If there is any truth to the notion that only sensible pricing will guarantee future demand for CDs, then this excellent new disc ought help spread the gripping musical gospel of Einojuhani Rautavaara far and wide. No other new music stands to benefit more from extensive exposure, not so much because of its quality (which in my book is beyond question), as because of an almost tangible connection with nature. Throughout this well-chosen programme, one constantly senses the joy of a man alone with the elements: awe-struck, contented and inspired. Bird-song comes from all directions, quite literally in the case of the ‘Concerto for birds and orchestra’ or Cantus arcticus, an Oulu University commission that sets taped bird-song against a rustic though often peaceful orchestral backdrop. Vaughan Williams springs to mind, especially in the second movement, ‘Melancholy’, where the birds enter first and ethereal strings follow. The piece ends with the reassuring cacophony of ‘Swans Migrating’, excellently recorded here.
The Finnish conductor Hannu Lintu is still in his early thirties and directs a fine performance, though I thought the flutes at the beginning of ‘The Bog’ (Cantus’s first movement) rather overaccentuated. The bird-song tape blends well with the music, more prominently than on Max Pommer’s Leipzig recording for Ondine/Catalyst, but with just as much atmosphere.
Ondine also offers fine alternative versions of the First Piano Concerto and Third Symphony (out of seven) but Lintu’s performances stand up well, most notably of the Brucknerian Symphony, an impressive and often dramatic work that begins and ends in the key of D minor. Rautavaara’s orchestration incorporates four Wagner tubas, though some of the finest material is also the quietest – the string writing from 6'50'' into the first movement and the ravishing episode that grows out of it, for example. The slow movement is sullen but haunting, the scherzo occasionally suggestive of Nielsen or Martinu and the finale brings the parallels with Bruckner fully within earshot.
Rautavaara’s piano concertos now number three (the latest was written for Ashkenazy), but the First has a brilliance and immediacy that should please both orchestral adventurers and piano aficionados. The solo writing employs clusters and much filigree fingerwork, but it is the noble, chorale-like second movement that leaves the strongest impression. Laura Mikkola gives a good performance, though Ondine’s Ralf Gothoni (again under Pommer) – who also offers us the Second Concerto – is both more focused and more colourful. Still, Naxos provide a marginally fuller sound picture as well as half an hour’s worth of extra music (73'32'' as compared with Ondine’s 42'25'') at a far cheaper price; but those who care about the work should also hear Gothoni. Viewed overall, this is an excellent CD, concisely annotated by the composer.'