Mostly Symphonies 46.

Grant Chu Covell

[December 2025.]

Julián CARRILLO: Symphony No. 2 in C major, Op. 7 (1905; rev. 1957); A Isabel: Schottisch (1880; arr. Uriel Luna HERRERA); Excerpts from Matilde ó México en 1810 (1910)*; Marcha Nupcial No. 2 (1910). Luis Guillermo Hernández Ávila* (bar), Coro y Orquesta Sinfónica de San Luis Potosí, José Miramontes Zapata (cond.). Toccata Classics TOCC 0583 (1 CD) (www.toccataclassics.com).

Carrillo’s music is doubly and profoundly obscure. Here are early works from a Mexican composer you’ve probably never heard of, and in a style which pre-dates his microtonal (!) explorations. Carrillo (1875-1965) studied in Leipzig and these works reflect German Romanticism to the hilt, the occasional pieces especially. Symphony No. 2’s slow movement’s feathery conclusion with its unexpected polytonality slathers the Wagnerian music in dayglo highlighter suggesting Carrillo’s later microtonal research. The additional pieces are tonal trifles, conventional, nationalistic and extremely sappy. A Isabel was written when Carrillo was fifteen!

Edison DENISOV: Chamber Symphony No. 1 (1982)¹. Nikolai KORNDORF: Confessiones, a symphony for chamber orchestra (1979)². Nikolai KARETNIKOV: Chamber Symphony No. 1, Op. 21 (1968)³. Chamber Ensemble of Soloists of the Bolshoi Theatre Orchestra^1,2, Alexander Lazarev^1,2 (cond.), The Leningrad Chamber Orchestra of Early and Modern Music Conductor³, Eduard Serov³ (cond.). Melodiya MEL CO 0785 (1 CD) (www.melody.su).

Outside the dominant Shostakovich mold, here are three chamber symphonies worth getting to know. Each composer inhabits a different style. A mini time capsule, these are recordings from the 1980s. The cover, notes and actual program are inconsistent, so we’ll consider these chronologically.

Karetnikov’s brief two-part Chamber Symphony offers jumpy Webernesque serialism spiced with swishy brushed cymbal and tinkly harpsichord. Its second part permits repetition and the harpsichord treads a walking bass line.

Korndorf’s Confessiones is the most avant-garde, symmetrical but inscrutable. The players have scripted stage entrances and exits, and the work disbands into a taped recording, a woman singing in an ersatz folkloric style. At the center there are vigorous cadences (piano and violin, then later cello and bassoon).

Denisov’s three movements are a finely sculpted symphony for soloists. A descending sinuous gesture is passed around in the longer first movement, which is contrasted by a whisper fast motif in the second. The piano takes a starring role in the concluding Lento.

“Abyss and Caress.” Lucia DLUGOSZEWSKI: Abyss and Caress (1975)*; Fire Fragile Flight (1973); Each Time You Carry Me This Way, Radical Narrowness Concert, Sections 1-6 (1993); Openings of the (Eye), Ritual of the Descent (1952); Angels of the Inmost Heaven (1971); Disparate Stairway Radical Other (1995); Avanti (1980). Klangforum Wien, Peter Evans* (tpt), Ilan Volkov, Johannes Kalitzke, Tim Anderson (cond.). col legno WWE 2CD 20460 (2 CDs) (www.col-legno.com).

Mike knew Dlugoszewski (1925-2000), a relationship chronicled here. I wont dare tread anywhere near, except to observe that some 25 years later, the world seems to have come around. “Im Schatten von Cage” (“In Cage’s Shadow”) proclaims this necessary two-cd set. These days, it’s well-established that Cage and Feldman worked against Dlugoszewski, and that her performances did not always receive the royalty credits she deserved.

Should you think of Dlugoszewski at all, you might link her with Cage and/or The New York School. Both Dlugoszewski and Cage were the musical directors of their partners’ dance troupes (Erick Hawkins and Merce Cunningham respectively). However, just listen to the music, and Dlugoszewski sounds like Xenakis. Yes, she studied with Cage, but she preferred to claim allegiance with Varèse. The two large pieces come first, Abyss and Caress, for solo trumpet and orchestra, and Fire Fragile Flight which have the dynamism and orneriness of Jalons and Phlegra. Astonishingly, Abyss and Caress (commissioned by the New York Philharmonic and partially premiered by Boulez with Gerard Schwarz as the trumpet soloist), Each Time You Carry Me This Way and Avanti receive their first recordings.

