George ENESCU:
a fiftieth anniversary commemoration
through recordings
Part I: Enescu the composer
George Enescu was one
of the towering musical figures of the
twentieth century, yet fifty years after
his death, his work remains largely
unknown, and his lasting importance
mostly unrecognised, outside his native
Romania. To an extent this is because
he was a genuine musical renaissance
man: virtuoso violinist of worldwide
fame, pianist, conductor, teacher and
composer. The recordings he made as
a performer will be reviewed in Part
II of this commemoration. Part 1 concentrates
on his compositions and available recordings
of them, though my remarks inevitably
draw upon live performances and broadcasts
as well. My aim is not to dissect each
work and look at the minutiae of individual
recordings but to offer those coming
new to Enescu some impression of his
compositional output and, in broad terms,
the qualities of available recordings.
Enescu was born in
Liveni, a small town in the Moldavian
region of northern Romania in 1881,
two years before Wagner’s death. At
the age of seven he entered the Vienna
Conservatoire, to study the violin;
only the second time the Conservatoire
accepted a pupil under the age of ten.
Whilst in Vienna he met Brahms, whose
style heavily influenced early compositions.
By his early twenties he was in Paris
at the Conservatoire there, and already
a prolific composer. His peers in the
composition class of Fauré included
Ravel and Florent Schmitt. Other tutors
included Gédalge, for fugue and
counterpoint, whose influence Enescu
was to acknowledge as key to his development.
Stories abound as to
his prodigious musical gifts – not least
his memory – that enabled him to recall
by heart most of the major works of
Bach, Beethoven and Wagner, to name
but three. One feels that Casals very
much had a point when he said of Enescu,
"He is the greatest musical phenomenon
since Mozart". High praise indeed.
For anyone wishing
to know Enescu in more depth the only
English language source is Noel Malcolm’s
excellent book, ‘George Enescu: His
Life and Music’ (publ. Toccata Press)[review].
Readers of French could attempt hunting
down a copy Bernard Gavoty’s "Les
souvenirs de Georges Enesco", transcriptions
of recorded interviews, (Flammarion,
Paris, 1955). For those interested in
live performances, then the biannual
Enescu competition and Festival (henceforward
‘Festival’) in Bucharest is a must.
The next is this September. Details
available at (http://www.festivalenescu.ro/eng/ed2005.html).
Enescu’s compositions
can be hard to look at chronologically,
as this largely does not correspond
to the opus number sequence he employed.
Often works of the same type, although
composed years apart, are placed under
the same opus number, e.g. op.26 refers
to two cello sonatas, the first dating
from 1898 and the second from 1935.
For this reason I will take works in
turn by category and instrumentation.
A list of opus numbered works is available
at (http://enescu.go.to/),
and the site also contains other interesting
material on Enescu.
Recent years have shown
increased interest in Enescu by record
companies. There are six orchestral
‘sets’ available, that I will refer
to throughout by the conductor’s name
followed by record company given in
brackets. Inevitably some releases are
only available through import, or most
easily found in Romania (Electrecord)
– details of these are given to aid
the determined collector. Some preliminary
comments on each are given below:
- Lawrence Foster: orchestral works
(Erato Ultima or Apex); symphonies
and Oedipe (EMI), chamber works (Claves).
For many years Foster’s
accounts were the only available option.
Recorded by Erato or EMI in excellent
sound, he mainly leads the Monte Carlo
Philharmonic. Notable for so far having
produced the only French language recording
of Oedipe. Erato 2CD set is mid price,
Apex is super budget, EMI and Claves
sets are full price.
When this 7 CD budget-price
set appeared in the 1990s, the occasional
rawness of the recorded sound was commented
upon. It could be said the recordings
do not capture Mandeal and the GEPO
at their most impulsive, though there
is a sense of structure, dynamism and
feeling throughout – and I would rather
have this than just excellent sound
quality.
- Horia Andreescu (National Radio
Orchestra; Electrecord or Olympia
labels)
Available on Olympia
in the UK on a short-lived licence from
Electrecord, Andreescu’s 7CDs present
the chief Romanian-based alternative
to Mandeal. The recorded sound is natural,
and both orchestra and conductor give
of many years’ experience.
- Gennadi Rozhdestvensky (BBC Philharmonic;
Chandos label)
Including the three
symphonies, two rhapsodies and the third
orchestral suite on 3CDs, this is recorded
in typically full-blooded Chandos sound.
Available at full price.
- Alexandru Lascae (Iasi Philharmonic;
Ottavo label)
Perhaps the least known
of the sets, available as a UK import.
Lascae has long been active with the
Iasi orchestra, and in decent sound
too. Like Mandeal’s it lacks impulsiveness,
but is nicely atmospheric.
Marco Polo was the
first budget label to issue a set using
a variety of Romanian conductors and
orchestras. Sound quality is generally
far from ideal, though often individual
performances are worth investigating.
Symphonies Other
orchestral works
Opera:
Oedipe
Chamber
compositions: Sonatas Quartets,
Quintet, Octet, Dectet Miscellaneous
Piano
solo
Lieder
Orchestral
works:
Symphonies
‘School’ Symphonies
1-4
Composed during his
conservatoire years in Vienna and Paris,
the four works show the precocious talent
of the young Enescu, and bear the imprint
of many early influences. The first
(1895, aged 14) is cast in four movements
very much under the shadow of Brahms,
whom the young Enescu played under in
a student orchestra. Charles Koechlin
remarked on its "remarkable sense
of development from one so young".
