Edward Alexander MacDowell (1860-1908)
Orchestral Works Volume 2
Hamlet and Ophelia – Two Poems for Large Orchestra Op.22 (1884-1885)
Piano Concerto No.2 in D minor Op.23 (1882)
Romanze for Cello with Orchestral Accompaniment(1887)
Suite No.1 Op.42 (1889-1891)
Xiayin Wang (piano), Peter Dixon (cello)
BBC Philharmonic/John Wilson
rec. 2023/24, Media City, Salford, England
Chandos CHAN20332 [61]
The Second Piano Concerto is by far the most impressive work on this superbly recorded disc. It is the more popular of MacDowell’s two concertos, although even it is hardly a repertoire piece. It might be performed more often in the USA, so curious, I asked the AI assistant on my computer about North American performances in the 2020s. There was one in the USA, one in Canada, and three broadcast performances in the USA. Clearly, the work clings to the fringes of the repertoire, and its memorability should really ensure a greater presence. I will also say that I much prefer it to the first concerto which I reviewed as part of Volume 1 of this series.
MacDowell, a virtuoso pianist renowned for his power and speed, wastes little time in asserting the instrument’s dominance. Barely a minute into the first movement, the orchestra’s quiet, contemplative theme is abruptly interrupted by a dramatic, rhetorical solo, almost a cadenza. It is strikingly memorable, and it immediately heightens the work’s effect. The two-minute solo gives way to a brief reprise of the opening orchestral statement. The piano then re-enters, joining forces with the orchestra to present the principal theme of the movement, seamlessly woven together with the earlier cadenza material.
An orchestral passage follows, in which the introductory music is transformed into a secondary theme with a distinctly Wagnerian character. The piano soon returns, sparking a virtuosic contest with the brass. Eventually, both forces exhaust themselves, and the music dwindles to near silence – only for the pianist to rally with renewed energy, as he restates and elaborates on the cadenza. A lively dialogue between piano and orchestra ensues, building towards a climactic orchestral outburst punctuated by a drumroll. The movement then subsides, closing quietly with a reprise of the opening music, a reflective conclusion to its dramatic journey.
The first movement runs to about thirteen minutes, slightly longer than the next two combined. It achieves a Lisztian grandeur through the memorability of its two main themes and MacDowell’s recurring use of the cadenza material, shared between piano and orchestra.
The four-and-half-minute second movement is a Presto. Stylistically it reminds me of the scherzi in Litolff’s Concertos symphoniques. Piano and orchestra are well balanced amongst the plethora of notes which, for much of its length, make the piece sound almost like a perpetuum mobile showcase.
After the grandeur of the first movement, MacDowell faced the challenge of creating a contrasting final movement that would not simply echo the scherzo-like character of the second. He succeeds by shaping a movement built from a series of distinct episodes: dreamy, slow, and solemn passages; a reprise of the cadenza theme (he clearly recognized its strength); brilliant brass tutti; fleeting piano runs; a graceful waltz; and more. On paper, this variety might seem unruly. MacDowell binds it together through recurring fragments of first-movement themes, often in truncated form, which lend coherence and unity. The coda pits the pianist against the full orchestra one last time; it is a suitably barnstorming, exhilarating conclusion, almost guaranteed to rouse the audience.
The Chinese pianist Xiayin Wang is fully alive to the demands of the work. The resumé of her career throughout the USA, Europe and South America is impressive, as is the praise for her Chandos recordings of Rachmaninov and Ginastera. Her piano is well balanced against the BBC Philharmonic. That, and her virtuoso command, undoubtedly contribute to a most successful recorded performance.
The short Romanze for Cello and Orchestra, as the booklet describes it, has a “concentrated Elgarian intensity”. I am not at all sure that I agree with that assertion. To my ears, it sounds like a very pleasant salon-like work, eminently suitable for the dulcet tones of Peter Dixon’s cello.
