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Contents:
DDD 61:17 - Recorded at Mosfilms Studios, Moscow, November 2005 TL Fritz Brun was born in Lucerne, Switzerland, on 18th August 1878. His father, a secondary school teacher, died when Fritz was eight years old. After early piano lessons, which enabled him to contribute to the family income with an engagement as a harmonium player at the Lucerne penitentiary church, Fritz continued to study theory under the organist Joseph Breitenbach. His subsequent piano teachers were Peter Fassbänder and Willem Mengelberg, the latter at that time a young musical director of the Lucerne City Conservatory. It was thanks to the composers Friedrich Hegar and Hans Huber that in 1897 Fritz Brun was granted a scholarship, allowing him to complete his musical studies at the Cologne Conservatory. There he studied composition and conducting under Franz Wüllner (who had also been Mengelberg’s teacher) and perfected his piano technique under Max van de Sandt. Brun’s First String Quartet was composed in 1898. In 1901, after having declined a post as a piano teacher at the Zürich Conservatory, Brun settled in Berlin to work as a private “music maker” and teacher of Prince George of Prussia. This uncle of Emperor Wilhelm II, who at the same time acted as a friend and mentor to the young Swiss musician, owned a sizeable library covering various fields of interest. It was during his Berlin period that Brun composed his First Symphony, which, after having been read by Busoni, was performed in 1902 and was awarded the Paderewski Prize. After the Prince’s death the following year, Brun travelled to London where, during a period of a few months, he survived as a private piano teacher and arranger of music-hall songs. Afterwards he returned to Germany, to teach the piano and music theory at the Dortmund Conservatory but, with the bankruptcy of this institution, he lost his job. Brun’s Piano Quintet of 1902 was the last work he wrote outside his native country. In 1903 Brun returned to Switzerland and settled in Bern. For six years he was engaged as a piano teacher at the local music school. In 1909 he was nominated chief conductor of the Berner Musikgesellschaft (Bern Music Society) and its ensemble, the Berner Stadtorchester (Bern Municipal Orchestra) and at the same time leader of the two choral societies, the Cäcilienverein and Berner Liedertafel. During his “conducting” Bernese years, his Symphonies Nos.2-7 were created and successfully performed. In 1912 Brun married Hanna Rosenmund, and from this union three children were born. In June 1941, after a memorable performance of Beethoven’s “Missa Solemnis”, Brun resigned from his post, but returned to Bern for occasional guest conducting and as a chamber music player. He had retired to his lovely Villa Indipendenza in Morcote, on the shores of Lake Lugano, in order to concentrate on writing music, principally the composition of his Symphonies Nos. 8-10. Fritz Brun died on 29th November 1959; his ashes were buried in Grindelwald, close to his beloved triptych of mountains, the Eiger, Mönch and Jungfrau, which had inspired him so frequently and which was among his favourite walking destinations. Brun was a highly cultivated man who earned numerous honours and prizes. Among his friends were the composers Hermann Suter, Hans Huber, Friedrich Hegar, Othmar Schoeck (the dedicatee of his Second Symphony) and Volkmar Andreae (Brun’s fellow-student in Cologne), the conductors Hermann Scherchen, Artur Nikisch and Willem Mengelberg, the contralto Ilona Durigo, the sculptor Hermann Hubacher, and the German poet Hermann Hesse. He was said to be of a very earnest and rather gruff character; his vehement outbursts of temper could suddenly give way to a benevolent, serene smile. This is just what we hear in his music. A writer with Freudian leanings would deduce that this may have arisen because the young Fritz had been sent to play in a penitentiary church, but it is more probable that his childhood experiences in general may have left some marks. But it is very understandable that a serious musician like Brun will have had many occasions to fight against ignorance, superficiality, amateurism and bureaucracy. These enemies, which also abound in the world of music, are enough to make strong and energetic personalities either more demanding than they are already, or simply frustrated. Listening to Brun’s emotionally well-balanced symphonies, one feels that he could, at last, find his spiritual resting place. These ten large scale and demanding works make an overwhelming impression when we study, perform and listen to them over and over again. The present writer does not hesitate to compare Fritz Brun to Wilhelm Furtwängler (who was eight years Brun’s senior). This not only because of his similar artistic activities and eclectic, German symphonic-oriented musical language, but also because both became conductors