How many of us, when asked to name great American symphonists, typically start and stop with Copland, Ives, Bernstein, Barber and, among living composers, Glass and Adams? In doing so, we often ignore a host of others from the mid-to-late 20th century, including Schumann, Piston, Diamond, Cowell, Hanson, Harris, and Hovhaness (to name but a few), most of whom were championed by Gerard Schwarz and the Seattle Symphony in their celebrated American series of recordings on Delos (reissued on Naxos).
Perception could very well change with the release of Lance Friedel and the London Symphony Orchestra’s recent SACD for BIS, American Symphonies (BIS-2118). The recording, which is also available for download and streaming, contains three tonal works: Symphony No.6 by Walter Piston (1894–1976), and the far lesser known Symphony No.3 by Samuel Jones (b. 1935) and Symphony No.2 by Stephen Albert (1941–92).
The biggest find, which I auditioned in the recording’s native high resolution of 24/96, is Jones’s Symphony No.3 (1992). Commissioned by the Amarillo Symphony Orchestra of Texas, and inspired by the city’s nearby Palo Duro Canyon, the single-movement work begins with the sound of steady wind recorded on the Texas plains. In this immediately involving, extremely atmospheric opening, the wind soon declines to reveal an exciting symphonic expanse that has been captured with notable depth in London’s Henry Wood Hall by sound engineer Fabian Frank.
At one point, the music sinks into mysterious darkness before opening up once again. Music of tremendous drama builds to an explosion before subsiding. A touchingly plaintive theme on English horn provides a respite before the expansive music returns, even more uplifting and glorious than before. The percussion is mighty, the sounds an involving cross between what sounds like Texas BBQ and, with a little help from Friedel’s excellent album notes, Comanche themes. Symphony No.3’s glorious canyon theme returns before the LSO strings fade into nothingness, and the work ends with a magical depiction of the night sky that includes the heavenly sounds of celesta and xylophone. Be prepared to hit repeat.
Having mentioned Schwarz, it’s important to note that he engaged both Jones and Albert, who were trained at the Eastman School of Music in Rochester, to serve as composers-in-residence of the Seattle Symphony. In fact, the only work on this recording that was not previously recorded by Schwarz is Albert’s Symphony No.2. Written in 1992 to celebrate the New York Philharmonic’s 150th season, it is the final work by a composer who received the Pulitzer Prize in Music in 1981 for his symphony, RiverRun, and a Baltimore Symphony Orchestra commission for a Cello Concerto written for Yo-Yo Ma.
Albert had not finished orchestrating the symphony when he was killed in an auto accident. After the orchestration was completed by Sebastian Currier, Symphony No.2 received its New York premiere in 1994.
The work’s 12+ minute opening movement begins rather mysteriously, and then grows. Exactly where it is heading is not clear, at least to these ears. The shorter middle movement, which is as mysterious as it is atmospheric, shares quite a few chuckles as it moves forward at a rapid pace. The near 13-minute finale, which creates an evocative and atmospheric landscape, contains many gorgeous extended passages. The ending is triumphant.
Friedel pegs Piston’s Symphony No.6 as the best known of his eight symphonies. Written for Charles Munch and the Boston Symphony Orchestra, who premiered it in 1955 (and recorded it as well), the work is dedicated to the memory of Serge and Natalie Koussevitzky.
As much as I tried, I had trouble finding the “there there” in Piston’s opus. Maybe that’s because it was written in the mid 1950s, when suburban conformity and McCarthyism were at their height. Then again, Bernstein, who was Piston’s student at Harvard, composed Wonderful Town, Serenade, West Side Story, and Candide in the same time period.
Be that as it may, the first movement begins in a lyrical and flowing manner before growing more troubled. The short and very likable second movement, Vivace, includes violins scampering over low percussion. The grave and contemplative 9-minute third movement, marked Adagio sereno, cedes to a four-minute Allegro energico finale. As rousing as its title indicates, its quintessentially American optimism is at one point expressed by three brass groupings—left, right, and center—that seem to dialogue with one another. Copland may have expressed much of the same spirit and energy far better during the previous decade, but that doesn’t mean that there aren’t many enjoyable passages in the work.
The big rewards of the recording, however, are to be found in the symphonies by Jones and Albert. Don’t miss them.
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