12 Concertos

Review

10 full-fledged concertos, one important tone poem masquerading as one, and one spare piece for harp and orchestra are loaded into a convenient set that comprises the complete concertos to date by this superb Finnish composer– an excellent introduction to his music. The works, in generally excellent performances, were written from 1968 to 2001, revealing a career filled with consistent musicality and courage–a model of what could have happened if there were more composers of Rautavaara's taste and good sense after the war. Earliest in the set is the Cello Concerto (1968), a generally pretty piece not especially typical of its time. It's a little tentative, but one may still get a sense of the basic musical values to come. Rautavaara was a mature composer by this time (he was 40). The three piano concertos appeared in performances with Laura Mikkola on two recent Naxos releases. The hyper-romantic Concerto 1 (1969) is uncharacteristically bombastic, even with the lovely second movement chorale. The finale is cartoonish. I wonder how much of this work is tongue-in-cheek in response to what else was going on stylistically at the time. I have not heard the Naxos (554147). This recording of the gorgeous Cantus Arcticus (1972), a “Concerto for Birds and Orchestra”, is its fourth. I reviewed it in March/April 2006; it is coupled there with the Clarinet Concerto. Of course, this is really not a concerto (more a tone poem) but it is one of the greatest scores of that musically troubled time period and one of this composer's best pieces. The complementary Ballad for Harp and Strings (1973/1981) pits the Vaughan Williams-y language of the Cantus against discombobulated dissonance and self-conscious sound effects more typical of its time. Too bad. The Flute Concerto, Dances with the Winds (1975), is an impressive piece of work and one of the better contributions to this flooded genre produced in that period. I was enthusiastic about it in 1999 (S/O) and remain so. I'm surprised there aren't more recordings of it yet, though it will be hard to top this fine one. The Concerto for Organ, Brass Quintet, and Symphonic Wind Orchestra (Annunciations, 1977) is an extended work of Ligetiesque avant-gardism mixed with Carnival of Souls organ surrealism, disembodied chorales, momentous brass fanfares, explosive noise, thoughtful mysticism, nervous gesture, Gothic fearfulness, and lots of aimless meandering uncharacteristic of this composer. It was obviously an experiment, and it must have extramusical meaning of some kind, but it functions poorly as pure music. The Violin Concerto (1977) comes from the same year, but you would never know it. Mostly romantic, filled with traditional cadenzas, songful lyricism, and passionate virtuosity, the interestingly structured piece for the most part steers away from “progressivism” and positions itself as a repertoire candidate. Elmar Oliveira plays it with conviction. The Double Bass Concerto, Angel of Dusk (1980), is one of this composer's genuine duds. In three movements–the middle one is a 9- minute cadenza–the writing seems tentative and unconvincing. This was originally recorded by BIS, whose typically distant engineering does no favors to this difficult if not impossible combination. As for the other Piano Concertos, 2 (1989) and 3 (1999) were recently issued on a Naxos release (M/A 2004). 2, a dark, expressionist work, approaches greatness in certain places, particularly the closing section of the second movement and the remarkable opening of the first. Both Ondine and Naxos performances are outstanding, with perhaps a very slight edge going to Naxos for the overwhelming close of the last movement or some slightly more polished detail in certain places. 3, Gift of Dreams (1998), written for Ashkenazy to perform while conducting, is an unusually beautiful three-movement work leading off with two poignant nocturnes. Ashkenazy plays it on this set. Ms Mikkola plays it beautifully on Naxos, but