The vigorous string quartet Disparate Stairway Radical Other could stand alongside Tetras. Angels of the Inmost Heaven’s clamorous brass suggests Eonta. Klangforum Wien’s players do not hold back. Dlugoszewski’s process was probably different than Xenakis. However, both composers flaunt their love of sound and energy.

Perhaps the plodding timpani, mysterious piano and flute of Openings of the (Eye), Ritual of the Descent suggest a trio Feldman may have written for, but the similarity ends there. Despite Dlugoszewski’s curious titles it seems col legno let loose an easy typo with “decent” instead of “descent.” Klangforum Wien’s bandcamp site has the right spelling. In the plus column for col legno, I don’t think I’ve ever seen the descriptor “lachenmannian” before.

“Musica Viva #43.” Helmut LACHENMANN: My Melodies (2016-18; rev. 2019; rev. 2023). Carsten Duffin, Ursula Kepser, Thomas Ruh, Ralf Springmann, Norbert Dausacker, François Bastian, Marlene Pschorr, Marcin Sikorski (hrn). Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks. Matthias Hermann (cond.). BR-KLASSIK CD 900643 (1 CD) (www.br-klassik.de/label).

Let’s not retread why Lachenmann continues to be essential, among our most important living composers. I am still amazed when I encounter or meet active musicians who have never heard of him, but then again, contemporary music’s undertow starts far from the shore.

This release of Lachenmann’s concerto for eight horns and orchestra is as nourishing as it is frustrating. The 44:05 My Melodies is offered in its entirety, followed by 14 excerpts from what was just heard, and then an interview (in German). It is easy to confuse the crumbs with the main course. Happily, the interview (with Johann Jahn including musical excerpts) is translated within the booklet. And yes, Lachenmann references Nono’s tremendous influence.

By nature, or perhaps after centuries of orchestral habits, horns blend in rather well. We are accustomed to hearing them embedded within a texture, and even when highlighted they effortlessly glide between foreground and back. The octet is treated as a mammoth instrument which employs the full range of standard and non-standard sounds: gestopft, breathing, tapping, etc. The orchestra responds in full, with humor. It’s not quite a concerto either.

Of course the title is ironic. There are no graspable melodies. As always Lachenmann has found his own way. The notes quote a letter to Nono from 1957: “Since I’ve been in Donaueschingen and Darmstadt, I can’t go on composing in the way I’ve been doing.” “My Way” is also the title of a documentary by Wiebke Pöpel on the composer. We’re led to believe Lachenmann is tickled with the connection to Sinatra. But also, there actually is a recent melodic Lachenmann work, Marche Fatale (2017), extraordinarily remote from My Melodies.

“Musica Viva #46.” Johannes KALITZKE: Zeitkapsel, Totentanz für Grosses Orchester (2022-23). Luc FERRARI: Histoire du Plaisir et de la Désolation (1979-81). Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks,  Johannes Kalitzke (cond.). BR Klassik 900646 (1 CD) (www.br-klassik.de/label).

If Histoire weren’t the B-side, I wouldn’t otherwise remark on the Kaltizke, a sprawling, convoluted self-described totentanz. I couldn’t find may way into its seven parts. There are impressive buildups, and the pre-recorded samples prove unexpected, but I lost the thread more than once.

As for the Ferrari, how amazing to have another recording (recorded Nov. 10, 2023). How bizarre it is to see it from another side. There are parts which are assuredly clearer than the 1989 recording such as the dense chaotic climax in the third movement, but overall, this is a low-energy endeavor. I wasn’t there, but this feels under-rehearsed and shapeless. The first opening pulses sound like long loud notes rather than an introduction to something mysterious. The forceful percussion section just after the second movement start has zero edge. Ferrari writes out his own irony with the interrupting music, but here they intrude clumsily. The closing clarinets are only mildly wistful. Maybe I have the Luig / Orchestre National de France recording fixed in my brain (Adda 581156 or Signature SIG 11014), but this was a disappointment as it doesn’t further my understanding of the piece. I’ve found better insight more recently listening to the tape piece Ça va bien, merci (1989), wherein Ferrari asks, “Is hell silent?” which then cuts to Histoire’s beginning.