Pianist Philip Martin, who made a reputation performing the music of Louis Moreau Gottschalk for Hyperion, here (19-20 October 2006) turns his attention to the intricate salon world of Henri Herz (1803-1888), the Viennese virtuoso and pedagogue whose prolific output once exceeded that of Chopin and Liszt in popularity. By 1855, however, Herz’s musical star had died out, and he relished his post at the Paris Conservatory. The musical luminati of the period–like George Grove and Robert Schumann–had already consigned him to oblivion. Perceived as both superficial and tastelessly showy, Herz’s oeuvre survived only in the form of his finger exercises and the occasional reference as a salon virtuoso. Howard Shelly helped to revive Herz’s music with the inscription of six piano concertos between 2003-2004.
The first two offerings, Deuxieme theme original in G Minor/G Major and the Variations on Rossini’s Rondo-aria “No longer sad beside the fire,” we have already the virile and facile ingredients of Herz’s fluid and dynamic style. Besides quick shifts in tempo and registration, the cantabile elements several times remind us of Chopin–who was no less captivated at age 14 by the Rossini air–and the challenges to the accomplished performer include spans of 10ths and 12ths in the left hand, rapid repeats and scales, and broken octaves. “To make the piano sing and draw from it a sweet and melodious sound” is the expressed wish of the composer in his note to his Three Nocturnes, Op. 45. If Op. 81 suggests Donizetti, then Op. 45 ushers in thoughts of bel canto Bellini (in the A-flat La dolcezza) and John Field (in La semplicita). Simple phraseology, lyrical scales and arpeggios, and a light-handed, melodic grace place this opus alongside Mendelssohn and the more polished gems of Hummel. Anyone hearing the opening of the second of the set, La melancholia in G Minor, surely would think he had entered Chopin’s sighing, rarified world.
The rather lovely D-flat Major Ballade’s opening measures sound much like the Dvorak Piano Quintet’s beginnings; the keyboard style, however, owes debts to Chopin’s nocturnes. Its dark, middle section in F Minor borrows from Weber and Schubert. The Second Ballade makes us recall that Herz successfully toured the United States and likely exerted an influence on Louis Moreau Gottschalk. Both sugary-sweet in its B Major cantabile sections and brilliant, with its 16th runs in diaphanous textures, it points to several pieces by Gottschalk, the cadenza stolen rather unashamedly from Mozart’s D Minor Fantasia, K. 397. Another Weber (his Op. 24 Sonata) influence is the Herz Le movement perpetual, a wrist-buster that requires light and dexterous hands. The right hand must carve out a melody atop the flurry of sparkles on which it rests. The so-called Dramatic Fantasy wants to capitalize on the success of Meyerbeer’s opera Les Huguenots and adds an ‘air de ballet.’ While Meyerbeer utilized the Protestant hymn Ein feste Burg ist unser Gott, it appears nowhere in the Herz treatment. Instead, Herz builds upon a gavotte-like sequence which divides into two distinct episodes and becomes predictably ornamental in cluttered, bravura fashion. Whatever ‘chorale’ effects there are, they pale next to Mendelssohn’s treatment of Ein feste Burg in the Reformation Symphony. If Gottschalk has his monster piece of jingoism in The Union, Herz swaggers his stuff with his 11-minute Fantasy on National American Airs, which quotes the Chapel Hill Serenade, Hail Columbia, and the perennial stand-by Yankee Doodle, here in E Major. One might look to Vieuxtemps’ Souvenir d’Amerique for equally bombastic, shallowly-entertaining treatment. Gaudy fun and obviously a source of constant delight to pianist Martin, at the very least.
— Gary Lemco
