The superb Naxos Lutosławski
series continues apace, with this new release coming in at No.8.
As Richard Whitehouse’s excellent note points out, it’s tempting
to see this particular volume as representing the lighter side
of the composer’s creative nature. This would be true in
parts and slightly simplistic in others, but there is no doubting
the glittering inventiveness of the orchestral writing throughout,
making even the more severe passages have a directness and appeal
that is hard to resist.
The Dance Preludes are quite well
known, odd ones featuring regularly as festival set pieces. In
fact Lutosłlawski described
these pieces as his ‘farewell to folklore’, and they marked something
of a turning point in his outlook As the culmination of his folk-inspired
period (a period that included such masterpieces as the Concerto
for Orchestra) they are full of
the ebullience and charm that we have come to expect of early
Lutosławski. Their brevity adds to their charm, and it is
a mark of the composer’s inventiveness that he can pack so much
in to such miniatures.
The Double Concerto, commissioned
by Paul Sacher and premiered by Heinz Holliger and his wife, Ursula,
consciously uses more modernist devices. It experiments with the
sonorities of the oboe, which is the chief protagonist here (the
harp is more an obbligato part) and the accompanying chamber orchestra
(consisting of two percussionists and twelve strings) is used
with astonishing inventiveness and originality. There is certainly
an element of playfulness between the instruments (the swirling
tempest that opens the Rapsodico first movement is a good
example) but serious questions are asked in much of this piece.
The performance is superb, subtle, flexible and with altogether
outstanding solo work from the featured players.
Similarly awkward questions are asked in the
short Grave movement, and here we have a conscious
influence, with a direct quotation of Golaud’s motif from Debussy’s
Pelléas et Mélisande. The sombre opening
of that opera informs much of the work, but, unlike the opera,
light does glimmer through at key points, giving a more optimistic
final impression.
Chain 1 was commissioned by the
London Sinfonietta and heralded a series of exploratory pieces
with the same title. The chamber ensemble of fourteen players
is used here with a wonderful mixture of caprice and abandon,
and the composer can be heard experimenting with as many sonorities
as can be wrung out of conventional instruments. A lot of mood
swings are packed into its 9 minutes, but overall the feeling
is one of exuberance and rhythmic zest, beautifully captured here.
The collection of Children’s Songs
that finish the disc make a truly delightful sequence. Most are
to good-humoured nonsense verses (rather as Ligeti has done) but
the whimsy and high spirits are sometimes offset by serious undertones,
as in the marvellously named About Mr. Tralalinski. Here
we can sense the dictates of Socialist Realism being transcended
into a much more personal statement and, as with Shostakovich
and others, the wit and irony tell quite another story.
This is an excellent disc, and the performances
are inspired and dedicated. I’ve always liked recordings from
this venue, and the sound quality here is well up to previous
standards, far superior to the composer’s own EMI series from
the 1970s. Don’t hesitate.
Tony Haywood
Colin Clarke has also listened to this
disc
If there is one
thing we should be grateful to Naxos for, it is their penchant
for completism. Eight full volumes (so far) of Lutosławski
orchestral works make for a treat indeed (notwithstanding the
fact that the final eight tracks on this instalment are
vocal, of course). Richard Whitehouse is our eloquent and informed
guide in the booklet notes, which include all relevant information
and more besides. Works are contextualised in the composer’s output
as well as in terms of historical lineage and even, where relevant,
political circumstances.
Although only nine minutes long, I have frequently
thought of Chain I as the quintessential Lutosławski
in its masterful use of controlled aleatorism married to an intensely
lyrical streak. This Vyner commission for the London Sinfonietta
shows just how skilful the composer was with keeping a firm grasp
on harmonic fields whilst simultaneously giving his performers
freedom. The conductor, Antoni Wit (who must at times feel more
like a musical traffic warden), realises the shape of the piece
well. Intensity does indeed increase, and the ‘unison’ climax,
the result of much aggregation of material, really does sound
properly climactic (wrongly realised the performance flops, as
I have heard on occasion live). The instrumental solo flourishes
(‘cadenzas’ implies a length they do not have) are expertly taken:
perhaps the horn should come in for special mention for his/her
eloquence.
The Double Concerto for Oboe, Harp and
Chamber Orchestra (twelve strings and percussion) was commissioned
by Paul Sacher for Heinz and Ursula Holliger and features much
the same principles of controlled aleatorism. This is gestural
music that works in sound masses. The oboist, Arkadiusz Krupa,
is marvellous. He has a lovely, rounded tone and his trills are
a delight. He is also very nimble (if not downright nippy) in
the difficult lower register of his instrument. The two soloists
complement each other well, although perhaps the oboe is put a
shade too far forward in the sound picture. The ‘dolente’ middle
movement enters a very personal space, very lyrical and intimate.
Lutosławski seems to enjoy writing the harp’s cushioned
accompaniment as much as he does the aching solo oboe lines. Again,
Krupa’s tone is his strength here, smooth and luxuriant, expressive
and sometimes even pained. There is a free-flow of invention here
that brings the concept of ‘endless melody’ to mind. Around four
minutes in there is a compositional call to stasis that is quite
heart-stopping in its intensity - certainly when realised with
the force of the present performance. The finale is pure delight.
There is the distinct feeling of game-playing: and it is the composer
who is being at his cheekiest.
Very differently coupled, the composer’s own
recording with the original dedicatees should of course take pride
of place and the present Naxos account should be seen as an adjunct.
But it should be heard, nevertheless.
(The composer’s own recording is on ‘The Essential Lutosławski’,
Philips Duo 464 043-2, coupled with the Third Symphony and the
Concerto for Orchestra.)
The Dance Preludes
of nearly thirty years earlier represent Lutosławski at his
most approachable. Post-Bartókian in their springy
rhythms, cheeky moves and infectious joie de vivre (especially
true of the first and last movements), mention should also be
made of the beautiful Andantino where Kaleta’s liquid legato comes
into its own. The 1981 Grave (subtitled ‘Metamorphoses
for Cello and String Orchestra’) includes a reference to the initial
forest scene of Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande
(a work favoured by its dedicatee, the Polish musicologist Stefan
Jarocinski). The opening is deeply sonorous, and Rafał
Kwiatkowski’s tone is well caught in this recording. Here is a
talented young cellist (born in 1978) – I hope to hear more of
him.
The Two Children’s Songs take the listener
back to 1948. Alas, there are neither texts nor translations for
any of the vocal items (why not, Naxos?: copyright restrictions,
perhaps?). Still, the innocence of the first, ‘The Belated Nightingale’
shines through, as does the jauntiness of ‘About Mr Tralalinski’
(all of the songs on this disc set texts by Julian Tuwim, 1894-1953).
Dating from the preceding year, the Six Children’s Songs
inhabit a wider emotional frame. The second, ‘The Four Seasons’,
is extremely sad, seemingly full of regret (one has to guess at
the subject, of course); similarly the third, entitled simply
‘Kitten’. There is much to delight in this set, too, especially
the final, brief ‘The Bird’s Gossips’. The use of vocal items
is a very effective way to end the disc, even if there is something
of the feeling of the encore about it all after the earlier meat.
Urszula Kryger is an expert, unaffected exponent.
This is a very, very rewarding disc. Repeated
playing has not only reinforced but has actually strengthened
my admiration for this composer.
Colin Clarke
Zbigniew Kaleta (clarinet),
Arkadiusz Krupa (oboe), Nicolas Tulliez (harp)