While bewailing the
absence of the Kodaly Symphony what
is on offer here, at well below bargain
price, is uniformly good or better than
good. It can be compared with the similarly
successful Bartók set from the
same company.
The Háry János
is given a natural sound which means
that if you have become attuned to the
exciting excesses of say the Solti version
you might miss the lurid technicolour
quality. This is still music of dazzling
display and musical substance - the
latter illustrated by the expectant
Prelude and the reflective melancholic
Song. This combination in balance
is Kodály's strength. We should
also not underestimate his sensational
experimental effects - not just the
‘sneeze’ but also the groaning and rumbling
of The Battle and Defeat of Napoleon.
The cimbalom plays a more completely
synthesised role in the Intermezzo
as opposed to the usual concerto
balance. The pomp of the Entrance
and of the Viennese Musical Clock
recalls Prokofiev's jangling effects
in The Love of Three Oranges.
Helpfully János
is in six segments. The Peacock Variations
are in a single 30 minute track;
a pity the decision could not have been
taken to band each of the introduction,
sixteen variations and finale. The work
is another brilliant display vehicle,
this time written for the Concertgebouw
Orchestra. It is best sampled, in this
case, at 4.43 where the stereo effects
are well communicated. A new-minted
freshness equivalent to the pastoral
scores of Howells, Hadley and Moeran
can be heard at 20.32. If you hear Kodály's
Symphony you will hear some uncanny
resemblances with the Moeran Symphony
in G minor. There are similar echoes
in the Peacock. Adam Fischer
makes much of the romance of this score
in which the Peacock fans its
feathers once more.
While I regret the
absence of the Symphony I would not
want to be without Psalmus Hungaricus.
The presence of the Psalmus is
something of a surprise in this setting
because it features a solo voice and
choirs. Everything else in the box is
for orchestra alone. The Psalmus
is a nationalist hymn without an
ounce of windy rhetoric. The tenor Molnár
is a fervent singer clearly identifying
with the patriotic text (which Brilliant
do not include). This, together with
the Marosszék and Galánta,
are on the second disc, conducted by
Adam's brother Ivan, in Budapest with
the city's Festival Orchestra. The venue
is not given but the hall is as lively
as Vienna's Haydnsaal. The Psalmus
can be seen as a Hungarian equivalent
of Howard Hanson's Lament for Beowulf
or Sibelius's Kullervo (by
the way Kodály wrote a choral
setting of words from the Kalevala:
Vainamoinen Makes Music). If
you like either of those works you will
have to have this one. It is volatile
and extremely dramatic to the point
where it sounds operatic - listen to
the swinging tenor line ushering in
the fiery hymn of the massed choirs.
Kodaly nevertheless has the integrity
to end quietly with a submissive sigh.
The words are adapted from Psalm 55.
Kodály and Bartók
each collected folk songs. With Kodály
their heritage is clearer in his concert
works and this is true of both the lower
key Marosszék Dances and
the masterly Galánta set.
The three works on the second CD are
each allocated a single track. The Marosszék
set do not lack dazzle and the smashing
tinkling impacts at 09.01 remind us
of this.
Decent English-only
notes by Katalin Fittler are supplied.
Brilliant Classics
have set about establishing a full range
catalogue and have approached the task
at full tilt and with almost missionary
zeal. They are well along the way. Time
for a complete Tchaikovsky symphony
cycle not to mention Nielsen. With this
set and the Bartók (also conducted
by Adam Fischer) Brilliant have completed
their Hungarian corner. Where next?
Rob Barnett
András Molnár (ten) (Psalmus)
