BIS are certainly to
be congratulated for letting us get
to know the music of Skalkottas through
this valuable series of recordings.
Most, including the two works here,
are world premieres on disc, and this
particular issue is filled to capacity
at nearly 81 minutes. Of course, quantity
does not always equal quality, and though
much of the Piano Concerto
is well crafted and worth getting to
know, I can’t help feeling that the
composer may have tightened or revised
aspects of the piece had he been fortunate
enough to hear it performed.
It is said that it
was one of his personal favourites,
and though I can’t say what the others
are like, this Third Concerto has structural
problems, at least to my ears. It is
basically a chamber work, along the
lines of Stravinsky’s Piano Concerto
or the Kammermusik No.4 for Piano
by Hindemith. The problem, as can be
seen from the above timing, is that
the work is about twice (or nearly three
times) the length of those models, and
the material and scoring are virtually
crushed under that weight. The first
movement has clear echoes of Hindemith,
with contrapuntal interplay between
soloist and ensemble that is very neo-classical,
yet it lasts over 20 minutes. There
are ear-tickling textures, and some
of the melodies lodge themselves in
the mind, but it ultimately sounds like
‘composer’s music’, technically brilliant
but a little soulless and note-spinning.
Rather like his teacher Schoenberg,
it is also a bit straight-faced and
humourless, though there is never any
doubting the skill with which it is
worked out. Music like this needs a
very strong personality in performance,
and it’s good to report that these musicians
(especially the pianist) do their best
to make the notes and phrasing sparkle
with as much character as possible.
The long (26-minute)
slow movement could almost be a substantial
composition in its own right. The long-breathed
opening melody is certainly memorable,
but again one gets the sense of a composer
too much in love with the material to
be ruthless about the formal indulgences.
The finale is tighter, and also gives
a better balance to the mix of piano
and wind, emerging with a Prokofiev-like
wit and irony. It is a real pity the
composer wasn’t able to rethink the
concerto, as its length and complexity
are unlikely to gain it a foothold in
the repertory.
The filler, a suite
from the ballet The Gnomes,
could not provide a bigger, or more
welcome, contrast. Here one immediately
recognises the Skalkottas of the Thirty-Six
Greek Dances, and no less
than 14 miniatures are packed into its
14-minute span, roughly a minute per
piece (though one is as short as 24
seconds!). You may do a double-take,
as I did, in recognition of some of
the material, and sure enough,
the excellent liner-note points out
that only three of the items are original
Skalkottas. The rest are orchestrations
of short piano pieces by Bartόk
and Stravinsky, a fitting tribute to
two of his major influences. The whole
work is a delight and vividly
shows us the composer’s skill and lifelong
interest in dance related forms – now
this surely could get a place in the
concert hall.
Having mentioned the
liner-notes, it is worth adding that
they are by the conductor himself, Nikos
Christodoulou, and are a model of scholarly
insight, though they may be a bit dense
and technical for some. The recording
is, as usual, superb.
Tony Haywood
Geoffrey Douglas Madge (piano)