If the Dutch have been keeping such a composer as Alphons Diepenbrock to themselves all these years (Chandos's continuing survey of his orchestral music is proving him a figure of real stature), what else have they been hiding? Are the works of Anton Berlijn (1817-70) worth investigating (to have had nine operas and seven ballets staged suggests that he was at least competent)? What of the once highly-rated symphonies of Cornelius Dopper (1870-1939) or the symphonic poems (Zeelandia, Zelma, Zevenzot, Zonneweg, Zotskap—and those are just the ones beginning with 'z') of Frits Koeberg (1876-1961)? What, indeed, of Richard Hol, once regarded as Bruckner's ambassador to The Netherlands, or of Johannes Verhulst, still spoken of as the most important figure in Dutch nineteenth-century music, or of his twentieth-century successor Willem Pijper?
As Hol's pupil and Pijper's teacher, Johan Wagenaar (1862-1941) seems a central enough figure for the next phase of the investigation. All the works in this collection were composed in the twentieth century but their style was formed in the nineteenth, with Richard Strauss as the most recent as well as the most obvious influence. Wagenaar's strong suits are a talent for brilliant and inventive orchestration (more than a hint of Berlioz at times), a happy gift for long, ardent melodies and a resourceful skill in developing them. This goes with a shrewd ability to construct motives that lend themselves to ingenious working-out, and Wagenaar's accomplishment here (and his infectious enjoyment of his combinatorial skill) is so thorough that occasionally he doesn't worry too much if the lyrical expansion he's working towards refuses to take off: once in a while he is quite content to let development take the place of sustained melodic invention. This robs Saul and David of the dramatic weight that it continually promises, and Le Cid of the quasi-Elgarian nobilmente towards which it strives. But when his melodic source flows freely, or when his chosen subject is aptly parelleled by bustling motivic working, his success rate is high. The Twelfth Night and Taming of the Shrew overtures are both very enjoyable, lively and eventful, with tunes that sitck in the memory.
Wiener Dreivierteltakt is a rather Hollywooden attempt to revisit the territory of Ravel's La valse, but with Oscar Straus evoked more closely than any of his greater near-namesakes. Both Amphitrion and Cyrano de Bergerac, however, are welcome discoveries, the former a dapper comedy overture, the latter illustrating Cyrano the warrior and the man of iron will as well as Cyrano the lover in themes that are skilful in their construction and their contrast. A bit of a curate's egg, but the parts that are excellent are really very good indeed. Vividly energetic performances, and a decently clean recording.'