Hans Koessler (1853-1926)
Passacaglia Concerto for Violin and Orchestra in A minor (publ. 1914)
Symphony in B minor (before 1900)
Fedor Rudin (violin)
Nuremburg Symphony Orchestra/Rudolf Piehlmayer
rec. 2023/24, Musiksaal in Kongresshalle, Nuremburg
cpo 555 719-2 [70]

Hans Koessler grew up in Weiden, like his cousin Max Reger, and studied with Joseph Rheinberger and Franz Wüllner, following the latter to Dresden in 1876. There he was a choral conductor, fell under Brahms’ spell (he even resembled the elderly Brahms) and was later recruited to teach composition in Budapest – at various times his students included Bartók, Kodály, Weiner, Fritz Reiner, Kálmán and many others – which he did for two decades until his retirement in 1908, resistant to teaching in Hungarian, which had by then become mandatory, though he long since became naturalised Hungarian citizen. He fell on hard times and seemed to prefer life as a rolling stone, careless as to the preservation of his approximately 160 compositions, many of which were duly lost. His String Sextet and String Quintet nearly 20 years ago were released on cpo (review), and they now follow those chamber works with two large-scale orchestral pieces.

The Passacaglia Concerto for Violin and Orchestra in A minor was published in 1914 but due to the outbreak of War, its first performance was delayed until 1923 when it was performed by its dedicatee, Jenő Hubay. There’s a reduction for violin and piano made in 1914 by violinist Henri Marteau and the approximate timing attached is thirty minutes. The performance by Fedor Rudin lasts 26. It’s a multi-sectional work with ripe late-Romantic harmonies and attractive melodic lines. The title might imply elements of Baroque procedure but the music is intensely rich, and a few bars even suggest Beethoven’s own Violin Concerto, and opulent. If certain parts of the Concerto seemed indebted to a degree to Brahms others seem like Dvořák without the folkloric infusion. The cadenza is Hubay’s creation and is finely wrought and the slow section, though attractive, even heartfelt, shows a certain generic quality. The triumphant conclusion of the Concerto, though, is grandly dispatched.

The Symphony in B minor is of rather more uncertain provenance. It’s both unpublished and undated but was probably composed before 1900, as Wolfgang Rathert explains in his excellent booklet notes. It’s been reconstructed from the surviving parts by Florian Wessel and this is almost certainly its première performance. The Symphony cleaves to the traditional four-movement format and lasts 44 minutes here, opening with a confident but gruff Adagio section that moves into a conventional Allegro moderato. The percussion sounds muffly, and there is a striving toward ‘bigness’ that is ultimately let down by Koessler’s head-poundingly insistent writing as the movement reaches its close.

Despite Wolfgang Rathert’s loyal advocacy, I’m afraid I can’t accept that the Scherzo ‘need not shy away from comparison with Dvořák in its rhythmic conciseness and colourful instrumentation.’ I think it shies a long way away from these elements. For one thing it’s far too heavy and for another it’s not nearly deft enough. There’s also the lack of melodic distinction to consider. The Adagio, however, shows Koessler at his best – a fulsome, funereal but fluid movement – though once again the presence of the percussion proves a bit troublesome to me – I suspect it’s the composer’s fault not the performers. Nevertheless, this is the most sustained and eloquent movement in the disc. There’s a fine tune and some lightness amidst the drama in the finale, albeit with more percussion worries, but Koessler has the confidence to end his symphony quietly, possibly in some kind of emulation of Brahms’ Third.

The Nuremburg Symphony Orchestra is directed strongly by Rudolf Piehlmayer and Rudin is a fine soloist in the Concerto. The recording is well conceived (caveats about the percussion notwithstanding). This is the kind of disc that will be lapped up by those collectors who yearn to hear Romantic novelties, many from cpo’s forge. I appreciate and share their curiosity but I wonder how ardent they remain when they’ve heard the music concerned.

Jonathan Woolf

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