Still highly regarded in his native Austria, Franz Schmidt has never found more than a minority following in this country. He was born in Bratislava, though he would perhaps have preferred the Hungarian form of the name, Poszony or the German form, Pressburg; it is to the loyalty of the present Czechoslovak affiliation of the city that these welcome records are due, and especially to the sympathetic advocacy of his pupil L'udovit Rajter. His own national inclinations were towards Vienna, but from a position that took note of Hungarian music.
His four symphonies make fascinating and often very rewarding listening. The First, written in 1896–9, is more easily, and misleadingly, described by its influences than by their sum total. That is to say, one can readily suggest Richard Strauss in the warm, richly scored opening (more than a hint of Don Juan here) and the side-slipping enharmonic modulations, Wagner in some of the orchestral writing, especially for horns, Bruckner at his most Schubertian, and a general suggestion of Brahmsian expansiveness. Added to this, there is an agreeably tangy Magyar clarinet melody in the slow movement, nicely played here with a proper appreciation of its provenance. If this inevitably sounds like an enthusiastic pot-pourri of styles, one should add that it is held together by a vigour of invention and natural command of symphonic writing that give it much charm. No wonder it won the Gesellschaft der Musikfreunde Prize, unanimously, when Schmidt conducted the first performance in Vienna in 1902.
The Second Symphony, of 1913, is less successfully eclectic. Schmidt had by now taken note of the Expressionist phase in Strauss and others, and there is at times a somewhat uneasy mix between this and the more traditionally lyrical elements in his style. However, the first movement is lively enough; the central variations give Schmidt the occasion for some bright, well-invented music and the finale (not a success in the First Symphony) is neatly managed. The Third Symphony pursues the lighter side of Schmidt's idiom: it was composed in answer to a competition mounted by Columbia Graphophone Company for a symphony ''in the spirit of Schubert''. It is hard to see quite what was intended, and in 1928 there was the danger of mere pastiche. Schmidt walks easily past that trap: he produces a pleasant work in the 'traditional' four movements—Allegro molto moderato, Adagio, Scherzo and Trio, Lento finale—that in style really owes less to Schubert than to Brahms and his technique of developing variation. The Adagio is the most successful of these movements, the real problem with the symphony is that in making his style more direct Schmidt exposes a certain lack of distinctiveness in his material.
Any such problem is completely swept away by the grandeur of the Fourth Symphony. This has long been acknowledged as his masterpiece, and is the one work to have made any serious impression on English music-lovers and record collectors. It was prompted by the loss of his young daughter; and the tendency to tragic introspection that makes for some of the more impressive passages of the Second Symphony is now given full rein by a composer at the height of his mastery. The work is in one movement, with a central funeral march surrounded by two faster movements. The work opens, and closes, on a valedictory trumpet theme initially building up to a superb climax as entry into a grave, profoundly felt symphony, one of the last in the great Austro-German tradition. Little music of this nature or quality, was being written in 1934, and Schmidt (who died five years later) never seems to have surpassed his achievement in this work. I am glad that it is available separately, for though the whole set is interesting to hear, and I for one certainly intend to return to the earlier works, the Fourth Symphony has a claim on any listener with a love of late-romantic music. I would go further and suggest that it should more than occasionally take its place in concert repertories here as well as in Germany and Austria.
The recordings are decently balanced and reflect well the richness and sonority of Schmidt's scoring. Obviously L'udovit Rajter is strongly attached to the symphonies, and directs performances that do well by the music even if the players are sometimes a little stretched (it is a pity, for instance that such beautiful horn writing should not find a stronger section of players in this orchestra). The boxed set has brief notes on the music: more on this and less on the performers would have been welcome.
Coincidentally, this month sees another version of Schmidt's Third Symphony, by the Slovak Philharmonic Orchestra (another Bratislava-based orchestra) under Libor Pesek. There is, as it happens, little to choose between the two performances. Perhaps Pesek gives the rhythms and, in the Adagio, the textures a little more definition, but the recording quality is similar, which is to say perfectly acceptable if not outstanding. Choice here can rest on whether or not those interested in Schmidt find virtue in the consistency of having the same interpretative hand guiding all four symphonies, for as can be seen, the Rajter set allows for the works to be bought individually. For myself, I would prefer the complete Rajter set if wanting all four symphonies, marginally the Pesek if the Third Symphony alone is at issue.'