The fourth is richly chromatic and dates
from 1898 and has intense dramatic pathos
through the use of strict polyphonic
forms and fugue, revealing at once the
influence of his teacher André
Gédalge, to whom the work is
dedicated.
Of all the readings
in Andreescu’s recorded cycle, these
are surely the most interesting and
valuable, being the only available.
Listening to the three completed symphonies
that follow without hearing these or
the two uncompleted symphonies (4 and
5) is like only examining the torso
of a body, and neglecting the extremities,
where many interesting features are
to be found.
Symphony 1, Op.
13
Influences and parallels
abound here: Elgar’s first symphony
dates from three years later, but you
would not guess it. Concerns include
resilience, melancholy and sweeping
romanticism (think Wagner, Scriabin
and early Schoenberg and later shades
of Chausson, Debussy or even maybe Mahler)
with glorious melodies and colourful
orchestration.
Rozhdestvensky’s recording
is broad yet detailed. Lawrence Foster
chooses faster tempos but his 1990 EMI
recording lacks Rozhdestvensky’s texture
on Chandos. Lascae’s Moldova PO version
for Ottavo sounds almost throttled at
the throat, though the performance is
not unrefined and not an out and out
loss. Mandeal and Andreescu offer swift
opening movements. Mandeal’s view of
the piece has plenty of character, but
as so often the recording is a little
against him. Andreescu’s chief draw
is in his coupling of the fourth school
symphony.
The real thing though
comes in the form of an Electrecord
release (EDC 540), if you can find it,
of George Georgescu conducting the "George
Enescu" Philharmonic. Made a few
years after the composer’s death this
recording (coupling: the rhapsodies)
shows all the qualities of these great
and undervalued musicians. The sweep
and power brought to it, but also the
tenderness in the service of Enescu,
create an overwhelming impression. For
its age the recording is immediate and
full bodied.
Symphony 2, Op.
17
Again parallels of
Strauss, Szymanowski and Scriabin come
into things, though the work is resolutely
of a different voice. The orchestral
handling has advanced somewhat, particularly
regarding the use of woodwinds and any
recording should be careful to observe
this facet of the work.
This is maybe the least
successfully performed symphony on record
in any major cycle. I am ultimately
unconvinced by Mandeal – though he is
perhaps preferable to Andreescu for
Electrecord/Olympia, who drags things
too much at times. The Chandos offering
suffers from lack of experience with
the work or under-rehearsal by the orchestra.
Lascae and Andreescu (in another recording
for Marco Polo) are in variously bad
to awful sound. Foster’s recording for
EMI is detailed but short on drama and
ultimately punches below the work’s
weight.
Symphony 3, Op.
21
Like the opera and
Vox Maris, the symphony is Enescu’s
most advanced statement using the technique
of heterophony (the superimposition
of variations drawn from a common melodic
source). Such a technique appears hard
on the page but relatively easy on the
ear. Early commentators likened the
structure to a triptych by Dante: purgatory
– sufferings of the Inferno –
and the ecstasy of Paradise.
It is no coincidence perhaps that during
the same time work on the final act
of Oedipe was underway, which
concludes in an otherworldly assumption
by the Eumenides. That both employ a
female chorus at the end (the symphony’s
is wordless) adds to the ethereal effect
in the right hands.
For many the obvious
first choice will be Foster on EMI as
it is paired with the first two symphonies
and Vox Maris. Of all Foster’s
recordings this is the most recent (from
2004, in Lyon), and it displays a marked
advance in his Enescu adventure on disc.
He is more dramatic than in the accounts
of the earlier symphonies, and Les Eléments
chamber choir contribute movingly to
the final movement’s overall effect,
though the acoustic sours the whole
somewhat.
Mandeal is moving too,
though his rendition is starker still
than Foster. Here Mandeal’s recording
works in his favour for once and you
can really grasp the parallel with Dante
(although it is one Enescu never made).
You don’t just hear the inner torment
and ecstatic release, Mandeal makes
you live it. The quasi-liturgical effects
of church bells, combined with the super-enlarged
orchestra (organ, piano, extra brass)
all make their mark. Andreescu on Electrecord
/ Olympia hits the mark for me in the
second movement, almost matching Mandeal’s
expressiveness, but by comparison the
last movement remains somewhat earth-bound.
Other versions are
marred by their presentation or recording.
Marco Polo’s Baciu with the Cluj Philharmonic
give the work in a single track, and
an all too muddy acoustic pervades.
With remastering and retracking this
recording would merit greater investigation,
as it is a strongly characterised interpretation.
Which cannot be said of Rozhdestvensky’s
account: he labours hard to little effect,
though the Chandos recording quality
is of a superior level.
Symphonies 4
and 5 (incomplete, completed Bentoiu)
Like Enescu’s ‘school’
symphonies, the unfinished fourth and
fifth symphonies, are all but unknown
and unplayed. Composer Pascal Bentoiu,
who undertook the completion of both
works, is in no doubt that they pose
interesting questions as to the composer’s
future direction after the Chamber Symphony,
pointing to further density in the writing.
The Fourth is partially
thematically related to the Symphony
1, as if Enescu tries to re-approach
a previous problem at a higher level,
embodying hidden doubts and suffering,
in contrast to the earlier work’s jubilation.
