CPO diaries

[kyjo]

I'm still hoping that CPO gets around to recording the Malipiero symphonies because they're in desperate need of a modern update. The Naxos recordings (originally issued on Marco Polo) are 'okay', but more passion could be had in these works.

I fully agree, John. CPO has recorded his piano concerti, plus symphonies by his countrymen Alfano, Casella, and Sgambati, so anything's possible...

[kyjo]

Upthread, I enjoyed Robert Kahn's clarinet trio. Here the focus is two cello sonatas and three collected miniatures, all of then written from about 1902-1912 in a very, very Brahms-inspired mood. The booklet recounts how Kahn spent his youth trying to add himself to the Brahms circle - slowly befriending all the composer's friends until they finally introduced him, then being adopted by Brahms in a father/mentor type relationship.

The Brahms influence is best felt in Kahn's fondness for some of the same chords and harmonic progressions, and particularly his adaptation of the great Brahms habit of closely alternating major and minor keys to create emotional complexity. The thing that's not so complex is Kahn's melodic material: the first movement of No. 1 and the finale of No. 2, especially, are rather simplistic short motifs that are repeated just too many times. But the music is unfailingly attractive if you can handle that repetition, and Kahn only drifts from his idol's musical language once, in the last minute or so of No. 2, when the cello briefly wanders through some more modern harmonic territory.

All in all, it's a very pleasant album but non-essential unless you are a hardcore Brahmsian - in which case it probably is essential. For me, I'm happy to use this as background music for reading a book on a weekend morning, or keeping cozy in winter weather. Thedeen and Triendl are such accomplished musicians that their playing adds to the interest.

Agreed, Brian. As I've said before, I generally don't mind when the music of a certain composer resembles that of another more famous composer, and I do think too many lesser-known composers are unfairly accused of being "derivative". That said, Kahn is a composer who, for all his fine craftsmanship, just sounds too much like a less inspired Brahms most of the time for me to fully enjoy his music. Considering he lived all the way until 1951, one would think he would have eventually become more open to other stylistic influences over the course of his career, but it appears that he didn't...

[Le Buisson Ardent]

I fully agree, John. CPO has recorded his piano concerti, plus symphonies by his countrymen Alfano, Casella, and Sgambati, so anything's possible...

Yeah, I've got the PC set and it's fantastic. Fingers crossed something happens with the symphonies.

[kyjo]

No one asked for it ( ) but here's some of my most cherished CPO releases over the years. It goes without saying that I'm immensely grateful to CPO (amongst other labels) for bringing so much wonderful relatively unknown repertoire to light, and usually in very good performances and sound. I tried to narrow it down as much as possible, but it was quite difficult. They're generally in no particular order, though of course the Atterberg symphony cycle has to come first! Sorry about the varying image sizes:

[Le Buisson Ardent]

Since we're sharing favorite CPO recordings, I might as well play, too.

In no particular order:

[Clemens non Papa]

A few favs:

SWR Köln/M.Jurowski's Prokofiev ballets

Cesar Franck's string quartet & piano quintet by the Danel Quartet

The complete Brahms Lieder by Banse/Vermillion/Schmidt/Deutsch

Max Reger - Complete works for violin & piano, complete cello sonatas by Wallin et al

[Que]

A few favs:

SWR Köln/M.Jurowski's Prokofiev ballets

Cesar Franck's string quartet & piano quintet by the Danel Quartet

The complete Brahms Lieder by Banse/Vermillion/Schmidt/Deutsch

Max Reger - Complete works for violin & piano, complete cello sonatas by Wallin et al

Welcome to the forum!

[Brian]

Heinrich Kaminski was a between-wars German composer who was blacklisted by the Nazis for his political beliefs and then again because they found him (truthfully or not) to be one-quarter Jewish. Qobuz didn't upload the booklet of this release, so I don't know the story behind why Kaminski wrote an epic 53-minute piece of symphonic proportion for string orchestra and simply called it Work for String Orchestra.

