Performances of the symphonies of Bohuslav Martinů are increasingly numerous these days. By contrast, his earliest orchestral endeavours remain obscure. Bärenreiter Praha, however, is determined to throw new light upon them, having recently added three to its Hire Library.
The earliest is Posvícení, for flute and 7-part string orchestra, (with 3 violin and 2 cello parts). Written in 1907, when Martinů was just 16, it is a short continuous suite with several dance-like episodes, quoting a folk song still familiar to most Czechs. It is not a concertante work; the undemanding flute part simply adds colour and clarity to the texture. The mood is resolutely cheerful, and the lively closing section is sure to leave audiences smiling.
The second of these pieces, from 1913-14, is the most mysterious. The manuscript has no title page, and so the piece is known by its number in Halbreich‘s catalogue of Martinů’s works: H 90. It was once thought incomplete, but is in fact an intact movement lasting about 10 minutes. It owes much to Debussy and Ravel but has a sound all its own, thanks largely to the glittering commentary of harp, celesta and piano. A passionate central statement on strings is flanked by more meditative music. The work concludes in a whisper, the final tam-tam stroke setting the seal on this most obscure of Martinů discoveries.
The most substantial of these scores is the Little Dance Suite of 1919, originally intended for performance by the Czech Philharmonic in 1920, but withdrawn at rehearsal by Václav Talich. His reasons are not known but the quality of the music cannot be among them. This „little“ suite lasts 40 minutes or so and is a joy from start to finish. All traces of Impressionsim are banished as Martinů turns instead to his Czech heritage for inspiration. The opening Waltz is a succession of sparkling, beautifully orchestrated episodes, each reworking an unassuming idea played by solo violin at the start. The central Trio entrusts a heart-warming melody to solo cello, viola and violin in turn.
The second movement "Píseň" (Song) is a delightfully lyrical utterance. Bucolic exchanges between oboe and horn launch a movement full of the spirit of Dvořák. The melodic invention is fresh and unaffected, the mood sunny and optimistic right through to the tender violin solo of the closing bars.
The wind and percussion alone deliver the outer sections of the Scherzo, by turns mischievous and martial. The central Trio - given to lavishly divided strings – is glowingly lyrical, the warmer textures disguising the return of a theme from the Scherzo.
The final "Allegro à la polka" begins with a dizzyingly inventive succession of ideas, only gradually settling on the polka rhythms indicated in the title. Here, Martinů’s admiration of Smetana is at its clearest. The centre of the movement is dominated by a magnificent theme in B major which, in the final bars, combines with the polka to form a rousing conclusion.
The Little Dance Suite is a major re-discovery, undeserving of oblivion. Stylistically, it has little in common with later Martinů, though its sense of exhilaration is recognisably the same as in his symphonies. Like them, it deserves to make its way in the world.
Michael Crump
(Translation: Elizabeth Robinson)
(from [t]akte 2/2013)