Can’t recall the last time that I stayed in a car to hear the end of a performance by an orchestra on the radio. But that’s what I did today on this steamy July 4, taking a break from sitting around our house to go down the hill and buy some egg sandwiches and a couple of newspapers. 

I was listening to the local classical station as I pulled into a gas station, and I stayed in the car for close to ten minutes waiting to hear it until the end. At first it sounded like Sibelius – perhaps some tone poem I had never heard of – but towards the end it slowed down to a crawl, and the shifting harmonies sounded more like Rautavaara, especially with what sounded like arpeggios from the celesta. So that was my guess as the final chords came to a close: Rautavaara.

Wrong! It was actually the Second Symphony of Alan Hovhaness, conducted by Gerard Schwartz. The piece bears the name “Mysterious Mountain”, and as the announcer from Albany’s well-programmed classical station WMHT explained, the spiritual atmosphere of the work was meant to suggest the composer’s belief that the mountains, like the great Pyramids, were symbols of man’s aspirations to be close to God. 

I’ve always had a terrible prejudice against Hovhaness thanks to a cranky buyer from Tower Records who would contort his face in the ugliest way when someone mentioned the composer. “I hate Hovhaness!” he would sneer in miserable fashion – not a pretty sight, and definitely not something that made you want to hear the composer’s music. When I got back to the house this afternoon, I realized that I had a few CDs of his music, including “Mysterious Mountain,” in a performance on Telarc by Gerard Schwarz and the Royal Liverpool Philaharmonic Orchestra (Amazon). Not sure if this is the performance I heard on the radio, but it’s what I’m listening to now as I pen this post. 

The first movement had traces of Vaughan Williams in his most lyrical manner. The second movement is a double fugue, with a hymn chorale in the brass rising among fast-scurrying strings – like mountain peaks rising above the clouds. I’m now in the third movement, which is exactly where I was earlier when I stopped in the car to listen. The shifting, modal string sonorities once again conjure up Vaughan Williams (of Thomas Tallis mode), and, with the addition of the celesta, Rautavaara, but this time I know it’s Hovhaness’s music. Wow, did he really write 67 Symphonies? I’ve got a way to go to acquaint myself with them, but for now I’m very glad to have heard “Mysterious Mountain”. If readers have any recommendations for “next listens” of his music, please send them my way.

It’s now early evening and the heat and humidity that have gripped the Hudson Valley all day have settled in. I’m fairly stuck to my chair in the living room without much energy. Not the worst place to be since I still have plenty of Independence Day listening to do, including Copland’s Third Symphony, which I hope will rouse me from my lethargy. With that in mind, I’d like to mention a terrific album that I started the day off with: the Orchestra of New England’s collection of the Orchestral Music of Charles Ives – conducted by James Sinclair on the Koch label.

Along with the four numbered symphonies and the “Holidays” Symphony, this CD perfectly rounds out any basic collection of Ives’ orchestral music. The mix of repertoire is perfect, including the wonderful Country Band March, the four Ragtime Dances, A Set of Pieces and Three Places in New England.  It’s an Ives collection for people who don’t think they like Ives as well as people who know that they do. It’s fun, quirky and enormously entertaining, and I think I’ll give it another spin now, as I get ready to light the barbecue and do some grilling in the July Fourth twilight.