after they had to postpone their initial plans to make their living as composers. Both Furtwängler and Brun wrote strong, almost autobiographical, self-analytical, sometimes hermetic symphonies, which only appeal to audiences with a feeling for rather tormented, uneasy musical dimensions, and are definitely not for the ears only. For these features, and for the fact that his music often describes nature and other titanic forces, Brun could also be called a “Swiss Sibelius”. In cases such as this, the listener has to open himself to dimensions that only music can reveal, more than any other form of art. Brun’s catalogue of orchestral works, apart from his ten Symphonies covering a period from 1901 to 1953, includes works as the symphonic poem Aus dem Buch Hiob (1906), Symphonischer Prolog (1942), Ouvertüre zur Jubiläumsfeier (1950) and Rhapsodie (1957, his last composition). For piano and orchestra there is a Concerto in A major (with symphony orchestra, 1946), a set of Variations on an Original Theme and a Divertimento (1944, 1954), both with strings. He also composed a Concerto for Cello and Orchestra (1947). Verheissung (1915), for mixed choir, organ and orchestra and Grenzen der Menschheit (1932) for male choir and orchestra are both settings of poems by Goethe. Three songs by Othmar Schoeck, from his Op.20 and Op.24, were orchestrated by Brun in 1917-19. Brun’s chamber music output include four String Quartets (1898, 1921, 1943 and 1949, the latter inspired by themes from the intermission signals of Swiss Radio), a Piano Quintet (1902), two Sonatas for Violin and Piano (1920, 1951) and a Sonata for Cello and Piano (1952). His vocal works include ten or so songs with piano accompaniment and an impressive collection of songs for unaccompanied or accompanied mixed, female or male choir, on texts by Goethe, Eichendorff, Uhland, Lenau, Mörike, Keller, some contemporary poets, or based on folk poetry. These were actually Brun’s most frequently performed compositions and still appear on programmes of choral societies today. Brun also collaborated expertly on various choral anthologies and collections of folk-songs from the Canton of Bern. Swiss musicologist Willy Schuh has described Brun’s musical style in a manner that has not been bettered: “To the listeners, his artistic world is not easily approachable. His works sound knotty and reserved at a first hearing, a struggle with the material and the form can be felt, and more than just perceptible sympathy and compassion: through a conscious build-up, his individual and, with that, essential features of his musical language. Although it has traditional ties to the sound world of Brahms and Bruckner, it has something absolutely original to say, and in this case, also authentically Swiss.” The sculptor Hermann Hubacher once wrote to Brun: “If one of your works is being played, I feel transposed to a world of your own, to a blossoming alpine meadow in between rumbling pieces of rock.” And composer Peter Mieg took the view that “Brun’s obstinate insistence on the form of the symphony and its way of treating musical thoughts does indeed appear as unique within Switzerland’s musical life. This large-scale form is also a characteristic of his less numerous chamber music works.” Symphony No. 9 in F Major “Conducting is a beautiful activity, yet I suffer under my own inadequacy, but also under those by the orchestra and the choirs – one is never able to realise everything as desired, much of it remains an unfilled wish” wrote the composer in 1941, after he had retired from his Bern directorship. The further quotation “And I also want to praise old age; its absorbed relation with the wonders of nature and with the secrets of life” can be considered as the motto of Brun’s Ninth of nine years later. Now in his seventies, the composer could look back to a very productive and successful artistic life and finally enjoy the autumn of life in Southern Switzerland, in a more than inspiring and soothing landscape full of sunshine and colours. The Ninth Symphony completed on July 28th, 1950, was premièred at the Zürich Tonhalle under the baton of Volkmar Andreae, on December12th of the same year. It was generally well received, although a reviewer did not seem to be satisfied with its calm and unpretentious ending. In my opinion, Brun had intended to show that the feelings he had come to express in the last movement did not need a finale-like closing, as if he realised that what could not been told with words, for once could not even been told with music. Unfortunately the reviewer did not realise that, more importantly, the symphony is a thoroughly melodic work; he just described it as “klangfreudig”. Brun’s Ninth can be considered as his opus magnum. It is indeed full of sunshine and happiness, but the composer’s intentions reveal more introvert, autobiographical intentions. On this occasion he had even decided to refrain from traditional