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American Record Guide independent critics reviewing classical recordings and music in concert Ame rican Reco rd G uide Side 2 Fes Asto tivals: nM Mon Dresden agna trea Mus lC ic Sprin hambe g for r Mus Music ic C COC hin's A Operas: lic ' Spol s Florent e in Wo nd eto ine Lum 's Keple Traged erland y&S r and Ft. W inato's orth P E e i n ony chicchi stein 's Ly Philly 's Da sistrata on the Pavilion rk Sis ters and 3 D Beach & Sla e y the cember s Drag on us $7.99 September/October 2012 Contents Spring for Music Festival Jack Sullivan 4 Bolt of Optimism in Challenging Times Changing the Concert Experience Gil French 6 Arild Remmereit and the Rochester Philharmonic Buffalo Phil and Duke Ellington Herman Trotter 8 From Songs to Concert Music Philadelphia’s Center City Opera Lewis Whittington 10 Postman and KKK Premieres Spoleto’s Maverick Operas Perry Tannenbaum 12 Glass and Guo Wenjing Premieres Pulitzer Foundation Festival Susan Brodie 15 St Louis Opera’s Alice in Wonderland Fort Worth Opera Joseph Dalton 17 Texas Troupe with a Buzz Montreal Chamber Music Festival Arthur Love 19 Ambitious Programs, Mixed Results On the Way to Dresden Gil French 21 Via Berlin and Leipzig Dresden Music Festival Gil French 24 Variety, Ecstasy, and Healing English Country House Operas Edward Greenfield 27 Garsington and Glyndebourne Here & There Concerts Everywhere Opera Everywhere Critical Convictions Guide to Records Collections From the Archives Notes and Letters The Newest Music Books Record Guide Publications Coming in the Next Issue: Festival Anniversaries: Tanglewood at 75 Carmel Bach at 75 Cabrillo at 50 Santa Fe Chamber at 40 Orcas Island at 15 Music@Menlo at 10 Opera: Santa Fe Glimmerglass Bayreuth Twice Aix-en-Provence Vierne Organ Symphonies World Choir Games 29 31 44 49 52 204 255 261 261 264 268 American Record Guide Vol 75, No 5 September/October 2012 Our 77th Year of Publication www.AmericanRecordGuide.com Editor: Donald R Vroon e-mail: [email protected] Editor, Music in Concert: Gil French Reader Service: (513) 941-1116 Art Director: Ray Hassard Design & Layout: Lonnie Kunkel CORRESPONDENTS PAST EDITORS ATLANTA: James L Paulk BOSTON: John W Ehrlich BUFFALO: Herman Trotter CHICAGO: John Von Rhein LOS ANGELES: Richard S Ginell NEW YORK: Susan Brodie, Joseph Dalton, Leslie Kandell SAN FRANCISCO: Jason Victor Serinus SANTA FE: James A Van Sant SEATTLE: Melinda Bargreen LONDON: Edward Greenfield, Kate Molleson CANADA: Bill Rankin Peter Hugh Reed 1935-57 James Lyons 1957-72 Milton Caine 1976-81 John Cronin 1981-83 Doris Chalfin 1983-85 Grace Wolf 1985-87 PHOTO CREDITS Page 3: sonoma.edu Page 6: Walter Colley Page 8: www.defenseimagery.mil Page 10 & 11: Philadelphia Opera Page 12: Julia Lynn Page 15: The Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts Page 17: Ron T. Ennis Page 19: courtesy of the MCMF Page 21: Andreas Birkigt Page 24: Mat Hennek Page 27 & 28: Johan Persson Page 29: Jefftyzik.com Page 30: Enid Bloch Page 31: Deborah O'Grady Page 39: Schott Promotion/Christopher Peter Page 41: Christian Steiner Page 43: Alexander Basta Page 44: Lucie-Jansch Page 46: Richard Termine Page 48: Dario Acosta (image reversed) RECORD REVIEWERS Paul L Althouse Brent Auerbach John W Barker Alan Becker William Bender Brian Buerkle Stephen D Chakwin Jr Ardella Crawford Stephen Estep Elaine Fine Gil French William J Gatens Allen Gimbel Todd Gorman Philip Greenfield Steven J Haller Lawrence Hansen Patrick Hanudel James Harrington Rob Haskins Roger Hecht Benjamin Katz Woo Soo Kang Kenneth Keaton Barry Kilpatrick Mark Koldys Lindsay Koob Kraig Lamper Mark L Lehman Vivian A Liff Peter Loewen Ralph V Lucano Joseph Magil Sudie Marcuse Michael Mark John P McKelvey Donald E Metz Catherine Moore David W Moore John David Moore Robert A Moore Kurt Moses Don O’Connor Charles H Parsons David Radcliffe David Schwartz Jack Sullivan Richard Traubner Donald R Vroon AMERICAN RECORD GUIDE (ISSN 0003-0716) is published bimonthly for $45.00 a year for individuals ($55.00 for institutions) by Record Guide Productions, 4412 Braddock Street, Cincinnati OH 45204. Phone: (513) 941-1116 E-mail: [email protected] Web: www.americanrecordguide.com