The fact that Kurt Weill's posthumous reputation hangs largely upon his music for the stage has diverted attention away from his significant achievements elsewhere, most notably the two symphonies, and the Violin Concerto. Neglected in the concert-hall and recording studio alike, these arresting works demonstrate Weill's close affinity with the Second Viennese School, whilst at the same time owing much to the influences of Hindemith, Busoni and even Mahler. The Concerto for violin and wind orchestra dates from 1924, and was never actually played by its dedicatee, Joseph Szigeti. The notion of setting the solo violin almost exclusively as a rhapsodic foil to the mordant acerbity of the wind band is an inspired one. The interplay between these essentially diverse elements is striking, particularly in the extended Andante which opens the work. The soloist here is Yuval Waldman, whose lush, semitic tone makes him an ideal exponent of this work. He is ably supported by Johannes Somary and the Amor Artis Orchestra who are generally very able, if occasionally reticent in certain aspects of Weill's pungent scoring. Nevertheless, the performance is generally superior to its only rival in the catalogue on DG under David Atherton.
Weill's setting of Kiddush, the prayer of thanksgiving for the Sabbath evening wine, was written for the seventy-fifth anniversary of New York's Park Avenue Synagogue. The work sets the incantations of the Cantor against blues-influenced responses for the chorus, underpinned by a discreet organ part. This touching threnody recalls the composer's childhood, and his family associations with the Synagogue at Dessau, at which Weill's father had been principal cantor. The solo tenor, Grayson Hirst sings most eloquently, and his diction in the Hebrew text is exemplary.
Of the three highly contrasted works on this CD, all of which reflect divergent aspects of the composer's personality, the Kleine Dreigroschenmusik will be the most familiar offering. As I suggested earlier, there are dangers in under-playing the harsher areas of Weill's scoring, and it is certainly true in this performance.
The Dreigroschenoper combines his experience of the decadence of the Weimar Republic with Brecht's acrimonious social satire, in what is now recognized as the quintessential stage work of its time. With its maudlin assemblage of dance rhythms set in a period idiom, the suite offers many opportunities for dissaffected candour in its short duration. In this performance, Mack the Knife sounds clean-cut and respectable, and surely much more could have been made of the sleezy saxophone glissando at the start of the ''Ballad of the easy life''. Faster sections do have the requisite bite and urgency, and the playing is uniformly excellent, even if sometimes a little unimaginative.
Such problems are trifling when one considers the advantages of the fine sound-quality and the integrity of the playing on this CD, and Newport Classic deserve our thanks for a valuable addition to the catalogue.'