It’s not just Schoeck;.
Jecklin, the inveterate Swiss trufflers,
have done a huge amount for him, it’s
true, but they have won their spurs
in the Martin discography as well, as
this latest release demonstrates. Not
all their discs are chock full, it’s
true, and this one clocks in well under
the fifty minute mark; it’s a question
I suppose of what’s in the vaults. Rather
than be discouraged at a perceived paucity
of playing time it will be better to
concentrate on the three works here
and the fact that all are composer-conducted,
fortunately taped the year before his
death. This is invaluable and for Martin’s
admirers there is a moving quotient
to these recordings, which seem, from
the documentary evidence, to have been
recorded by Swiss Radio in Lausanne.
The Harpsichord
Concerto is the only post-war work,
dating from 1951-52 and is suffused
with recollections of a North Sea holiday
that Martin took – those undulating
quavers are really evocative of the
waves though not in a way that lazily
evokes Debussy. The orchestration is
discreet, allowing the harpsichord to
be freely heard (the soloist is Bach
specialist, the excellent Christine
Jaccottet, whom many will recall, not
least for her recordings with Grumiaux).
The neo-classicism is strong but Martin’s
ability to slow down material without
losing the emotional connective tissue
is just as strong. The second part –
this is a two-part concerto, the second
multi-sectional - is haunting. The noble
flute and clarinet start it, whilst
very high up in the treble the harpsichord
glistens with crystalline brilliance.
The Ballade for
Trombone and Orchestra of 1940 was
written as a Geneva competition test
piece and lasts about eight minutes
– Christian Lindberg has long had it
in his repertoire and has recorded it
for BIS. The wind choirs here are puckish
and at one point imitate a big band’s
saxophone section; the music is compact,
brilliantly conceived, lyrical, big
– despite the relative brevity and occasional
nature of its origins – and full of
technical hurdles for the soloist. Talking
of whom Armin Rosin is a vibrantly-toned
player. The Piano Ballade (1939)
is more elliptical, with increasingly
organic neo-classical drive and plenty
of room for solo passages. Throughout
there’s a sense of incipient tension
and drama and also of narrative. In
the notes, all written by the composer,
he does talk in general terms about
Villon and about an epic quality in
the Ballade but if there’s a specific
narrative in mind he doesn’t disclose
the source here.
Given that he was eighty-one
when these performances were recorded
they sound incisive and alert though,
as ever with Martin, with a fluid sense
of momentum: there’s always time to
breathe. The tapes are in a healthy
state - maybe slightly down on the treble
but that’s of little account. Once more
Jecklin have flown the Martin flag with
character and commitment.
Jonathan Woolf
Christine Jaccottet (harpsichord) 