Periodical postage paid at Cincinnati, Ohio. POSTMASTER: Send address changes to American Record Guide, 4412 Braddock Street, Cincinnati, OH 45204-1006 Student rates are available on request. Allow eight weeks for shipment of first copy. CANADA: add $20.00 postage Rest of the world: add $25.00. All subscriptions must be paid with US dollars or credit card. Claims for missing issues should be made within six months of publication. Retail distribution by Ubiquity. Contents are indexed annually in the Nov/Dec or Jan/Feb issue and in The Music Index, The International Index to Music, and ProQuest Periodical Abstracts. Copyright 2012 by Record Guide Productions. All rights reserved. Printed in the USA. Music in Concert highlights Weill Hall Sept 14-23 & Oct 26-28 Philip Glass’s Einstein on the Beach continues to make the rounds (see review this issue), at the Brooklyn Academy of Music in September and Berkeley’s Zellerbach Hall in October. Sept 15-Oct 9 The Los Angeles Opera opens its season with the company premiere of Verdi’s Due Foscari with Placido Domingo as the Doge of Venice, Marina Poplavskaya as Lucrezia, and James Conlon conducting. September 28-30 Gustavo Dudamel opens the Los Angeles Philharmonic’s season with the world premiere of Steven Stucky’s symphony. Also on the program at Disney Hall, Ravel’s Pavane and Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring Sept 29-October 27 Sonoma State University in Rohnert Park CA inaugurates its new Weill Hall with concerts by pianist Lang Lang, Canadian soprano Karina Gauvin, and John Adams conducting the International Contemporary Ensemble. October 5 & 7 gram, a Rossini overture and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5. October 11-14 Concertmaster William Preucil performs the world premiere of Stephen Paulus’s Violin Concerto No. 3 with Giancarlo Guerrero and the Cleveland Orchestra. Also on the Severance Hall program, Ravel’s Rapsodie Espagnole and Stravinsky’s Petrouchka. October 17-26 The Honens International Piano Competition takes place at Calgary’s Epcor Centre. Following 10 semi-final rounds, Roberto Minczuk and the Calgary Philharmonic accompany the two final rounds. October 18-27 Yannick Nezet-Seguin officially takes over as the Philadelphia Orchestra’s music director with three events at Verizon Hall: opening night with Renée Fleming, Verdi’s Requiem with the Westminster Choir, and a concert of works by Brahms, Bernstein (with Joshua Bell), and Gabriela Lena Frank (a world premiere). Oct 23-Nov 17 Anchorage Opera celebrates its 50th anniversary with the world premiere of Victoria Bond’s Mrs President at the Discovery Theatre with the composer conducting Valerie Bernhardt and Scott Ramsey. Lemuel Wade is stage director. The Metropolitan Opera presents its first performances of The Tempest by Thomas Ades. The composer himself conducts Simon Keenlyside, William Burden, and Isabel Leonard in Robert Lepage’s production. October 11 The Tokyo String Quartet embarks on a final tour with a farewell to Carnegie Hall, playing Webern’s Five Movements, Mozart’s String Quintet No. 3, and Mendelssohn’s Octet, as violist Ettore Causa and the Jasper String Quartet join them in Zankel Hall. The Orpheus Chamber Orchestra opens its 40th anniversary season with mezzo Sasha Cooke and baritone Nathan Gunn performing the world premiere of Augusta Read Thomas’s Earth Echoes. Also on the Carnegie Hall pro- October 28 Spring for Music Festival Bolt of Optimism in Challenging Times Jack Sullivan “ Spring for Music” had its second season at Carnegie Hall May 7-12. Now financed through 2014, it selects its North American orchestras based on the creativity of their long-term plans and their adventurous programming, not on the size of an orchestra’s budget and publicity machine. This year’s series was as exciting as the first (Sept/Oct 2011) and even more satisfying, with better contemporary pieces and more substantial rarities. There was also a real sense of spectacle, with the New Jersey, Nashville, and Milwaukee orchestras overflowing the stage with choruses, extra players, soloists, and maestros. Yet the seats were still an amazing bargain, only $25 (a limited number for $10)—a seductive price for