Radu Paladi (1927-2013)
Piano Concerto in C major (1989)
Symphonic Suite The Little Magic Flute (1954)
Violin Concerto in E minor (2002)
Nina Karmon (violin), Oliver Triendl (piano)
Württembergische Philharmonie Reutlingen/Eugene Tzigane
rec. 2021, Reutlingen, Germany
CAPRICCIO C5465 [57]
Paladi, a displaced person among so many across Europe, had to leave his birthplace Bukovina (Chernivtsi) and early on moved to Bucharest. He more than made his way in 1950s Romania as composer, pianist, conductor and or lecturer. His catalogue of works includes chamber music, songs, other orchestral suites, choral works, pieces for solo piano as well as theatre and film music. This finely engineered disc serves as my initiation into the world of this composer who died at a fairly grand old age about a decade ago.
The three-movement Piano Concerto is from the end of the 1980s. A smilingly swashbuckling work, its “Christmas Tree” soundworld is a kaleidoscope of moving parts. Passing by in supple panoply are what play for non-Romanian audiences as artful echoes of populist Shostakovich (Piano concerto 2), Malcolm Williamson (Piano concertos 2 and 3), Malcolm Arnold (Concerto for Phyllis and Cyril and Piano Duet Concerto) and Rodrigo (Aranjuez and Andaluz), There is much to charm and nothing here to stick in the craw unless you object to a melodist’s blend echoing with easily digestible tuneful imagination. Triendl - who has turned his pianism to a vast range of styles over the years - has come to grips with Paladi’s work: unabashed dynamic populism. Parts reminded me of the lighter music works that have been taken to the hearts of certain Australian classical audiences in John Carmichael’s works in Swagman’s Promenade.
Paladi’s 2002 Violin Concerto is also in three movements and is about same duration as the Piano Concerto: 20 minutes. It is however a more edgy work. Its tripartite first movement is not quite as much of a pushover as the Piano Concerto. It cuts up rough in the Allegro section as if Paladi had caught himself relaxing too far in the Piano Concerto and wanted to redress an overly-saccharine balance. The central Andante proceeds introspectively in humming romance. The final Vivo casts sparks, scintilla and smithereens to left and right in driven tribute, so it seems, to so many Central European models.
The Symphonic Suite The Little Magic Flute (1954) is the earliest work here and comprises nine micro-jewelled movements amounting in total to just short of fifteen minutes. It is a sample of Paladi’s beguiling theatre music. There is nothing here to test the listener’s endurance and much to charm even the sweetest of dental arrays. The longest movement is 3:32 and the shortest just 0:25. Often quite magical, it operates as a modern Nutcracker. There are inward-flowing confluences, folksy, stately and playful, and these are often redolent of Ravel, Enescu, Sarasate, Svetlanov (his folk rhapsodies), Paganini’s Kodály and Herrmann.
The disc’s background write-up is essential with a composer so little known. It has been written by Viniciu Moroianu and Irina Paladi. In German and English, the translation is by Jens F Laurson.
A calling card for a composer determined to captivate audiences on first acquaintance and well served here by soloists, conductor and orchestra.
Rob Barnett
