Weinberger: Svanda Dudak

The Wexford Festival, in southeastern Ireland, has made something of a specialty of presenting rare or unusual operas. Jaromir Weinberger's 'Svanda Dudák' ('Schwanda the Bagpiper' or, in German, 'Schwanda der Dudelsackpfeifer') is certainly that. I'd been curious about this opera ever since I was a teenager and heard a local orchestra play the once-popular 'Polka and Fugue' from the opera. There was a complete recording of the opera in German 25 years ago, but I never came across it. That's a pity, too, because it featured singers like Siegfried Jerusalem, Hermann Prey, Lucia Popp, and Siegmund Nimsgern--all world-class artists. Still, I am partial to operas sung in their original languages. That's particularly true for those in Czech whose sung prosody is so idiosyncratic that it is difficult fashioning libretti in other more common languages. Think, for instance, of the unique flavor of Jánácek's operas. Also, I grew up with the sound of Czech in my ears because although I wasn't Bohemian myself, the town in which I grew up had many Czech-speaking citizens and many of my classmates spoke it at home (and in front of me when they didn't want me to understand what they were saying!). My first piano teacher was Czech and I learned the rhythmic and melodic features of Smetana and Dvorák before that of even Mozart and Beethoven.

The booklet writer makes much of the fact that Weinberger (1896-1967) had only one 'hit,' this opera. It blazed across the operatic skies like a comet after its première in 1927 and was translated into and presented in many languages. But, like Krenek's similarly initially popular 'Jonny spielt auf,' it sputtered and went cold. There hadn't even been a presentation of the opera in Czechoslovakia since 1933! And that's a shame, because this is a delightful little piece. Musically it sounds for all the world like it inhabits a world somewhere between Smetana and Jánácek, with perhaps more counterpoint than either. Weinberger called it a 'folk opera' and it does indeed contain much that sounds like Bohemian folksong. Not only that, the country-folk plot is one that is not all that distant from 'The Bartered Bride.' Indeed, the plot is derived (loosely, one must admit) from a play, 'The Strakonice Bagpiper,' by Josef Tyl, written in the 1840s and still occasionally revived in the Czech Republic. It features a common character in Bohemian folklore, the natural musician whose mastery of his art acquires magical qualities. Perhaps uniquely in Europe, Czechs have for centuries identified themselves and their culture as a nation of musicians. It was once said that most of the symphony orchestras in the world could boast at least one Bohemian musician in its ranks.

The plot of the opera is tersely synopsized thus: Svanda, the region's finest bagpiper (an instrument more like a musette, not the typical Scottish bagpipe), lives with his new bride Dorota in great happiness. One day, however, the robber Babinský, who is being pursued by foresters, shows up at their home and receives a warm welcome. Svanda hears Babinský's stories of other countries and great wealth with increasing interest, and finally agrees to go with him to visit a melancholy Queen, in the spell of a wicked Magician, whom nothing can cheer up. With Babinský he soon arrives in the Queen's palace, where his music-making has the desired effect, making all the courtiers dance and the Queen herself smile. She is so pleased that she offers to marry him and -- momentarily forgetting Dorota -- he agrees. The marital plans are interrupted, however, when Dorota arrives. Svanda is threatened with execution, but Babinský brings the prisoner his bagpipes with which he is able to escape. When Dorota asks him if he kissed the Queen, Svanda replies that he will go to hell if he did -- and instantly finds himself there. The Devil tricks Svanda into signing away his soul, but Babinský saves him by beating the Devil at a game of cards. At last he can return home, but Babinský -- who wants Dorota for himself -- tells Svanda that in his long absence she has become an old woman. This proves not to be the case, and she and Svanda are finally reunited to great rejoicing all round.

This score has more than the usual amount of purely orchestral music. In addition to the Polka and Fugue, there is an 11-minute overture and a lengthy Entr'acte. There is also a good deal of folk-tinged choral singing. There are several arias that have occasionally been extracted and sung in recitals and on disc. These include the Dorota's 'Pres hory a stráné' ('Through mountains and hillside'), Svanda's 'Jak je as krásný ten dálný svet' ('How wonderful that distant world must be') and the melting 'Coz zapomenout mozno vsrdci uprímném na svoji rodnou zem' ('Can a native country ever be forgotten in a sincere heart?'). We are fortunate in this recording that most of the singers are native Czech speakers (or from neighboring Slavic countries). The chorus is also predominantly Slavs. Svanda is sung very nicely by baritone Matjaz Robavs; Dorota, a kind of Bohemian Micaëla is sung sweetly by Tatiana Monogarova. The Queen, Larisa Kostyuk, is a typically Slavic-sounding mezzo. The Magician is basso Alexander Teliga who sounds perfect for 'Boris' or 'Sarastro.' The only singer here who is less than acceptable is the Babinský, tenor Ivan Choupenitch, who is clearly overparted. He has a somewhat strangled sound above mezzo-forte. (I kept thinking, perhaps unkindly, that he'd be good singing the Roast Swan in 'Carmina Burana.')

The orchestra is the National Philharmonic of Belarus under Julian Reynolds. They sound like a smallish orchestra and the richness that one expects in the 'Polka and Fugue' is a little bit lacking. But they are otherwise alert and sensitive to the goings-on onstage in this live recording. There are some stage noises that intrude from time to time -- things like vigorous stomping during the dance scenes -- that make us aware, as does the clapping of the audience, that this is not a studio recording.

Weinberger's music itself is quite wonderful and immediately accessible even to a listener who is not terribly fond of twentieth century music. This is at least partly because of the use of folk-like tunes, of course, and the colorful orchestration that Weinberger fashioned. His frequent use of counterpoint, learned at the hands of Max Reger his teacher, is expert but wears its learning lightly. I have not, for days now, been able to get the fugue's main theme out of my head.

I would recommend this recording to anyone the least bit interested in the work, in Czech music in general, and in out-of-the-mainstream mildly conservative opera. At Naxos's budget price, this 2CD set won't break anyone's budget. Naxos has not included a libretto, but there is a very detailed synopsis in the booklet. Some recent Naxos opera recordings have provided a full libretto online, but this isn't one of them.

Scott Morrison

Despite its at least onetime fame, "Schwanda the Bagpiper" is not well represented on disc, and this recording is hence very welcome (there is at least an earlier recording including Hermann Prey and Lucia Popp on Sony, but I haven't heard that one - and that one was apparently sung in German as well, rather than the original Czech). It is, perhaps, no masterpiece, but admittedly rather charming in its naďve and light folk-music inspired sweetness, more Smetana than Dvorak or Janacek. The Polka and Fugue is still regularly played, but there is certainly more to enjoy here.

The performances here are generally fine, although the orchestra sounds a little thin. Matjaz Robavs deals very well with the title-role, but the other parts, such as Choupenitch as Babinsky, are sometimes a little more questionable (I imagine that the Sony cast is more convincing overall). The recording is OK as well, although it is recorded at a far too low level. No libretto is included either. Still, this is a very recommendable version of a very charming work, especially to anyone familiar with and have enjoyed the Smetana operas.

For the in-depth review, see Scott Morrison above, who obviously knows this material a lot better than I do.

Basically, I bought this album because the Polka and Fugue has always been one of my favorite pop concert bonbons. You can't listen to this without breaking a smile, any more than you can listen to a Rossini overture and not feel good. There is such a thing as humor in music, even without lyrics.

If you remember the Polka and Fugue fondly, by all means buy this set and enjoy the whole opera.