The Violin Concerto, which made Benjamin Frankel’s name with the concert public when it was premiered in 1951 (he was already well known as a film composer) is inscribed “In memory of the six million”. It is ‘about’ the Holocaust, in fact, and the latest issue in CPO’s absorbing and invaluable series is soberly clad in deepest black. Understandable, but misleading: the slow movement of the concerto is a moving elegy, expressing deep sadness with beautiful lyricism, but there is nothing of horror or bitterness here. There is an edge to the brilliant and witty, rather Walton-like scherzo and something of sobriety to the expressive first movement, but I defy anyone to listen to the finale, in which a violin line of lovely, hovering grace turns into a light-hearted, even high-spirited waltz, without smiling. It is a work with a grieving centre, but not a Requiem.
The Viola Concerto of 1967 is, I think, even finer. It begins even more arrestingly than the earlier work with a long, lyrical melody over a lapping accompaniment and a deeper pulse. This theme is never literally repeated but it is recalled twice, after more angular music, and its last appearance is quite haunting. The serene slow movement is of similar form; so is the exuberant rondo finale, but Frankel was by now a past master at his own individual, highly tonal and melodious adaptation of serialism, and it gives the whole piece an audible logic and unity that is quite absorbing. You realize that a beautiful idea in the finale is a transformed variant of a spiky one from the first movement, and you want to play the whole work again to find out how it was done.
Something similar happens in the delightful Serenata concertante. It is almost light music (Frankel described it as a ‘street scene’ in which passing traffic, a distant jazz band, lovers dancing and all manner of other things could be heard) but strictly ordered, all the episodes derived from a single 12-note row. For listeners who have never been able to get on with serialism the strange experience will not be discovering a serial work that is as engagingly tuneful as this one, but discovering that Frankel’s manipulation of his row is perfectly audible. All three performances are fine, and the recordings very pleasing. If you still haven’t tried Frankel’s music this coupling is an ideal introduction to him.'