Carnegie Hall and a lure for younger audiences as well as fans flown in from each orchestra’s region. Even the Edmonton Symphony boasted 1000 locals, including two strapping Canadian Mounties who paraded onstage dressed in red, like the orchestra, and waving red banners to the cheering audience. All this may sound a bit tacky for Carnegie Hall, but it was strangely stirring and refreshing. Why should attending a classical music concert always feel like going to church? During the music itself, the audience was rapturously quiet, even though they were bombarded with challenging new works; and they were loudly appreciative at curtain calls. Isn’t that the way it should be? Certainly these “regional” folk had much to challenge them. The Houston Symphony’s opening concert, “Two Faces of Shostakovich”, began with Anti-Formalist Rayok, a satirical piece so obscure that management felt it needed to explain its anti-Stalinist point twice, once with an irritatingly didactic video illustrating Stalin’s opposition to “formalist” music. Bass soloist Mikhail Svetlov mouthed Stalin’s banalities about the superiority of “people’s music” with hilarious pomposity, and the Houston brass section had fun with the “anti-formalist” folk songs and oompahs. Shostakovich’s “other face” was the gargantuan Symphony No. 11, a grim depiction of the 1905 “Bloody Sunday” massacre. The Houston Symphony has a special pedigree for this symphony: it gave the American premiere under Stokowski in 1958 and performed it again June 9 at Moscow’s Sixth Annual Festival of the World’s Symphonys. Also, years ago Music Director Hans Graf studied at the St 4 Music in Concert Petersburg Conservatory under Arvid Jansons. Houston’s muted strings, whispering timpani, and offstage Mahlerian trumpets were wonderfully mysterious in the recurring ‘Palace Square’ motif, and the lower brass and basses had a Russian gruffness in the climaxes. This is second-drawer Shostakovich, but Graf made a compelling case for it. The Edmonton Symphony, which plays jazz as well as classical and was celebrating its 60th season, came with a brighter program ideally suited to its sleek, sexy sound. Music in the first half was by three Canadian composers. Allan Gilliland’s Dreaming of the Masters III, part of a trilogy dedicated to jazz virtuosos, was Big Band pastiche with the spectacular trumpet of Jens Lindemann (who later tore the place up in an encore from West Side Story). At the other end of the spectrum was Robert Rival’s Lullaby, inspired by the composer’s rocking of his newborn son, a work of quiet rapture and refined sensibility. Its elegant concision was a contrast to John Estacio’s overstuffed, neo-romantic Triple Concerto, played with admirable energy by violinist Julliette Kang, cellist Denise Djokic, and pianist Angela Cheng. After intermission came Martinu’s Symphony No. 1, a sensuous swirl of modal melodies and misty textures written in the early 1940s after Martinu’s immigration to the United States. This was his New World Symphony, but it has not been heard in New York since the 1950s. Propelled by the broad, joyful gestures of Music Director William Eddins, it made a powerful impression. The next night the New Jersey Symphony under its new Music Director Jacques Lacombe came across the bridge with a novelty-filled program, opening with Varese’s spooky Nocturnal, sung with chilling eloquence by soprano Hila Plitmann. The concert closed with Busoni’s gargantuan Piano Concerto. Both of these rarities have a male chorus, which gave the program an odd symmetry. In the middle was the terse, tensile Symphony No. 1 of Kurt Weill, written when he was 21, a fascinating amalgam of off-kilter marches, fugues, and chorales forecasting The Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny. Varese and Weill both studied under Busoni, the point of this seemingly scattered program. He clearly inspired his students (who included Stefan Wolpe and Percy Grainger) to develop an unmistakable voice, but his own September/October 2012 concerto is a crazed amalgam of contradictory styles from Lisztian pyrotechnics to Rossinian parody and rowdy street songs. Marc-André Hamelin, who specializes in impossible repertory, played the