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艺人

Franz Liszt

语种

其他

厂牌

Hyperion Records

发行时间

1994年07月01日

专辑类别

录音室专辑

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专辑介绍

CDA66811/2

Recording details: Various dates

St Martin's Church, East Woodhay, Berkshire, United Kingdom

Produced by Tryggvi Tryggvason

Engineered by Tryggvi Tryggvason

Release date: July 1994

DISCID: BE106D0D A211D90B

Total duration: 145 minutes 19 seconds

'A distinguished addition to one of the most important recording projects of the CD era' (Fanfare, USA)

'Gorgeous stuff!' (CDReview)

This collection includes the final versions of all of Liszt’s original dances and marches for piano, with the exception of the Waltzes (see Volume 1 of the present series), four Polonaises (the Deux Polonaises are in Volume 2, and the Polonaises de St Stanislaus are in Volume 14) and the marches from the oratorios (Volume 14).

The Scherzo und Marsch is a work apart from the others: one of Liszt’s larger structures, it exploits the combination of two movements into one which is familiar from the and which reached its apogee with the Sonata. But the musical language of the Scherzo—in a very brisk 38, with its many barbed appoggiaturas—is a direct precursor of the Mephisto music: the Mephistopheles movement of the Faust Symphony (right down to the uncompromising fugal development) and the Mephisto Waltzes and Polka. The March, which is at once a new movement and a kind of trio section to the Scherzo, begins as a ghostly affair which presages the young Mahler and is denied its triumph by the shortened return of the Scherzo, only to reappear in diabolical glory at the furious coda. The neglect of this minor masterpiece is due to its severe technical demands; Liszt himself lamented that neither Kullak nor Tausig could bring the piece off in performance, and that only Blow had mastered it. (Typically, he never played it himself.) According to the Neue Liszt-Ausgabe the original incomplete draft of the work dates from 1851 and is subtitled Wilde Jagd (‘Wild Hunt’). The hunting title is not really appropriate to the character of the work, however, and Liszt put it to much better use in the eighth of the Transcendental Études. The work was finally published in the present form in 1854.

The musical material of the Petite valse favorite provided the basis for the longer Valse-Impromptu (volume 1 of the present series), and was something of a financial success, published by five different companies. However, the revised version of June 1843 remained unpublished until the Neue Liszt-Ausgabe issued it in 1985.

The Mazurka brillante is Liszt’s only original contribution to this genre, and its world is much more public than that of Chopin’s mazurkas. But it is an effective little concert piece whose Polish flavour is authentic enough.

The Grand Galop chromatique figures prominently in Liszt’s own recital programmes, and its enormous popularity probably accounts for the quick publication of the simplified version and the version for piano duet. But Liszt returned to the concert version on several occasions over the years, adding ossia passages and extending the overall structure. The present version represents his fullest extension of the original. The obvious lightness of the work’s character made this piece an instant crowd-pleaser, but the imaginative undercurrent throws in a marvellous sequence of whole-tones and some wickedly unresolved chromatics at the coda.

The posthumously published (1927, and 1985 with the variant) and entitled Galop in A minor is frustratingly dated Gand 20 et 21 janvier. Searle and others ascribed it to 1841. But Liszt was in Scotland then, so that cannot be right. (He was in Ghent in February 1841. Michael Short, who is working with the present writer on an updated version of the Liszt catalogue, has also prepared a remarkable day-by-day account of Liszt’s movements, as and when they become known, for every day of Liszt’s life—a life which is fortunately well documented, even if the source documents are widely spread about the world.) Liszt was in Belgium and in the vicinity, but it’s difficult to pin him down to the exact town, on the dates in question in 1846. As far as can be ascertained at present, Liszt was not in Ghent on those dates in any later year of his life. A pity, really, because this menacing piece has many traits of composition in common with the very late Mephisto music and with the three late Csárdás. Perhaps its very avant garde nature caused him not to release the work for publication. On this recording the alternative passage from bar 143 is played and then the main text is recapitulated from bar 34 so that all of Liszt’s text can be heard in a single performance.

The Festpolonaise was formerly catalogued as an arrangement of a work Liszt wrote for piano duet, but the dates on the MSs show the solo version to antedate the duet by one day. A far cry from the two grand Polonaises in C minor and E major, and not yet in the austere world of the St Stanislaus Polonaises, this modest work is very old-fashioned and stately in its demeanour.