MacDowell married in 1884. The newly-weds honeymooned in Exeter, in Bath and in London where they gorged themselves on Shakespearian performances: Henry Irving and Ellen Terry were giving acclaimed interpretations at the Lyceum Theatre. “Gorged” was Mary MacDowell’s own word to describe their consumption of the plays. It seems that they were overwhelmed by Hamlet. Edward decided to compose orchestral and piano music on the subject, later published in in 1885 in two parts, Hamlet and Ophelia. MacDowell was very much under the influence of Liszt, who died just 12 months later. He decided that the Lisztian symphonic poem presented an ideal format for the descriptive works he wanted to compose. Rather than attempt to portray the action of the plays, he decided to try to represent the principals’ characters in his music.
I must say that I am not particularly familiar with Hamlet. I had to refresh my memory by reading a precis, so I have listened to the music multiple times during the last week. MacDowell composed quite varied music to represent the characters, but all I can remember two days after the last listening session is the sound of a small number of prominently recorded drumbeats. I took them to represent someone knocking loudly on a door. This, it would seem, is one of the very few stage directions Shakespeare left across all his plays; it occurs in Act 2. Producers of Hamlet have been tempted to make the most of it, given its rarity. Alas, none of the rest of the music strikes me as memorable, well played and recorded though it is.
The final work on this excellently produced disc is the First Orchestral Suite, a piece MacDowell composed and refined over a span of fifteen years. Orchestral suites of this kind were especially common in the late 19th and early 20th century. They appealed to composers who preferred not to adhere strictly to the Germanic sonata form. The suite offered a flexible framework: a way to assemble several shorter movements – each independent of classical structures – into a larger, cohesive whole that could stand in place of a symphony. It is easy to see why the form held such attraction; even Tchaikovsky embraced it, producing four orchestral suites of his own.
MacDowell’s First Suite is in five parts: In a Haunted Forest, Summer Idyll, In October, The Shepherdess’ Song and Forest Spirits. As usual with descriptive music such as this, it would be virtually impossible to guess just what the movement’s titles are. The best one can do is decide whether the music does manage to represent them.
In the first movement, MacDowell presents a deep-toned mysterious beginning with a nicely memorable tune. The tune gives way to a display of orchestral virtuosity, maybe representing an initial tentative entry to the shadowy forest followed by a dramatic scare and subsequent frantic run to escape. Ultimately, all is well as the music winds down with a gentle repeat of the opening. I consider it to be the best movement of the work. Summer Idyll is a two-minute gentle dance, but its pleasant melody is not particularly memorable.
In October deploys the horns quite prominently, presumably to represent a hunt. In a short passage, it builds up a head of steam which ends triumphantly. The music then relaxes as the horsemen amble away. It is a vivid portrayal of a hunt, but I detected no hummable tune to make it attractive. The Shepherdess’ Song is where the composer should have aimed for something memorable. The initially pleasant, gentle tune rises to a climax, then winds down with woodwind fluttering. It could have been composed by Mendelssohn but lacks the sort of memorability that he would have provided. Forest Spirits is again very like Mendelssohn. Filigree woodwind chirping represents the antics of the spirits, and the rest of the orchestra accompanies it in an accelerando, ending in an orchestral crash.
In summary, the disc presents seldom-heard works by a composer whose career was tragically curtailed by illness. MacDowell, by all accounts of a somewhat nervous temperament, was probably treated with potassium bromide. (It was prescribed extensively across the Western world into the 1920s and 1930s, used to calm patients and aid sleep. Beyond its sedative properties, it was also an effective anti-convulsant, and the first successful treatment for epilepsy.) From around 1904, MacDowell began to suffer from mysterious symptoms that align with what was later recognized as bromism. Had he lived longer than a mere 48 years, he might have become a more significant figure in early 20th century North American music.
Splendidly captured, the orchestra brings these lesser-known works to life with commitment and virtuosity, guided by the now-familiar baton of John Wilson. Chandos maintains its characteristically high standard of presentation, though, unlike Volume 1, the booklet notes are only in English.
Jim Westhead
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