done is to appeal to those whom henknows, and who, presumably, knownhim. “I am Martin, not Pansette,” he essentiallynclaims, “for if I were Pansette, Inwould not be Martin, yet I can only benMartin in order to know what I knownand for you to know me.” Indeed, hisnwife says that she knoivs that he is Martin.nYet still there is doubt (This may soundnimplausible, but in a society like the contemporarynone, wherein individuals arendefined as bits of data on magnetic disks,nit is very possible.) Eventually, Martin isnshown, beyond a shadow of a doubt, tonMUSICnbe someone else.nPower, Passion & Performancenby Robert R-ReillynBela Bartok’s early music is not wellnknown nor is it ofl:en recorded, so it maynbe surprising for those who have strugglednthrough his string quartets or thendissonance and violence of his Allegronbarbaro to learn how firmly groundednhe was in the 19th century. Sefel Recordsnhas released a smnningly recorded digitalnset of Bartok’s albums concentratingnon these early works, but also includingna superb version of his later Concertonfor Orchestra (194 3 ). All are conductednby Arpad Joo and played by either thenBudapest Symphony Orchestra or thenBudapest Philharmonic Orchestra. Kossuthn(1903) is a tumultuous, Lisztianntone poem depicting Hungary’s unsuccessfuln1848 War of Independence fi-omnAustria. The dramatic scenario for thisnpiece coincided with the enormous impactnRichard Strauss’s music had onnBartok when he first heard A/so sprachnZarathustra in 1902; the combinationnmade for a rousing, highly emotive work.nThis recording (Sefel SEFD 5005) capturesnthe huge orchestral climaxes. Alsonpresented are the later Pour Pieces fornMr. Retlly is with the Public LiaisonnOffice in Washington, D.C.n44inChronicles of CulturenJean-Claude Carriere and Daniel Vignenportray this difficult situation in a lucidnway. There is obviously cerebration behindnthe film, an activity rarely performednin Hollywood. It is, admittedly, predictable.nAnd it lacks the ambiguity that wouldnhave made it a more engrossing film,nsomething on the order of Kurosawa’snRashomon But they decided to worknunder the constraints of reality. At least Inthink they did: there is no way of knowingn(SM) nnOrchestra, Op. /2 (1912), which arenconsiderably more subdued, unquestionablynof early-20th-century vintage,nbut thoroughly accessible. Here the influencenof Debussy can be heard, mostnliterally in the intermezzo movement.nSuite No. 1, Op. 3 (1905) is an extrovertedntapestry with alluring sonoritiesnand swirling dance rhythms. It opensnwith a decidedly English “air,” almost Elgarian;nin the second movement it turnsninto a splashy, colorfiil rendition of whatnmight be called “Nights in the Gardensnof Hungary.” Bartok later omitted thentitle “Leaping Dance” from one of thenlater movements; nevertheless, it adequatelynconveys the feel of the music.nThis is the record (SEFD 5006) for thosenwho are afraid of Bartok. It is filled outnwith Two Portraits Op. 5 (1907/1908),nthe first of which is Bartok’s musicalnreminiscence of his passion for a lady.nHe calls it a “musical portrait of thenidealized Stefi Geyer, transcendent andnintimate.” It is gende music.nBartok’s 5M«teAfe. 2, Op 4 (SEFD 5007)ncoincided with his discovery of Debussynand of original Hungarian folk music,nboth of which he found in some essentialsnsimUar. However, this music soundsnless “folksy” than Suite No. 1, which henbased in part on ersatz folk music. Thennnfirst three movements were originallynentided “Seretiade,” though parts of then”Allegro” have almost symphonic power.nThey seem to press for a Bruckneriannclimax, but dissolve instead into gentienimpressionistic beauty. The last movementnhas momentary hints of a Mahlernadagio. This is lovely, serene music, butnnot of the confectionary kind.nThe Concerto for Orchestra (1943),nBartok’s last and most popular orchestralnpiece, is considered by many to be anmasterpiece. It is more than an orchestralnshowpiece, and is magnificentiy communicatednin this recording (Sefel SEFDn5009), but it is less than profoundlynmoving.nLeos Janacek (1854-1928) wrotenmusic with a compelling vision; he is, innBernard Jacobson’s phrase, “essentially anvertical composer.” Oddly, it has taken anhalf-century since his death for it tonemerge before a wide audience. Suchnlong neglect would have meant permanentnobscurity for music of less convictionnand fire. Janacek, like Bartok, begannwith 19th-century romanticism, butnabandoned it for folk-inflected music ofnnational consciousness as he began tonmodel his music on the speech patternsnof the Czech language. This hardly seemsna recipe for international acclaim. Yet,nespecially in his later music, there is annappealing strain of searching for the inexpressible.nJanacek’s music is expressivelyn”human”; there is no abstractednsterility to it, no disembodied sounds ofna musical design meeting the autonomousnrequirements of some system Janacek, asndid Mozart in his own way, anthropomorphizesnthe orchestra. The instrumentsnbecome human voices. In Mozartnthey sing; in Janacek they speak, ornattempt to.nJanacek wrote Idyla for String Orchestranin 1878, at age 24. While it lacksnthe idiosyncratic flavor of his later “speechmelody,”nthere are stiU many conventionalnpleasures to be had from thisnmelodious idyll in the Dvof akian vein.nPaired with it on a Nonesuch digital releasen(D-79033) is the much XiXetMladin