The first movement starts with a slow introduction that blends into the main allegro by degrees, with frequent tempo changes. It's an interesting movement; I find Kaminski's musical language hard to describe, though. Fundamentally tonal, but not "romantic" in its emotional resonance - maybe like a Germanic, un-folksy Pavel Haas or Bartok. Except that, of course, if you take folk color away from those composers, you're left with very little. I don't quite know a good comparison point.

The slow movement is a long, somewhat spooky nocturne with high violin writing. It doesn't rise to a Mahlerian level of color, let alone Hollywoody scene depictions. But it is a Mood. The scherzo's B material is also a Mood, especially its spooky reprisal near the end of the movement. The finale begins with a vigorous, lengthy fugato, before taking a break for calmer, slower material around 5-9' that slowly breaks down into seemingly unrelated, non-thematic notes, like the music is disintegrating. But the fugato returns, and the music rather surprisingly switches to major key in the last 60 seconds - and then eases down to a calm, quiet ending.

This is a very curious work. It's not exactly "attractive" - there aren't any big tunes or scenes or anything like that. It's not exactly "unattractive" - it's not full of angst or even modernity. It's not epic in emotional content, just in length. Even more so than when I started listening, I wonder very much why it exists, what artistic impulse led Kaminski to make such a major statement in such terms.

Playing and recorded sound are great. I think I'll listen again. This music is mysterious in a very intriguing way. Not sure if it is something you "unlock," or just accept on its unique terms.



I love how much rare Turkish music is on CPO. This monster violin concerto is 44 minutes long, including an epic 26-minute first movement that really starts with a bang: pounding drums and gongs, sinister angry trombones and tuba. The violin enters after two minutes with the stakes already clear: this will be endurance warfare, soloist against orchestra. After all the tumult and drama, the violin ends this epic movement with a long solo cadenza - and then, without pause, plays the lead-in to the slow movement! There's another long solo cadenza in the finale.

The piece overall actually has something in common with the Kaminski: despite its length, it doesn't have a lot of super-memorable Big Moments (just the beginning and ending) or even a romantic Big Theme. Instead, it's more like the through-composed soundtrack to a wild dream sequence. Consequently, I think I'd have a hard time seeing it live, but thoroughly enjoyed listening to it while preparing lunch. At its best, it has lots of color and a violin part so taxing you have to be in awe of the soloist.

It must be an absolutely exhausting piece to play. This recording is a live one-night concert performance, which you can mostly tell from the acoustic. Cihat Askin's violin sounds smaller than usual for concerto recordings, both because it is recorded accurately to the live concert environment, and because (I assume) Askin has to conserve strength to get through the whole piece without arm muscles failing.



Herzogenberg was an admirer of Brahms and kind of the epitome of a mid-to-late German romantic reclamation project. (There are at least 14 CPO albums of his music.) I have a physical copy of his CPO double album of chamber music, which is chock full of good music, craftsmanship, and tunes. The orchestral music is new to me, though. The Violin Concerto may not be the best place to start - it's an unpublished work - but Ulf Wallin is an A-lister by CPO standards, and the music is genial A-major sunniness. Contrasting with Akses' modernism, Herzogenberg creates a "hangout concerto," where the violin and orchestra are buddies who relax together, trade tunes, and enjoy each other's company. There is certainly more emotional expression in the minor-key slow movement,

It's hard to think of many great "hangout concertos." (Does Tchaikovsky's Violin Concerto count? Maybe the Saint-Saens Egyptian Concerto? Maaaybe?) As a structure, it's not a formula for lasting memorability. But this one is certainly pleasant enough.

The discmate is a monster-sized 48-minute symphonic poem suite called Odysseus. Depicting, yes, the Odyssey. Heck yeah! Now this I can dig into with enthusiasm. I expect Cyclops and Scylla and sirens and lotus-eating and... (looks at track list)

I. Die Irrfahrten (The Wanderings)
II. Penelope
III. Die Gärten der Circe (Circe's Garden)
IV. Das Gastmahl der Freier (The Banquet of the Suitors)

Oh OK. I'd better calm down. 

