With this release, Gerard Schwarz and the Seattle Symphony complete their comprehensive survey of the symphonies of William Schuman (minus Nos. 1 and 2, which the composer withdrew), along with a variety of his other orchestral works. A significant achievement for the performers, this survey—if nothing else—reminds listeners of what a powerful and distinctive body of work Schuman left us. Unfortunately, aside from the New England Triptych, his orchestration of Ives’s affectionately satirical Variations on “America” and, perhaps, the Symphony No. 3, Schuman’s music has largely fallen from view since his death in 1992. I fear that younger listeners are barely aware of his name, let alone his music. It may be hard for them to believe that 50 years ago Schuman would probably have been among the first to be mentioned in any discussion of “great American symphonies” (which were discussed a lot more often in those days than they are today). This year marks Schuman’s centennial, which has prompted a flurry of attention, at least in the New York area. But Naxos’s contribution is probably of more lasting value and significance; those who digest the extant eight symphonies and the half-dozen or so other works included in its survey will have a pretty thorough impression of Schuman’s musical style and scope of expression. Schuman may not have been America’s greatest symphonist, but he was certainly among the handful of top contenders.

Probably one of the main reasons that most of Schuman’s music has not found a permanent place in the repertoire is that, while he did not join the serialists who exerted so much influence between 1955 and 1975, much of his music is quite dissonant harmonically and dense texturally, while the later works in particular are largely atonal, although they typically conclude with a clear tonal focus, which often seems somewhat incongruous. The symphonies from No. 6 through No. 10 would, I suspect, be quite jarring to most audiences hearing them for the first time today. When they first appeared, critical opinion was divided between those who felt that the music was deeply profound and those who felt it was straining to seem profound.

The Symphony No. 8 is a case in point. Completed in 1962 for the opening of New York’s Lincoln Center, of which Schuman had recently assumed the presidency, the work is quite challenging. Much of it is an elaborated transcription of his own String Quartet No. 4—probably the most impressive of his five efforts in that medium—although its orchestration is so dazzling and seemingly essential that only those who are quite familiar with the quartet are likely to suspect anything. The symphony begins with two searing slow movements—long, speculative reflections—while concluding with a brilliant finale.

Contributing greatly to the positive impact made by Schuman’s music was the advocacy of Leonard Bernstein. Eight years younger than Schuman, Bernstein was gmore....

Review By Ballet Review,June 2010

Night Journey, Schuman’s second score for dance and first of his four for Martha Graham, is a brooding work full of jagged rhythms and themes to match Jocasta’s vision of the horrors of her life before killing herself. This concert version for fifteen players slightly condenses the piece without losing its passion and momentum.

Many of the same qualities are felt in his Eighth Symphony, from 1962, although the last movement becomes livelier. It, too, is a strong work and both pieces are strongly portrayed by Schwarz and his orchestra, as is Schuman’s popular orchestration of Ives’s cheeky Variations on “America.” Joesph Poliesi’s notes are most informative.

The Eighth Symphony is unusual in having essentially two slow movements in a row (a Lento and a Largo, though both speed up in the middle), followed by a Presto finale. Every bar of the symphony is distinctively Schumanesque—most noticeably in the rich string sonorities, the stuttering brass outbursts, the angular melodies. And yet the Eighth is full of striking passages unique to itself, beginning with its strange, somber opening chord—strings, woodwinds and a haunting combination of glockenspiel, tubular bells, vibraphone, two harps and a piano—from which after a few quieter repetitions a mournful (and very challenging) French horn solo emerges. In all three movements the climaxes featuring the whole brass section, always exciting in a Schuman work, are especially memorable, and the Presto Finale is breathtakingly complex in its rhythmic patterns and full of quirky details, like an extended duet between bass clarinet and bassoon plus a brief vibraphone solo…the new Naxos recording is superb in every way, capturing both the colors of the solo instruments and the power of the full ensemble, with excellent balance throughout. As for performance, I have to say that Bernstein’s has more momentum—more drive from one moment to the next, with a more thrilling final page. Part of this may be a matter of tempo: Bernstein takes the first and third movements faster than Schwarz (10’16” vs. 11’09”; 8’20” vs. 9’30”), though his Largo is slower (12’ 34” vs. 11’ 49”). (Both exceed the estimated 30” listed in the score, Bernstein at 31’ 06”, Schwarz at 32’ 28”.)…Schuman composed several ballet scores, including one in 1945 for Anthony Tutor with the great film-noir title Undertow, and four for Martha Graham. (Naxos’ program annotator, Joseph W. Polisi, interestingly proposes that Schuman’s work with these great choreographers led to his music becoming “more complex, intense, and emotionally charged.”) Night Journey, the first of the Graham ballets (1947), is based on the Oedipus myth but told from the perspective of Jocasta. In 1981 Schuman reduced the score to chamber ensemble (rather the opposite of Aaron Copland beefing up his original score for Graham’s Appalachian Spring) and cut some passages to create a piece called Night Journey: Choreographic Poem for Fifteen Instruments, which is what Schwarz and Seattle have recorded here. After several hearings I’m not convinced that it’s one of Schuman’s major scores. I hesitate even to mention Samuel Barber’s great score for Graham’s Medea, composed the same year, let alone Copland’s 1944 ballet, though it works very well with Graham’s choreography, as far as I can judge by an 8-minute YouTube excerpt. Most of the music of the shortened score is very slow-paced, as if portraying Jocasta’s stunned silence after learning the truth about her husband-son, though with agitated passages. The Seamore....

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