Cohn: Symphonies 3, 4, and 8
Kirk Trevor, Slovak Radio Symphony
MSR Classics
James Cohn (b. Newark, 1928) is a refreshing discovery. Not only is it a pleasure to discover a contemporary American composer who extolls the role of lyricism in music (“I’ve always tended to write in a melodic, rather than in a percussive way”), but it’s a plus to find someone who does it in so natural, straightforward, unpretentious a way. Still among the living at age 84 and working on new commissions even as I write, Cohn (he pronounces his name co-en) believes in writing to his listeners’ emotional, and not just intellectual needs, and he brings all the sonic resources of his orchestra to that end.
“His” orchestra, if I may use the term, has been standard with him for more than fifty years, ever since his Third Symphony (1955) heard on this program. It consists of five woodwinds, three brass, two percussionists, and a minimum of fifteen strings, with the understanding that more string players, if available, could be added to each part. Within these limitations, in part a reflection of the realities of musical life for the modern composer and the corresponding need to write with something other than a full 100-piece symphony orchestra in mind if one expects to be performed, Cohn has done very well for himself, as the present program bears witness. His music is immediately identifiable and accessible to listeners who have been put on a starvation diet by all the various “isms” that have come and gone in contemporary music – serialism and minimalism being the most odious.
In part, Cohn’s accessibility is a product of his ear for timbres and his unerring instinct for choosing the right instruments for what he wants to say. Orchestral musicians must simply love this guy for the way he writes to their instruments’ strengths, rather than torturing them to do the unnatural just to achieve a striking effect. Listen to the glorious clarinet melody over a kettledrum roll in the opening to Symphony No. 3, the fetchingly idiomatic use of the trumpet in the “Boogie” and “Drag” movements of his wonderful Miniatures for Orchestra, the hauntingly beautiful horn passages in the “Sunrise” and “Sunset” movements from the same work, or the fascinating dialogues in the strings in the Andante tranquillo of Symphony No. 4 (1956), and you will hear what I mean. Symphony No. 8 (1978) reveals a more concise, dramatic and turbulent element in Cohn’s music without betraying the salient qualities that I described earlier.
By the way, may I recommend an insightful 1987 interview by the indefatigable music commentator Bruce Duffie? It’s available on Duffie’s website, or you can access it easily from “External Links” in the Wikipedia article on the composer. In it, Cohn reveals himself to be a man who enjoys talking and has a lot to say about the role of the modern composer and the difficulties he faces in reaching his audience. It is well worth the time looking it up.
Regards,
RLP
Kirk Trevor, Slovak Radio Symphony
MSR Classics
James Cohn (b. Newark, 1928) is a refreshing discovery. Not only is it a pleasure to discover a contemporary American composer who extolls the role of lyricism in music (“I’ve always tended to write in a melodic, rather than in a percussive way”), but it’s a plus to find someone who does it in so natural, straightforward, unpretentious a way. Still among the living at age 84 and working on new commissions even as I write, Cohn (he pronounces his name co-en) believes in writing to his listeners’ emotional, and not just intellectual needs, and he brings all the sonic resources of his orchestra to that end.
“His” orchestra, if I may use the term, has been standard with him for more than fifty years, ever since his Third Symphony (1955) heard on this program. It consists of five woodwinds, three brass, two percussionists, and a minimum of fifteen strings, with the understanding that more string players, if available, could be added to each part. Within these limitations, in part a reflection of the realities of musical life for the modern composer and the corresponding need to write with something other than a full 100-piece symphony orchestra in mind if one expects to be performed, Cohn has done very well for himself, as the present program bears witness. His music is immediately identifiable and accessible to listeners who have been put on a starvation diet by all the various “isms” that have come and gone in contemporary music – serialism and minimalism being the most odious.
In part, Cohn’s accessibility is a product of his ear for timbres and his unerring instinct for choosing the right instruments for what he wants to say. Orchestral musicians must simply love this guy for the way he writes to their instruments’ strengths, rather than torturing them to do the unnatural just to achieve a striking effect. Listen to the glorious clarinet melody over a kettledrum roll in the opening to Symphony No. 3, the fetchingly idiomatic use of the trumpet in the “Boogie” and “Drag” movements of his wonderful Miniatures for Orchestra, the hauntingly beautiful horn passages in the “Sunrise” and “Sunset” movements from the same work, or the fascinating dialogues in the strings in the Andante tranquillo of Symphony No. 4 (1956), and you will hear what I mean. Symphony No. 8 (1978) reveals a more concise, dramatic and turbulent element in Cohn’s music without betraying the salient qualities that I described earlier.
By the way, may I recommend an insightful 1987 interview by the indefatigable music commentator Bruce Duffie? It’s available on Duffie’s website, or you can access it easily from “External Links” in the Wikipedia article on the composer. In it, Cohn reveals himself to be a man who enjoys talking and has a lot to say about the role of the modern composer and the difficulties he faces in reaching his audience. It is well worth the time looking it up.
Regards,
RLP