There is a serious lack of available recordings featuring the music of Swedish composer Torbjörn Iwan Lundquist (1920-2000). Odd when you take into account his 9 symphonies, assorted chamber works including 2 string quartets, choral works, opera, and scores for 25 films. As a matter of fact, this recording of the Symphony No. 3 "Sinfonia dolorosa" completed in 1976, and the Symphony No. 4 "Sinfonia ecologica" (1985) is not new. These live takes date back to 1982 for No. 3, conducted by the composer, and 1985 for No. 4, conducted by its dedicatee, Sixten Ehrling. At the time they were taped for broadcast on Swedish Radio. The Swedish record label Sterling has now released them on CD.

Torbjörn Iwan Lundquist grew up in Stockholm and took an interest in the piano as early as the age of four. He apparently spent much of his time as a teenager in the cinemas, where his penchant for movie scores took hold. And his love and respect for nature established itself at the family's summer cottage. Along with his piano lessons, he loved to improvise and eventually formed a jazz band, and earned his living as a jazz pianist until he was enrolled in military service. After leaving the army he decided to dedicate himself to music and after experiencing displeasure following a few formal composition courses, he decided to take matters into his own hands. He honed his craft writing scores for multiple films, and with his own family to take care of, writing music for musicals, radio plays, and songs. He grew to become extremely productive and started writing more personal and complex works for orchestra while earning income as a conductor and pianist. He was awarded the Atterberg Prize in 1989 and the Hugo Alfvén-Award in 1992. Cancer set in around 1993 which slowed him down considerably, but the score for an unfinished Symphony No. 10 lay on his desk after his death in July 2000.

Both symphonies are written following a long, single movement format. The Symphony No. 3 "Sinfonia dolorosa", dedicated to the composer’s wife shortly after her death from cancer, does not depict pain and suffering so much as it does anger and indignation at the destruction of nature around him. Lundquist wrote: "Today, when life is a rarity -- I mean highly potent life, which is an impossibility in a city already because Earth is sealed with asphalt and concrete, which doesn't let its radiance and vibrations (not mentioning air pollution and environmental pollutants) -- then it is a necessity for an artist who is serious about his art, to seek the sources of life itself, for instance what is still left of the wilderness, or even living farmland, still not destroyed by economics of scale, where life still manifests itself in its fullness without symptoms of illness or poisoning. Not to escape reality but to restore it -- and protest against its excesses. If my music in some slight way could convey something of the strength I got from this reality, to any single listeners -- then it would be worth the effort." {Booklet notes} The music attempts to depict the struggle of an excursion through the mountains, akin to the Alpine Symphony by Richard Strauss, but whereas the Strauss is an exhilarating experience for the hiker, the Lundquist questions why modern man should have to go to such extremes to commune with nature in the first place. It begins in a foreboding manner, like a cold, misty wind rushing down the cliffs, but quickly sets the pace of a pressing undertaking. Moments of grim conflict arise, with constant activity from different sections of the orchestra, including a piano nestled deep within the orchestral fabric. After a highly percussive climax around the 16:00 mark, the tension abates and the mood darkens. Lundquist's jazz days come to the surface, as we witness a sort of film noir treatment of the main material. Eventually, the urgency returns only to be replaced by a highly cinematic passage for strings supported by jazzy brass lines. Previous moments of intense struggle are recalled tempered by elation. In the final moments, the cold mist returns cloaked in darkness.

The Symphony No. 4 "Sinfonia ecologica" also deals with nature, but from the perspective that we have to protect the environment if we are to survive. Heavy pounding drums and bells usher in an impressively dramatic opening which clearly demonstrates the composer's matured orchestration skills. Everything leads to a profoundly powerful climax around the 5:00 minute mark. After eight minutes in, the tensions relax and a mysterious atmosphere settles in. The main ideas flow from the cellos to the woodwinds, violas to harp and back, and this is where Lundquist's thematic and melodic handling is at it's best. Highly charged, agitated and inventive passages for percussion and brass lead the way from there, which calls into play the ingenius use of a xylophone within the core of the orchestra. At just around the halfway point everything builds to highly frenzied and impressive levels of activity and turmoil, until a gong puts an end to it. What follows is almost funereal as if a soul rising from the dead to ascend to the heavens. A lamenting solo violin leads to a resurgence in momentum, where once again Lundquist's cinematic aptitude resurfaces, and in dichotomous fashion, quasi Rachmaninov elements infiltrate the music. All of this lends the symphony a surreal sense of false happiness, which inevitably dissipates and leads us back into tumultuous conflicts reintroducing the bells and percussion form the start. The Rachmaninov motif suddenly returns only to be abruptly crushed, and the symphony ends in a powerful cry of anguish.

How these recordings were left to languish on a shelf somewhere for 35 years is beyond me. This music requires attentive listening of course, but it is nonetheless captivating and powerfully moving, and clearly demonstrates what wonderful stuff a dedicated composer can create. It's up to all of us to support recording efforts like this one if great music is to be part of our future.