LISZT: Hungarian Rhapsodies Nos. 1 & 2 (Cologne Radio Symphony); PROKOFIEV: “Classical” Symphony; STRAVINSKY: Firebird Suite (Dusseldorf Symphony Orchestra)/ Eugen Szenkar – Forgotten Records FR 2309 (55:42) [www.forgottenrecords.com] *****:
Even in the standard annals of Mahler interpreters, the name of Hungarian maestro Eugen Szenkar (1891-1977) remains obscure, this despite his leading a complete 1916 cycle of that composer’s symphonies in Attenburg in Saxony, at a time when Mahler’s music still aroused controversy. In 1924, Szenkar succeeded Otto Klemperer in Cologne, Germany as director of operatic productions. For the 1926-1927 seasons, Szenkar programs the world premiere of Bartok’s The Miraculous Mandarin, five Mahler symphonies and The Song of the Earth, Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder, Mozart’s Cosi fan tutte, Handel’s Julius Caesar, and Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande.
Between 1928 and 1932, Szenkar led the Teatro Colon in Buenos Aires, Argentina. For his farewell concert of October 1932, he leads the Argentine premiere of Mahler’s Third Symphony. In 1934, after two Vienna performances of Wagner’s The Flying Dutchman, Szenkar receives an invitation to Moscow to assume a post as artistic director of the Moscow State Philharmonic Philharmonic, thus replacing another Jewish conductor, Oskar Fried. Serving as State Professor at the Conservatory, one of his pupils is Kyrill Kondrashin, while Szenkar’s piano assistant is Emil Gilels.
From 1939-1949 Szekar resides in Brazil, where he organizes the Orquestra Sinfonica Brasileira as a musical ensemble worthy of Rio de Janeiro. The end of WW II in 1945 allows Szenkar to tour in New York and Toronto, eventually making his way back to his roots in Cologne, Germany after a successful 1950 concert in Hamburg. In 1952, Szenkar reaches Dusseldorf, his final station of artistic development. In 1958, Bruno Walter, as head of the Gustav Mahler Society, elects Szenkar its first honorary member. In April 1960, due to advancing age, Szenkar steps down from his position as General Music Director in Dusseldorf.
The Forgotten Records restoration derives from the Remington label, the performances from March 1959 Cologne and 1954 Dusseldorf. Along with now elusive CD issues from Archiphon and Tahra, the disc becomes a landmark of sorts. Szenkar opens with Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody No. 14 in F Minor in its orchestral guise as Hungarian Rhapsody No. 1 (published in Leipzig, 1874-75) from Liszt and pupil Franz Doppler (1821-1883). Szenkar and the Cologne players capture the work’s brooding nationalism from the first measures, the main melody militantly nostalgic. The woodwinds add distinct color vitality to the already declamatory brass, altering the funereal character to something like that of a serenade. The new section has a flurried gallop and scalar ascents and descents before the main rhythm intrudes with brief woodwind cadenzas. The kaleidoscopic saunter that evolves becomes increasingly festive in competing antiphons. The initial motif, now harp-invested, takes on a new presto flavor, definitely augmented in gypsy flavors. Szenkar invests the whole with a healthy, robust brio that bespeaks his unabashed fondness for Liszt.
The 1847 Hungarian Rhapsody in C Minor, orchestrated in the 1850s, remains one of the more familiar works in the popular catalogue. Its slow and fast structure, lassú and friss, conforms to the demands of Gypsy and Magyar design, the verbunkos and csárdás dances. If ever cartoon characters Tom and Jerry tormented each other, this music detailed their machinations. The “fate” motif that announces the opening projects a deep resonance as the music unveils its potent, alert periods. Clarinet and assorted wind instruments make their contribution, assisted by color effects in pizzicato strings and triangle. Do we suspect the clarinet solo may have influenced Gershwin for his own Rhapsody in Blue? The music becomes virtually static when, magically, the pinched wind and brass sounds emerge, an antiphon of pent up, vehement energies. The pompous march erupts, ever gaining acceleration and a degree of mania. Szenkas captures the willful play of the competing, circus antics of the music, its elevation of simple scales into epic confrontations, a la Rossini. The level of orchestral discipline – and the happy madness – rivals what we have come to expect of Mengelberg and Stokowski.
In 1916, the perpetual iconoclast Serge Prokofiev decided to compose a symphony in the style of Mozart and Haydn but invested with mischief. “Out of bravado,” he stated, “I wanted to stir up a hornet’s nest.” The initial Allegro emerges with rabid force from the Dusseldorf band, rife with Mannheim rockets and a prominent flute part that will gain hegemony in the last movement. The bassoons prove no less active in their jocular mirth. Superfluous grace notes, agogic displacements, and false returns to the tonic provide but a few of the diversions from tradition. The Larghetto proceeds as a galant moment of some deep beauty. A small army of 16th notes flutters by for a secondary theme, and American composers will soon follow suit. The ensuing, brief but heavy-footed Gavotte the composer found attractive enough to include later in his Romeo and Juliet ballet. A peasant drone informs the thinly textured Trio. Szenkar invests the last movement Finale with a vivacious sense of bold dash, his principal flute in full throttle. For sheer speed of execution, his most immediate rival that comes to mind lies with Eugene Goossens and the Pro Arte Orchestra.
The concert concludes with Igor Stravinsky’s 1919 arrangement of his suite from The Firebird, whose melodic content owes much to Rimsky-Korsakov’s Russian songbook collection. Just listen to the glissando colors Szenkar evokes from his strings in the opening Introduction to the Firebird! The command of color effects from Szenkar easily rivals the chiaroscuros that emerge from contemporaries Albert Coates and Oskar Fried in Russian music. If the Rounds of the Princesses exhibits a lush serenity of spirit, the snorting, Infernal Dance of King Kachtchei exudes a mephitic breath, a rude exhalation from both ends of his anatomy. But even here, amidst the busy harmonic maelstrom, a song of Russia emerges from within the swirling winds and strings, a militant urge for liberation: the Berceuse. Here, the Dusseldorf bassoon and sympathetic strings establish a dream world, heavily paced at first but eventually dissolving into hazy tremolos ready to ascend to the Finale. The sunrise comes with the French horn and famous harp glissando, the ineluctable momentum and orchestral sheen’s ascendant to a shimmering apotheosis that bows to Mussorgsky’s Great Gate, but on its own terms.
Highly recommended.
—Gary Lemco
Eugen Szenkar Conducts:
LISZT: Hungarian Rhapsody No. 1 in F Minor; Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2 in D Minor;
Cologne Radio-Symphony Orchestra
PROKOFIEV: Symphony No. 1 in D Major, Op 25 “Classical”;
STRAVINSKY: Firebird Suite (1919 vers.)
Dusseldorf Symphony Orchestra
