The first volume of Neeme Jarvi's survey of Estonian music (originally issued on LP and cassette in 1987) comes on CD and the second is now released in all three formats. As I pointed out first time round, Estonia was even slower than Finland to find its own independent musical voice and there was no major figure like Sibelius to give it direction. The first volume in this series introduces a significant figure in Heino Eller, who belongs to the same generation as Martinu and Prokofiev. His pupils included Kaljo Raid, with whom he shares this record, as well as Tubin and Part. The Elegia for harp and strings was something of a discovery and I have played it often since its first appearance. It is a most imaginative and beautiful piece, full of nobility and eloquence. Dawn is a tone-poem written at the end of the First World War, recalling early Sibelius as well as the Russian nationalists while the Five Pieces transcriptions of early piano pieces, call to mind Marina Nestyeva's verdict in Grove: ''the northern colouring of Eller's music places it close to Grieg while his refined nervous tension and impetuousness align him with Scriabin''. I wrote in my original review that the Elegia left me wanting to hear one of Eller's large-scale works, and I did ultimately manage to track down LPs of two of the string quartets and a number of the tone-poems on Melodiya (not generally available). I do hope that Jarvi, who has so enriched the catalogue, will now go on to give us one of Eller's symphonies.
Raid left Estonia at about the same time as Tubin (1944) and settled in Canada: his First Symphony comes from those troubled years and was written when he was 21 and still studying with Eller. The work reveals a good feeling for proportion and a developing rather than fully-formed personality, and it is certainly good to have it on CD, particularly in such a committed performance.
The longest piece on the new disc is the Symphony in C sharp minor by Artur Lemba who, like Eller, was born in the 1880s. At the time of its composition he was not much older than Raid when he wrote his First Symphony. Not only is it a highly accomplished and fluent work, it is also immediately attractive. Unfortunately, Lemba does not have an entry in Grove and the accompanying note is not particularly forthcoming about the symphony—it does little more than record its date (1908) and the fact that it was the first Estonian symphony to be written. I would imagine that like the first generation of Estonians, Johannes Kappel and Miina Harma, who graduated in the 1880s, Lemba probably studied in St Petersburg for this symphony has a strong Russian and Slavonic feeling, reminiscent of, say, Kalinnikov or any post-Borodin symphonist, and also Dvorak; and at times (the beginning of the finale) one wonders whether Lemba had heard Bruckner. The very opening could (for a few bars only) even deceive one into thinking it was by Elgar! It is a long piece of some 40 minutes, well sustained in argument and expertly laid out. The scherzo is particularly delightful, and the work as a whole moves fluently with no idea outstaying its welcome. It is a real symphony, even if at this stage in his career the composer lacked a distinctive profile. This same drawback applies to Rudolf Tobias, whose Julius Caesar Overture was the first Estonian orchestral piece to be composed.
Eller's Twilight was written a little earlier than Dawn and its rather touching opening may have made an impression on the young Tubin, for the latter's early piano preludes have much the same atmosphere. It is a gentle and reflective piece, which would not look amiss in an orchestral suite by Suk or Novak. Veljo Tormis is in his late fifties and judging from his setting of Runo XVII of the Kalevala, he is a resourceful composer for voices. His Overture No. 2 is overtly inspired by Tubin's Fifth Symphony but its more inward-looking quieter sections are more persuasive than the busier outer ones. In the 1960s Arvo Part was eclectic, influenced by Shostakovich, Stravinsky Bartok, Tubin and the Second Viennese School but the Cantus in memory of Benjamin Britten is quite individual, an elegy of great beauty. It is a simple, diatonic and highly effective score that is athematic; string scales descend over slow moving pedals and tolling bells, and there is a strong atmosphere. It is not included on the LP but is to be found on both the CD and the cassette. The recording quality is eminently truthful and the performances communicate enthusiasm. I do hope these discs will reach a wide audience.'