An anniversary that has introduced much new music to me this year is that of Mozart's German contemporary, Joseph Martin Kraus. Kraus, who died in 1792, was the brightest musical constellation at the artistically enlightened court of Gustavus III of Sweden. Admired by Haydn and Gluck, his music shares qualities with both, while retaining a character, if not always a distinctive one, of its own. Concerto Cologne (Capriccio) have already released a first-rate disc of four symphonies by Kraus which I reviewed in August. Now we have two discs featuring further symphonies, a violin concerto, an Overture, a Sinfonia and a short piece in the character of a march which Kraus penned for a significant state occasion from 1789 and which is a reworking of a march in Act I of Mozart's Idomeneo.
One piece only, a Symphony in C minor, is common to all three discs but, since it is a sturdy and masterly work, often powerful in its expressive language, its presence, threefold, is welcome. Its origins are somewhat confusing: Kraus apparently composed it in 1782 but in the key of C sharp minor. Then, in the following year, he revised it, bringing it down a semitone to C minor, fleshing out the textures with oboes, bassoons and four horns, expanding the material, dispensing with the harpsichord continuo and removing the minuet of the earlier version. In this stylistically advanced form Kraus dedicated the piece to Haydn who is reputed to have directed its first performance. Certainly, it is one of the two most impressive symphonies on these discs, the other being the Symphonie funebre, also in C minor. Kraus wrote it for the funeral of Gustavus who had been assassinated at a masked ball in March 1792 (providing the plot for Verdi's opera). By the end of the same year the composer, too, had died. Like the other C minor Symphony, the Symphonie funebre includes four horns, but is even more darkly coloured than the other, opening with portentous drum-beats. Another Symphony, in C major, features both on the Capriccio disc and the new one with the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment. It, too, is an engaging work, dating from 1781, airier in spirit but slighter in content than the C minor symphonies.
Comparing performances is difficult. Concerto Cologne and the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment are both period-instrument bands; the Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra, on the other hand, is not. All the playing is of a high standard though there are patches of weak woodwind playing in the Age of Enlightenment recording. I also had the feeling here that insufficient rehearsal time had been allowed. But the playing at its best, as it is in the Overture to Voltaire's tragedy Olympie, for which Kraus provided incidental music, and the C minor Symphony, is alert, clear and animated. The Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra, while never less than efficient, seldom realizes the colourful and rich textures which are so well brought out by the Age of Enlightenment. But the playing is lively and the direction from Martin Sieghart often appears to give a clearer lead than Anthony Halstead achieves with the OAE. Furthermore, the Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra disc, alone offers us an opportunity of hearing the Symphonie funebre.
In summary, no single disc will provide readers with a full picture of Kraus the symphonist. If I had to choose one then it would be the Capriccio recording, mainly on the strength of its programme. But all three can be confidently recommended. Documentation is especially thorough in the OAE package, though Halstead, who directs the performances, is omitted from the list of players. Does he direct from the harpsichord—there is one, though it is not mentioned—or does he actually conduct? An amusing juxtaposition describes him elsewhere as a British conductor and French horn player; a Wonderland continuo player too, perhaps.'