Andrew Nicholson, Hallé Orchestra, Mark Elder - Nielsen: Symphony No. 5, Flute Concerto & Entrance March From Aladdin (2003)
BAND/ARTIST: Andrew Nicholson, Hallé Orchestra, Mark Elder
- Title: Nielsen: Symphony No. 5, Flute Concerto & Entrance March From Aladdin
- Year Of Release: 2003
- Label: Halle Concerts Society
- Genre: Classical
- Quality: flac lossless (tracks) +Booklet
- Total Time: 01:00:05
- Total Size: 248 mb
- WebSite: Album Preview
Tracklist
01. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50: I.a. Tempo giusto
02. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50: I.b. Adagio non troppo
03. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50 II.a. Allegro
04. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50: II.b. Presto
05. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50: II.c. Andante un poco tranquillo
06. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50: II.d. Allegro Tempo I
07. Flute Concerto: I. Allegro moderato
08. Flute Concerto: II. Allegretto - Adagio ma non troppo - Allegretto - Tempo di marcia
09. Aladdin Incidental Music: Entrance March
Interviewed for a Copenhagen newspaper just before the premiere of his Fifth Symphony in January 1922, Nielsen was asked about the meaning of his new work, and in particular whether the 1914-18 War (in which Denmark was neutral) had affected its composition. He replied that although he was not conscious of any such influence, 'One thing is certain: not one of us is the same as we were before the war. So maybe so!'
That caginess left the symphony defenceless against commentators startled by its vivid orchestral drama. One of Nielsen's staunchest supporters was thoroughly put out, calling the work a 'Sinfonie filmatique, this dirty trenches-music … this clenched fist in the face of a defenceless, novelty-snobbish, titillation-sick public … Who lovingly lick the hand stained with their own noses' blood'! Two years later in Stockholm, a large section of the audience actually walked out in protest at the cacophony of the first movement, while a large proportion of the remainder tried to hiss down the performance.
Few among those early listeners could have guessed that Nielsen's Fifth Symphony would mark his posthumous international breakthrough—this can be dated quite precisely to the 1950 Edinburgh Festival—or that it would go on to be hailed as one of the greatest symphonies of the twentieth century. Among those to take up Nielsen's cause were the Halle and Barbirolli, who made a fine recording of the Fourth Symphony; and Barbirolli's annotated copy of the study score of the Fifth is now in the British Library.
The most helpful clue Nielsen gave his newspaper interviewer was that the Fifth is concerned with the same elemental opposition as his previous three symphonies, namely 'resting forces in contrast to active ones'. In the first movement the 'resting forces' register initially as a kind of wandering indifference: 'vegetative Nature', as Nielsen once described it. A kind of paralysis gradually steals over the music and the stage is set for the entrance of the side drum. From this point the struggle between conflicting elements ebbs and flows, eventually reaching stalemate. As if waking from a bad dream, a warm G major tune then breaks in, unfolded in two waves of glorious contrapuntal writing. What seems to be a similarly positive third wave is soon seized by fearful reminiscences, however, and a mounting sense of alarm takes over. Woodwind and strings hurl what Nielsen called the 'evil motif at one another, and at the high point the side drum returns at an unrelated faster tempo, with the instruction to disturb the orchestra at all costs. Pandemonium ensues, until a tidal wave of G major engulfs all the combatants and a battle-scarred tranquillity is achieved.
Nielsen's second movement starts from the opposite premise to the first. At first its positive energy seems to generate an irresistible onward sweep. But eventually this too loses its sense of purpose and succumbs to despondency. Nielsen then lets his evil forces rip, in a fugue from hell that starts quietly on the violins but soon develops a nightmarish momentum and eventually blows itself to smithereens. The air having been cleared, another fugue begins, again on the violins but this time slowly and calmly transforming the opening theme of the second movement and thinking its way through to enlightenment. It only remains for the opening positive energy to return and to find a way to avoid its previous path to ruin. This having been achieved, along with the revelation of the key of E flat major, the final pages hold the banner of the Life Force triumphantly aloft.
The first performance of the Flute Concerto took place in Paris in October 1926, as part of an all Nielsen programme including the Fifth Symphony, and was attended by, amongst others, Honegger, who praised Nielsen to the skies, and Ravel, who took the hint from Nielsen's side-drum writing in the symphony to compose his famous Bolero. The Flute Concerto was the first of five projected concertos for the members of the Copenhagen Wind Quintet, for whom Nielsen had already composed his genial Wind Quintet, just after the Fifth Symphony.
The flute,' he wrote, 'cannot belie its own nature; its home is Arcadia and it prefers pastoral moods.' Yet this is anything but a bland or complacent concerto. From the outset the flute has to step in to restore law and order after the orchestra's turbulent opening bars. And it is not long before the soloist's calm good nature is confronted with the boorishness of a marauding bass trombone.
As in the Fifth Symphony, though on a more intimate scale, the first of the concerto's two movements resolves itself in poetic arabesques, and the second sets forth in an apparently uncomplicated, positive frame of mind. But the initial stabbing figure in the strings plants a seed of doubt that germinates later in the movement, leading to an unsettling return of the bass trombone. In one of Nielsen's most inspired moments of musical characterisation—an afterthought in fact, added after the Paris premiere—it is the bass trombone that shows the way to the concerto's E major destination. All the flute can do is express exasperation at this usurping of its pacifying role. The two main protagonists then agree to differ in the coda—the flute dapper and virtuosic, the trombone yawning good-naturedly.