The Wanderings is a 19-minute opener that starts with a slow, moody depiction of turbulent sea waves. At this point, though, I already have to confess that this suite is no Lemminkainen Legends. I didn't take another note until the pleasant woodwind chirping in Circe's Garden. The first two movements were mostly preoccupied with generic minor-key romantic moodiness. Circe's Garden at least has some sunbeams and birds, even though Circe is no heroine. The finale mirrors the finale of Scheherazade, with a glittering fast section followed by the dramatic return of the opening material when Odysseus comes back and finds out what his family has been up to. This is definitely the most straightforwardly colorful, programmatic, episodic movement of the four - and definitely the most fun, too. I was a little surprised by the cheerfulness of the last couple minutes; maybe Odysseus is celebrating his vengeance? Anyway, this is the movement to keep, for sure. But the whole suite left me wondering what would have happened if Berlioz had done an Odysseus symphony - and how much more modern that would have sounded.



Symphony No. 1 is in C minor and moves from a long, slow, glumly "tragic" introduction to a heroic questing finale full of trombones, but this is no repeat of Brahms 1. The music is shaggier, more lyrical, and honestly more likable. (I'm not a Brahms 1 guy.) What it lacks is really memorable tunes or moments, the kind of thing that, if you listed a bunch of obscure symphonies to me and got to "Herzogenberg's First," I could say, "Oh, yeah, that's the symphony where X happens!" I suppose X = the harmonic adventures of the trio sections in the scherzo, which really wander all over the place. The finale is funny because the Brahmsian origins are painfully obvious, but the movement is less than half the length of the Brahms 1's. It's like getting a little appetizer sample tray. This is probably what @Spotted Horses's Brahms comparison notes were about.

Symphony No. 2 is in B flat, shorter, even more laid-back, and totally unpretentious. It actually has more in common with someone like Svendsen or Gade. (There's a major first-movement motif that shares a rhythm with the first-movement motif from Dvorak 4.) The slow movement is more like an intermezzo or interlude than a fully developed idea, and isn't especially lyrical. The scherzo's trio is "where something happens": the trumpet declaims a melody that is based on an octave interval. It's quite odd and a little bit bluesy. The finale is expectedly jolly.

This is probably the only recording these works will ever get, so it's nice that the NDR players put in a good effort and Frank Beermann manifestly cares about getting the music right.

[Brian]

Anders Eliasson's music has a certain anxiety to it, or a nervous edge, that fits our modern world. That doesn't mean it's angsty or angry necessarily, just that it is on edge, restless. In the Double Concerto, this produces exciting results, especially in an all-out 'presto' finale that is led by the piano. The strings at times are almost whirling-dervish-like. This contrasts with the slow movement, which ended with a lengthy violin-only cadenza; the finale also unexpectedly falls into a gentle, sweet, quiet ending. (The three movements are played without pause.) By Eliasson's standards, this is high-spirited music. I could see it appealing to fans of Aho concertos.

The Sinfonia for strings is in grander form, with two 19-minute movements played without break, the first slow, the second fast. There is something restful and reassuring about the way that it begins, but remember the saying about how to boil a frog? Put it in a pot of cold water and raise the temperature gradually. The temperature here rises steadily for almost 15 minutes, before a brief rest in which a cello soloist muses on the material. But even this leads to a bigger, bleaker climax.

The faster second movement is all about repeated rhythmic figures overlaid on slower accompaniments. Eventually these figures begin to compound and multiply; it's a form of organic development that you can hear more clearly than is usually possible. Around 4:30 this starts leading to arresting unisons. There's no relief from the anxiety at this point. (The Allmusic review compares the string writing here to a Shostakovich chamber symphony or even Pettersson. I don't know Pettersson so I'll let somebody else say whether that is true.) It's ten whole minutes before the calming music from the Sinfonia's beginning returns to bring the temperature down. The piece ends on a very uncertain note (literally). Compared to the concerto's high energy and general anxiety, this is a much more intense ride, even though it is generally a slower piece.



Two-CD set. CD1 is a 44-minute symphony in D minor; CD2 is a 34-minute violin concerto also in D minor and a 9-minute work for French horn and orchestra.