The Fifth on the other hand is "the
story of a life, naturally ending with
the sublime testament of a soul dissolving
itself in the Great All" (Bentoiu),
for which Enescu planned a setting of
Mihai Eminescu’s poem "One Wish
Alone Have I" for solo tenor and
female chorus.
The only existing recording,
part of Romanian Radio’s Enescu Series,
presents live performances from the
1998 Festival. Like all completions,
however, you can’t help feeling that
there is something inevitably missing
when the works are realized.
Other orchestral
works
Poème
Roumain, Op. 1 (1898)
Composed entirely in
the classical idiom, and described by
Enescu as the "distant impression
of familiar images from home",
with the feeling of a summer evening
and shepherd flutes in the first half.
This contrasts with a stormy second
half, and a grand finale.
The Marco Polo recording
is a re-issue of recordings made in
Romania during the communist era. As
such, the recording has a cut in the
finale, in the place where the old Romanian
National Anthem ("Traiasca Regele" =
"Long Live the King") was written by
Enescu, and substituted a drum roll
over a led chord at the end. Recent
Romanian recordings (Andreescu, Mandeal,
etc.) and of course, Lawrence
Foster's now present
the entire score without the cuts. Foster’s
acoustic is somewhat backward and fails
to bring out the full colours of the
score, so perhaps not quite a first
choice.
Symphonie Concertante
for Cello and Orchestra, Op. 8 (1901)
Hard though it might
be to believe, the work was not greeted
enthusiastically at its Bucharest premiere
under Enescu’s direction. In two contrasting
movements – a slow introduction and
majestic following movement, and lasting
around 24 minutes, this is not as slight
a work as one might think. Considering
Enescu’s ability to produce sonorous
violin playing and his concern over
two cello sonatas, this is his closest
essay to a concerto for the instrument.
Choice between available
versions is likely to be governed by
the couplings in addition to purely
internal factors. Mandeal’s soloist
is Marin Cazacu, principal cellist of
the "George Enescu" Philharmonic,
and one of the foremost Romanian cellists
of today. He follows in the path set
by artists such as Radu Aldulescu. The
performance is fully persuasive from
the soloist’s angle, and Mandeal provides
sensitive support. Given the couplings
of the Chamber Symphony and (to a lesser
extent) the Marot songs, this version
would be a first recommendation. Cazacu
is Andreescu’s soloist, but Andreescu’s
handling of the orchestral part is not
as vivid as Mandeal’s. Foster on Erato
Apex (2CDs) is acceptable though Franco
Maggio-Ormezowski does not equal Cazacu
in the solo part. This however will
be the chief draw for those wanting
a large selection of Enescu at super
budget price: couplings include both
Rhapsodies, Poème roumain, Op.
1 and the three orchestral suites.
Romanian Rhapsodies,
Op. 11 (1901 and 1902)
If any works have received
over-exposure in Enescu’s oeuvre, it
is these two rhapsodies. He recognized
how these early works narrowed his reputation
as a composer and made it difficult
for later works to be accepted by the
public. Towards the end of his life
Enescu declared himself sick of them
– particularly the first – and viewed
requests for yet more recordings as
"un grosse affaire commerciale".
During the Communist era they were used
to crudely pin the label of ‘folkloric
composer’ to Enescu – displaying the
complete misunderstanding of Enescu
by the Ceaucescu regime. Inevitably
any Enescu series includes them, not
to mention other versions too numerous
to mention.
Where Mandeal is strangely
unwavering in the constancy of his tempo,
Andreescu like most conductors, is more
pliant and pulling with the line and
assisted through characterful playing.
Foster paces adequately but his Monte
Carlo orchestra is somewhat impersonal
on Erato. The most outrageously opulent
reading comes, not surprisingly, from
Leopold Stokowski with the RCA Victor
Symphony Orchestra (RCA 74321 70931
2).
Historic recordings
include three of each Rhapsody under
the composer’s direction, together with
one from the late 1950s of the newly
retitled "George Enescu" Bucharest
Philharmonic Orchestra under George
Georgescu (Electrecord EDC 540). This
last recording, coupled with Symphony
1, is in good sound despite its age.
Orchestral Suites
Number 1 in C
major, Op. 9 (1903)
Number 2, Op.
20 (1915)
Number 3 in D
major "Villageoise", Op. 27
(1938)
It would be tempting,
but a mistake, to entirely view the
orchestral suites as a parallel to their
piano opposites.
From the start of the
first suite there is something consciously
Romanian in Enescu’s writing, the Prélude
à l’unisson, which he derived
from the bitter sweetness of the doina.
Fauré in his review of a performance
ignored completely this groundbreaking
passage and instead concentrated on
the later three movements. Perhaps this
shows his own safe ground of sure comment,
more than anything else. Later movements
pick up styles and give them a decidedly
Enescuvian slant – we could almost be
in the realm of a French baroque suite,
but not quite. That is wholly more the
province of the second suite, consisting
as it does of an overture, sarabande,
gigue, menuet, air and bourée.
The third suite however
returns wholeheartedly to the Romanian
character – much as in the third violin
sonata, but on a larger scale. The movement
titles are descriptive of rustic countryside
and scenes, much like the vignettes
that form Impressions d’enfance.
