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Symphony of the Week XI

Robert I. X. Jones

Updated: Jan 21




Ernst Rudorff (1840-1916)

Symphony no. 3 in B minor (1910)


As we all know, there are some strange things floating around on Youtube. Perhaps the strangest I happened across in my research for this series was a performance of the 2nd Symphony of Ernst Rudorff given by the Brooklyn Boro YMHA Philharmonic some time in the none-too-recent past. The invaluable classical music tuber KhulauDilfeng2, who posted it, guesses it to be a radio recording of unknown vintage, though I think it sounds more like a rehearsed run-through captured by amateurs. The voice of the conductor, Myron Levite (a figure of some reputation as an orchestral trainer and educator), can be heard between and sometimes during movements, though his comments (other than a few moments where he counts the rhythm) cannot be made out above the heavy tape hiss. Nor, in truth, can much detail of the music. One would not be too surprised to find out that a single mic was employed, dangled directly above the brass, who wipe out everything else whenever they enter. Even in more delicate passages, the woodwind struggle to make themselves heard at all. The playing is certainly not lacking in enthusiasm but, even working hard to "filter out" the eccentricities of the sonics, it is hard to ignore the many obvious wrong notes and sour tunings.

Still, beneath it all, one does sense a work of some vigour being put across with admirable fortitude. Why an American youth orchestra was trying out this substantial piece by a composer already obscure back in, let's say, 1960 and where the record of their efforts has languished until its recent online exposure I couldn't tell you, but the suspicion they raise that Rudorff might be worthy of further investigation is borne out by his 3rd and final symphony - the only one to have been recorded professionally.

In his day, Rudorff may not have been estimated amongst the leading German composers, but nor was he by any means un-regarded. Highly respected as pianist, conductor, editor and pedagogue, he was a much admired friend of Clara Schumann and maintained a warm correspondence with Brahms, as well as a somewhat acrid rivalry with Bruch. He was also a significant figure in German cultural and political life through his energetic campaigning on behalf of the natural and historic built environment, eventually founding the German Nature Protection Movement in 1904. When his mightily bearded likeness appeared upon a German postage stamp in 1990, it was in commemoration of his achievements in conservation rather than music, and some quick googling will demonstrate that his environmental activities have attracted far more scholarly attention than his musical ones.

Yet arguably his musical and environmental concerns illuminate each other. Like our current monarch, Rudorff saw nature and architecture in distinctly romantic, conservative and anti-modernist terms, though - as his 1880 manifesto, "On the Relationship of Modern Life to Nature" demonstrates - he was by no means without technical knowledge of rural and agricultural affairs. This impassioned essay certainly influenced Nazi attitudes towards conservation and though - as with his contemporary, Draeseke - it would be utterly unfair to assume that he would have in any way endorsed institutionalised violence and racism, its climax, explicitly linking German landscape, character and culture makes for most uncomfortable reading.

For Rudorff, "the intense and deep feeling for nature is where the true roots of the Germanic character lie."

"What drew our ancient forefathers into Wotan's sacred oak groves", he asks "what lives in medieval sagas...what is first heard in the songs of Walter von der Vogelweide and then emerges in .. Goethe's or Eichendorff's poetry and finally in the most unique revelation of German genius, in our magnificent music?" The answer being "some deep attraction of the soul to the ...unfathomable secrets of nature that speaks from this expressions of the national spirit."

Despite the distinctly Wagnerian colouring of this paragraph, as a composer, Rudorff stood in staunch opposition to the Master of Bayreuth. Although he did write songs and choral music, he seems to have taken no interest in opera and especially cultivated abstract music in lucid classical forms. In fact the 3rd Symphony - a late work, written as he turned 70 - can be seen as a conscious (and by no means unsuccessful) attempt to enshrine the aesthetic values of the German symphonic tradition as it extended from Beethoven, through Schumann and Mendelssohn, to Brahms. (It was a canon that he himself arguably played a significant part in shaping, both as teacher and through his other major conservation initiative - curating one of the largest private collections of composer writings and manuscripts.) Yes, in the age of Mahler, Sibelius, Debussy and Scriabin, it would have sounded distinctly backward looking, but lifeless it is not.

From the outset, the music presents arresting ideas with confidence and energy. The opening string theme, its jerky rhythm deliberately obscuring the 6/8 time signature, incorporates a motif distantly echoing the opening of Beethoven's Fifth. With the entry of the woodwind it instantly becomes apparent that - contrary to the impression one might have received from Levite's run-through of the Second Symphony - Rudorff is an excellent orchestrator, who makes fine, idiomatic use of his wind sections. True to its classical models, the First Movement includes a repeat of its already quite lengthy exposition. This means that well over half the movement has elapsed before development begins, but it doesn't matter. The material is sufficiently varied and engaging to warrant the repeat hearing and the development gains in force from being compressed.

The Second Movement is a Funeral March, but thankfully a superior example of the type - poised and clear textured, with convincing contrast provided by lyrical major key episodes. It is also notable for its liberal deployment of the cymbals in both loud and soft dynamics. In fact, Rudorff's enthusiasm for the metal plates is almost startling and they feature prominently in the two remaining movements. The first of these is a rather jolly scherzo (presumably modeled on that of Brahms' 2nd) in which a graceful Allegretto flanks faster material with hunting calls in the horns, and it is followed by a convincingly driven Finale that avoids hollow bombast, even if by the end cymbal clashes are reinforcing just about every beat.

Overall, I must say, I find this an enjoyable and communicative example of German late-Romantic symphonism, distinguished by some elegant material and not outstaying its welcome - the work of a man both confident in his craft and aware of his limitations. His own music may be only a modest contribution to the Germanic culture he put so much energy into conserving, but it is a decent and respectable one. It would be nice to think that at least a little of the work of this great conservator was occasionally dragged out of the darker vaults of the great musical museum. On this evidence, its considerably less faded than one might expect.


See what you think.








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