absurdly difficult solo part with demonic virtuosity, his bold sonority holding its own with Busoni’s huge orchestra. All on the crowded stage acquitted themselves well. The men of the Westminster Choir supplied an austere backdrop to the Varese and an ennobling richness in Busoni’s stately finale. Not every orchestra made its strongest point with new or novelty pieces. The Alabama Symphony opened with two imaginative but derivative works: Avner Dorman’s Astrolotry, depicting star worship with a bit of Crumb, a dollop of John Williams, and a touching fairy tale motif; and Paul Lansky’s duo piano concerto, Shapeshifters, commissioned by Quatro Mani, offering minimalist pulsing and Poulencian colors. The high point of the program was a propulsive performance of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7 that despite underpowered basses and timpani had an overwhelming relentlessness. Alabama’s dynamic Music Director Justin Brown projected Beethoven’s Dionysian energies with his whole body. The most satisfying evening was supplied by Music Director Edo de Waart and the Milwaukee Symphony. They came with a unified program ideally suited to their shimmering sound: three impressionist meditations from the 20th and 21st Centuries offering variety in a single tradition. The transparent Milwaukee strings in Messiaen’s early Offrandes Oubilées gradually melted into a nearly inaudible pianissimo. The mellow brass in Debussy’s La Mer evoked a clear sea on a sunny day, banishing the storm clouds in the finale with a burst of light. Qigang Chen’s Iris Dévoilée, an invocation of the “eternal feminine” in nine concise sections, brought the concert together at the end with Messiaen-like chords and Debussian timbres. This was a skillful synthesis of Eastern and western gestures, including dueling vocal traditions. Xiaoduo Chen sang radiant, distant, Delian vocalise; while at the other end of the stage Meng Meng intoned the fruity, forward sound of Peking opera. In a brutal section called ‘Hysterique’ they unleashed terrifying primal screams. Adding a continuo layer were the twittering sounds of pipa, erhu, and zheng. Colorful as this music was, it did not seem “exotic”. There is now so much Asian music on the Western classical scene that it is becoming a new norm, with familiar tropes and traditions. The wildest ride in this year’s Spring for Music was the finale, entrusted to the Nashville Symphony under its magnetic Music Director Giancarlo Guerrero. This orchestra American Record Guide has a big, glamorous sound and seems capable of playing anything. The concert opened with Ives’s unfinished Universe Symphony in a hypnotic realization by Larry Austin. Eschewing Ives’s usual folklore and wit, this one-movement series of crescendos and decrescendos is a mystical, multi-layered skein of polytonal sound requiring five conductors leading four mini-orchestras and a 20-member percussion section. It’s as if Ives tried to pick up where the finale of his Symphony No. 4 left off, enlarging his vision to impossibly complex dimensions. Terry Riley’s Palmian Chord Ryddle for electric violin and orchestra, played by master electric fiddler Tracy Silverman, offered a welcome playfulness. This new piece by the composer of In C has a boundless, theatrical eclecticism—pop and blues, Moorish modes, South Indian dances, orchestral “cloud sections”— but it went on too long, and its constant genreswitching became wearying. With editing or perhaps the creation of a suite, this could be a crowd-pleaser. Even more extravagant but also more controlled was The Warriors by Percy Grainger. It jettisons the composer’s usual folklore motifs for what he called a “Valhalla gathering” of gods, old and young, from different traditions. In 18 breathtaking minutes, Grainger unleashes 15 themes, including primitive dances, haunting modal chorales, distant offstage effects, and all manner of percussion colors (shivery cimbalons and three bangy pianos among them). Again, extra conductors crowded the stage, bringing order to primal chaos. The Nashville players didn’t really need an encore after this exhausting and exhilarating adventure, but they supplied one anyway: the finale of Roberto Sierra’s Symphony