Chandos’ entry of Reinecke symphonies is a mixed blessing. On the one hand, we can finally assemble a complete set together with Naxos’ recording of the first symphony. On the other hand, after listening to these rather drab, uninspiring pieces, you might not see the point after all. An estimable teacher of many famous composers, known for some decent works for flute, and a fine conductor and pianist in his own right, Reinecke (1824-1910) did occupy a position of status during his heyday and once was thought to be on par with the likes of Schumann and Liszt. But the more innovative creations by Strauss, Bruckner, Mahler, and others left Reinecke’s highly conservative works in the dust, and the question is whether that fate was justified. On the evidence contained in this disc, fate probably had the right idea, and try as they might, Howard Shelley and his Tasmanian Symphony Orchestra do not always make a persuasive case to the contrary.
To be fair, the Symphony No. 2 (1875), loosely based on a (contextually unnecessary) Danish tragedy, benefits from some lovely tunes, notably in the expressive oboe solo in the second movement and in the opening theme of the first movement (a theme that will strike listeners as eerily reminiscent of the first-movement Allegro section of Mendelssohn’s “Scotch” Symphony). The lengthy and repetitive final movement loses its appeal after the first five minutes as its ardent main theme, straight out of early Wagner, keeps appearing but without any sense of climax–and then just ends with a thud.
By contrast, Reinecke’s ultra-pedestrian Symphony No. 3 has virtually no redeeming qualities other than its studious attention to sonata form. The resolute, clunky main theme yields nothing in the way of dramatic impact and simply gets passed around uneventfully before entropy has a chance to take over. The unremarkable inner movements possess none of the lyricism of its predecessor, and the last movement is simply an insipid parade of transitory figures that inexorably presuppose a major event but lead absolutely nowhere.
As this is the one of the very few available recordings of these uneven works (a performance of the third symphony on Signum Records was just released in June), Shelley and his Tasmanian forces should be commended for their archaelogical expedition; but throughout the performances, you sense a certain tentativeness, making you wonder whether a more experienced and dynamic conductor might be able to coax more from these symphonies. The big themes, such as they are, never really bloom, the brass is nearly always held back, and there just doesn’t seem to be a high level of exuberance in the playing. Chandos’ engineering also is not up to its usual standard; the whole orchestra sounds a bit distant, and the brass, already reined in, penetrates only intermittently.
