Spohr’s symphonic music (and much else) is earnest to the point of caricature. The Seventh Symphony is subtitled “The Earthly and Divine in Human Life,” believe it or not. Interestingly scored for two orchestras, the smaller of them consists of solo instruments, while the full ensemble provides contrast. The piece contains some pretty tunes, but the music, typically with Spohr, is totally tensionless and so obsessed with being in “good taste” that to call it bland is an insult to blandness. It goes without saying that music generally is utterly incapable of embodying a program of this sort, especially when Spohr’s idea of “The Time of Passion” (the second of three movements) consists of a slow bassoon solo followed by some trumpet fanfares. And that’s as exciting as it gets.
Ridiculous as the whole concept is, the Seventh is a much better work that the Ninth, a “Four Seasons” piece (yawn) in which I dare you to figure out which season Spohr purports to illustrate based on the sound of the music alone. The truth is that the filler, “Memories of Marienbad,” a waltz for small orchestra that literally is spa music, remains the best work on the disc because it features all of Spohr’s immaculate craftsmanship but none of the pretentious twaddle that wrecks his symphonies. And it’s short. And rhythmic. The performances, as with previous issues in this series, are very good, and so are the SACD sonics. If you enjoy tedium in surround sound, knock yourself out, but let’s face it: the cause is hopeless.
