Melartin, Erkki - The Six Symphonies (Tampere Orch., Leonid Grin) (repost)

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Melartin, Erkki - The Six Symphonies (Tampere Orch., Leonid Grin) (repost)

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Ondine's series of Erkki Melartin's (1875-1937) symphonies is an invaluable addition to the catalogue of recorded music (one of several invaluable projects from Ondine - think of their coverage of Raitio, Englund and Merikanto, for instance). Stylistically, the influence of Sibelius is clearly audible, but not oppressively so. Rather, Melartin's music (at least in the first four symphonies) strikes me as a lushly late-romantic, Mahlerian and Brucknerian take on Mendelssohn and Raff, fused with folkloristic elements and the kind of autumnal late-romantic sensibility you encounter in the music of Stenhammar and Zemlinsky. Maybe Melartin's isn't the most individual of compositional voices, but the level of invention is still extremely high in all his symphonies, the melodic material striking and memorable, the scoring imaginative and the formal skills undeniable. Much of the music relies on atmosphere, and picturesque playing with light and shadow - particularly effectively in the faster movements - and much of it might possible be designated as "nature music" (for good or bad, but in Melartin's case mostly good).

In his fifth and sixth symphonies, however, it is obvious that he attempts to modernize his musical language somewhat, even though it is still grounded upon the essentially tuneful romanticism of his earlier works. The results are curiously manieristic - essentially Mendelssohnian romanticism with nods towards modest modernism (at least impressionism and late Sibelius) pasted on top. The fifth symphony is still a generally very rewarding work, whereas the sixth is slightly more problematic, but neither work strikes me as the places to start investigating the composer (start with the two middle symphonies).

At 26 minutes the first symphony (1902) is the shortest of Melartin's symphonies. It is also possibly the weakest work in the cycle, although it is still a cheekily confident and inventive work with a hint of the Russian silver age, Tchaikovsky and - obviously - Sibelius's first. The folksy scherzo is delightful, however, and overall this is a very satisfying work, if not perhaps on the level of the works to follow.

The second symphony, from 1904, draws on early Sibelius as well but is more original and personal than the first. It is an eminently enjoyable and appealing work in a national romantic style full of the kind of glorious nature painting that characterizes so many of the most appealing Nordic symphonies of the time. It is somewhat darker and more strident than its predecessor, but glimmers of light are always at least hinted at. The strongest movement, I think, is the magnificent finale with its very memorable first theme, but it is overall a very rewarding work.

The third, written in 1906/07, is possibly the finest of the cycle, however, and I am willing to call it a masterpiece. Formally it is cyclical with a theme that reappears in all four movements. The surging first movement is a gloriously atmospheric and powerful movement (sea breezes and pine forests at autumn, perhaps), the slow movement gorgeous and the finale powerful. Yet - perhaps surprisingly - the scherzo may well be the crowning glory, a marvelous, remarkable and thoroughly memorable movement, relatively dark and gleefully urgent but not without rays of light.

The fourth symphony (1912) is (at forty minutes) the composer's longest. This is mostly due to the extended slow movement, a wonderful, wistful, hazily dreamlike movement featuring three wordless sopranos in a beautiful melody (used similarly to the second act of his opera Aino, for those who are familiar with it). Something similar has been done before, of course (Alfvén's fourth seems to be the most obvious example), but none has done it more grippingly or effectively than Melartin - it is a stunningly atmospheric movement. It also follows on the heels of a magnificently glittering, summerly scherzo (Melartin had a knack for writing marvelous scherzi). While the outer movements are perhaps not as memorable, they are still superbly effective; all in all a wonderful work.

The fifth symphony, from 1916, is generally Sibelian, still lushly romantic but with some glittering, fragile textures - sunlight reflected in icicles, perhaps. It opens with an impressive, darkly late romantic sonata form first movement. The second movement is the most manieristic; it starts out as a pastoral tone painting which suddenly goes quiet to emerge in strangely, almost atonal birdcall chattering that gradually returns to almost banal romanticism - I cannot help but suspecting that Melartin was attempting (but in the end failing) to emulate the effect of Schoenberg's second quartet, but with a result that is more bizarre than effective. The third movement, however, is a delicate intermezzo, folkloristically colored but somewhat restrained. The fugal finale picks up elements from the first movement, apparently to create the impression of a unified whole - I am unsure whether it is completely successful, but the work as a whole certainly contains many wonderful things.

The sixth symphony (1925) is a tougher nut to crack. With movements inspired by earth, water, air and fire, respectively, it appears to renounce the pictorialism of his earlier works - it is more impressionistic but also sterner, somewhat reminiscent of later Roussel. It is still essentially romantic, but sinewy and conflict-filled, restless and obviously 20th century. In the end, it is a rewarding work (but not always easy to grasp), but the reason for that seems to be that Melartin relatively often lets the nature painting style of his earlier symphonies shine through. A fine work, but if you know the earlier symphonies, be prepared for something different.

The Tampere Philharmonic Orchestra may not be the most famous of Finnish orchestras, but they deliver marvelously spirited, colorful performances - buoyantly catchy in the lighter movements, fiercely dramatic in the outer movements and wonderfully, atmospherically reflective in the slow movements. Leonid Grin displays a deep understanding and love of these works, and Ondine provides them with very good sound quality. Strongly recommended.

G.D. @ Amazon.com