Hudobný život - Slovakia

Pianists do not often encounter the music of the Danish composer Carl Nielsen. Most frequently they appear as accompanying partners in chamber works for violin or oboe, though even that is relatively rare. Nielsen himself was a violinist and, by his deepest artistic nature, a symphonist. All the more valuable, then, is the opportunity to hear his music in the format of piano four-hand playing.
The Danish piano duo Rikke Sandberg/Kristoffer Hyldig undertook the effort, and their search in Copenhagen archives bore fruit, indeed, works coming directly from the composer’s own pen. The result is the premiere recording of two fragments from Nielsen’s opera Saul and David, and above all his explosive Third Symphony, known by the subtitle Espansiva.
The Prelude to Act IV of Saul and David (Allegro burrascoso) and the Battle Music with the curtain lowered (Allegro violente) come from the piano reduction of the opera and are the only sections prepared by Nielsen himself. Engaging a second répétiteur during opera rehearsals is a rather unusual practice, yet the orchestral scoring of the original demands it. These pieces make an excellent opening to the album, literally an invitation into Nielsen’s musical imagination, since his compositional handwriting is already fairly mature here and easily recognizable. The challenges of four-hand playing (especially those related to pedaling and phrasing) are handled by the male–female duo without the slightest difficulty; the whole breathes naturally and pulses pleasantly.
The real test of ensemble cohesion is the original opening of the Third Symphony, with its obsessively repeated note A in multiple octave doublings. In the piano sound, that orchestral tutti strikingly recalls the opening piece of Ligeti’s cycle Musica ricercata, yet the music immediately takes a completely different course as it plunges into the whirl of a sonata allegro. Its passionate pulse opens doors to various chambers; frenzied counterpoint and a coquettish waltz flash by like apparitions, while the constant balancing between major and minor and the teasing semantic ambiguity keep both performers and listener continually alert.
In the piano “reduction,” everything is presented almost on a platter; the sonata discourse can be observed as if under a magnifying glass. Sensitive pedal work and precise articulation in the bass register greatly help in this regard, and the performers cannot be denied emotional commitment or musical spark.
The second movement (Andante pastorale) is an explicit natural scene, largely built on ostinato patterns. A peculiarity of the orchestral original is the inclusion of two human voices—a male and a female, without text, singing only yearning vocalises. Unfortunately, these are missing in the piano version; the vocal lines are apparently woven into the instrumental fabric but disappear within it. The performers themselves could potentially have taken on these parts, though they evidently had their reasons not to.
In the scherzo (Poco allegretto), with yet another dose of almost furiously frenetic counterpoint, the piano version already begins to lag somewhat behind the orchestral original; this is perhaps even more true in the final Allegro. It is built on a chorale theme that calls for the vocal qualities of violins and violas playing on the G string and, of course, the harmonies of the wind instruments. Even the finest Steinway cannot convey these. Nevertheless, this does nothing to change the fact that this is a very high-quality premiere recording that should certainly attract the attention of all admirers of this unorthodox Danish symphonist.
The album also contains a short humorous bonus. Højby Skyttemarch (The Højby Shooting Club March) is an occasional miniature akin to Suchoň’s March of the Pezinok Sports Club. The music was composed by the composer’s father, Niels Jørgensen, and arranged by his son Carl. The recording reconstructs an incomplete four-hand version (Nielsen left a complete two-hand version; the fragmentary four-hand version was reconstructed by Kristoffer Hyldig) and serves as a charming full stop to an excellent album.
I consider the title interesting not only because it is a good example of how a small country can approach the cultivation of its own cultural heritage. The importance of piano transcriptions emerged unexpectedly about five years ago during the period of pandemic lockdowns. And I fear it is even more relevant today, when we are witnessing increasingly alarming cuts to cultural funding and when two people at one piano may appear a far more economical option compared to a fully staffed symphony orchestra…
(The text was published in the magazine Hudobný život, No. 03/2026.)