symphonic rules and to create a work closer to a symphonic suite. In fact, he himself called it his “first programmatic work, a diary”. In the opinion of the present writer, Brun’s Symphony can be considered a three-way conversation piece: an intimate one with a beloved woman (3rd mvt), an extravert one with a group of friends (4th mvt.) and an introvert one with himself (5th mvt.). These three fiery episodes are preceded by two “divertimenti musicali”, one as an introduction to the whole (1st mvt.) and another to its two central conversation pieces (2nd mvt.). In fact, both the Prelude and the Serenade contain motifs reappearing later in more or less metamorphosed form, and also differently treated. Apart from having entitled each movement specifically, the composer had delivered to Andreae a detailed program, which may sound perhaps a bit too descriptive (or too earth-bound as far as some movements are concerned) in the ear of a demanding music lover re-reading it, after having listened to the demanding music described. This program note also figured on the back of the program leaflet of the Bern performance of the Symphony two years later (also conducted by Andreae): The introduction (First movement) thematically refers to the principal motif of the Third movement. It is the busy and turbulent preparation of the Serenade. The Serenade and the Love Scene (Second and Third movement) belong together. A group of young people play music in the nocturnal silence of a park; in front of the balcony of a house, behind its shutters, a lady closely observes both the arrangements and the playing. As the music dies away, the shutters open; the lady curtseys and the musicians take off. Only one stays – and shortly afterwards the Beauty is with him. – Both walk back and forth in the darkness of the trees. The girl listens with a trembling heart to the young man’s wooing courtship. Fourth movement: A group of befriended musicians, painters and sculptors gather together one evening in a restaurant of Zürich’s old town. The reception is joyful and everyone has something to tell. As long as the conversation is about family matters, events of the day and politics, it remains normal and calm. But it becomes heated as soon as artistic problems are discussed. Some participants react rebelliously and some other bang the table. An orderly discussion would easily help to solve the conflict. Of course, as long as all talk confusedly, this is difficult. One of the friends, an admired, mild and conciliatory nature, starts faintly to sing – a soft tune from the Opera “Martha”. It sounds a bit out of tune, but makes it possible that in no time the joyful atmosphere is being restored. The singer is being cheered, more drinks are ordered and everybody is happy about the reconfirmed friendship. Closing time: One has to leave. On the street, the freezing men stand around for a while and promise each other to meet again soon. And they scatter in all directions on the last streetcars. Fifth Movement:
“I see the great
magnificence This latter quote is from “Die Sternseherin Lise” (“Lise the star-seer”) by the German Romantic poet Matthias Claudius (1740-1815). The extended movement itself is a passionate symphonic poem about belief, hope and love for life. Compared to the third movement (in which a young couple reveals occasionally to be quarrelling), it has more than just one climatic moment, and its hymn-like motif is a variation of the secondary motif of the introduction - just to mention one of the various thematic connections, justifying the title of “Symphony” against that of “Suite”. Both the “main” (third and fifth) movements display exciting melodic and contrapuntal craftsmanship, besides Brun’s fabulous flair for orchestral transparency and colour, without the need of extravert effects. We should not forget some magnificent solo parts in the Serenade, a movement scored for a reduced ensemble. Once more, string players must often be faced with hair-raising technical difficulties; practically all symphonic works by this composer appear to be rather challenging to conductors and orchestras who are unwilling to rehearse an out-of-the-repertoire work more than usually. Brun’s Ninth is scored for a normal symphony orchestra of 3 flutes, pairs each of oboes, clarinets and bassoons, 4 horns, 3 trumpets, 3 trombones and timpani. A detailed analysis of each movement would go beyond the requirements of a CD booklet, but it would certainly be worth a musicologist’s study. The more one reads or listens to this work, the more one can discover treasures and sophisticated thematic connections. That Brun’s Symphonies require repeated listening before one really starts to fully appreciate them, lets us guess that they may have been written to allow us to go through a kind of “musical catharsis”. In any case, the third and fifth movement are both very demanding, if the listener wants to go beyond the purely enjoyment