Bo Linde (1933-1970)
Piano Trio No 1, Op 5 (1953)
Six Character Pieces for piano, Op 4 (1952-53)
Divertimento, Op 25 (1962- version for piano trio)
Ylva Larsdotter (violin), Torun Sæter Stavseng (cello), Peter Friis Johansson (piano)
rec. 2022, Konserthus, Västerås, Sweden (Piano Trio and Divertimento) and 2023, Konserthaus, Gävle, Sweden (Character Pieces)
dB Productions dBCD213 [67]
The large subset of Scandophiles amongst the MusicWeb community are most likely to have encountered this composer via the recording of his frequently meditative and satisfyingly inventive concertos for violin and cello (review). That coupling was originally issued on Swedish Society Discofil and not long after its initial release suddenly reappeared on Naxos, back in 2006. The melancholy conclusions of both works cut deeper with each listen – like Rob Barnett, I take umbrage at the ‘neoclassical’ label which is routinely and somewhat lazily applied to Linde. Not unlike his older compatriot Allan Pettersson, he was a troubled soul and died shockingly young. His work is far more accessible than Pettersson’s however – whilst his later music especially seems to reflect his struggles and anticipate his fate, it proves unfailingly attractive and benefits from Linde’s elegant craftsmanship. Those descriptors certainly apply to all three works on the current disc, two of which actually date from Linde’s late teens and early twenties. The obvious promise evident in each of them display was clearly not beginners’ luck. I’ve heard the majority of available recordings of this composer and given the attention which continues to be lavished by afficionados upon Pettersson’s inscrutable symphonic treatises, Linde’s relative neglect remains something of a mystery. One is tempted to attribute this to what I perceive as a penchant for understatement and humility in much of his most significant music.
As Peter Friis Johansson points out in a helpful note, the modest title of Linde’s Six Character Pieces for piano epitomises the composer’s unassuming mien. This sequence represents an impressive achievement for one so young; it features keyboard writing which is both sophisticated and polished and proved as charming to this listener as it must be challenging to the performer. A Poulenc-like fanfare releases the turn-on-a-sixpence pyrotechnics of the insouciant opening Nycker (Whims). The implied kitsch of the aptly named Salong (Salon) is thrown by a progression which would not seem out of place in late Scriabin. Patos (Pathos) develops from a seemingly innocent descending three note motif into a grandiose, monolithic climax which dissipates swiftly into the ether. Mondänt (Mundane) has a Satiesque title but its unquestionably Gallic swagger projects more impressionistic flavours. The spacious yet spare introduction to the delicious Romantik affords Linde the room to create a substantial five-minute poem in which he transforms his evidently deep affection for 19th century stylings into something simultaneously appealing, substantial and contemporary. The cycle concludes with Solent (a peculiar word which has proved resistant to translation), a meticulously upholstered piece which seems to synthesise melodic and stylistic elements from the preceding numbers into a satisfying finale. It is rendered with evident devotion and technical finesse by Peter Friis Johansson and benefits from excellent sonics. The Six Character Pieces are remarkably accomplished given that Linde was just 20 years of age when he completed them.
The same can be said for the Piano Trio which followed hot on the heels of these piano pieces in 1953, although by this point Johansson informs us that the young Linde had written a plethora of juvenilia. These included a pair of string quartets, several duos and more unconventionally a wind septet, an apprenticeship which surely explains the confidence and apparent maturity conveyed in this trio. It’s cast in three movements. The first is marked Lento which seems slightly misleading – at first the slow tread of the cello provides a ground upon which it is joined by the piano to construct an argument which increases in both pace and intensity. The unfolding content is stubbornly memorable – Johansson cites Shostakovich as a point of comparison. But this was the early 1950s and if the Russian master is hovering around the surface of the sound, his influence has been fully integrated into a style which is already decidedly Linde’s own. To my ears, the thorniness and depth of this music is actually more akin to the spirit of Benjamin Britten than his Soviet pal. Either way, Linde’s melodic and harmonic material is never less than absorbing. The same applies to the folk-inflected scherzo, whose languid, mercurial central trio is bookended by a pair of frenzied dance episodes which intensify as they proceed before a brief, exhausted coda. This captivating trio concludes with a con moto finale; the repeated notes and harmonics at its outset provide a haunting echo of the first movement and Linde is in no hurry to move too far from the exquisite tune at its centre. The material for strings becomes more virtuosic in a brusque central section in which the pianist’s percussive interjections rapidly morph into more demanding passage work, which in this case certainly owes something to Shostakovich. This gradually reverts to the more ruminative, questioning and even unsettling mood which ultimately defines this fine work. Linde’s trio is not short of excitement, yet it’s the slow-burning, subtle music which leaves the most lasting impression. Larsdotter, Stavseng and Johansson offer a perfectly balanced, insightful account in ideal sound.
A decade or so later Linde conceived a Divertimento for flute, cello and piano, but the composer’s family sanctioned the present version whereby Ylva Larsdotter’s violin replaces the flute. It incorporates a palindromic arched form of seven movements, although only the two outer ones involve all three players. Movements two and six involve duos for both strings, whilst the third and fifth are duos for piano and one of the strings. The central fourth movement is a piano solo. These different combinations enable Linde to contrive material of considerable variety, although prospective listeners should be wary of anticipating light or flamboyant content in this Divertimento. The angular piano entry at the outset of the initial Largamente imposes an underlying edginess which never entirely dissipates at any point during the work’s entire span, although fleeting episodes of whimsy, tenderness and levity come and go. The third movement is a beguiling yet bittersweet Cavatina for cello and piano which oscillates between delicacy and despair – it’s simultaneously touching and tough and epitomises the ambiguity of much of Linde’s mature output. Inevitably, the composer’s typically refined structure for the Divertimento provides opportunities aplenty for the three players to shine, but cellist Torun Sæter Stavseng’s duo contributions stand out and seem especially taxing. They recall the shapes and moods of Linde’s concerto. Whilst the Divertimento provides the listener with a fresh perspective on this underappreciated composer’s technical strengths, it is perhaps too diffuse as a structure to constitute a major addition to his discography. Nonetheless it is wonderfully played and certainly worth hearing.
Documentation and design on this recent dB disc are first-rate. It is certainly difficult to imagine Linde’s chamber and solo piano work benefitting from more committed advocacy than it receives here. His early Piano Trio certainly deserves the attention of discerning readers; that a work of such appeal, sophistication and coherence was conceived by a composer barely out of his teens seems barely believable. It is the main reason to acquire this disc. In addition, I would further encourage the uninitiated to seek out that Naxos disc of Linde’s outstanding string concertos.
Richard Hanlon
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