Between the heyday of Madetoja and Merikanto in the 1920s and early ’30s and the breakthrough of Sallinen and Kokkonen in the mid-1970s, Finnish opera is only patchily represented in recordings. During that time the most prolific figures were Armas Launis, whose Aslak Hetta (Ondine, 9/05) has proved something of a revelation, and Tauno Pylkkänen, composer of nine operas in post-Puccinian style. The superbly informative booklet to this new recording of Pylkkänen’s second opera tells us that hearing Launis’s Kullervo in 1934 was a decisive turning-point for him. But the ‘Finnish basis’ Pylkkänen claimed to find in Launis is far less in evidence in his own work, at least in Mare and her Son, which was premiered in 1945, had a dozen performances until 1953, and then disappeared from view before the concert performances in Tallinn in 2004 from which the present CDs are taken.

The story is set in the Estonian province of Livonia in 1343. Mare (rhymes with Lara) has lost six sons in battle with the German occupiers and is determined to save the last of them, Imant, at any cost. That cost proves to be the betrayal of her own people, as a result of which Imant drowns himself in shame, and Mare is stoned and follows her son to a watery grave.

Stylistically, Pylkkänen was so late with his romanticism he pretty much missed the boat altogether, certainly so far as international recognition goes. He has been called the Finnish Menotti – not as a put-down, though the label could easily be turned against him. As with Menotti, Pylkkänen’s music is fluent and well paced yet feels curiously anonymous, with little of the abrasiveness and high voltage that enables the likes of Launis – not to mention Janácek and Britten – to maintain dramatic tension. As with Launis, Puccini is a constant presence. But Pylkkänen’s temperament sits more comfortably within the traditions and demands of the provincial opera house, and that is both the strength and the weakness of Mare and her Son; whatever sense of dramatic necessity may initially have fired it is dissipated in a wash of musical stereotyping. Even so, the dances for the Act 2 merrymaking at the German-occupied castle are pleasing in a somewhat generic way, and the set-piece confrontations press all the right buttons.

In short, this is a fine opera to have on in the background, and it makes an excellent vehicle for bold voices, of which there are more than a few on this lovingly prepared premiere recording. Raimo Sirkiä as the tragic son is occasionally under strain from the taxing tessitura, but with that comes a touching vulnerability that gets to the heart of the matter. The part of Mare has been restored to its full, vocally demanding glory, and Kirsi Tiihonen rises superbly to the challenge. Hannu Lintu and his Estonian chorus and orchestra make a strong case for the work, and Ondine’s recording is once again of demonstration quality. Recommendable to all who prefer their opera to be instantly gratifying rather than challenging.