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Masterpieces For Piano And Orchestra

Expertly produced and elegantly packaged in 1978 by The Franklin Mint exclusively for the membership of The Franklin Mint Record Society, the dual album set entitled Masterpieces For Piano And Orchestra, which contains the Todtentanz by Franz Liszt and Symphonic Variations by César Franck as masterfully performed by André Watts in conjunction with Erich Leinsdorf and the London Symphony Orchestra, Concerto in G Major by Maurice Ravel as presented by the gifted pianist Alicia de Larrocha in concert with Lawrence Foster and the London Philharmonic Orchestra, and Variations on a Nursery Tune, Opus 25 by Ernst von Dohnányi as rendered by the composer himself in harmony with Sir Adrian Boult and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, constitutes Volumes 17 and 18 of The 100 Greatest Recordings of All Time collection.

Observations of Sedgwick Clark

TODTENTANZ FOR PIANO AND ORCHESTRA

By all accounts, Franz Liszt (1811-1886) was the greatest pianist of his time. Many are the stories of his astonishing virtuosity and melting poetry, of pianos collapsing under the force of his powerful onslaught, of women fainting during his recitals. . . . As the Romantic Era's most progressive composer, Liszt's influence (especially on Wagner) was pervasive. . . .

Liszt's enormous output (over thirteen hundred works, of which four hundred are original and the balance solo piano transcriptions) ranges from piano works such as his famous Sonata in B Minor, the Hungarian Rhapsodies, Mephisto Waltz, Funérailles, Années de Pèlerinage, the Transcendental Etudes and transcriptions of all the Beethoven symphonies . . . to his thirteen symphonic poems for orchestra (including Les Préludes), several large choral works, the Faust and Dante symphonies, and seven works for piano and orchestra, including the two piano concertos, Hungarian Fantasia and Todtentanz.

Of all his compositions for orchestra, the last-named epitomizes the grand Lisztian style, elevating piano technique to a level of virtuosity equaled perhaps only by Paganini on the violin. Liszt's subject—thirty variations on the medieval liturgical plainsong "Dies Irae"—further serves to evoke Paganini's supernatural reputation as a man in league with the devil. (How else to explain his astounding technique?) . . .

The Todtentanz ("Dance of Death") was inspired by Florentine painter Andrea Orcagna's fresco "The Triumph of Death," which Liszt saw in the Campo Santo when visiting Pisa in 1838. . . .

Opening menacingly on solo piano and timpani, the "Dies Irae" theme is stated ferociously by accented winds and lower strings—abruptly sliced off by a knife-edged orchestral chord that propels the piano into shrieking arpeggios up and down the scale. Liszt's intention is clear enough to render detailed analysis unnecessary: This is hellfire and damnation on a terrifying scale (heightened, undoubtedly, by the conscience of a strongly religious man who vacillated all his life between service to the church and the pleasures of the flesh). Each ensuing variation boldly proclaims the composer's satanic vision in alternately pyrotechnic assaults on the keyboard and moments of pensive lyricism.

Liszt has a champion of hair-raising virtuosity in the young American pianist André Watts. From the blazing speed of the octaves and the wild glissandos to the absolute clarity of textures throughout, there seems no end to his pianistic miracles. Yet this performance is anything but an empty display of bravura technique; Liszt's harmonic innovations and vibrant coloristic shadings are fully realized, and Watt's sensitive phrasing never fails to illuminate Liszt's reflective moments, particularly the subdued beauty of the quiet canonic and arpeggiated variations about a third of the way into the work. Erich Leinsdorf conducts the London Symphony Orchestra with lightning-bolt precision and power, with a further plus in the lifelike recorded sound. . . .

SYMPHONIC VARIATIONS FOR PIANO AND ORCHESTRA

It would be difficult to imagine two composers more diametrically opposed than Franz Liszt and César Franck (1822-1890). The one, a grandstander, ever mindful of the theatrical effect, leaving love-struck women in his passionate wake. The other, a church organist and choirmaster of modest character, leading an academic, earnest, industrious life. Likewise, even though the two works employ the same structural form, the explosive extroversion of the Todtentanz is worlds removed from the contained elegance of the Symphonic Variations.

The Belgian-born Franck was tyrannized from early age by his father, who wanted him to become a piano virtuoso in the Lisztian tradition. The young musician was twenty-six years old before he finally broke away from his father's oppressive influence, marrying and opting for the humble life of a music teacher. He chose to work in seclusion for many years, and it was not until he was appointed organ professor at the Paris Conservatoire in 1872 that he became recognized as a major figure in French music. . . . Among his works in these later years are the cantata Rédemption, the oratorio Les Béatitudes, Trois Pièces and Trois Chorals for organ, the Piano Quintet, the symphonic poem Psyché and the ever-popular Symphony in D Minor.

. . . Debussy wrote of Franck's “most personal quality: namely, naive simplicity. This man had bad luck and he was misunderstood, yet he had the soul of a child, so thoroughly good-natured that he could look upon people's wickedness and the disorder of the world without a trace of bitterness.” Léon Vallas in his 1951 study of Franck took a different view, suggesting that “everywhere we find the expression in music of a strong and ardent personality, of a soul tortured by thoughts burning with a brilliant flame within him, but veiled before public gaze by an outward appearance of resignation and calm acceptance of life's conditions.” In Franck's absolute music, Vallas continues, we find a “violent conflict of emotion,” resolved in the end by “indomitable hopefulness, a firm and smiling optimism. Man's endurance is greeted with a hymn of faith and hope for the future. Think for a moment of the Symphonic Variations. The work is surely anything but a study in musical texture for piano and orchestra—it is rather a great tragedy expressed in music. . . . That subject—evil versus good—is his real programme.”

