chance, in Gramex, off Soho Square. 
          There in the Finnish music racks was a big gatefold Finlandia LP. Finlandia 
          was not a common label in those days. The recording was of the Panula 
          version of the Kalevala Suite and the Cheremissian Fantasy 
          (yes, the very same that launches CD2 of this set). The LP cover 
          was a strange painting of a naked pubescent girl rising like a goddess 
          from the water. The artist was Aksel Gallen-Kallela whose work adorns 
          so many Sibelius CD sleeves (one of the most instantly memorable being 
          the horseback Kullervo on the front of the EMI recording of the Kullervo 
          Symphony (1971, EMI SLS 807(2); Bournemouth SO/Berglund). I forked 
          out my £2.50. That was a lot of money for us in those days. After that 
          I chased down off-air recordings and copies of rare LPs via friends 
          in the US and elsewhere, Walter Wells, Marc Bernier and Mark Lehman. 
        
 
        
The vitality of Arto Noras's playing in the Fantasy 
          already triumphantly affirmed by his advocacy for the Sallinen and Kokkonen 
          cello concertos, is much in evidence in the Cheremissian Fantasy. 
          It is based on Cheremis folk tunes. Although the oldest recording here 
          (approaching three decades) it has vibrant immediacy. The Violin Concerto 
          and the Second Piano Concerto stray between ravel and Shostakovich with 
          the Violin Concerto being the slightly more romantic of the two pieces. 
        
 
        
This is the set by which Sibelians and 
          others sympathetic to Scandinavian music should be introduced to the 
          sympathetic melodic strengths and imagination of Uuno Klami. 
        
 
          Rob Barnett