The Violin Concerto is a total miss for me. It starts out sounding like a funeral march; that mood doesn't last, but the deep self-seriousness does. The major-key slow movement has a very tender, loving romance theme for the violin that, unfortunately, sounds just like one of the big tunes from Wagner's Flying Dutchman. You can tell Dietrich really thought he was writing a Big Hit here with this movement, making his bid to join Bruch in the Germanic concerto canon, but it's just not original. The finale, "molto vivace," seems more like "molto moderato" to me, and I wonder if either the performers are not up to it, or they're not inspired by the music to want to try. The French horn solo work, Introduction and Romance, is more atmospheric and scored like a chamber piece at times, although it gets more bloated as it goes along.

I thought much more highly of the Symphony. It is highly motivated, dramatic, and taut, with a bustling Schumann-like opening sonata movement. (The longer version of Schumann's Fourth is this symphony's direct ancestor/inspiration, it sounds like.) Similar to the Violin Concerto, the slow movement foregrounds a "big tune" that is gently inspirational (and perhaps derivative of somebody else, though I can't quite remember what it reminds me of). The slow movement is actually the shortest of the four, setting the stage for a 10-minute scherzo. Schumann comes to mind again here, and Dietrich's great friend, Brahms. Like many romantics, Dietrich is at his least interesting in the finale, but it's not bad, and the ending is a real blaze of energy. It just suffers from the grandiosity he feels is a requirement here.

Given how much I've enjoyed Dietrich's chamber music, this is a real wake-up call. The Symphony is very enjoyable, but the concertos let me down bad.



Carl Maria von Weber's Bassoon Concerto is on the edge of the repertoire, his Andante e rondo ongarese is on the edge of the edge, but Crusell's Bassoon Concertino is a real rarity. Crusell is more famous for his great clarinet concertos, best had in the recording by Martin Frost on BIS. These staples of the early romantic era are joined by a brand-new (2022) bassoon concerto by Olav Berg (1949-). The story outlined in the booklet is that soloist Dag Jensen called Berg and said he planned to record his first bassoon concerto. Berg said, "I don't like that one anymore, I'll write you a new one," and concocted this entirely new piece in five months specifically for the studio recording sessions. I know small works, encores, and chamber pieces have been written for recordings rather than concert premieres, but wonder how many orchestral works have similar stories...

The early romantic stuff is predictably fluffy and delightful, especially the Hungarian rondo; the performances are thoroughly professional. (Bassoonist Dag Jensen conducts, so you could imagine things being a little brisker at times.) The Olav Berg concerto is a totally different species. It starts with a slow, mysterious bassoon solo over an orchestra that now includes (going by sound here) piano, marimba, and xylophone. Then, in current Nordic fashion, it builds to some big tutti climaxex and gradually fades back out to quiet again.

In a way, the Berg is a good pairing because these particular Weber and Crusell pieces are not marked by a unique individual composer's voice; they're examples of how successful you can be crafting a decent listen in a pre-existing school of composition. And the Berg is like that too. I don't think I could identify an Olav Bergian trait except maybe the interplay of piano and xylophone; instead, his concerto is an example of how you can craft a decent listen in the current post-tonal Nordic style of Kalevi Aho, Fagerlund, Rautavaara, etc. I enjoyed the percussion interjections and the bassoon semi-cadenza backed up by piano. But I'm not sure I'll much remember this in a few weeks.

[Brian]

The Symphony in D is subtitled "La Chasse" but only the finale has any hunt-like elements, and even then, the horns take the back seat while other instruments imitate horn fanfares. The minuet's trio is scored for winds only (flute, oboe, bassoon, horn). Otherwise, it's not especially interesting, and the performance might be a touch slow.

That's this disc in general, I'm afraid: kinda dull. The "Prima Vera" symphony starts with a very sincere, kind of cute attempt to depict fresh springtime arriving, and a main theme that sounds a little like birds chirping. The finale has cuckoos, too. But this is novelty music from another era. The concerto for two horns has the horns' interesting sonorities and expertly written duets, but not very interesting material, so I just listened because I like horns.



