Michael Daugherty is one of those composers whose work sharply divides opinion. I have to say I am firmly in the fan camp. This is contemporary music as fun. Not to say it does not have passages of reflective and searching beauty but the abiding impression is of a composer who revels in using a modern virtuosic orchestra to spectacular effect. The Metropolis Symphony written between 1988 and 1993 was his breakthrough work. It is not a symphony—much more a symphonic suite—but this is underlined by the fact that each of the movements is playable as an individual entity. I suspect it might almost work better like that—heard as a sequence there is a certain lack of differentiation that diminishes the overall impression of the work. But that is minor carping. This is comic strip as music (a fact wittily underlined by the album art)—not the epic action movie style of a John Williams. The opening movement Lex sets the tone for the whole disc—antiphonal police whistles, terrifyingly vertiginous solo violin writing superbly dispatched—who is that masked fiddler!?! (actually it is Mary Kathryn Van Osdale who since she gets no separate credit I assume is Concertmistress in Nashville). Listening to more Daugherty you start to recognise compositional fingerprints. He clearly enjoys writing at extremes be they dynamic, spatial (a lot of antiphonal writing and phrases being tossed across and around the orchestra) or registrational (instruments playing at their physical limits). After a nominal slow movement Krypton which grinds from the depths leading to a final apocalyptic destruction of Superman’s home planet we reach the scherzo movement. Wouldn’t you just love hearing a radio announcer trying to pronounce MXYZPTLK?! Here the antiphonal effects are provided by a pair of duelling flutes. What I like is the way Daugherty throughout uses the vocabulary of contemporary music but in a way that clearly links it to more populist musical genres as well as making it compelling listening in its own right. This carried through to the final pair of movements which I liked most of all. Oh, Lois! is marked to be played “faster than a speeding bullet” and as Daugherty explains in his liner note it “…suggests a cartoon history of mishap, screams, dialogue, crashes, and disasters, all in rapid motion.” This is a perfect succinct description for a real romp of a piece quite brilliantly performed—as is the whole disc by the Nashville Symphony under Giancarlo Guerrero. Much play is made in some of the publicity material for this disc of a London performance being likened to a modern day Symphonie Fantastique. I guess in the main this is due to the dominance of the plain song Dies Irae which dominates the last movement much as it does in Berlioz’s work. That is one of the more fatuous parallels—you might as well say it’s a latter day Rachmaninov Symphonic Dances for the same reason. Metropolis has no need of any comparative crutches—it wholly succeeds on its own merits. The last movement Red Cape Tango is essentially a thirteen minute symphonic tango based in the main on the aforementioned Dies Irae chant for the dead. Quite whether it has anything at all to do with Superman I am not sure but it sustains a menacingly building tension brilliantly.

Deus ex Machina is a much later work—in essence a piano concerto from 2007. Again to quote Daugherty; “Each of the three movements is a musical response to the world of trains”. Again this is a brilliantly scored work and is more an integrated whole than the preceding symphony. If I enjoyed it slightly less overall than Metropolis this is a purely personal response. It follows a traditional fast-slow-fast format with the emotional core being carried by the central movement’s evocation of the train that carried President Lincoln’s body back to Illinois in 1865. The final movement evokes the last days of steam in America and the booklet includes a beautiful example of one of the photographs by O. Winston Link that inspired it. Pianist Terrence Wilson dispatches the awkward-sounding piano writing with great aplomb. Much of the time the solo part leads from within the orchestral texture—perhaps more sinfonia concertante than true concerto but again this is to obsess over semantics. One final interesting thought though going back to my opening comment about titles. Deus ex Machina indeed does literally translate as “God from the machine” as Daugherty points out. However the derivation of the phrase is quite different. It comes from ancient Greek theatre and meant a theatrical/plot device whereby a character or situation was suddenly radically altered by the intervention of the Gods. Literally the actor playing the God was lowered into the performing space by machine to “save the day”. This was considered a weak plot device since it allowed for massive alterations with no dramatic preparation. One could argue—and this is the interesting point—that Super heroes are the ultimate modern-day “deus ex machinas” since they can be free “with a single bound” so perhaps this title should apply more to Metropolis! Not that it matters a jot but did Daugherty pick the title because it certainly is a good title or is there more at work here than he admits to in the liner?