The three Csárdás are amongst the most interesting of Liszt’s later works. Less free than the Hungarian Rhapsodies and more specifically Hungarian rather than gypsy in tone, full of spare lines, angular rhythms and the harmonies of the future, they point the way to Bartók. The first of them is a short Allegro which begins as if in A minor, passes to A major and, after much sequential modulation ends quietly but in an unsettled F sharp minor. The better known Csárdás obstinée (Liszt’s title, usually employed, gives ‘obstiné’, but, as the Neue Liszt-Ausgabe shows, ‘Csárdás’ is a feminine substantive in French) is of a similar mien—indeed, it takes up where the first Csárdás leaves off with a repeated F sharp before the ostinato accompaniment begins, with its left-hand F sharp major triad contrasted with a falling phrase in the right hand beginning on an A natural. But the piece is really in B minor/major, and before the coda strepitosa there is a marvellous transformation of the theme into B major in repeated octaves. The most famous of these pieces is undoubtedly the Csárdás macabre, which Liszt first wrote in 1881 but gradually expanded through a second draft in 1882 to the definitive version here recorded. The version prepared in good faith by Humphrey Searle, from the short draft in the British Library, and supplemented by his solo transcription of extra passages found in János Végh’s (rather than Liszt’s, as Searle thought) arrangement for piano duet, was published by the Liszt Society in its first volume, and recorded several times. But this version lacks the first 48 bars (which Liszt certainly added later) and is quite unlike Liszt’s final version in many other respects. It should be disregarded in favour of the full text as printed by the Neue Liszt-Ausgabe. That edition also tells us that Liszt’s oft-quoted remark ‘Should one write or listen to such a thing?’ (Liszt’s original in German and French reads: ‘Darf man solch ein Ding schreiben oder anhören? Peut on écrire ou écouter pareille chose?’) found above the title on the MS has been crossed out by him with a red pencil, but that may only mean that he did not wish it published. The sentiment is appropriate enough since it anticipates that this, one of his most forward-looking works, would prove difficult for musicians and public alike. Bartók knew the work, although the copy he prepared for publication in 1912 never saw fruition, so the first complete and accurate edition of the work had to wait until the Neue Liszt-Ausgabe of 1984, where further information about the sources of the work may be found.

The Mephisto Polka was written for Lina Schmalhausen, one of Liszt’s later students and possibly his last intimate friend. Out of deference to her, it would seem, the difficult but preferable text (recorded here) is often relegated to ossia passages above the stave, whilst the main text is the simplified version. The piece has something in common with the language of the other late Mephisto music: the crushed notes which constantly decorate the melodic line, the tonal uncertainty and the clarity of the texture all make the piece as spiky as the waltzes. Just before the music settles for F sharp minor—at bar 17—it hovers around the F natural above middle C, and it to this note that it will return in concluding bitterness.

A greater contrast with the preceding piece than the Festvorspiel would stretch the imagination: comfortably, even ponderously in C major, the piece was composed for a collection published in Stuttgart in 1857 called Das Pianoforte. Its subtitle ‘Prélude’ may only refer to its being the first piece is the miscellany by different composers (Liszt’s MS also bears the work’s original title: ‘Preludio pomposo’), but the piece has the style of an academic processional march.

This brings us to Liszt’s marches. It seems only reasonable to take this opportunity to make a brief apologium for the march as a vehicle for serious composition. The sway of fashion is cruel, and a march, unless it be safely embedded in a larger work of overtly lofty nature such as an opera or a symphony, is generally treated with affable contempt. Popular exceptions like Elgar’s orchestral marches represent the merest fraction of a vast and predominantly neglected literature to which most important eighteenth- and nineteenth-century composers contributed in great variety. Setting aside for the moment the marches written for outdoor performance and actual marching—usually for wind band, and containing treasures from Handel and Berlioz through Sousa to the present day—the march occurs quite regularly in baroque keyboard music, is a well-stocked department of occasional music by Haydn, Mozart and Beethoven, and is represented in the output of all the Romantic composers from Schubert to Richard Strauss. In more recent times the march has been used to depict man’s inhumanity and ‘serious’ composers have reserved the form almost entirely for inclusion in large-scale works: it is impossible to imagine Mahler or Shostakovich without the march, for example. The current attitude seems to be that Beethoven’s funeral marches (in the ‘Eroica’ Symphony and in the Opus 26 Piano Sonata) are perfectly decent music, but that his Zapfenstreiche, and even his own orchestration of the Opus 26 march may be airily dismissed. Granted, Wagner’s funeral march in Götterdämmerung is much superior to his Kaisermarsch, but the latter can certainly compare with the Entry of the Guests march from Tannhäuser. Mozart’s marches only appear smuggled into large boxed sets of recordings—although no one complains about the marches in Figaro and Die Zauberflöte. Schubert’s marches are never heard, with the solitary exception of one piano duet. And yet no consideration of musical history over the last five centuries or so could fail to notice how important the character of the march has proved in the broadest range of music, and indeed how it almost eclipses all other metrical patterns to the point where practically all modern popular music is slavishly attendant upon it.

