For works that are so seldom performed in the concert-hall, Weill’s Second Symphony and his Violin Concerto have both notched up a healthy number of recordings. The Second Symphony was composed in the summer of 1933 as a commission from the Princesse de Polignac, when Weill was living in France having fled from the Nazis. It has many textural and melodic affinities with Der Silbersee, the last work Weill completed in Germany, and Die sieben Todsunden, the first piece he wrote in France. Last year Kent Nagano teamed the Symphony with Todsunden and that seemed to me an ideal coupling.
Within the whole picture of Weill’s life and works, the Symphony could be seen as a farewell to his youth and to his country of birth. After 1933 he would declare that he had no nationality (until he could say “I’m an American!” in 1941). The agitated, distressed sound of the opening movement gives way to the second part – with its resigned, marching theme at the start, like the two men at the end of Silbersee going forth into the unknown. But towards the end of this second movement, despite its melancholy mood the music seems to look forward with a five-note phrase which anticipates exactly the refrain of Rose’s aria from Act 1 of Street Scene, with the words “maybe it will be”. I still like the Nagano version very much, and have an undying affection for Gary Bertini’s trail-blazing 1967 recording, a much harsher interpretation. Jansons and the BPO give the symphony its most sumptuous performance and recording so far – one feels like thumbing one’s nose at Schoenberg who dismissed Weill completely (as did Webern). As his centenary approaches (in 2000), Weill’s music is becoming more and more established and the two halves of his career merge into one.
The Violin Concerto is the earliest of his compositions to have achieved a place in the repertory. I’m very fond of Waltraud Wachter’s recording on Ondine with the Leipzig Symphony Orchestra under Max Pommer. More recently Chantal Juillet – on an excellent disc – sandwiched the work between the Korngold and Krenek concertos for Weill’s only appearance so far in Decca’s Entartete Musik project. Zimmermann makes a splendid soloist in this performance, highlighting the neo-classical characteristics of the piece.
The suite of tunes from Mahagonny was obviously designed by Wilhelm Bruckner-Ruggeberg to match the wit of Weill’s own Dreigroschenoper suite. It doesn’t quite work since the big operatic ensemble and arias sound a bit lost when boiled down to orchestral effects. But for those who shy away from Weill’s music-theatre works this new CD might be the ideal introduction to his music.'