Werner Herbers is a serious musician. The photo on the inner
                flap of this release certainly gives this impression. Those of
                us who remember him as principal oboist of the Concertgebouw
                orchestra also remember how the entire orchestra would give the
                impression of revolving around him when in the middle of a solo,
                such was the intensity which he gave to each performance; indeed,
                to each note. As a greenhorn composer just arrived in Amsterdam
                in 1987-88 Werner very kindly allowed me to work on the piano
                in his house. The piece I was sweating over is long forgotten,
                but his generosity lives on in my memory, and as a result he
                can do no wrong. Fortunately, even with such a declaration hanging
                over this review, it is very easy to have a high regard for Werner
                Herbers’ Ebony Band from any objective point of view. His
                revival of remarkable and stunning scores from undeserved but
                perhaps unsurprising neglect and obscurity have made this band
                the vehicle for some uniquely valuable projects. The resonances
                which grew out of the Stan Kenton orchestra experiments by composers
                such as Robert F. Graettinger have been allowed to echo on into
                our times thanks entirely to his efforts. 
                
                Kurt Weill’s 
Kleine Dreigroschenmusik doesn’t
                fall into this class of obscurity, the Threepenny Opera having
                retained popularity and notoriety since its conception in 1928.
                Weill was forced out of Germany by the forces set in motion through
                the rise of Hitler, but the influence of American jazz and other
                popular forms can already clearly be heard in the suite which
                covers all of the hits from this famous collaboration with Berthold
                Brecht. As expected, the Ebony Band play this music with style
                and bite, rather sweeping aside the not unattractive but rather
                swampily recorded Gulbenkian Orchestra conducted by Michel Swierczewski
                on Nimbus. The Ebony Band’s qualities in this music are
                more comparable with the old favourite 1970s London Sinfonietta
                recording conducted by David Atherton on Deutsche Grammophon.
                There are differences in inflection, and Atherton’s trombone
                is more fun at times. In terms of stylistic conviction and verve
                the Ebony Band is every bit as good however, and in some places
                more convincingly European-sounding - some of the London Sinfonietta
                tracks could almost be Ealing Comedy rather than Berlin Nightclub. 
                
                While the 
Kleine Dreigroschenmusik is relatively familiar,
                the other two works on this CD most emphatically are not. Another
                wartime émigré, Ernst Toch had been a remarkably
                well known composer in his brief time in Germany before his career
                was interrupted by Nazi domination. 
Egon und Emilie is
                a satire on opera on a libretto by Christian Morgenstern, whose
                humorous and absurdist texts owe something to the kind of material
                represented by English eccentrics such as Edith Sitwell. The
                piece is a monologue by an operatic diva suffering a nervous
                breakdown - the result of being ignored by her largely silent
                partner Egon, who finally gives a misogynistic speech, picks
                up his things and leaves, granting us the proverb, “Speech
                is silver, silence is golden”. One of the inner flaps of
                this gatefold package shows the histrionic female giving her
                all, while our Egon sits in his evening dress reading a book,
                looking for everything like a bourgeois caricature from a George
                Grosz cartoon. Recorded in a slightly dry and tubby acoustic,
                this is still a decent recording of a very fine performance,
                in particular by soprano soloist Elena Vink. The music is of
                that anti-romantic New Objective style which is typical of the
                period, but poses few difficulties. Indeed, the piece is full
                of a kind of jolly wit and humorous inflection, albeit of a rather
                Teutonic nature. 
                
                Erwin Schulhoff has since the 1990s become a more familiar name,
                as one of that unfortunate list of ‘degenerate’ composers
                who did not survive the war. This focus on representatives of
                the ‘entartete musik’ and Erwin Schulhoff in particular
                was one of the strands in which Herbers and the Ebony Band took
                a leading role. Their two volumes of his works on Channel Classics
                are essential listening for those interested in the period. 
H.M.S.
                Royal Oak is a Jazz Oratorio, dubbed by the writer and collaborator
                Otto Rombach as “an attempt at finding a form for a radio
                play which is not limited to the radio.” As such it works
                superbly on CD with everything present, and no heavy treading
                on the stage to indicate any missed dramatic action. The texts
                are all delivered in the original German, but translated in the
                booklet. Basically, the events are based on a real story about
                a quarrel on board the huge eponymous vessel, three officers
                who get themselves into a violent argument about the music played
                by a small band who performed in the officers’ mess. The
                prelude to all of this was if anything more remarkable, jazz
                music having been forbidden by the admiral of the ship, with
                an open mutiny following as a consequence. 
                
                The piece is full of marvellous moments and colourful jazzy orchestration.
                If, for instance, you know Bix Beiderbecke’s ‘Barnacle
                Bill the Sailor’, then you will surely relish the baritone
                saxophone glops in the second 
Rezitazione. Listeners afraid
                of heavy Germanic weather in this piece should be informed that
                it is in fact a real find, filled with favourable winds, great
                fun, and performed and sung with true refinement and gusto. True
                humour can only be delivered straight, and Werner Herbers resists
                any temptation to throw in gimmicks, allowing the truly inventive
                and strikingly clever score to speak for itself. Schmaltzy salon-orchestra ‘Palm
                Court’ moments exist alongside real dances, the insidiously
                mild and vibrato-laden chorus of saxophones equal to the strings
                in a superb 
Tango-Interlude. Cracking syncopated rhythms
                infect the 
Fox fugato, and there is also some well delivered ‘sprechstimme’ here
                and elsewhere. Little references and associations fizz throughout
                the piece, and I found myself musing both on Weill’s ‘Alabama
                Song’ and Frank Zappa’s ‘Valley Girl’ in
                the penultimate 
Panama-Song. Performers both vocal and
                instrumental, choral and solo, are all brilliant, and the large
                Vredenburg venue means we get a spacious and generously proportioned
                recording in which to revel in all this new stuff. 
                
                The cover illustration for this release is a 1925 lino print, ‘Jazz
                Musicians’ by Dutch artist Jef van Jole, and is a perfect
                choice for this excellent release. Everything is very fine here,
                but the real find is 
H.M.S. Royal Oak. There may be MWI
                readers who don’t feel inclined to hear how German humourists
                took the mickey out of the British in this piece, but I hope
                we can take it on the chin. This is a piece which is packed with
                surprising and remarkably high quality music, and the last 
Finale
                e Spirituel is as good as anything by Stravinsky in a comparable
                genre. All of the performances are live, but there is no audience
                noise or applause, the unequal nature of the different environments
                an easily acceptable trade-off for having such a well balanced
                programme in a single outstanding artefact.
                
                
Dominy Clements