Hovhaness: Symphonies Nos. 7, 14 & 23

"This CD, recorded on January 30 and 31, 2008, is dedicated to the memory of Lady Evelyn Barbirolli, Honorary Fellow of the Trinity College of Music, who died a few days earlier. One might well ask what, if anything, is the connection between Barbirolli and Hovhaness. It turns out that her husband, John Barbirolli, conducted the premiere in 1966 of Hovhaness’s Ode to the Temple of Sound.

What these three symphonies have in common, of course, is their scoring for symphonic wind ensemble—in other words, an orchestra without strings. I know that the “Ani” Symphony has been recorded at least once before (by the composer, with the Highline and Shoreline College Bands). That disc is still in print. Also, this is not Keith Brion’s first Hovhaness recording; he conducted Symphonies Nos. 4, 20, and 53 for Naxos, along with some fillers, and that disc was reviewed, somewhat positively, in the July/August 2007 issue by Walter Simmons.

“Ani” is a 34-minute work dating from 1972. It is named for the ancient capital of Armenia, “the city of 1,001 cathedrals.” Naxos’s booklet includes a brief and evocative poem by the composer himself eulogizing this now ruined city. In the first movement, the wind ensemble creates impressive organ-like sonorities suggestive of a weighty cathedral. The sound of bells, both great and small, adds color. Later, there is a stoic solo for saxophone, and fluttering flutes suggest birds, interrupted by snarling brass glissandi. Then the chorale theme returns, with fugal development. One is struck by the appropriately rock-solid intonation of Trinity’s woodwinds and brass. Ani’s towers may have fallen, but the structures of Hovhaness’s music stand erect and unassailable in this performance. The second movement, described as a “humoresque” in Naxos’s notes, evokes the sound of a gamelan. Again, birdsong is an interlude. The lengthy final movement recalls much of the preceding material, introduces new material, and slowly builds to a heroic, tintinnabulating catharsis.

The other two symphonies each last just over 14 minutes. “Nanga Parvat” is another of the composer’s literally “mountainous” works—the title refers to a peak in Kashmir. Marked con ferocità and beginning with an extended passage for drums, the first movement seems to depict awe-inspiring and nearly impassable terrains. The second is a march as only Hovhaness could write one: ticklish in rhythm, and a little wild in its evocation of pomp from the Asian hinterlands. The last movement is marked “Sunset” and it brings the symphony to an atmospheric but unsentimental end.

“Ararat” alludes to another mountain, of course—one central to the culture of the composer’s Armenian heritage. The three movements are untitled. Hovhaness distinguishes between these two mountains by composing similarly uncompromising music in very different styles. “Ararat” feels more abstract, more like a psychological portrait than “Nanga Parvat.” In the first movement particularly, the Trinity brass once again give the attentive listener much to be excited about. Threatening bells and drums dominate the second movement. The third movement erupts in a percussive rage, fueled by trumpets, and the symphony doesn’t conclude as much as it simply stops.

The performances are very impressive throughout, and the engineering has a lot of impact. You will want to turn up the volume and let the music thunder over, around, and through you. I’d say that the composer’s heritage has been extremely well served by this release."

" Hovhaness’s prodigious output runs to some 500 or so published scores each often proclaiming a distinct, immediately recognisable and individual personality. The music is not inspired by organised religion in any conventional sense but is evidently guided by a profound spirituality and a deeply philosophical approach to the world. Frequently colourful and exotic the music is recurrently served by an intense sense of the spiritual beauty of nature and by sound-worlds created by large and broad-ranging orchestral forces.
 
Hovhaness gave many of his scores descriptive titles of a colourful and often memorable quality: Storm on Mount Wildcat; Symphony No.2 Mysterious Mountain; And God Created Great Whales; Symphony No. 22, City of Light and the Symphony No. 50 Mount St Helens. When requesting this Naxos disc I hadn’t noticed that the music was written for wind orchestra. This came as rather a surprise as I expected three symphonies of a similar instrumentation to that I had grown used to.
 