The clear first choice
from a cost point of view has to be
Foster on Erato or Apex, as all three
suites are coupled. But the choice is
more difficult should one be after more
searching interpretations of these works.
Mandeal and Andreescu both pair the
last two suites. Rozhdestvensky presents
the third suite only, well played, and
should provide ample satisfaction for
those wanting his rather general reading
of the coupling first symphony.
Mandeal’s timbre is
good throughout, but at crucial moments
is let down by poor editing and exaggerated
pauses in the first suite. Having heard
him live in this work, I can state with
some confidence that his view is more
impulsive than this recording suggests.
As regards the other
two suites I would choose Andreescu
in the second and Mandeal in the third,
though neither is a loss in either work
if you can’t stretch to both versions.
Andreescu brings just that extra air
around the music in the second suite
and lets it breathe marginally more.
The third suite however is perhaps,
aside from the octet and dectet, Mandeal’s
finest Enescu recording as he really
gets between the notes and invests all
with atmosphere.
Vox Maris, symphonic
poem, Op. 31 (1951?)
Of all the great works
that owe their inspiration to the sea,
Vox Maris remains the least known.
The fruit of some twenty years’ work,
its style straddles those of Enescu’s
middle and later periods, and clear
links are present with the Third
Symphony and Oedipe.
The tale (to a poem
by Renée Willy) tells of a mariner
watching the horizon, transfixed by
the fate of a ship in a tempest, a dashing
rescue attempt – unsuccessful, the satiated
sea recovers its calm – the gods have
been appeased, and all ends in moonlight.
Set for full orchestra, wordless choir
and tenor soloist, the work makes heavy
demands, but also offers a great reward
for the listener.
That it remains so
seldom performed in the concert hall
is a shame, though happily versions
are presented on disc by Mandeal, Andreescu
and Foster. For a work of such inherent
drama, a strong reading is required,
and happily again all three conductors
provide one. Foster’s reading is Lyon-based
and shares many qualities with his recording
of the third symphony with the same
orchestra. The Romanian tenor Marius
Brenciu provides the important solo
line, his slightly nasal tone adding
a pleasing pinch of pepper to the mix.
Those acquiring the set for the symphonies
under Foster should in no way overlook
his urgent account of Vox Maris.
Of almost identical
pacing throughout, Andreescu’s account
features Robert Nagy as soloist – less
nasal, though as telling with words.
A pity that the orchestra do not quite
draw out the last ounce of drama from
the piece. Mandeal’s account is the
most extreme – his tempi marginally
quicker, his dramatic range greater,
and his tenor (Florin Diaconescu), perhaps
the most acquired taste of the three.
However it remains a compelling account,
and is coupled with the Poème
roumain, op.1, and the incomplete
Voix de la nature. Given that
this ‘torso’ is only available in Mandeal’s
version, and provides an intriguing
contrast to Vox Maris, it is
a disc worth serious consideration,
even if one has already gone with Foster
on EMI.
Chamber symphony
for 12 instruments, Op. 33 (1954)
For many the chamber
symphony remains the hardest Enescu
nut to crack. His style is at its densest
and not closely woven using forces that
hover between the chamber and the orchestral.
The four movement form points to symphonic
thought but the material is grown from
tiny cells, organised, contrasted and
developed in a continuing stream, leading
to a sunlit conclusion.
One of the prime concerns
here is to ensure that all instruments
are carefully voice, their individual
timbres contrasted with the others;
another must be the seemingly effortless
evolution of such a constructed and
tightly woven music fabric. If Mandeal
wins the toss over Andreescu by a nose
it is due to the character of his woodwinds,
tone of the strings and liveliness of
Nicolae Licaret’s piano playing. Foster
on Claves turns in a creditable performance,
coupled with the dectet, but lacks that
extra Romanian dimension to bring the
whole thing alive.
Caprice Roumain
for violin and orchestra (incomplete,
completed Taranu and Lupu)
Those reading below
about the violin sonatas and Impressions
d’Enfance will quickly discover
much about the recordings of those works
that form the coupling of the completed
Caprice Roumain. The conductor Cristian
Mandeal once told me he thought the
completion "interesting, though
not true Enescu". Whatever ones
point of view this is the closest we
have to the violin concerto that Enescu
never wrote, no doubt fearing having
to cart the thing around the world’s
great concert halls. What sustained
his occasional interest in it was an
expansion of the gypsy folk dialogue
that inhabits the third sonata in particular
beyond the confines of a duet, as he
seeks to form a band of lauteri from
the orchestra. Lupu’s commitment is
matched by orchestra and conductor to
give a clear impression of an impressive
work (Electrecord EDC 324/325).
Opera
Oedipe, tragedy
in 4 Acts and six scenes, Op. 23 (1920-1931)
Yehudi Menuhin sums
up Enescu’s commitment to Oedipe,
his only opera, and the importance of
it within his overall compositional
output:
"As long as
I knew my beloved and great teacher,
the score of this overwhelming opera
was by his side. Night and day,
instead of sleeping after and between
concerts, he would work on it […]
it can truly be said ‘Here lies
the very heart and heartblood of
George Enescu’."
The librettist, Edmond
Fleg, originally sketched a vast text,
designed to cover two consecutive evenings,
on Enescu’s urging reduced it to a single
evening, covering the span of Oedipe’s
life from birth to death. By and large
the plot follows Sophocles, but some
license is used in the scene with the
Sphinx.
