Charles Wakefield Cadman: Piano Trio (1914), Violin Sonata (1930), Piano Quintet (1937), The Legend of the Canyon (1920 — arr. Gaylord Yost)
Paul Posnak (piano), Peter Zazofsky (violin), Ross Harbrough (cello), Bergonzi String Quartet
Recorded 3–6 January 2000, Gusman Hall, University of Miami, Coral Gables, Florida
Naxos American Classics 8.559067 [75:41]
Here is an album that quietly invites a reappraisal of an American composer too often pigeonholed by his association with the Indianist movement: Charles Wakefield Cadman. Familiar names crop up—Arthur Farwell, Tsianina Redfeather—but listen closely, and you’ll catch Cadman stepping away from the obvious tribal idioms to speak in a more cosmopolitan yet heartfelt voice.
The string writing and piano textures reveal a man steeped in late Romantic traditions but also reaching tentatively toward modernity. The Piano Trio (1914) is the earliest substantial chamber work here, and from its opening measures it embraces a rich palette of lyricism. The first movement’s contours recall Franck’s cyclicism with hints of Brahms’s weightier rhetoric—though Cadman’s approach is less heavy-browed, more sanguine, if uneven in ensemble at moments.
The warm acoustics of the concert hall seem to breathe through the album.
Paul Posnak’s piano playing is fluent, bordering on effervescent, while Zazofsky and Harbrough generate a warm, if occasionally tentative, dialogue. The music flows with a certain athletic grace—like a swan cutting through water; moments of florid ecstasy contrast with passages of reflective calm. One senses a composer caught between the desire to honor tradition and the urge to explore new expressive realms.
The "finale", in particular, unfurls with a loquacious flood of sound that is at once sentimental and, thankfully, not cloying. Contrast this with the Violin Sonata (1930), a work that reveals a markedly different facet of Cadman’s style. Written in Fresno, inspired by the stark beauty of the Pacific coast and desert hinterlands, it bristles with a kind of skittish energy reminiscent of the Dunhill and Ireland sonatas—yet with a peculiarly American inflection.
Zazofsky’s tone here is searching and unacademic, a perfect fit for the sonata’s blend of Romanticism and subtle modernity. The outer movements are marked by a restless interplay between violin and — well — piano, the first tinged with a Brahmsian nervousness that occasionally flirts with the playful, while the central “raindrop” piano figures lend an intimate, almost hushed, lyricism. Cadman adheres to dramatic convention in the "finale", but even here, there is a suggestion of something struggling to break free.
The Piano Quintet (1937) pushes the envelope further into modern territory. The textures are notably lighter, less Brahmsian density, more a dancing quality—akin to a Franckian striving for passion coupled with moments of unexpected dissonance. That ominous chord near the end of the first movement is startling, an almost prophetic hint of the tensions roiling beneath the surface of Cadman’s otherwise pastoral idiom.
One is reminded of how American composers in the 1930s grappled with tradition and innovation. The Bergonzi String Quartet negotiates the shifts in mood and colour with impressive agility, and Posnak’s piano contribution sparkles with clarity. There is a sense here that Cadman is less a provincial relic and more a composer working at the crossroads of old and new.
The Legend of the Canyon (1920), arranged by Gaylord Yost, adds orchestral colour and atmospheric breadth. The piece is evocative rather than programmatic, painting the grandeur of the American landscape with a palette that is at times sweeping, at others intimate. The recording captures the crispness and warmth of the strings, the piano’s shimmering cascades—elements that evoke the open vistas Cadman cherished.
What emerges from this collection is a portrait of a composer who, despite his Indianist label, was never content to be narrowly defined. He was a lyricist, yes, but also a nuanced colourist and a dramatist with a streak of modernism. The performances, while occasionally showing slight ensemble roughness—particularly in the Piano Trio’s more intricate passages—are committed — and insightful, revealing Cadman’s music to be rewarding in its blend of American pastoralism and European late-Romanticism.
One hopes that the forthcoming release of Cadman’s First Symphony will continue this welcome reevaluation. The symphony, with its vivid, programmatic depiction of industrial and social life, promises a more rugged, earthy contrast to the chamber works recorded here. Until then, this Naxos disc offers a rare and valuable glimpse into the quieter, more reflective corners of early twentieth-century American music—music that is, more often than not, both engaging and deeply expressive.
In sum: Cadman’s chamber works hold their own in the American classics repertoire, deserving of greater attention, especially for their lyrical warmth and tentative modernism. This disc makes a strong case—not just for nostalgia but for recognition. It’s a satisfying listen, one that rewards patience and close attention.
Expect to be surprised. Richard Dyer