. . . The division of material between piano and orchestra is superbly crafted, with none of the flashy solo virtuosity that studs the scores of Liszt and his fellow Romantics. . . . Nevertheless, even though the journey from the dark, hesitant opening to the blithe gaiety of the finale clearly reflects the composer's wonted optimism, "tragic" connotations seems rather alien to this happy set of variations. The relatively light scoring—double woodwinds, four horns, two trumpets, timpani and strings—also indicates modest pretensions.

Unlike Liszt's Todtentanz, which consists of variations on a single theme, Franck introduces a pair of themes (the first announced sternly by fortissimo strings, with the counter theme answering gently on solo piano), followed by ten variations, and then capped off by a scherzo-like movement in sonata form that develops the two themes to a joyous conclusion. The composer's novel marriage of the two classical forms is, of course, interesting on a structural level; but perhaps even more noteworthy, his use of two themes instead of one allows a more subtle and continuous integration of the variations. . . .

. . . André Watts, Erich Leinsdorf and the London Symphony Orchestra have been as true to César Franck's unassuming genius as they were in the same recording session to the brilliant diablerie of Franz Liszt.

CONCERTO IN G MAJOR FOR PIANO AND ORCHESTRA

Academic circles have often been unkind to Maurice Ravel (1874-1937), and yet his music, like that of Rachmaninoff, grows more popular with age.

The Concerto in G completely avoids the sinister undercurrents of the Concerto for the Left Hand (commissioned by the Viennese pianist Paul Wittgenstein for the left hand only, since Wittgenstein's right arm had been amputated during the First World War). Orchestral and pianistic color is bright and perky, with the nose-thumbing frivolity of the outer movements surrounding a contemplative Adagio (modeled after Mozart's Clarinet Quintet, K. 581, stated Ravel). The jazz influence seems much more pervasive than the composer indicated, with highflying woodwind figures, cackling trumpets and trombone glissandos highly reminiscent of Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue. . . . the Concerto in G is uniquely Ravel in its wit, rhythmic vivacity, textural clarity and sensuous instrumental color.

. . . From the exuberance in the outer movements to the expressive opening of the Adagio, [Alicia] de Larrocha captures every mood. The stylish playing of the London Philharmonic Orchestra is undoubtedly due in no small part to the young American conductor, Lawrence Foster, who demonstrates an ease of phrasing and control that the composer's rigid tempos prohibited. London Records' engineers set up their microphones for these 1972-1973 sessions in London's finest recording venue, Kingsway Hall, producing a rich, sparkling ambience perfectly suited to the concerto's Gallic clarity.

VARIATIONS ON A NURSERY TUNE, OPUS 25

. . . Ernst von Dohnányi (1877-1960), like his fellow Hungarians Bela Bartók and Zoltan Kodály, was known for his vivacious wit both in his compositions and performances as one of the outstanding pianists of his time. Unlike his compatriots, however, he rarely drew on the folk music of his native country. . . . In 1895, Brahms heard the eighteen-year-old composer's Piano Quintet, Opus 1 and sponsored the first performance of the young man's music in Vienna. Throughout his career, Dohnányi hewed to the classical romantic idiom championed by Brahms. Within this style, he became known for the straightforward virility and enthusiasm of his music, expressed with occasionally vehement emotion and (in symphonic works) sonorous yet economical use of the orchestra.

In recent years, the Variations on a Nursery Tune for piano and orchestra has become the work for which Dohnányi is best known. Written in 1913 (roughly contemporary, etc., with Stravinsky's Le Sacre du Printemps, Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire, Debussy's Jeux, Sibelius' Fourth Symphony, Berg's Three Pieces for Orchestra and the first performance of Mahler's final completed symphony, the Ninth), the cheerfully romantic Variations seems oblivious of the dark clouds forming over the music world.

A portentous introduction opens Variations, blustering and woofing as if to clear the air in preparation for a regal utterance. A Wagner-like motif on horns settles any doubt: This is serious business. The music trails off haltingly in pizzicato lower strings, abruptly snapping to attention with a loud orchestral chord, and the theme (which has already been fleetingly suggested) is at last stated in full with intentionally ludicrous plainness. . . . A chirping bassoon leads to the first of eleven variations, which progress in increasing complexity of texture and treatment of theme. A fugal finale (appropriate for a composer in the Brahms tradition) leads to the coda in which the main theme is restated in its unadorned—although more refined—simplicity before scurrying away to a spirited conclusion.

The success of a recording is not necessarily assured by the presence of the composer as soloist or conductor; although the historical worth is unarguable . . . . The ideal situation, of course, is one where the composer is also a seasoned performer—as in the case of Rachmaninoff, Bernstein or Boulez—and thus fully equipped to present the music as it was intended. There is no doubt that Dohnányi was among this select group, for his playing communicates the score's wit and virtuosity with unrivaled panache. Furthermore, the participation of the seventy-nine-year-old composer at these early stereo sessions, held in London in September 1956, insured that the ever-reliable Sir Adrian Boult and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra had the best authority for any interpretive questions. This is the kind of performance for which the phonograph was invented.