Classical Records

Broadway Pop Composer Vernon Duke (April in Paris, Taking a Chance on Love) is also a devoted composer of classical scores (Concerto for Cello and Orchestra) under his real name, Vladimir Dukelsky. When he found in 1947 that he was unable to get his own Third Symphony played, Duke-Dukelsky somehow began to fret about 18th and 19th century composers who had been overshadowed by the giants. The result: the Society for Forgotten Music, which is making a busy career of "resuscitating" and recording worthy but neglected classics.

"Just because Beethoven was better than his contemporaries," says Duke, "does not mean that they were bad." Like Russian-born Composer Dukelsky's own classical compositions, most of the society's resuscitations have been technically adroit works, often fascinating in detail but a little bland in substance. Franz Xaver Mozart's Sonata for Cello and Piano sings the listener to reveries without ruffling the mind--but Franz got only modest notice for it in his day because nobody could quite forget his more gifted papa, Wolfgang Amadeus. Michael Haydn (1737-1806) supplied the Society with a C Major Quintet that develops its elegant ideas persuasively but never strikes the fire of his more famous brother, Joseph.

On the other hand, Duke and his society have made some remarkable finds, including a Mendelssohn Quartet in E-Flat written by the composer when he was 14. Other outstanding releases include the instrumental works of Ernest Chausson (1885-99), the French composer who was emerging as a major talent when he died in a bicycle accident, and the piano works of Czech Composer Jan Dussek (1760-1812), whose harmony and melody anticipated a whole generation of giants.

The S.F.M. releases are paid for out of the profits of two small Los Angeles labels--Contemporary Records and Good Time Jazz. Duke hopes eventually to turn a profit on the society, which has already released dozens of works available in no other recorded versions, plans to record at least 25 additional works by other composers who have been as neglected by the critics as Duke himself. Says he, speaking as Dukelsky: "There is not a single critic whose word or judgment I trust."

Other new records:

Music of Alban Berg (Columbia Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Robert Craft; Columbia; 2 LPs). Fascinating vistas into the stark, chilling and sometimes apocalyptic world that echoed in Berg's mind. Conductor Craft has a remarkable ability to balance stridency against stridency, finding simple logic in Berg's haunting effects.

Beethoven: Sonatas for Violin and Piano; No. 5 in F and No. 9 in A (Yehudi and Hephzibah Menuhin; Capitol). Brother and sister in another of the ardent and assured performances that they seem able to kindle together at will. The sound is luminous, the mood warm but never overheated.

Strauss: Ein Heldenleben (Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Sir Thomas Beecham; Capitol). Luminous, majestic and precise is one of Beecham's last orchestral recordings. Sir Thomas had not performed Heldenleben in the concert hall for years, but he plays it here like a man who looks at all its struts and buttresses from within.

Handel: Royal Fireworks Music (The Telemann Society Band, conducted by Richard Schulze; Vox). Handel's famous pomp-and-circumstantial salute to the 1748 Peace of Aix-la-Chapelle is here given the closest thing to an authentic performance that most listeners will ever hear--or perhaps want to. By using antique, 18th century winds and brasses, Conductor Schulze gets a gaudy, gamy sound characterized by clashing pitches that will curdle most modern ears.

Verdi: "Di quella pira" from Il Trovatore (Tap). This album, as its cover proudly proclaims, presents one aria rendered by 40 tenors, containing 80 high Cs. As written by Verdi, Di quella pira ("From that pyre"), from the third act of Il Trovatore, had not a single high C in it, but Tenor Enrico Tamberlik (1820-89) started inserting one in the middle and one at the end--and they have been there ever since. The 40 tenors sing in six languages, and generally bleat, screech, bawl and scream in a manner calculated to make any listener sympathize with Rossini's request that a visiting tenor "check his high C with his overcoat."

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.