No. 4, bringing the 2012 Spring for Music to a racy close. As a showcase for regional orchestras and imaginative programming, Spring for Music proved once again to carry a singular importance. Every orchestra was impressive, offering strikingly different strengths and sonorities. After a week of hearing these ensembles one after another in Carnegie Hall’s illuminating acoustic, one could definitively reject the fashionable myth that all contemporary orchestras sound alike. There is a significant after-effect as well: no doubt, these ensembles and their fans went back home feeling very proud of their local orchestras—and very good about Carnegie Hall and New York City. In classical music that’s a bolt of optimism for a scary, challenging time. & Music in Concert 5 Changing the Concert Experience Arild Remmereit and the Rochester Philharmonic Gil French T he Rochester (NY) Philharmonic’s last concert of the season (May 31, June 2) epitomized the changes of attitude and experience that Arild Remmereit (Ah-REEL RIM-mer-right) brought in his first season as music director. In each of the 8 (out of 14) classical concerts he conducted Remmereit fastened the RPO’s ties to Rochester’s poetry community by having poems (appropriate to the concert) published by nationally acclaimed and locally owned BOA Editions read by one of its representatives, and by having mature poems by students at the High School of the Arts read by their author or a drama student. He also fastened the ties to local painters by having several exhibits in the lobbies, the most elaborate a 40-painting counterpart to the season’s final work, Moussorgsky’s Pictures at an Exhibition. Remmereit made me realize anew that, while one can hear 100 recordings, the nonpareil genius of Ravel’s orchestration can only be appreciated in a performance like the RPO gave that combined superb execution, crystalline textures (Ballet of the Chicks), exquisite balances and rhythmic incisiveness (Baba Yaga), and pacing that matched the character of the scene (Bydlo slogged wonderfully with mud-stuck wheels pushing forward). While the Norwegian conductor went more for “class” than brash excitement, he gave ‘Baba Yaga’ and ‘The Great Gate at Kiev’ powerful contrasts that built to an orgasmic climax. Principal Kenneth Grant kept his clarinet tuned with extraordinary brightness in passages that can easily sound flat. Assistant Principal Trumpeter Wesley Nance gave acidic, subtle, and spot-on character to the Promenades. And Ramon Ricker’s inimitable saxophone filled the ‘Old Castle’ with nostalgia. The Women’s Philharmonic Advocacy, inspired by the San Francisco-based orchestra that existed from 1980 to 2004, promotes performances of great works for orchestras and ensembles by women past and present. It gave its first Amy Award (named after Amy Beach) to Remmereit for conducting works by eight women in his first season. As the presenter said, “The award sculpture is one-half inch taller than the Oscar, and we’re not promoting crummy works either!” This concert opened with the world premiere of Margaret Brouwer’s Caution Ahead— 6 Music in Concert Arild Remmereit Guard Rail Out, commissioned by the RPO to celebrate Remmereit’s first season as music director. This 10-minute entertainment is a series of meandering episodes rather than a tightly organized overture, sort of a “road movie” or tone poem where the RPO’s rich, mellow strings conveyed an easy journey with intimations of unexpected, disparate elements (introduced in the opening brass fanfare) just around the corner. As reported in a previous article (Jan/Feb 2012), another goal of Remmereit has been to strengthen the ties between the orchestra and the Eastman School of Music. The Eastman Theater, the RPO’s home, is right next door to the school; both the school and the theater are part of the University of Rochester. The grandest coup of the season was not one but two September/October 2012 viola concertos, played at the 40th International Viola Congress (IVC) held this year at the Eastman School. On May 31 Cynthia Phelps and Rebecca Young, principal and assistant principal violists of the New York Philharmonic, performed another work by a woman—one they premiered