An outstanding contribution to the Weill discography

Kurt Weill: Two Symphonies, Der Silbersee excerpts

Der Silbersee was Kurt Weill's European swan-song; premiered in Berlin in February 1933, it was banned by the Nazis in March, and Weill was forced to flee, first to Paris, and then to New York. The text, by Georg Kaiser, is as strongly satirical as anything by Bertolt Brecht:

Raise a tower with walls of stone around you,
You won’t hear the wretched cries outside.
Be blind, be deaf, never write off a debt,
You’d lose your money and the gains from it.
Don’t ever deny the greatest of all profit:
Interest and compound interest.

Weill's music for Der Silbersee reminds me of his great musical theatre works with Brecht: The Threepenny Opera (1928), Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny (1930), and The Seven Deadly Sins (1933). "The Song of the Lottery Ticket Seller" from the first act, "Was zahlen Sie für einen Rat?", uses the same tango rhythms we know from those works. There's a jarring contrast between the pungent text (beautifully projected here by HK Gruber) and the lovely orchestral accompaniment that perfectly sums up Weill's best music. There are only a few excerpts from the score, but they're choice.

When Kurt Weill made his way to Paris in 1933 he began work with Brecht on The Seven Deadly Sins, and you can hear echoes of this work in his Symphony no. 2, which was completed in 1934. This marvellous Symphony is close to the top of my list of obscure orchestral works that deserve to be programmed and recorded much more frequently. He's taken the accessible theatre music which had become his hallmark, and neatly slotted it within the classical symphony form of Haydn and Mozart. What a shame that the critical pans that followed its premiere at the Concertgebouw under Bruno Walter pushed Weill to swear off concert music for the rest of his career. 

Before any of these works mentioned, back in 1921, Kurt Weill had written his Symphony in One Movement (his First). His characterization of it: "By Mahler, out of Strauss, trained by Schoenberg." Weill cleverly melds the neo-romantic tradition with leading edge serialism. This is more than juvenilia; it's an accomplished work in its own right. Weill has the compositional skill this early in his composing career to produce music that has value a century later.

HK Gruber is a fascinating person: a one-time child chorister with the Vienna Boys Choir, he became a virtuoso of the double-bass, a composer and conductor. He's also an outstanding singer and actor, and a great advocate for the music of Kurt Weill. Gruber's own view of Weill:

"He brought complexity and popular music under one hat. It makes no difference between light music and serious music — just a kind of music which is simply honest."

This project is a perfect example of honest performance of great music; with stellar support from the musicians of the Swedish Chamber Choir, we have here an outstanding contribution to the Weill discography.

The wonderful cover photo of The Lichtburg cinema in Berlin is by Martin Höhlig, from 1929.

This album was released on February 3, 2023.

Music from a year of crisis

1923: music by Bartok, Krenek, Toch & Weill

The year 1923 was a year of crisis in Germany; inflation was heating up and far right-wing parties were jockeying for power. In October, the first broadcast of public radio in Germany took place from the "Berliner Funkstunde" station on Potsdamer Platz. This provocative new disc from the Choir and Symphony of Bavarian Radio includes four works written a hundred years ago by a group of innovative composers who all made use of the new, disruptive technology of radio.

Kurt Weill's Frauentanz is a suite of seven medieval songs, scored for soprano, flute, viola, clarinet, horn and bassoon. Weill helped to create the familiar soundtrack for Weimar Berlin, and this performance by Anna-Maria Palii and the fine instrumentalists of the Bayerischen Rundfunks orchestra provides the authentic feel of a society that was becoming increasingly decadent and hysterical in 1923 and beyond.

Ernst Toch's Dance Suite is another clever and imaginative piece with interesting orchestration: flute, clarinet, violin, viola, double bass and percussion. The Berlin sound is also evident here, something a bit harsh and raw, in contrast with the softer-focussed, more lyrical and pastoral modernism of Paris.

The Ernst Krenek work is a bit of a surprise: his 3 Choruses for a cappella choir . The 'antique' sound of these pieces remind me of two of my favourite works: Vaughan Williams' G minor Mass, from 1921, and Heitor Villa-Lobos's Missa São Sebastião, from 1937. All three provide old wine in new bottles: ancient cadences with a modernist twist.

The final work on the disc is probably the best known: Bela Bartok's Dance Suite for Orchestra. This is an orchestral showpiece, a kind of try-out for his Concerto for Orchestra written more than two decades later. Both pieces treat orchestral instruments in a solistic, virtuosic way. The source material might be folkloric, but this is definitely written in a modernist idiom.

Inflation, far right-wing agitation, disruptive technology: yes, we're talking about 1923, not 2023. And the music on this disc is as fresh and forward-looking as some of the best music written today.