Composition was long
and tortuous, lasting some 26 years
between the first sketches and the premiere.
Enescu worked on the piano reduction
of the score first, only for this to
be lost in transit bound for Russia,
and only later recovered with the help
of Bruno Walter. In the meantime, Enescu
was forced to start again, and so he
did. He finally turned to orchestration
a task that would last some 18 plus
years. Once completed, it waited four
years until the triumphant premiere
at the Paris Opera.
Critical opinion at
the time said of it, "Not to know
Oedipe is to ignore a huge and
specific stage in Enescu’s creation.
It is an outstanding event in the history
of opera" (Aram Khatchaturian).
"Oedipe is one of the most
astounding works of contemporary composition"
(Piero Coppola). I was careful not to
use Romanian opinions. My own is that
Oedipe lies with Busoni’s Doktor
Faust as one of the most neglected
masterworks of the last century.
The reason for its
neglect must rest with the huge demands
it makes, though those few houses that
have mounted it in recent years have
displayed the qualities that drew forth
such glowing criticism after the Paris
premiere. With vocal lines that are
eminently singable, a keen sense of
drama unfolding inexorably throughout,
and key contributions from orchestra
and chorus there are rich rewards to
be had.
Foster’s recording
(EMI France CDS 7 54011 2) is really
the only choice available. Whilst there
are many fine things about this set
(the contributions of almost all soloists,
orchestral detail and chorus), I find
the chief drawback is Foster’s conducting.
He paints the drama with a more limited
palette than other performances I have
experienced. That said though José
van Dam is dignified in the title role,
using the words with conviction, as
do Nicolai Gedda and Marjana Lipovsek
in particular.
There are two other
recordings readers might occasionally
encounter. First, a live performance
from 1955 given in Paris barely two
weeks after Enescu’s death. Charles
Bruck, a great though undervalued Romanian-born
conductor, leads a cast that includes
Xavier Depraz as Oedipe and Rita Gorr
as the Sphinx. In remarkably good sound
(from a French radio source), this searching
reading is worth seeking out.
The same could also
be said musically of the Electrecord
recording (EDC 269/270/271) conducted
by Mihai Brediceanu, dating from 1964.
Painstakingly rehearsed and recorded
over three months this amounts to the
pinnacle of the company’s achievements
regarding Enescu, with every role taken
by a star of the Romanian opera at the
time. Chief drawbacks are obviously
availability and the fact that it is
sung in Romanian translation, as was
common at the time.
My own experiences
of Oedipe began with a concert
performance at the Edinburgh Festival
in 2002. Mandeal conducted the BBC SSO,
with John Relyea in the title role;
in a performance that was galvanized
by Mandeal’s experience and Relyea’s
astonishing delivery of the score and
willingness to push himself to his vocal
limits.
Last year I attended
two of three staged performances in
Berlin (the Götz Friedrich production
which is shared with Vienna); Mandeal
conducted, with Esa Ruuttinen as Oedipe
and Marjana Lipovsek doubling Antigone
and the Sphinx. Both are by far the
most experienced exponents of their
roles around today, and next reprise
them this September (2005) in Bucharest
during the Festival.
January 2005 saw a
new production by Graham Vick given
at the Teatro Lirico in Cagliari; again
Mandeal conducted, with Romanian bass-baritone
Stefan Ignat as Oedipe. Ignat’s relative
inexperience with the role showed, as
did his struggle with the French language
at times, however he rose to key moments
well and could yet develop into a forceful
exponent of the future.
Listening to off-air
broadcasts of the Edinburgh and Cagliari
performances, what is most striking
is precisely the quality I find most
lacking in Foster’s studio recording:
immediacy of impact. Mandeal draws this
from orchestra, chorus and soloists
and views all four acts as an arch of
inevitability for Oedipe from birth
to death. Within this he does not neglect
detail, and is unafraid to move from
slightest subtlety of line to unleashing
of the tremendous power laden in the
score. There could be no greater mark
of respect for Enescu than to capture
Mandeal’s view of this score, and any
record company should act without delay.
Until that time comes, future live performances
are unmissable events in any Enescu
lover’s calendar.
Chamber compositions:
Sonatas
Violin sonata
1, Op. 2 (1897)
By far the least explored
of the sonatas on recording. This is
a work that shows Enescu’s as yet unformed
compositional mind hard at work in the
assimilation of basic skills: texture,
voicing, rhythm. No recordings are currently
widely available.
Violin sonata
2, Op. 6 (1899)
It was with the second
violin sonata and the string octet that
Enescu felt he had finally become himself
as a composer. It steers a clear path
between the Franckian-influenced first
sonata and the folkloric third sonata,
and shows a clear emphasis of melody
over form, though this is hardly disregarded.
Teeming with polyphonic superimpositions
and even a striking unison passage,
Enescu’s mind begins to grow the seeds
of later compositional concerns.
Seeing as there has
been a tendency to partner the work
with the third sonata (where violinists
have recorded both), your choice could
be coloured by the comments below. I
would say that Sherban Lupu makes a
safe recommendation, if only to emphasise
the fact that there is nothing held
back in his performance, or that of
Valentin Gheorghiu as accompanist. Naturally,
Enescu’s own recording with Lipatti
on Electrecord (EDC430/431) is of historic
interest, though sadly in poor sound.