Roland Furieux (Orlando Furioso) is a delicious blend of Franck's Le Chasseur Maudit with Wagner and Richard Strauss. There's a calm central interlude between the two outer movements, which are wild, violent, colorful, like some composers' depictions of witches, demons, or hell. Apparently there is no evidence of a complete performance before 2019, but this is fun. There's even more doom-laden bass drum whacking in Andromède, though this one has a peaceful, quiet ending.

Irlande and Pologne are 10-14 minute tone poems expressing Holmès' support for the oppressed people of those countries. They have folk tune elements and a variety of episodes, some rather violent. Think of them like Irish and Polish versions of Šarka from Ma Vlast. They're reasonably entertaining though the ending of Pologne in particular is cheesy with its "inspirational" melody, drumrolls, and harp glissandi.

The final piece is Ludus per patria, a five-minute aria with a very operatic main melody in the cellos. It's a sentimental, derivative, but utterly wonderful little piece. Indeed, the whole collection could be accused of sentimentality and copycatism (of people like Wagner and Strauss especially), but it has a lot of fun moments, and I think Roland Furieux would get a long round of applause in concert.



I know the Fairy Tale pretty well from Supraphon and Naxos recordings, but Praga not so much. It's an absolute treat, based on some of the patriotic Czech tunes familiar from Dvorak's Hussite Overture or Smetana's Tabor and Blanik, orchestrated to Josef Suk's late romantic hilt. The piece is practically monothematic, but tremendously varied and fun, with a ridiculous excessive ending.

The Fairy Tale performance is pretty good too, but the whole CD could benefit from better sound - the violin solos in Fairy Tale are a little glassy, and the climaxes in Praga occasionally "blow out" and exceed the microphones' ability to capture them. This is a pretty early (1987-88!) CPO disc. For the Fairy Tale, I think I'd recommend the Falletta Naxos recording first?



Symphony No. 1 is an odd early piece that combines some modern harmonies with a neoclassical form and the occasional romantic melody. It is constantly unpredictable, never more so than the actually fast "slow movement." The scherzo is a straightforward folksy delight and by far the easiest part to process on first listen, and the finale follows up with a tremendous amount of energy. This is a restless piece that doesn't slow down; it is also mostly in optimistic major keys but without being especially cheery. There's a Shostakovich Fifth "mandatory fun" type feel to the excessive ending, with its pounding bass drum and gleaming piccolo.

In the Polish Overture, the folk element is largely rhythmic, with fragmented hints of a chorale-like melody that resembles the one in the finale of Lutoslawski's Concerto for Orchestra. There's another moment that reminds me of that piece later; it's an abstract but very colorful and stomp-y piece. The Partita is much more introspective, at least in two of its four movements. (The finale, again, is a romp.) There are lots of interesting colors and textures here, my favorite actually being the bass accompaniment at the very beginning. 'In una parte' is a 7-minute piece in the modern late Bacewicz style that centers a lot of its attention on one pitch and has plenty of percussive smacking.

Aside from the symphony, the other big work is a 21-minute Concerto for Orchestra. This is the mature, modern, spooky Bacewicz whose music is full of jump-scares and haunted scenes. The virtuosity required of the orchestral musicians is extreme, and should be thrilling even if you find the musical language tough.



The String Quartet is an Op. 1 and a pretty generic piece. The quintet is in three movements, with a big central theme and variations, a structure that I like. It's a little more Nordic, very sunny and pastoral, and a good deal more charming than the quartet. I can definitely imagine returning to this piece while reading a nice book. Henning Kraggerud, who is now a violin solo star, takes up second viola here.

[Brian]

Totally harmless early romantic music in the mold of teenage Schubert or the Mendelssohn string symphonies. The Symphony is in D minor, and the four overtures - all abstract pieces, not for specific theatrical works - are cheery. Two of the four overtures both appear to quote the first-movement coda climax of Beethoven's Second Symphony at their final own climaxes. Repusic gets the strings to play with HIP vibrato in the symphony.



Paul Büttner was a Brahmsian romantic who started working around 1895, withdrew from public life in 1933 because he was a leftist and his wife was a Jew, and died in 1943, with his music suppressed entirely by the Nazis. His wife, 16 years younger than he was and a local politician, faked poisoning and, during her "recovery," hid away so well that she survived the war inside Germany and lived on until the 1960s.

