The range of the Bohemian
– and to a lesser extent Moravian –
musical diaspora can be very adequately
gauged from the composers in this three
disc survey. Some underwent name-changing,
Germanicising being the most opportune
thing to do if seeking preferment in
a ducal court, not least as regards
pronunciation. In the first volume therefore
we find Jiří
Antonín
Benda becoming Georg Anton
and Jan
Křitetel Vaňhal turning into
Johann Baptist Vanhal, even Wanhal.
And so on.
Benda served
successively in Potsdam and Gotha and
his Sinfonia dates from his days as
Kapellmeister to Duke Friedrich III
of Saxe-Gotha. The forces were relatively
modest – ten strings, four winds and
harpsichord – and the writing robust,
elegant and broadly conventional. Josef
Bárta was born in Prague
and was active in Vienna in the 1770s.
His own Sinfonia is a good example of
Sturm und Drang in compressed form.
Vivacious and rather gripping it makes
a more intense impression than Benda’s
opus, though admittedly it’s written
on a broader canvas.
F. X. Richter,
the senior composer in this volume contributes
a keyboard – here harpsichord – concerto.
If he’s known for any of his concertos
it’s that for the trumpet, though he’s
probably even better known for Mozart’s
naughty comments on Richter’s outrageous
consumption of alcohol. The keyboard
work has a too-long first movement and
a certain garrulous professionalism.
Its slow movement, a so-called Pastorale
Cantabile, sounds rather stiff backed
for such a sympathetic instruction.
Stamic studied
in Prague but is best known for his
time in Mannheim. He picks up the pastoral
theme in writing a Sinfonia Pastorale,
published shortly after his premature
death in 1757. This is an impressive
work, around eleven minutes in length
and cast in four movements. Well sprung
and lively we find Stamic writing discreetly
and imaginatively for horns; the Czech
Chamber Philharmonic under Vojtĕch
Spurný does well by the swells
and dynamic contrasts in the music.
Vaňhal’s
Sinfonia is fluent and well laid out
but rather derivative. The pomposo gait
of the Minuet is probably its high point.
I’m not sure but I suspect that this
is the Symphony that should properly
be classified Bryan Em1 and conjecturally
dated to c.1770. The notes have it as
c.1765.
The second volume brings
us more Vaňhal,
his Symphony in G minor. This is a defter,
more energetic and more engaging work
than the one in the first volume. Solo
winds have their say in the slow movement
and the compositional level here is
high. František Xaver Dušek
was, like Vaňhal, another Bohemian
who moved in Mozartian circles. Mozart
played one of Vaňhal’s violin concertos
and Dušek famously entertained
Mozart when the younger man visited
Prague for performances of Don Giovanni.
Active both in Prague and Vienna Dušek
turns in a Symphony of gallant confidence.
The trio has a certain studied charm
but a real sense of orchestral control
and surety.
František Xaver
Brixi
was a contemporary of Dušek, and related
to Jiří Antonín
Benda. Prague-born he eventually
became Kapellmeister of the city’s St
Vitus Cathedral (remember that the next
time you visit). He died, like Mozart,
very young and composed in the main
church music. His Concerto for harpsichord
is a work I greatly prefer to that by
the better known Richter. It’s more
modest, has a stately quality that is
most impressive, and has a lightness
of touch that compels admiration. He
also experiments with pizzicato supporting
figures in the slow movement and the
restrained rhetoric of his writing does
him real credit. It can be played on
harpsichord or organ. A real, modest,
unassuming but enjoyable find.
Vranický
was Moravian, born near Brno. In
Vienna, where he studied with Mozart
and Haydn he was known as Wranicky.
He became a prestigious employee of
Prince Lobkowitz in Vienna and held
an honoured place in music making in
the city. His Symphony, written after
his engagement as Lobkowitz’s Kapellmeister,
is a rugged and Haydnesque affair. Opening
with portentous percussion it begins
a stern allegro journey. Whereas, in
contrast, the Romance is spacious, rather
grand and confidently unromantic. His
minuet is burnished by pert inner part
writing and once again a rather stately
Viennese patina.
Jiři
Ignác Linek opens the final
volume with his Sinfonia Pastoralis.
Born in Bakov near Prague he succeeded
his father as choirmaster in his hometown.
Though he followed the trajectory of
most Bohemians of studies in Prague
he doesn’t seem to have travelled much
and certainly didn’t take appointments
in estates beyond Bohemia. Probably
intended for Christmas his symphony
is enjoyable and well characterised,
and short. The drone effects in the
Adagio hint at the kind of folkloric
tints that his more cosmopolitan Bohemian
and Moravian contemporaries don’t pursue
in their own symphonies and they’re
all the more effective for it.
Leopold Kozeluh
is a known quantity these days with
his piano concertos and other works
taking their place on disc and in some
concert halls. His 1787 Symphony in
G minor, which predated Mozart’s own
by a year, is a concise three-movement
affair. It is in fact as Mozartian as
Vranický’s was Haydnesque. The
clever partition of wind lines in the
slow movement is a stand out feature,
as is the well-upholstered bass line
pointing, and the layering of winds
over the string cantilena. His finale
is peppered with confident Mannheim
crescendos.
František Xaver
Brixi returns with his C major Symphony
of 1760. It bridges the period post-baroque
and pre-classical with a beguiling eloquence.
Buoyant, yes, but with a vocalised,
almost operatic freedom and lyricism
in the slow movement. Finally we have
the E flat major Symphony of Antonín
Rejcha (or later Antoine Reicha),
and one of the last of these works to
be written, in 1800. After his meetings
with his contemporary Beethoven in Bonn
he studied in Vienna but eventually
gravitated to Paris. His list of pupils
is long and prestigious and starts with
Berlioz, Gounod, Liszt and Franck and
moves on from there. His Symphony seems
to owe most to Haydn though there are
also intimations of his friendship with
Beethoven. He writes athletically for
flutes, and warmly for strings. His
deft fugal passage in the slow movement
is unusual enough to provoke comment.
It was absolutely no surprise for me
to learn, from another source, that
his fugal mastery made a huge impression
on the writing of both Berlioz and Liszt.
One can gauge his total command of fugal
procedure from even so small an example
as the one in his Symphony. His Allegro
is also gently witty.
This survey, while
hardly claiming to be comprehensive,
offers unusual conjunctions and perspectives
on Bohemian (and Moravian) composers
in the eighteenth century. The Czech
Chamber Philharmonic, known as the Český
komorní orchestr in its native land,
is a modern instrument group founded
by Vaclav Talich in 1945, and plays
with clarity, warmth and a clear immersion
in the stylistic niceties of the time.
The Domovina studios were used for all
the recordings – the recordings sound
natural and bright. The notes are cogent
and attractive. All three discs are
available separately and lovers of the
Bohemian and Moravian baroque will be
pleased to make their acquaintance.
Jonathan Woolf
Czech Chamber Philharmonic (Zdenĕk Adam,
artistic director)/Vojtĕch Spurný
