Seriously, what would we do without Naxos and its seeming quest to record every piece of classical music ever written? This is the third release in the label’s series devoted to the orchestral works of Luís de Freitas Branco, a Portuguese composer who lived between 1890 and 1955. (If the name is familiar, it might be because his brother Pedro was a prominent conductor.) He was a precocious youngster, studied with Humperdinck, and later taught Portugal’s second most important composer from this period, that being Joly Braga Santos, whose music also is excellent.
The Third Symphony was completed in 1944, although he began composing it 14 years earlier. It is typical of what I have discerned to be Freitas Branco’s style, which might be described as “a little bit of this and a little bit of that.” The composer clearly was wide-eared during his formative years and adulthood, and listening to this symphony, one thinks “that sounds like Bruckner,” or “this sounds like Respighi,” or Nielsen, or what have you. I’m certainly not suggesting that Freitas Branco copied anyone. I’m merely saying that, in the absence of a distinctive style of his own, the whole of European classical music—its more conservative branches, anyway—is just an arm’s length away. That said, the first movement opens strikingly, and manages to remain striking, in spite of its discursiveness. (At 18:21, it is by far the longest of the four movements.) The remaining three movements are not quite on that level, but are by no means boring or bad. Freitas Branco’s melodic ideas are at least good, if not great, and he manages them well, so no one should go home unhappy.
His take on Byron’s anti-hero dates from 1906. Freitas Branco wrote a dramatic symphony called Manfred during this same period, but The Death of Manfred is an independent work. This 10-minute orchestral work has not been recorded until now, and as far as I am concerned, that is no great loss. Of mood there is plenty, but there is little of real substance here: In one ear and out the other. Schumann and Tchaikovsky handled Manfred with greater skill.
The attractive Suite Alentejana No. 1 was included on Naxos’s/Cassuto’s first Freitas Branco CD (8.570765), and the second, from 1927, is presented here, to close this CD. It is in three movements. A thoughtful, pastoral Preludio is followed by a brief, even more low-key Intermezzo, and the suite ends with a colorful Final. It is only in this work—and in the Final in particular—that one becomes acutely aware that one is listening to the work of a composer from the Iberian peninsula.
I don’t doubt conductor Cassuto’s affinity for this music—he wrote the booklet notes—nor his skill as a conductor. The Irish orchestra (like Cassuto, repeaters from the previous two volumes) plays these works gamely, and with more than adequate execution. In short, everything about this CD is satisfactor