Expressively too he seems no match for
Lupu, at least in this instance.
Violin sonata
3 "sur le charactère populaire
Roumain", Op. 25 (1926)
Enescu was quite clear
that this work was in the Romanian character
rather than the Romanian style, indicating
the use of his own thematic material
to be played as if by a gypsy violinist
with innate musical reaction and technique,
rather than a mannered classical violinist’s
technique. As Leonidas Kavakos put it,
"there has been nothing like this
since. To be successful with this work
all one needs do is find a tone that
is appropriate and follow everything
Enescu says." In itself, that is
a big ask of any duo.
The long performance
history of the work on recording includes
Enescu accompanied by Lipatti in 1943
(Electrecord EDC 430/431) and an earlier
recording with Menuhin in 1936 (EMI
7243 5 65962 2 1).
Another Enescu pupil,
the last surviving, Ida Haendel, is
partnered by Ashkenazy on Decca (455
488-2) and both cope nicely with the
gipsy-style inflections. The idiom is
certainly mastered by Sherban Lupu on
Electrecord as part of his set with
the Caprice Roumain and Impressions
d’Enfance. Kavakos’s own reading
on EMC (coupled with Impressions
and Ravel works) is idiomatic too, and
Lupu’s closest rival, but in my book
Lupu wins it by a whisker.
Those after a budget
issue should consider the Opreans on
Hyperion Helios or Mihaela Martin and
Roland Pontinen on BIS (BIS-CD-1216).
I would avoid at all costs the reading
from Patrick Bismuth and Anne Gaels
on Zig Zag Térritoires (ZZT010801).
Quite how they succeeded in making this
wondrous music dull I do not know.
"Impressions
d’Enfance" for violin and piano,
Op. 28 (1938)
Of all works that call
back to Enescu’s childhood in the land
of deities and legends, this is perhaps
the work that embodies it most. A suite
of ten miniatures, the work paints vivid
yet tiny images of a far away time and
place: wandering minstrels, crickets,
moonlight, sunshine, streams at the
bottom of the garden. Here most evidently
is Enescu in middle age still showing
a childlike sense of discovery.
Recent recordings have
been numerous and successful: Kavakos
on ECM, Lupu on Electrecord, Martin
on BIS or Gidon Kremer and Oleg Maisenberg
on Teldec (0630-13597-2). If you want
the sonatas too then Lupu is an obvious
first choice, where he is partnered
throughout by the great Romanian pianist
Valentin Gheorghiu (no relation to soprano
Angela). As a supplement to this, or
instead if money is tight, then Kremer
is greatly to be recommended, offering
Schulhoff and Bartók sonatas
as attractive couplings.
Avie have just issued
a recording by Philippe Graffin that
I have not yet heard. The review by
Jonathan
Woolf suggests that it could well
be worth investigating.
Cello sonatas
1 and 2, Op. 26 (1898 and 1935)
Of the several versions
that I have heard over the past few
years, many interesting ones are now
unavailable, or offer only one of the
sonatas. A fine pairing of the two,
together with the Nocturne and Saltarello
comes from Viviane Spanoghe and André
de Groote on Classic Talent (DOM 2910
79).
Head and shoulders
above all however is the version on
Arte Nova (74321 54461 2) featuring
Gerhard Zank and Donald Sulzen. Were
it not for the music, and the lively
interpretations and singing line of
Zank’s cello, this recording would still
find its way on to my list of treasured
items. This must be one of the most
perfectly voiced piano recordings ever
made, making for a genuine partnership
in response to the music: listen for
example to the interaction in the last
two movements of the second sonata.
Gloriously uplifting music-making all
round.
Quartets, Quintet,
Octet, Dectet
Quartet 1 for
piano, violin, viola and cello in D
major, Op. 16 (1909-11)
Alas, a major work
awaiting its first commercial recording.
Perhaps a situation that a label such
as Naxos might find their way to resolving
sooner rather than later.
String quartets
1 and 2, Op. 22 (1920 and 1950-1)
Enescu’s two essays
in the quartet format show, as elsewhere
in his output, a tightening of thematic
materials and compactness of structure
from earlier work to later.
Again an obvious candidate
for pairing on disc, there are so far
three main versions in contention: the
Voces Quartet (Electrecord or Olympia
OCD 413), Quatuor Athenaeum Enesco (cpo
999 0682) and the Quatuor Ad Libitum
(Naxos
8.554721). All three are celebrated
ensembles in Romania and each brings
experience to their recording of the
works. But as often is the case Naxos’s
issue will be a clear winner – they
play this music as if it were the greatest
music ever for a quartet, with total
conviction, commitment and love. In
a recording that gives each plenty of
bloom against the somewhat boxy Electrecord
or recessed acoustic of cpo’s release,
there seems little argument to answer.
One release scheduled
for later this year on the SOMM label
will feature the second quartet along
with Janáček’s
second quartet, played by Romanian ensemble,
the ConTempo quartet. On the basis of
concert performances, this is a group
to watch out for.
Quartet 2 for
piano, violin, viola and cello in D
minor, Op. 30 (1944)
Quintet for piano,
2 violins, viola and cello in A minor,
Op. 29 (1940)
In some ways similar
to the Dectet, discussed below, the
Quintet is a tightly woven fabric of
converging musical lines. The challenge
here is for ensembles to bring them
out sufficiently, and highlight the
flavours that are apparent within the
piece – anything from late Fauré
and Debussy in the first movement to
a distinct Bartók sideways glance
in the last. Less tunefully memorable
than the Octet perhaps this is still
fascinating music.
