Related reviews: 
                Thomas Jensen conducts Scandinavian Classics
                on Danacord - 
Review 1 
                Review 2 
                
                This is a collection of quite rare Danish theatre music recorded
                in mono by the Danish State Radio Symphony Orchestra between
                1942 and 1952. If you do not immediately see yourself as being
                in the market for such music - which you have likely never heard
                before - I doubt that the set is for you, but it has its surprises.
                There is in fact much to enjoy in this two-disc set, curated
                by conductors Erik Tuxen and Launy Grøndahl. 
                
                The first CD begins with Friedrich Kuhlau’s suite of music
                for the play 
The Elf Hill. The overture is very Rossinian
                in aspect, with chipper tunes and the Italian’s characteristic
                penchant for cymbals and triangles. The suite is full of quite
                enjoyable music - of particular note is the lovely “Dance
                of the Elf Maidens”. If it does not grab your ears, it
                at least constantly satisfies them. One caveat: the incidental
                music concludes with a twenty-second hunting call for the horns
                which means that the selection is rather anti-climactic. 
                
                Luckily, what follows is Niels W. Gade’s substantial tone-poem 
Echoes
                of Ossian. Gade was probably the most significant Danish
                composer of the nineteenth century - his symphonies are superb
                - and his 
Echoes is, like Mendelssohn’s 
Hebrides,
                a “concert overture” written before the term “symphonic
                poem” entered common use. I actually have heard this work
                before, in a recording conducted by, of all people, King Frederik
                IX, ruler of Denmark from 1947 to 1972. King Frederik, it seems,
                was a music enthusiast so gifted that he was able to conduct
                the Royal Danish Orchestra and Danish Radio orchestras on occasion,
                and even recorded 
Echoes of Ossian as part of a set of
                his personal favorites to be found now on 
Dacapo.
                (His recording of the Wagner 
Tannhauser overture is particularly
                notable.) 
                
                
Echoes is dark and brooding in content, reminding me in
                tone - though not in melodic content or orchestration - of the
                first movement of Mendelssohn’s “Scottish” Symphony.
                There is a reassuring, lyrical second subject with hunting-horn
                undertones, entrusted to the oboe at around the five-minute mark.
                King Frederik really lays on the gloom in a very slow, steady
                account; the present recording, led by Grøndahl, is rather
                more lively and all the better (and more dramatic) for it. 
                
                The Gade 
Novelettes for String Orchestra are expressively
                quite the opposite of the overture; they are very charming and
                ought to appeal to anybody with a fondness for Grieg’s 
Holberg
                Suite. I like these more with each listen, and will probably
                add them to my string orchestra playlist alongside similar music
                by Grieg, Wirén, and Sibelius. This music is undeservedly
                a rarity, although a handful of modern recordings are available
                which also, temptingly, include Gade’s other set of 
Novelettes.
                Gade’s contributions to the present album conclude with “In
                the Blue Grotto,” a rather song-like, or even operatic,
                excerpt from his ballet 
Napoli. 
                
                J.P.E. Hartmann’s overture to 
Little Kirsten opens
                with a sweeping harp solo that brings Smetana’s 
Má Vlast to
                mind, but the work ends up being another light-hearted, inoffensive
                overture in the Italian style. It rather outlasts its welcome,
                unfortunately; I grew tired at around the six-minute mark. The 
Funeral
                March for Bertel Thorvaldsen does not suffer from the same
                deficiency; rather grandiosely scored for organ, brass, percussion,
                and frankly inaudible winds, the piece does double duty as a
                memorial to the sculptor who was its namesake and a really enjoyable
                example of music so earnest and so stern as to become a bit of
                a self-parody. At least Hartmann raised his children to have
                good taste in music: his daughter married Niels W. Gade. 
                
                The second disc opens with the 
Aladdin Fairy-Tale Overture of
                C.F.E. Horneman, which, despite some courageously ‘exotic’ scoring
                for flute and harp, is rather more Fairy-Tale than it is Aladdin.
                The opening two minutes are quite dramatic. Horneman’s
                cartoonish 
Gurre-Suite outstays its welcome, even at just
                fifteen minutes, and Lange-Müller’s tempestuous prelude
                to the play 
Renaissance is not an improvement. 
                
                Next, however, we encounter the most famous work of Danish theatre
                music, and indeed one of the most famous pieces of Danish classical
                music there is. Excerpts from Carl Nielsen’s opera 
Maskarade are
                a welcome relief from the mediocrity of that which has come before.
                The witty, sparkling Overture and Dance of the Cockerels here
                bookend a pastoral prelude to Act II. This music is sufficiently
                rooted in the repertoire that plenty of modern recordings are
                available; Thomas Dausgaard on Dacapo, for instance, omits the
                Act II prelude but conducts the overture and dance with the same
                effervescence as and Grøndahl, in crisp digital sound. 
                
                Happily, from Nielsen on out the music on the second disc is
                of much greater interest. Poul Schierbeck’s 
Fête galante is
                quite a celebration, orchestrated in very good cheer. The 
Poème lyrique by
                Peder Gram, in contrast, is eerie and melancholy; it reminds
                me of the haunting Bernard Herrmann scores to films like 
Vertigo,
                though Gram came of course first. In even more modern a language
                is Svend Schultz’s 
Serenade for Strings, which is
                cheery and quite refreshing but maintains a harmonic spunk and
                rhythmic energy that bring to mind Stravinsky or the Swede Dag
                Wirén. The 
Serenade is like a nice glass of cool
                water at the end of a long musical journey, although this feeling
                is at least in part because some of the prior selections had
                left me thirsty for rewarding listening. 
                
                A mixed collection, then, ranging from the weighty (Gade’s
                overture, Nielsen, Gram) to the witty (Gade’s Novelettes,
                Schultz) with a lot of light-hearted incidental music in the
                middle. Not all of this is really remarkable or memorable. The
                Danacord liner-notes also document the problems encountered when
                creating these transfers of the original recordings, which date
                from 1942 to 1951. Some of the tracks (such as the Children’s
                Dance in 
Elf Hill) still have regular clicks every few
                seconds, a few sound markedly better than others (
Aladdin and 
Ossian are
                quite fine) and the hiss gets louder and softer within some of
                the pieces - there is an audible increase at 4:20 in the first,
                and 2:50 in the second, of the Gade 
Novelettes. The sound
                never actually detracts from the enjoyment of the music itself.
                I should note, however, that I am not as dedicated an audiophile
                as some and am willing to praise even the poorest of mono recordings
                if the “character” of the acoustic seems to me suited
                to the music. The gentle hiss and somewhat constricted string
                sound of the Gade 
Novelettes, for example, combines with
                the tuneful, cheery music to make me feel like I am watching
                a charming domestic comedy film from the 1940s. 
                
                If the repertoire intrigues you, especially beyond the very widely
                available Nielsen, and if you are willing to bear the antiquated
                sound, do enjoy this two-disc set. I believe, though, that while
                much of the music here will satisfy, Hartmann, Horneman and Lange-Müller
                in particular will fail to win many new friends. An enclosed
                advertisement for Volume 3 promises Nielsen, Grieg, Svendsen,
                and Sibelius. Call it the prejudice of familiarity, but to me
                that volume sounds more promising.
                
                
Brian Reinhart