Naxos has been doing Daugherty proud in recent years—already their discs of his music are proving to be reference recordings (see review of 8.559165—Philadelphia Stories). Engineering and performance here is ridiculously good. If I am being very very slightly picky, the sound on the last disc—(Fire & Blood Naxos 8.559372) was a fraction better—even richer and full-blooded than this but this is very good too and excellent value at Naxos’ give-away price and 75+ minutes playing time. To be honest any of the three Naxos discs are a good entry point into his compositional world. My guess is that if you like what you hear on one you will find yourself buying all three—I have!

The Metropolis Symphony is a big burly phantasmagoric romp of a symphony. That it was inspired by the fiftieth anniversary of Superman’s arrival in the pages of DC Comics is consistent with the work’s riotous primary colours and indefatigable rowdy energy. We are assured by the composer that the five movements are not narrative. They’re a series of bold mood pictures with the neon brashness and whole spectrum gaud of the pulp magazine covers. Interesting the sleeve illustration affectionately parodies the genre as well.

It’s not all scorching Sabre-Jet ascents and dives. Much of it revels in closely recorded soloistic episodes including warm and hoarse violin writing, skittering bell-bright percussion and gannet-diving flutes duos: MXYZPTLK (III). The horns step up the plate in an exultant golden roar as if in tribute to Bernard Herrmann’s Death Hunt. Krypton (II) makes howling-growling and minatory use of the motor siren and the wailing string ululations we associate with Penderecki and Hovhaness. The writing then becomes psychedelically evocative of Tippett and Silvestrov in its dense and slowly writhing richness. Yet there’s also sufficient brightly imagined gravamen to give the work a huge shot of symphonic weight. It was quite a coup to make the dynamo finale a tango with its delicious shiver of Schedrin meets Dies Irae meets Totentanz. The Schuman-like kinetic charge of the final pages is radiant with optimism. This adds up to a deeply enjoyable symphony with enough of the cinema about to make it often confident and exciting. Great stuff!

The dedicatee of the Metropolis Symphony is David Zinman who encouraged its writing. He gave the world première at Carnegie Hall in January 1994 with the Baltimore Symphony.

Deus ex Machina for piano and orchestra was a collegiate commission from the orchestras of Charlotte, Nashville, New Jersey, Rochester and Syracuse. This three movement piano concerto can now join the list of musical works linked to railroads and trains. Fast Forward is a storm of rhythmic sound recalling Mossolov, Honegger and Markevich. This is linked in the composer’s mind with futurism and the role that trains played in that movement—breathless stuff. Train of Tears marks a shift of mood: elegiac and more musical and engaging than the visceral blast of Fast Forward. Noble Americana is the engine for this piece which leans on the image of the train that carried the corpse of Abraham Lincoln from Washington to his final resting place in Springfield, Illinois. The piano writing is distinctive—my closes approximation would be a sort of blend of Rachmaninov and pastoral Copland. The finale is Night Steam. Here Daugherty pays exciting tribute to the coal-burning steam locomotives that survived into the early 1960s in Virginia, West Virginia, North Carolina, and Maryland. Each grand colossus was documented in the monochrome photographs taken by O. Winston Link. These smoke belching dreadnoughts of the rails live again in Daugherty’s jazzy-bluesy kaleidoscopic and brakeless careering hayride.

Both works are played to the hilt and the recording—especially in the case of the symphony—is the modern equivalent of Decca’s best analogue vintage.

Daugherty must be very pleased with this disc which also draws attention to a name new to me: Giancarlo Guerrero. Watch out for more from him and from Daugherty.