SZYMANOWSKI: Symphony No. 1 in F Minor, Op. 15; Concert Overture, Op. 12; Symphony No. 4 “Symphonie Concertante,” Op. 60; Study in B-flat Minor, Op. 4, No. 3 (orch. Fitelberg) – Jan Krzyztof Broja, piano/Warsaw Philharmonic Orchestra/Antoni Wit – Naxos 8.570722, 67:18 ****:
Recorded 2006-2008, these inscriptions of the large orchestral compositions of Karol Szymanowski testify to the composer’s radical evolution from a Wagner disciple to an idiosyncratic purveyor of the Polish national style as filtered through his own cosmopolitan lens. The 1905 Concerto Overture in E Major (1-4 August 2006) certainly borrows enough pomp and grandiloquence from Richard Strauss, particularly from Ein Heldenleben, Till Eulenspiegel, Der Rosenkavalier, and the Alpine Symphony. The quiet passages exploit viola, harp, and a range of woodwind instruments over grumbling harmonies in the bass fiddles, which then build to a Tristanesque climax. Though it follows no specific program, it conveys a sense of aspiration and loss, perhaps apotheosis, that we associate with yet another Strauss epic: Don Juan. An effective piece, its last chords would likely bring down the house in a contemporary performance.
Szymanowski dubbed his own two-movement First Symphony (1907) a “contrapuntal-harmonic-orchestral monstrosity,” disowning its convulsive massive texture that often aspires to something like Scriabin’s monumentally orgiastic ego. The solo violin (Ewa Marczyk) enjoys a concertante role, some consoling gestures in the midst of chromatic upheaval, similar to that offered in Ein Heldenleben, although the musical syntax no longer belongs to the German school. Colors may occasional suggest Max Reger, but the woodwind-harp riffs of the Allegro moderato find more in common with Bartok’s The Miraculous Mandarin. The Finale: Allegretto con moto grazioso, brings the violin back in misty colors, almost a distant cousin of the Berg Concerto. A romantic impulse emerges from the weirdly chromatic amalgam; even in the midst of mocking riffs, passion still persists. The final pages become momentarily diatonic just before the final, tympani-laden chords that announce another moment of mystical rapture.
The Symphony No. 4 (1932) has had its great moment in the recording studio via dedicatee Artur Rubinstein’s 1952 RCA inscription with Alfred Wallenstein, who made the piece appealing through its mixture of splashy textures and Polish national dances such as the oberek. The writing proves both vivid and varied, with the opening movement’s rattling and purring with riffs from the percussion and the keyboard’s modal scales. The huge crescendo eventually quiets down and departs in a world that shimmers, sings, dances, and buzzes with delicate textures that enjoy Spanish rhythms and Ravel’s and Bartok’s pungent harmonic syntax. An aggressive keyboard cadenza ushers in heroically inflamed fanfares that end the movement. The Andante unites the piano, flute and violin in a gentle serenade, an evocation of rivulets, as the tympani quietly thunders in the background. Bartok’s night music seems nigh, maybe one of Stravinsky‘s neo-Baroque scores. Wit and Broja raise the level of intensity, though the piano part never achieves true status as a “concerto,” only serving as an obbligato color instrument in parlando style. Somewhat like Falla’s Nights in the Gardens of Spain, the music segues to a virile round dance, the spirit close to Villa-Lobos or Revueltas. Another serenade ensues, the violin prominent; then the piano savors an extended collaboration with winds and brass, a splashy mix reminiscent of Prokofiev. The whirlwinds accelerate, syncopated and rather frenzied, so that the wild dance quite sweeps us away.
The Etude in B-flat Minor stands to Szymanowski as Rachmaninov’s C-sharp Minor Prelude does to him, a mixed blessing in the popular mode. Witold Malcuzynski often performed the piece to make it a concert staple. In Fitelberg’s orchestration, it conveys a haunted nostalgia, moody, rife with romantic gestures, quite fit for a cinematic vista.
–Gary Lemco