Nielsen's score for Aladdin was composed for a spectacular two-evening production at Copenhagen's Royal Theatre in 1919. In the play the Entrance March preceded Aladdin's wedding; fulfilling the demands of the Sultan, Aladdin has used the magic of the Lamp to bring to the palace forty golden caskets full of gems, delivered by forty black and forty white slaves. Before the opening night the Entrance March was replaced by the well-known Oriental Festive March. Although the score is complete, no parts have been discovered, and it therefore seems likely not just that the Hallé's is a premiere recording but also that this is the first time this music has ever been played.
01. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50: I.a. Tempo giusto
02. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50: I.b. Adagio non troppo
03. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50 II.a. Allegro
04. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50: II.b. Presto
05. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50: II.c. Andante un poco tranquillo
06. Symphony No. 5, Op. 50: II.d. Allegro Tempo I
07. Flute Concerto: I. Allegro moderato
08. Flute Concerto: II. Allegretto - Adagio ma non troppo - Allegretto - Tempo di marcia
09. Aladdin Incidental Music: Entrance March
Interviewed for a Copenhagen newspaper just before the premiere of his Fifth Symphony in January 1922, Nielsen was asked about the meaning of his new work, and in particular whether the 1914-18 War (in which Denmark was neutral) had affected its composition. He replied that although he was not conscious of any such influence, 'One thing is certain: not one of us is the same as we were before the war. So maybe so!'
That caginess left the symphony defenceless against commentators startled by its vivid orchestral drama. One of Nielsen's staunchest supporters was thoroughly put out, calling the work a 'Sinfonie filmatique, this dirty trenches-music … this clenched fist in the face of a defenceless, novelty-snobbish, titillation-sick public … Who lovingly lick the hand stained with their own noses' blood'! Two years later in Stockholm, a large section of the audience actually walked out in protest at the cacophony of the first movement, while a large proportion of the remainder tried to hiss down the performance.
Few among those early listeners could have guessed that Nielsen's Fifth Symphony would mark his posthumous international breakthrough—this can be dated quite precisely to the 1950 Edinburgh Festival—or that it would go on to be hailed as one of the greatest symphonies of the twentieth century. Among those to take up Nielsen's cause were the Halle and Barbirolli, who made a fine recording of the Fourth Symphony; and Barbirolli's annotated copy of the study score of the Fifth is now in the British Library.
The most helpful clue Nielsen gave his newspaper interviewer was that the Fifth is concerned with the same elemental opposition as his previous three symphonies, namely 'resting forces in contrast to active ones'. In the first movement the 'resting forces' register initially as a kind of wandering indifference: 'vegetative Nature', as Nielsen once described it. A kind of paralysis gradually steals over the music and the stage is set for the entrance of the side drum. From this point the struggle between conflicting elements ebbs and flows, eventually reaching stalemate. As if waking from a bad dream, a warm G major tune then breaks in, unfolded in two waves of glorious contrapuntal writing. What seems to be a similarly positive third wave is soon seized by fearful reminiscences, however, and a mounting sense of alarm takes over. Woodwind and strings hurl what Nielsen called the 'evil motif at one another, and at the high point the side drum returns at an unrelated faster tempo, with the instruction to disturb the orchestra at all costs. Pandemonium ensues, until a tidal wave of G major engulfs all the combatants and a battle-scarred tranquillity is achieved.
Nielsen's second movement starts from the opposite premise to the first. At first its positive energy seems to generate an irresistible onward sweep. But eventually this too loses its sense of purpose and succumbs to despondency. Nielsen then lets his evil forces rip, in a fugue from hell that starts quietly on the violins but soon develops a nightmarish momentum and eventually blows itself to smithereens. The air having been cleared, another fugue begins, again on the violins but this time slowly and calmly transforming the opening theme of the second movement and thinking its way through to enlightenment. It only remains for the opening positive energy to return and to find a way to avoid its previous path to ruin. This having been achieved, along with the revelation of the key of E flat major, the final pages hold the banner of the Life Force triumphantly aloft.
The first performance of the Flute Concerto took place in Paris in October 1926, as part of an all Nielsen programme including the Fifth Symphony, and was attended by, amongst others, Honegger, who praised Nielsen to the skies, and Ravel, who took the hint from Nielsen's side-drum writing in the symphony to compose his famous Bolero. The Flute Concerto was the first of five projected concertos for the members of the Copenhagen Wind Quintet, for whom Nielsen had already composed his genial Wind Quintet, just after the Fifth Symphony.
The flute,' he wrote, 'cannot belie its own nature; its home is Arcadia and it prefers pastoral moods.' Yet this is anything but a bland or complacent concerto. From the outset the flute has to step in to restore law and order after the orchestra's turbulent opening bars. And it is not long before the soloist's calm good nature is confronted with the boorishness of a marauding bass trombone.
As in the Fifth Symphony, though on a more intimate scale, the first of the concerto's two movements resolves itself in poetic arabesques, and the second sets forth in an apparently uncomplicated, positive frame of mind. But the initial stabbing figure in the strings plants a seed of doubt that germinates later in the movement, leading to an unsettling return of the bass trombone. In one of Nielsen's most inspired moments of musical characterisation—an afterthought in fact, added after the Paris premiere—it is the bass trombone that shows the way to the concerto's E major destination. All the flute can do is express exasperation at this usurping of its pacifying role. The two main protagonists then agree to differ in the coda—the flute dapper and virtuosic, the trombone yawning good-naturedly.
Nielsen's score for Aladdin was composed for a spectacular two-evening production at Copenhagen's Royal Theatre in 1919. In the play the Entrance March preceded Aladdin's wedding; fulfilling the demands of the Sultan, Aladdin has used the magic of the Lamp to bring to the palace forty golden caskets full of gems, delivered by forty black and forty white slaves. Before the opening night the Entrance March was replaced by the well-known Oriental Festive March. Although the score is complete, no parts have been discovered, and it therefore seems likely not just that the Hallé's is a premiere recording but also that this is the first time this music has ever been played.
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