Here’s a disc that deserves wide circulation. John Biggs (b. 1932 in Los Angeles) has a distinguished musical pedigree–his teachers include Roy Harris, Lukas Foss, and Ingolf Dahl, among others–and in their neat, unpretentious way these two symphonies are quite marvelous. The First, which dates from the early 1960s, takes as the model for its outer movements Tchaikovsky’s Fourth. In the first movement the resemblance is limited to the brass fanfare “fate” motive that begins the work and reappears at crucial structural points; but the finale is virtually a paraphrase of Tchaikovsky’s, complete with see-sawing string and wind scales, a “folk tune” episode decorated by triangle, and a return of the “fate” motive before the festive ending–and all of this expressed in a recognizably “American” musical language full of zesty syncopations and bouncing rhythms. The slow movement, by contrast, is a passacaglia whose desolation sometimes comes close to recalling a much later Russian composer: Shostakovich.
What makes this music so interesting (to me anyway), aside from its innate charm and melodic appeal, is the fact that such works were still being composed at a time when utter darkness reigned, musically speaking, in a world ruled by the academic serialists who had almost exclusive access to major orchestras, grants, and subsidies. Indeed, the equally fine Symphony No. 2 was commissioned by the York (Pennsylvania) Symphony Orchestra in 1992, and it would make an interesting chapter in the history of the “rebirth” of tonality and the vindication of composers such as Biggs if someone were to document the contribution of the “second- and third-tier” ensembles in maintaining the continuity of musical tradition in the face of the mid-20th century atonal musical monopoly. There also was an important contribution made by the Fleisher Collection of the Free Library of Philadelphia (a participant in this ongoing series of recordings, of which this is Volume 4), the world’s largest lending library of orchestral performance material, with more than 21,000 titles in its collection–most completely unknown and awaiting discovery.
Biggs’ Second Symphony, in a Sibelian single movement, is an even finer work than the First, as elegant formally as it is appealing melodically. Its opening idea, a winding melody for flute, is quite haunting and Biggs uses it very skillfully to bind together the work’s episodic structure. The Ballad of William Sycamore was commissioned by the New West Symphony of Ventura County (California), and it sets a poem by Stephen Vincent Benet for speaker and orchestra. Now I have to admit that most such works drive me crazy; I dislike the combination of music and spoken words. But Jonathan Dunn-Rankin reads the poem with tremendous character and infectious enthusiasm, while Biggs smartly alternates recitation with long passages of independent music so that the result is very enjoyable.
Paul Freeman also gets excellent results from the Czech National Symphony Orchestra. Being Czech, the players have no problems with Biggs’ often syncopated style in quick movements, and the brass (often the Achilles’ heel of Eastern European orchestras) acquit themselves with distinction. The sonics are top-notch: warm, well balanced, with a firm bass and plenty of brilliance on top. I won’t go out on a limb and say that this is “great” music that will endure forever, but it is very enjoyable, and it deserves to be heard. More importantly, the history of 20th century American music cannot be written until a more truly representative sample of the output of the widest range of American composers is dusted off, played, and recorded. Thanks to Albany Records and the Fleisher Collection, discs such as this represent an important step along the way to finding out what was really going on musically in the latter half of the last century. [4/12/2004]