BRAUNFELS: Fantantische Erscheinungen über ein Thema von Hector Berlioz, Op. 25 (abridged). Serenade, Op. 20 / Radio Symphonieorchester Wien; Dennis Russell Davies, cond / CPO 999882-2
BRAUNFELS: Fantantische Erscheinungen über ein Thema von Hector Berlioz, Op. 25. Sinfonia Brevis, Op. 69 / Deutsche Staatsphilharmonie Rheinland-Pfalz; Gregor Bühl, cond / Capriccio C5354
This is the story of a forgotten German composer whose music has been revived in recent decades but not so much that most classical listeners even know he exists, as well as the story of a brilliant set of variations which one critic referred to as “being like Liszt on LSD.”
Walter Braunfels (1882-1954) studied law and economics at the Munich university despite learning music initially from his mother, the great-niece of composer Louis Spohr, but after hearing a performance of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde he decided on a career in music. He then studied composition in Frankfurt with James Kwast, moved to Vienna to study piano with Theodor Leschitizky, then returned to Munich to further his composition studies with Felix Mottl and Ludwig Thuille. Wounded in action during World War I, Braunfels converted from Lutheranism to Catholicism upon his return to Frankfurt. In 1920 he achieved what was probably his biggest success with his tuneful opera Die Vögel (The Birds), which Adolf Hitler liked so much that in 1923 he asked Braunfels to write an anthem for the Nazi Party, not knowing that the composer was half-Jewish. Braunfels indignantly turned the request down, but after Hitler and the Nazis ascended to power in 1933, Braunfels’ career in Germany was over. Surprisingly, he was never arrested and sent to one of the concentration camps to be killed, but he had to live on the charity of friends and relatives in order to survive this period. In 1943 he completed an opera on the life of Joan of Arc which was a symbol of the resistance in occupied France as well as a condemnation of his home country, but it was never performed until 2010—another story for another time.
What we are concentrating on here is the remarkable set of orchestral variations he wrote in 1914-17. According to the liner notes for the CPO release, which are much more informative than the threadbare notes for the Capriccio album, Braunfels once revealed its origins: “During my young years Frank Wedekind had spoken to me about his flea ballet. Nothing come of the composition at the time, but when I later heard Le damnation de Faust [by Berlioz], I could not stop thinking of Mephisto’s flea song, and I began to compose a piece: the life, deeds, and opinions of a flea. The Fantastic Appearances later developed from this[ … ].” Interestingly, annotator Helmut Krones suggests that a commentator named Dietrich Brand
spoke of the work in 1920 as a :symphony in disguise,” consisting of an introduction and six movements, supplying an additional adagio and a fast movement to the traditional four-movement structure. In his view, several Erscheinungen of similar character in each case forms a unit: the “first movement” (Allegro) thus includes the theme (the first Erscheinung) as well as the second to fourth Erscheinungen; the “second movement” (Andante) [being] the fifth to sixth Erscheinungen; the “third movement” (Scherzo) the seventh to ninth Erscheinungen; the “fourth movement” (Allegro moderato) the tenth and eleventh Erscheinungen; and the “fifth movement” (Adagio) the twelfth Erscheinung. The finale, designed as a programmatic and formal summary, would then be the “sixth movement.”
So much for the layout of the piece. It is in the listening that one frequently gasps in surprise at the astonishing and frequently unexpected form and direction of the music; it is clearly laid out in a strict formal manner, but so often inspired in ways that one can scarcely imagine that it holds the listener’s interest from start to finish. Even in the brief (28-second) introduction, there are extended chords a-plenty, reminding one of Dukas’ The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, and even in the initial statement of Berlioz’ theme there are surprises in the orchestration (biting winds and pounding tympani) as well as an occasional distention of the note-values within the theme. As the music evolves, it is clearly in the Berlioz mold—the theme’s original composer would have loved it—but a longer, more drawn-out extension in the variations and their development that marks it as the work of a German and not a French composer (note, for instance, track 5, “Mit breite, doch nicht zu langsam”). Occasionally, Mendelssohn’s Midsummer Night’s Dream music comes to mind, only in minor keys and with frequent pit stops in even more remote keys. It’s the kind of music that both delights the senses and entices the mind, and for the life of me I can’t understand why it hasn’t become a concert favorite. These two recordings, in fact, seem to be the only ones yet made of this marvelous work, the Davies recording in 2001 and the Bühl in 2018.
Ah, but there are differences between them. For the most part, Bühl conducts the music at a quicker pace than Davis, but by contrast it is Davies who is more dynamic and exciting. And then, for reasons not entirely explained, the CPO recording omits the ninth “Apparition” (“Sehr Schnell – Trio – Tempo I”). While it’s true that the booklet claims that this section of the work was “often” omitted in public performances of the work, I don’t see a justification for this. The Capriccio booklet explains the origin of this cut: conductor Arthur Nikisch wrote to Braunfels in 1920 suggesting that the work was just a bit too long, an opinion also expounded by some music critics in performances after the premiere complaining that although the music was good, there was “too much, too similar.” Somehow, the ninth variation got most of the blame, so out it went, not to return until this recording by Bühl. Thus you will have to at least get that one track conducted by Bühl in order to get the entire piece.
Now we turn our attention to the filler pieces on each disc, which are quite different indeed. Davies leads a performance of the earlier Serenade, a nice piece but scarcely a very interesting one, or a good match for the Berlioz variations. Bühl, on the other hand, gives Braunfels’ last published piece, the remarkable Sinfonia Brevis (1948), clearly a more modern piece and a significant advance in Braunfels’ style without completely forsaking the old. Not that it did much to revive Germany’ interest in Braunfels; since the Sinfonia is still relatively tonal, it didn’t fit in with the edgier post-War German music that wound find its fruition in the works of Bernd Alois Zimmermann, Werner Egk or others of the modern school. For the life of me, I’ve never understood why people don’t just listen to a piece of music and judge it for its own worth regardless of style, but of course part of this also comes from the top down, which is to say, from the conservatories. Prior to World War II, the more conservative music was preferred, but afterwards it was the opposite…probably, as in the case of Germany and Austria, to try to remove that “damn spot” of tainting that came from the Nazis’ preference for non-edgy music. Aside from the fact that the nine-minute “Adagio” reminded me a bit too much of Bruckner, whose music I generally dislike very strongly, it’s an excellent piece—although I can imagine it being conducted more excitingly by other conductors.
So what to do? Probably the easiest would be to buy the Davis CD, then go to Presto Music’s page for the Bűhl recording (https://www.prestomusic.com/classical/products/8546678–braunfels-fantastical-apparitions) and buy, as downloads, the missing Variation 9 for $1 and the complete Sinfonia Brevis for $7. Or you can go to YouTube and record this even more exciting performance of the Sinfonia conducted by Helmut Schnackenburg. This will save you space because, since Schnackenburg’s performance is much faster than Bühl’s, it will fit onto the same disc with the Berlioz variations whereas otherwise it won’t.
—© 2024 Lynn René Bayley
Follow me on Facebook (as Monique Musique)
Check out the books on my blog…they’re worth reading, trust me!