The first work on the disc the Symphony No. 7, ‘Nanga Parvat’, Op. 178 was composed in 1959 for wind orchestra with percussion and harp. The title Nanga Parvat, meaning ‘Naked Mountain’, is the name of the ninth highest mountain in the world. A dangerous and gigantic Himalayan peak Nanga Parvat is sometimes known as ‘Killer Mountain’.
 
Composed in 1960 the Symphony No. 14, ‘Ararat’, Op. 194 (1960) is scored for wind and percussion. The score is titled after the volcanic Mount Ararat in Turkey. According to the Book of Genesis in the Bible after the flood Noah’s Ark came to rest in the Ararat range. The disc closes with the Symphony No. 23, ‘Ani’, Op. 249 from 1972 calls for large wind orchestra and percussion. Situated in Turkey ‘Ani’ is the name of a once great and now ruined medieval Armenian city.
 
Keith Brion, the conductor of this release, has been involved in recording an acclaimed series of wind band music for John Philip Sousa for Naxos. It seems that Brion first made the acquaintance of Hovhaness back in 1964 and has made recordings with Hovhaness present. Based at the Old Royal Naval College in Greenwich the Trinity College of Music Wind Orchestra under Brion prove themselves marvellously suited to this remarkable music. These are strong and dedicated performances that feel fresh and engaging with much lovely playing.
 
This music for wind with percussion accompaniment may be an acquired taste for some. I certainly miss the additional colour provided by Hovhaness’s distinctive and often glorious string sounds. A splendidly performed disc that I suggest will appeal mainly to the more adventurous listener.

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" Most of the works of Alan Hovhaness (1911-2000) are contemplative and speak a sort of minimalist language. The brass pieces I know fit this description. So does Symphony 23, but Symphonies 7 and 14 do not.

Hovhaness describes the 26,000-foot Kashmir mountain Nanga Parvat (‘Without Trees’) as “serene, majestic, aloof, terrible in storm, forever frozen in treeless snow”. He was thinking about Nanga Parvat when he composed the 14-minute Symphony 7 (1959) for the American Wind Symphony. I is all pounding timpani and bass drums, with occasional comments by woodwinds and brass. II is meant to “suggest wild improvised marches in raucous woodwinds and false brass unisons”. III (‘Sunset’) consists of a beautiful, mournful melody played first by solo English horn, then by the various brass sections. The ending is oddly anticlimactic.

Symphony 14 (1960), also commissioned by the American Wind Symphony, is subtitled Ararat. Hovhaness calls it a “symphony of rough-hewn sounds” and says it depicts the “wild fierceness of volcanic earthquakes and avalanche-shaken mountains, rough stones, caves, rocks sculptured by tornados”. The first sounds are accented, sustained note clusters, uttered first by the clarinet section, then by horns, rumbling timpani, flutes, bassoons, oboes, guttural trombones, and so on (Hovhaness calls them “dragon-fly sounds”). Finally, unison clarinets begin a folk-like melody, accompanied by oboe clusters and a bassoon countermelody. Trumpets take up the melody, with some harmonically supportive bass accompaniment, even as the section clusters continue.

II is darker, with a somber melody and more of the dragon-fly sounds. III, strangely brief at three minutes, closes the work with only pounding drums and a powerful, sustained, soaring melody by trumpets—mostly unison, sometimes splintering into dissonant clusters.

The 34-minute Symphony 23 (1972) tells of Ani, “a ruined city, the capital of ancient Armenia”. It has an opening section with a melancholy melody and harmonious accompaniment, a beautiful clarinet trio, and a lovely saxophone solo. A middle section has pointillistic woodwinds leading to swooping, glissando-ing trombones. The harmoniousness returns. II gives a lively melody to what sounds like alto clarinet, xylophone, and chimes. Next a saxophone takes up the melody, accompanied by timpani, before passing it to a flute, then piccolo. And so it goes. III takes up the warm tones and harmonies of I. These go on, hypnotically and in a state of utter calm, for nearly seven minutes before the mood becomes somewhat more animated.

Kudos to Keith Brion for dusting off what may be a forgotten part of the wind band repertory. If these works offer few technical challenges, they demand perfection of intonation and timbral blend, and the fine Trinity College musicians (of Greenwich, England) deliver exactly that. Many aural pleasures are to be heard in this unusual music.

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