The works are resolutely conservative. The Heroic Overture in C (1925) is an epic 15 minutes, with tuba, triangle, and resolutely 19th-century themes and contrapuntal development. It's extremely pleasant to listen to, but it is Heroic in a way that evokes Schubert and Bruch rather than, say, Nielsen. Absolutely wild to think that this was premiered after the Glagolitic Mass, Les noces, and Les biches.

And that's the latest work on the program! The Prelude, and Fugue, and Epilogue "A Vision" was written in 1922; the prelude is 8 minutes, the fugue 9, the epilogue 4. The booklet claims this is a response to the violence of the Great War. The prelude has a joyous military band episode midway through with glowing brass, snare drum, and glockenspiel. Then minor key arrives and the fugue whirls into chaos, yielding to a slow cello and viola lament which is definitely not a fugue. The epilogue is a healing peaceful major key. Basically, if it is inspired by the war, it is an extremely superficial, feeble response with the bare minimum of expression, as if he was composing about a particularly bad digestive episode.

Finally, we rewind all the way to 1902 for the sunny Symphony No. 2 in G. This was written before Büttner's big breakthrough (No. 3), and thus was written purely for his own private enjoyment. It feels its youth: fresher, less pretentious, more easygoing.

There's no slow movement; instead a nearly 11-minute scherzo takes the central place in the piece. The finale is the largest of the three sections, somewhat frivolous but winsome. The Symphony is not a masterpiece by any means, but it is at least the most vibrant and charming of the three works.

The booklet note is rather shocking in its praise for Buttner, clearly trying to reclaim him as a forgotten genius. At one point, the author writes out a list of 39 other composers who were also important to "Kapellmeistermusik" in one preposterously long sentence. It's very silly and not CPO's best booklet. The audio is also not perfect: sometimes the brass causes a pop or crackle sound that is not made by the instruments. The trombones in the symphony sound especially bad.



What a delight to learn that there is a third Sextet for violin, viola, cello, French horn, clarinet, and piano, to go with the two by Dohnanyi and Penderecki! I love this eccentric instrumentation dearly.

Richard Rössler, Roessler, Rößler, or Roeßler - even he and his own children spelled it differently on different occasions! - was a Brahmsian German romantic who spent most of his career as a teacher. The booklet notes here are better than for Büttner, but still include one sentence that lists out 22 of his students; the only two I've heard of are Ferdinand Leitner and Kurt Weill. The Sextet is from 1906 and the Piano Quintet about a decade later.

The Sextet is much more serious and rigorous than Dohnanyi's; it begins with an extended passacaglia in which every instrument weaves a different line over the piano base. In later episodes, Rössler manages to outdo the Brahms influence that is also present in the Dohnanyi work. Ultimately, what's missing compared to Dohnanyi is personality - witness the latter's finale, with his genuine humor and Viennese parodies. Rössler, by contrast, can only relax in his finale to "genial" and "major-key fugue". The very ending is rather triumphant.

The Piano Quintet has a giant (16-minute) first movement and no true slow movement. The second movement, "con moto," reminds me very much of the "un poco allegretto" movement from Brahms' String Quintet No. 2. The piano rests for the first 1:50 in the "poco allegro" third movement, which is somewhat of a scherzo-variation hybrid. The finale is, like the Sextet, triumphant and muscular.

The performances are as good as you'd expect from this relatively star-studded disc. Ultimately, the music is for diehard Brahmsians.

[André]

Great posts, Brian !

For my part my first exposure to CPO's sense of enterprise was through the Pettersson symphonies (not the box, it was one purchase at a time).

Names like Graener, Boehe, Raphael, Woyrsch, Wetzler, Goetz meant nothing to me before I discovered their music on CPO. All of the above are grade A composers. Fame may be lacking, but not quality !

[JBS]

Totally harmless early romantic music in the mold of teenage Schubert or the Mendelssohn string symphonies. The Symphony is in D minor, and the four overtures - all abstract pieces, not for specific theatrical works - are cheery. Two of the four overtures both appear to quote the first-movement coda climax of Beethoven's Second Symphony at their final own climaxes. Repusic gets the strings to play with HIP vibrato in the symphony.