Two available recordings
vie for contention, Kremerata Baltica
(Nonesuch CD 7559 79682-2) and The Solomon
Ensemble on Naxos (8.557159).
Given the coupling on Nonesuch – see
below about the Octet – my preference
is for Naxos, where their pairing and
the price difference play into the bargain.
The Naxos pairing is
the second piano quartet, of which the
Naxos recording is the only available
version. The natural playing and acoustic
of Potton Hall in Suffolk, that has
been the home of so many fine chamber
recordings in recent years, add to the
overall enjoyment. This is a fine ensemble,
which could perhaps have gone on to
further fruitful explorations of Enescu’s
chamber works.
Octet for strings,
Op. 7 (1900) and Dectet for winds, Op.
14 (1906)
Though just six years
separate their composition, musically
these works are worlds apart. The octet
uses the forces famously employed by
Schubert, though Enescu sets himself
different challenges in outlining the
thematic material for the work within
the opening bars.
Recordings have tended
to pair these two works, and most consist
of chamber ensembles under a conductor.
Mandeal, Andreescu, Baciu, Lascae and
Constantin Silvestri (Electrecord) all
offer versions.
The most individual
version on disc is that conducted by
Mandeal by some margin. He captures
the fugue second movement and waltz
fourth particularly wonderfully. Andreescu
is rather too hard in sound quality
as is Silvestri’s mono sound, high on
insight though it is.
For those after a version
of the Octet without Mandeal’s edgy
acoustic should try the version by the
St. Martins in the Fields chamber ensemble
on Chandos (CHAN9131), where the recording
works in their favour. A slight oddity,
but superbly executed, is the string
ensemble arrangement by Leonid Desyatnikov
from the Kremerata Baltica (Nonesuch
CD 7559 79682-2). In my view it is best
to stick with Enescu’s original scoring.
The more compact and
knotty problems of the Dectet are also
well handled by Mandeal, with an unusually
characterful wind grouping drawn from
the Bucharest Philharmonic.
For those after an alternative, I would
recommend one not listed above: the
Oslo Philharmonic Wind Soloists on Naxos
(8.554173).
Coupled with Dvořák and Janáček,
this swift reading of Enescu’s work
is lively, luxuriant and atmospheric.
But Mandeal is a firm recommendation
musically and interpretationally for
both works.
Miscellaneous concert-pieces
This has always seemed
an obvious recording in waiting to me,
gathering together of several shorter
works and presenting them as a group.
So far the potential has not been recognised.
To be fair, there might be a tendency
to see these as merely chippings from
the master’s workbench, but several
are worth more than the occasional hearing
they have received. Three of the most
prominent are discussed here.
"Torso"
sonata for violin and piano
Displaying rhythmic
complexity, a lyric and fluid sense
leads to some loss of shape, with the
movement falling under a weight it cannot
sustain. The only recording remains
that by Adelina and Justin Oprean on
Hyperion (CDH55103),
and is worth considering being at mid-price
with the second and third violin sonatas.
Nocturne and
Saltarello for cello and piano
Viviane Spanoghe and
Andre de Groote on Classic Talent (DOM
2910 79) offer the only available version,
insightfully played and in good sound.
Your acquisition of this disc will rest
more on wanting the cello sonatas, with
which they are coupled.
"Légende"
for trumpet and piano
A work that has long
attracted great trumpet players, this
work suggests something more than its
parts, and any more than adequate performance
brings this off. Versions by Marsalis
and Håkan Hardenberger achieve
some of this. The real thing is delivered
by John Wallace on EMI (CDC5 55086-2)
in a version that does suggest something
otherworldly, wondrous and mysterious
that would perhaps prompt the listener
to append the title, had the composer
not provided it.
Piano solo
Suite 1 "in
the ancient style", Op. 3 (1897)
Suite 2, Op.
10 (1903)
Suite 3 "Pièces
impromptus", Op. 18 (1915-16)
Piano sonatas
1, (2) and 3, Op. 24 (1924, 1926-31,
1934)
Piano writing was integral
to Enescu’s compositional output, and
indeed it can still surprise me just
how demanding his writing is, even though
he was an accomplished pianist. Recently
prefacing a performance of the third
violin sonata Leonidas Kavakos drew
as much attention to the piano part
as the violin.
In considering available
recordings there are limited options.
It has always surprised me that more
companies have not explored this repertoire,
even within Romania. One
work, the Variations for 2
pianos, Op. 5 (1899), still awaits
its first recording.
Of the recordings available
there is an imported 3CD set featuring
Cristian Petrescu (Accord 204422) that
includes all the pieces listed here.
Until recently this was the only choice
and drew wild enthusiasm or derision
from Enescu lovers. To my mind, I find
Petrescu a sloppy pianist; his accord
playing can be off and he is none too
careful in regarding the minutely specific
markings that Enescu laboured long and
hard over.
Luiza Borac has spectacularly
redressed the balance with regard to
the three suites on her Avie recording
(AV0013) [review].
The first suite, composed at age 15,
shows Enescu’s already masterful assumption
of the baroque style – with Bach and
evocations of earlier master to the
fore.
