To say a disc is undemanding
but enjoyable is often a critic’s shorthand
indication of a tepid hour’s worth of
listening – but in this case it’s nothing
less than the truth. There is a degree
of variety here – from the early Romanticism
of Schuncke to the bucolic fantasy of
Ropartz.
Schuncke was the brother
of the more famous Ludwig, a friend
of Schumann whose journalism gave him
widespread renown. Hugo seems to have
limited his career to Stuttgart and
remains little known. The Oboe Concerto
is a sturdy construct from the early
high watermark of Romanticism. It’s
cast in three movements full of cantabile
and quasi-vocalised warmth and with
adrenalin pumping coloratura opportunities
for the soloist, especially in the long-ish
opening movement. The central slow movement
has an easy lyrical cast, nothing terribly
distinctive but certainly well crafted.
I don’t think it’s uncharitable to note
that it could just as easily be a violin
concerto – Schuncke was actually a fiddle
player and pianist – and there’s not
much that makes it unavoidably a concerto
for oboe other than perhaps a degree
of novelty. But the bolero finale is
certainly a surprise, well nuanced,
though not one that comes close to solving
the Romantic finale dilemma; it’s overlong
and not climactic enough. Still, it’s
a work worth hearing once in a while.
Nielsen’s early Fantasy
Pieces are here played in the version
for oboe and string orchestra and work
well though the first is a rather diffuse
effort. The second, a Humoresque, is
much more genially capricious – light
music at its finest. Kolliwoda was a
Bohemian born composer and conductor
admired by Schumann. He spent much of
his working life in Karlsruhe and Donaueschingen
and seems to have excelled in rhythmic
verve if his Concert piece is anything
to go by - full of trills and roulades
and quasi-operatic excess it really
tests the soloist’s agility and control,
adding little Viennese dances for the
accompanying string orchestra for full
measure.
Finally we move into
the twentieth century with Ropartz,
something of an interloper in this company,
it must be said. From folk-like cantilena
and burnished, auburn strings and winds
to a perky, adroitly orchestrated dance
this is a delicious ten-minute piece;
aerial and athletic. Overwhelmingly
warm and lyric it also manages the tricky
feat of coalescing the material satisfactorily.
Throughout the orchestra
and soloist, the mercurial and agile
Lajos Lencses play with finesse and
authority – and no little charm. So
undemanding it is – but enjoyable, certainly.
Jonathan Woolf
Lajos Lencses (oboe) 
