I have to begin this review on a personal note. When I was 14 or 15 I had the good fortune to witness the premiere of Jacob Druckman’s Aureole. Leonard Bernstein conducted the New York Philharmonic. Though written in an uncompromisingly “modern” idiom, something about the music struck me right away, and I found myself captivated. So I wrote to Druckman telling him how much I enjoyed the work and he replied promptly, saying not a word about himself or his own music (other than a simple “thank you”) but urging me to listen to the music of other 20th century masters, such as Lutoslawski, Berio, Tippett, Carter, Dutilleux, Messiaen, and several more. I took his advice and the rest, as they say, is history. It was typical of the man, I later found out, to act so generously toward the work of colleagues, and perhaps this accounts for the fact that his own music hasn’t received the attention it deserves from labels other than New World (if you don’t own its other recordings of Druckman, especially Prism, you can order them direct through the link at the bottom of this review).
Druckman was one of the first composers to recognize and embrace the “new Romanticism” in classical music that emerged during the late 1960s and early ’70s, even though he did it in his own way. Many of his works use earlier tonal pieces as their starting point, and then deconstruct or distort them through a modern musical lens. At the heart of Druckman’s music, however dissonant or “difficult”, stands a thoroughly Romantic joy in instrumental virtuosity and a delight in the infinite sonic potential of the modern symphony orchestra. You can hear this very clearly in all three works.
The Viola Concerto (1978), for example, clearly realizes the concerto concept of opposition, interaction, and dialog between solo and orchestra. Fantastically scored and thrillingly written for this most reticent of string instruments, violist Roberto Diaz and conductor Sawallisch offer a dazzling, urgent reading of a work that demonstrates (as do, for example, Lutoslawksi’s concertos) that there is “good” and “bad” atonal music, and Druckman’s is very good indeed. Counterpoise (1994), magnificently sung by the intrepid Dawn Upshaw, daringly contrasts two of Emily Dickinson’s most effervescent, sunny poems with two somber, decadent texts by Guillaume Apollinaire. Here, Druckman conjures up all the orchestral wizardry at his command in creating musical settings that effortlessly capture the spirit of each author. His treatment of Apollinaire’s fascinatingly morbid “Salomé” stands out as especially gripping.
Brangle’s three movements each reflect the spirit of the dance, albeit a very highly stylized one. The first movement evokes a primitive men’s ritual, the second has Spanish flavor with nods to Ravel and Falla before continuing with its own more modern business, and the last is a women’s dance that gradually increases in speed and excitement. David Zinman leads the Philadelphia Orchestra in a dazzling performance that, like all of the pieces on this disc, was captured in spectacular live sound. Don’t miss this singular tribute to a composer whose determination to carry on the traditions of the past, using the full panoply of modern instrumental techniques and expanded tonality, really did succeed in having the best of both worlds. [2/12/2002]
