Charles Ives

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Charles Ives orchestral piece has two bands crossing each other in the street?

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Ives eventually stopped calling his orchestral set Holidays a 'symphony' because he was—and I quote—''tired of hearing the lily boys [i.e. conservative music critics] say, 'This is a symphony?—Mercy!—Where is the first theme of 12 measures in C major?'...''. I rather like the idea of an American Four Seasons—one tone-poem per National holiday. But either way, here are four wonderfully resourceful canvases from the ultimate American composer, and Tilson Thomas does them proud. Of course their reputation, or rather notoriety, will doubtless always rest on those multi-layered Ivesian melees: a profusion of sights and sounds simultaneously flood our senses. One might easily underestimate—and happily Tilson Thomas does not—the beauty and gravity, the simple home-spun honesty of the pastoral music: sepia memories of times past. Therein lies the real heart of these scores. The nostalgic winterscape opening ''Washington's Birthday''—songful measures in strings, flute and horns—is beautifully realized here. So too are the opening pages of ''Decoration Day'', as the townsfolk of Danbury, Connecticut, gather for their annual procession to the Civil War veterans' graves. Hymn tunes emerge in whatever key they are remembered or half-remembered; 'taps' sound over fragments of Nearer, my God, to Thee and against an impressionistic shimmer of strings, as if lost in time and space.

As to the chaotic collages of ''Washington's Birthday'' and, more notoriously, ''The Fourth of July'', Tilson Thomas and his CBS balance engineers have worked wonders with their keen ears and some ingenious sleight of hand at the mixing console. You'll catch more of the tunes than you might have thought possible: internal clarity is remarkable, depth of field and tonal response most impressive. The jaunty marching-band at the close of ''Decoration Day'' looms into view with life-like tuba and trombones weighing down heavily and Tilson Thomas really slamming home the drum-major's syncopations. Then there is the mighty climax of ''Thanksgiving and Forefathers' Day'' with its fervent, and quite unexpected, choral entry. And don't be surprised that the Jew's harp (played by none other than Fred Spector) more than holds its own during the demented 'barn dance' sequence of ''Washington's Birthday''. And so on.

The two remaining pieces are, of course, classics of their kind and receive here the kind of breathless concentration they demand. The Unanswered Question—that most perfectly symmetrical of all Ives's creations—is given in both its versions, the revision involving certain aspects of the woodwind and solo trumpet phrases: subtle, but important. Central Park in the Dark invites comparisons with, and rather shows up, the Ozawa performance issued now in DG's 20th Century Classics series. The main attraction here is the remarkable Fourth Symphony, synthesis of everything Ivesian. But again performance and recording do scant justice to a great score. Ozawa is generally rather prosaic in his response: the second movement cacophonies are simply that—poorly defined, rhythmically indistinct; the handsome third movement fugue sounds decidedly undernourished alongside Serebrier, originally RCA, now on Chandos. That's the version to have until such time as Tilson Thomas records it. His Three Places in New England still sounds well the recording open and finely detailed if a little bass-light.'