Paul Büttner was a Brahmsian romantic who started working around 1895, withdrew from public life in 1933 because he was a leftist and his wife was a Jew, and died in 1943, with his music suppressed entirely by the Nazis. His wife, 16 years younger than he was and a local politician, faked poisoning and, during her "recovery," hid away so well that she survived the war inside Germany and lived on until the 1960s.

The works are resolutely conservative. The Heroic Overture in C (1925) is an epic 15 minutes, with tuba, triangle, and resolutely 19th-century themes and contrapuntal development. It's extremely pleasant to listen to, but it is Heroic in a way that evokes Schubert and Bruch rather than, say, Nielsen. Absolutely wild to think that this was premiered after the Glagolitic Mass, Les noces, and Les biches.

And that's the latest work on the program! The Prelude, and Fugue, and Epilogue "A Vision" was written in 1922; the prelude is 8 minutes, the fugue 9, the epilogue 4. The booklet claims this is a response to the violence of the Great War. The prelude has a joyous military band episode midway through with glowing brass, snare drum, and glockenspiel. Then minor key arrives and the fugue whirls into chaos, yielding to a slow cello and viola lament which is definitely not a fugue. The epilogue is a healing peaceful major key. Basically, if it is inspired by the war, it is an extremely superficial, feeble response with the bare minimum of expression, as if he was composing about a particularly bad digestive episode.

Finally, we rewind all the way to 1902 for the sunny Symphony No. 2 in G. This was written before Büttner's big breakthrough (No. 3), and thus was written purely for his own private enjoyment. It feels its youth: fresher, less pretentious, more easygoing.

There's no slow movement; instead a nearly 11-minute scherzo takes the central place in the piece. The finale is the largest of the three sections, somewhat frivolous but winsome. The Symphony is not a masterpiece by any means, but it is at least the most vibrant and charming of the three works.

The booklet note is rather shocking in its praise for Buttner, clearly trying to reclaim him as a forgotten genius. At one point, the author writes out a list of 39 other composers who were also important to "Kapellmeistermusik" in one preposterously long sentence. It's very silly and not CPO's best booklet. The audio is also not perfect: sometimes the brass causes a pop or crackle sound that is not made by the instruments. The trombones in the symphony sound especially bad.



What a delight to learn that there is a third Sextet for violin, viola, cello, French horn, clarinet, and piano, to go with the two by Dohnanyi and Penderecki! I love this eccentric instrumentation dearly.

Richard Rössler, Roessler, Rößler, or Roeßler - even he and his own children spelled it differently on different occasions! - was a Brahmsian German romantic who spent most of his career as a teacher. The booklet notes here are better than for Büttner, but still include one sentence that lists out 22 of his students; the only two I've heard of are Ferdinand Leitner and Kurt Weill. The Sextet is from 1906 and the Piano Quintet about a decade later.

The Sextet is much more serious and rigorous than Dohnanyi's; it begins with an extended passacaglia in which every instrument weaves a different line over the piano base. In later episodes, Rössler manages to outdo the Brahms influence that is also present in the Dohnanyi work. Ultimately, what's missing compared to Dohnanyi is personality - witness the latter's finale, with his genuine humor and Viennese parodies. Rössler, by contrast, can only relax in his finale to "genial" and "major-key fugue". The very ending is rather triumphant.

The Piano Quintet has a giant (16-minute) first movement and no true slow movement. The second movement, "con moto," reminds me very much of the "un poco allegretto" movement from Brahms' String Quintet No. 2. The piano rests for the first 1:50 in the "poco allegro" third movement, which is somewhat of a scherzo-variation hybrid. The finale is, like the Sextet, triumphant and muscular.

The performances are as good as you'd expect from this relatively star-studded disc. Ultimately, the music is for diehard Brahmsians.

Re Wilms

I liked the two CDs of piano concertos Brautigam recorded for BIS.

Re Rößler

Ö=OE
ß=SS

Those were all the same spelling, only differenced by the changing conventions of German orthography. The most current one is probably Rössler.