Liszt’s marches have not so much had an unfair press as no press at all. Like Beethoven and Schubert before him, Liszt wrote many occasional pieces which he prepared both for piano and for orchestra, and the majority of his marches exist in both instrumentations, and often for piano duet as well. It is impossible to say whether the Heroischer Marsch in ungarischem Stil was written first for the piano or for orchestra. (The excellent orchestral score, one of Liszt’s earliest, remains unpublished, and is usually omitted from catalogues, but it adds to the destruction of the myth that he needed Conradi or Raff to teach him to orchestrate rather than to help him to prepare fair copies of scores from his instructions.) Written for the King of Portugal in 1840, this effective work later became the basis for the symphonic poem Hungaria.

The Seconde Marche hongroise, as the Ungarischer Sturmmarsch is also known, was published in 1843 for the piano. But it was not until the revised version of the piece was made that Liszt also prepared a version for orchestra (containing a part for the cimbalom which is unaccountably absent in most recordings). This is extrovert stuff, with a wonderfully elaborate alternative coda, rather than the more conventional main text which shadows the orchestral and duet versions.

The Goethe-Festmarsch, as it is usually called, is the most serious and stately of Liszt’s marches, and even abandons the four-beats-to-a-bar formula in the trio section, which, in the revised version at any rate, is in 32. Liszt wrote the work in 1849 for piano, but indicated some of the instrumentation even in that version. Scores in both Conradi’s and Raff’s hands survive, but Liszt reworked both orchestral and piano versions in 1857 and prepared the duet version at the same time. He made just a few alterations to the solo version for the present version which was published around 1872.

The second Festmarsch, on motifs by Duke Ernst of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha (cousin to Queen Victoria, upon whose opera Tony Liszt made a paraphrase—in Volume 6 of this series—and whose song Die Gräberinsel he transcribed) is also known as the Coburger-Festmarsch, especially in its orchestral guise. The motifs in question come from the opera Diana von Solange of which original the present writer is obliged to admit total ignorance. But the march itself is felicitously constructed and sounds perfectly echt-Liszt.

The Marche héroïque is a transcription of one of Liszt’s many works for men’s chorus with piano: the Arbeiterchor (‘Workers’ Chorus’), which was withdrawn just before publication in 1848 lest it be thought inflammatory in the current revolutionary political climate. Liszt also made a version for piano duet. Anton von Webern, of all people, orchestrated the original accompaniment to the choral work in 1924. For the piano version, Liszt added a new central section, and the opening will be familiar to those who recognise the coda to the symphonic poem Mazeppa.

The Huldigungsmarsch (‘Homage March’) was composed for the inauguration of Liszt’s friend Prince Carl Alexander. Raff produced an orchestral score which Liszt revised in 1857, and the piano version, with a few corrections, was published in 1858. Liszt returned to the melody of the trio section for his Weimars Volkslied—a piece which exists in many instrumental and vocal versions, and which he clearly saw as a potential anthem for the principality of Sachsen-Weimar.

The Ungarischer Marsch zur Krönungsfeier am 8ten Juni 1867 in Ofen-Pest may well have been thought of for the Hungarian coronation at that time, but it was not completed until 1870. It was published the following year, also in versions for orchestra and for piano duet. This is a concise, rather violent piece, in which the tonality is constantly threatened or altered by mediant progressions, although the trio section is much more reflective, and the solo version has some extra decoration which suspends the metrical flow.

Nothing seems to be known of the origins of Siegesmarsch—Marche triomphale (Victory March) which was not published until very recently. Although the MS is clearly a piano work, the piece seems not quite suited to the instrument, and Liszt may have intended duet and orchestral versions. The undated piece can only be loosely ascribed to Liszt’s later years on stylistic grounds, and it may be that Liszt did not wish the piece to be published, at any rate in its present form.