The second is in a
similar idiom, though more advanced,
and displays a knowledge or Chopin and
Fauré too. Entered anonymously
for a competition, whose judges included
Debussy, Hahn, and Cortot, Enescu won
the Pleyel prize for best piano piece.
There are also fragments from both works
played by Enescu and Dinu Lipatti on
a valuable Electrecord issue (EDC 430/431),
that give special insights, albeit in
far from ideal sound.
Of the three suites
the last is the most individual, consisting
of seven pieces, which point the way
to the later style Enescu was to adopt.
The last two movements, particularly
in Borac’s recording, are atmospheric
beyond belief with their evocation of
church bells, the beautiful harmonics
and rapt attention it demands of the
listener.
Anyone after the piano
sonatas complete will have to settle
for Petrescu at the moment, though Borac
will hopefully soon provide an alternative.
It is one of the great questions that
went with Enescu to the grave: what
was his second piano sonata like? Never
written down, Enescu repeatedly claimed
the work was fully formed in his head
– but due to the pressures of performing
and other compositions never made it
to paper, hence my bracketing the number
in the listing above.
Dinu Lipatti’s recording
of the third sonata shows just what
is lacking from Petrescu’s account.
Despite the slightly boxy sound, Lipatti
creates miracles in his handling of
light and shade in the first movement
and the following Andantino. The connection
of pianist with composer and unswerving
belief in the work comes through constantly.
Add to this, a second-to-none account
of the third Chopin sonata, some Liszt,
Ravel and Brahms, and the EMI issue
(7243 5 67566 2 5) should find itself
leaping onto the shelves of every piano-music
lover.
Lieder
Three songs on
texts by Lemaitre and Prudhomme, Op.
4 (1897)
Seven songs on
texts by Clement Marot, Op. 15 (1907-8)
Three songs on
texts by Fernand Gregh, Op. 19 (1915-6)
Miscellaneous
lieder on texts by Carmen Sylva (w.o.o.)
Enescu’s songs are
jewels intricately set. As far as any
of them are performed outside Romania,
the Clement Marot songs have become
an occasional feature of recital programmes,
and show Enescu’s sensitivity to the
French texts. A number of recordings
have been forthcoming too, though sadly
Enescu’s own recordings of the Marot
songs in which he accompanies Constantin
Stroescu or Sophie Wyss remain unavailable.
Commonly available
versions include two on Arte Nova, one
an orchestral arrangement conducted
by Mandeal. Both arrangement and conducting
are sensitive to the mood established
by the piano in the original scoring,
but tenor Florin Diaconescu might not
be to all tastes, with his tight, nasal
tone. However, he characterizes well,
particularly in what I think of as being
the ‘male’ songs.
The other Arte Nova
version (74321 92777 2) features soprano
Elena Mosuc accompanied by Sabine Vatin,
in a programme that includes lieder
by Chausson, Debussy and Fauré
alongside ten contemporary Romanian
composers. This is a well sung and recorded
disc, recorded in the Enescu museum,
Bucharest, using Enescu’s baby grand
piano. Highly recommended. Other notable
versions include pairings of Ileana
Cotrubas and Geoffrey Parsons (Chandos,
nla), and Sarah Walker with Roger Vignoles
(Unicorn-Kanchana, DKPCD9035). Both
are worth searching for.
Baritone Dan Iordachescu
partnered by Valentin Gheorghiu give
a dramatic and idiomatic interpretation
on Electrecord (EDC 433), and offer
them within the context of other songs
in French and German – giving the best
overall presentation of Enescu’s song
writing on disc.
A recent radio broadcast
by soprano Sally Matthews, and performances
by tenor Marius Brenciu indicate possibilities
for future recordings. Were I planning
one I would following the example of
Eliot Gardiner’s Berlioz ‘Les Nuits
d’été’ recording on Apex,
and match voice type to the need inferred
by the text on a song by song basis,
mixing singers of all registers.
Conclusions
As I complete this
survey of recordings, I am conscious
of how far music promoters have still
to go in Enescu’s cause if he is to
be one ‘of the great discoveries of
the twenty-first century’ (Menuhin).
During this (2005) of all years the
Proms failed to programme a single work,
and with a season theme centred around
the sea, a piece like Vox Maris could
have proved an interesting – indeed
much needed - counterpoint to Debussy.
True, music students
and other ensembles occasionally perform
chamber works. Just the other night
Enescu’s third piano sonata played to
an all but deserted Purcell Room. The
night of Enescu’s death saw Vlad Maistorovici
thrillingly play Ysaye’s third sonata
(dedicated to Enescu), and Enescu’s
own second and third violin sonatas
as part of a memorial concert.
Only the second and
third symphonies have been heard in
Britain within recent years, while Oedipe
still awaits its staged UK premiere.
The professional performance mantle
has lain largely with adventurous violinists
programming works on the back of recent
recordings.
When it comes to assessing
Enescu’s standing as a composer, and
the current situation with regard to
performances, I can do no better than
quote Cristian Mandeal:
"He belongs
firmly to the great creative artists
of the twentieth century. […] Some,
like Janáček,
Sibelius, Szymanowski, Mahler even,
took a while to enter the public
consciousness and Enescu’s time
really has yet to come. This is
just the beginning.”
The future prospects are thrilling
indeed.
Evan Dickerson
Part
II: Enescu the performer: violinist,
conductor and pianist