of its overall melodic and logically progressing character. One must not forget that at that time already, composers of serial, aleatoric and electronic music were imposing themselves against less reactionary composers like Stravinsky, Britten, Martinů, Henze and Zimmermann, who were already more “modern” than Brun. Brun’s renowned Swiss contemporaries Honegger, Martin and Sutermeister had broken with German symphonic tradition, but all this, fortunately, does not mean that he was not a child of his time and that his music should be forgotten. Our hearts keep their need to sing and love in music, no matter if other artist’s brains cry out loudly (and often chaotically), mainly under pretexts of artistic progress or originality. Finally, if we want to compare Brun’s Ninth with Strauss’s Sinfonia domestica, a similarly symphonic “personal diary”, there is not only the case to discover how immensely spiritualised can be the music of a 72 year old composer against that of a man of 39, who, in 1903, had produced an idyllic family picture through monumental orchestral forces. Brun’s work has its idyllic and bourgeois moments too, but it needs a smaller formation and less instrumental effects. It sets the listener of thinking, making him turn away from just enjoying a musical photo album. Aus dem Buch Hiob This very interesting tone poem for large orchestra was written in 1906, between the First and Second Symphony, after the 28 years old composer had definitely returned to Switzerland. It was the year in which he successfully performed (in Bern) Brahms’s First Piano Concerto. In the years immediately preceding and following the performance of this arduous work, Brun had given various recitals with solo and chamber pieces by Brahms. Consulting concert programs, we can see that Brun had dared and succeeded to promote Brahms in Bern at that time. Incidentally, Brun’s first appearance of 1909, as a newly appointed conductor of the Bernische Musikgesellschaft, included Brahms’s Violin Concerto with Carl Flesch as a soloist. The first performance of Aus dem Buch Hiob took place in Bern, on 28th February 1907, and was conducted by Carl Munzinger, Brun’s predecessor. A reviewer wrote that it was a “deep work, deserving greater diffusion, which it certainly will get”. However, as with many other youthful works by forgotten composers, this piece fell into oblivion, presumably for the usual cliché reservations that it reflected influences by other composers. Of course, nobody frowns in front of similarly influenced works written by world’s musical giants, and Brun’s occasional references to his model composer Brahms is more than simple plagiarisms. The work is based on a fascinating book of the Ancient Testament, dealing with the justice of God and the recognition that human sufferings enable mankind to regain its happiness; that a sinner’s sufferings have educational values and the Godless have no chance. Brun, having just surmounted his youthful years of deceptions and struggles, may have identified himself with Job, who after having had to defend his own firmness intrepidly, was to find out that God is just, either by punishing the righteous, or by leaving the culprits unpunished; this being a truth eluding from human conceptions about justice and morality. This symphonic poem in G minor is a sequel of episodes, in which a calm ascending, “fate”-like motif of quavers of gipsy inflection (suggesting Hebrew modals) and its echolike derivative of more chromatic semiquavers are used, either as developing material, or to create section’s themes, avoiding traditional variations patterns. After a short introduction, the first lyrical section depicts Job’s happiness and wealth, until a first confrontation with crisis, followed by a passionate outburst. Job’s life becomes peaceful again, through a beautiful section with a Clarinet solo, developed into a transparent development from the strings. Full orchestral forces come back in the following dramatic episode in B flat minor, dealing with Job’s crucial confrontation with Satan, his despair and outcry for justice and, finally, his purifying self-recognition. A further lyrical development in G Major with calm resolution describes Job’s enlightening. In the recapitulation-like ending, the re-embellished restatement of the initial thematic material suggests Job’s (and the composer’s) positive approach to life. This happens both in an expansive singing out by the strings against a moderate march-like support by the winds and the timpani, raising to an affirmative climax dying away into a transfigured pianissimo. This piece requires orchestral forces similar to the Ninth Symphony with the addition of double bassoon, tuba, and harp (very sparingly scored) and without one flute and one trumpet. It remains unpublished, as are most of the other orchestral works by Brun. German Notes by © Adriano, 2006
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