The Ungarischer Geschwindmarsch—Magyar gyors induló was a Szekszárd publisher’s commission for an album, and Liszt produced a very brisk quick march indeed, full of harmonic Hungarianisms.

Vom Fels zum Meer!—Deutscher Siegesmarsch (From Rock to Sea!—German Victory March) does not appear to commemorate anything particular in history, but, whether for piano or orchestra, is as jolly and foursquare a thing as even Sousa ever wrote.

It is as well to admit at once that the Bülow-Marsch, despite its good intentions of honouring Liszt’s favourite conductor and quondam son-in-law for his achievements with the Meiningen orchestra, is not one of Liszt’s finest achievements. There are many points of interest in the tonal language, but some passages turn out very dry and predictable. Relief comes with a more winsome second theme, which recalls the harmonic language of Parsifal, but the first theme is scarcely a theme at all. The piece was orchestrated by one of Liszt’s students, but Bülow waspishly declined to play it. Versions for duet and for two pianos, eight hands, both by Liszt himself, have fared no better over the years, and the solo version is likewise ignored. It could unfortunately be that Liszt’s occasional moments of depression, coupled with his increasing reliance upon cognac—up to two bottles a day towards the end of his life—had some bearing upon this work’s failure.

Par contre, the Künstlerfestzug for the Schiller centenary in 1859 is a splendid piece in every way, and compares very handsomely with the march which Meyerbeer wrote (and which Liszt transcribed—see volume 23 of the present series) for the same occasion. The memorable theme of the trio section is based on the same musical material as the second theme of Liszt’s symphonic poem Die Ideale, which is itself, of course, inspired by Schiller’s eponymous poem. Liszt also wrote orchestral and duet versions, and made some very minor revisions in the piano version for the edition of 1883, which is recorded here.

This survey of Liszt’s marches concludes with one of the seven extant versions of the Rákóczi-Marsch, which is perhaps best known from the fifteenth Rapsodie hongroise. The version recorded here is the concert transcription of Liszt’s elaborate orchestral march, and is thus the longest of the piano versions. (Liszt also transcribed his orchestral version for two pianos, for piano duet, and as a simplified piano solo.) Liszt’s devotion to the theme and, by extension, to Hungary, is never clearer than in this fully symphonically developed work.

Leslie Howard © 1994

Works on This Recording

1.

Scherzo and March for Piano, S 177

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1851; Weimar, Germany

2.

Petite valse favorite, S 212

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1842; Weimar, Germany

■ Notes: Ver: Second

3.

Mazurka brillante, S 221

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1850; Weimar, Germany

4.

Grand galop chromatique for Piano, S 219

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1838; Switzerland

5.

Galop for Piano in A minor, S 218

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: ?1841; Weimar, Germany

6.

Festive Polonaise for Piano, S 230a

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

7.

Mephisto Polka for Piano, S 217

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1883; Rome, Italy

8.

Festvorspiel, S 226

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1856; Weimar, Germany

9.

Ungarischer Sturmmarsch, S 524

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1875; Budapest, Hungary

■ Notes: Ver: Second

10.

Festmarsch zur Goethejubiläumsfeier, S 521

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1857; Weimar, Germany

■ Notes: Ver: Second

11.

Festmarsch nach Motiven von "E-H-z-S-C-G", S 522

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: circa 1859; Weimar, Germany

12.

Marche hérorïque, S 510

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: circa 1848; Weimar, Germany

13.

Huldigungsmarsch, S 228

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1853; Weimar, Germany

14.

Ungarischer Marsch zur Krönungsfeier in Ofen-Pest, S 523

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1870

15.

Siegesmarsch for Piano, S 233a

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: circa ?1870

16.

Ungarischer Geschwindmarsch, S 233

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1870

17.

Vom Fels zum Meer, S 229

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1853-1856; Weimar, Germany

18.

Küntslerfestzug zur Schillerfeier, S 520

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1857-1860; Weimar, Germany

19.

Rákoczi March, S 244b no 1

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

20.

Csárdás (2) for Piano, S 225

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1884-1886; Rome, Italy

21.

Csárdás macabre for Piano, S 224

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1881-1882; Rome, Italy

22.

Bülow-Marsch for Piano, S 230

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1883; Rome, Italy

23.

Heroischer Marsch im ungarischen Styl for Piano, S 231

by Franz Liszt

■ Performer: Leslie Howard (Piano)

■ Period: Romantic

■ Written: 1840; Hungary

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