in 1999—Two Paths by Sophia Gubaidulina. Void of melodies yet essentially tonal, it works around a three-note motif. The orchestra is the big, active, angular force (Martha of the Gospels), the soloists the serene long-lined, legato element (Mary). Gubaidulina here seems to pick up where the dying Shostakovich left off—grim, introverted, and bordering on stasis near the end— with Mahlerian jumps between intervals and contrasting high treble and low bass instrumentation. Despite hearing the work at a rehearsal (there are no recordings of it), I could mark the moments in the performance where my mind began to wander. I couldn’t tell if the fault lay in Gubaidulina’s structure or in Remmereit’s pacing. Still, both orchestra and soloists produced arrestingly beautiful sounds—especially Phelps, who sustained extremely long lines that ascended into the stratosphere. Not so with the soloist in the Viola Concerto by Olly Wilson, given its world premiere at the June 2 concert. Wilson, born in St Louis in 1937, left the great soloist Marcus Thompson, for whom the work was composed in 1992 on a commission from the National Endowment for the Arts, stuck mostly in the viola’s midrange, ruminating on a basic motif. What a shame, for his instrument has a darker, larger tone than Phelps’s or Young’s that projected right to the back of the hall. Instead, it is the orchestra that is the star, creating the final drama. The day before, the RPO devoted a two and one-half hour rehearsal to this 22-minute onemovement concerto, divided into fast-slowfast sections. Even though I followed with a score, I found it obstinately intellectual, like many works written by academics between about 1950 and 1980 (think George Walker). It starts on F, but there is no key, no signature in sharps or flats, no harmonic progression, only a constant rumination on a tiny motif and a basic rhythmic pattern. In the largo slow section a long line begins to develop. It was only in the actual performance that the orchestra finally caught the “logic” of the last section that builds in intensity to the final two chords. On the whole, it felt more intellectual than emotional, like looking at Picasso rather than Monet. While the composer seemed evasive when I asked him the reason for the 20-year delay between composition and premiere, I noticed that the score is self-published by Wilson himself, without the promotional advantages of a American Record Guide publishing house. The IVC and Remmereit’s interest in American music were the match that finally brought it to light. Note that the soloists in both concertos (each performed only once) were those who premiered them. Even more remarkable was the utterly rapt attention of the normally fidgety RPO audience to both difficult works. A major change has happened to an audience that just a few years ago stayed away in droves even for a Shostakovich symphony. My personal detachment from both concertos is neither here nor there. The point is that RPO performances are no longer just concerts with popular pre-concert lecture-demonstrations followed by safe favorites. Now they are “events”, cleverly linked to the city’s wider artistic scene. And whether in terms of new works or numerous old works that have been rarely performed, in one season Remmereit has changed the basic attitude of RPO audiences from “They’re playing something I’ve never heard; I think I’ll stay home” to “This one I’ve got to hear!” In addition to the Amy Award, the RPO was also given the 2011-12 ASCAP Award for Adventurous Programming. Remmereit has eight more works by women planned for next season, and he’ll bring last season’s opener, Beach’s Gaelic Symphony, to Carnegie Hall as part of the 2014 Spring for Music Festival. & Music in Concert 7 Buffalo Phil and Duke Ellington From Songs to Concert Music Herman Trotter I n 1965 Duke Ellington was nominated for the Pulitzer Prize in Music. When the voting denied him this honor, the 67-year-old Duke famously said, “Fate is being kind to me. Fate doesn’t want me to be too famous too young.” Ellington, who died in 1974, never achieved that Pulitzer distinction. But in the 47 years since that rebuff, his stock has steadily risen. He is now mentioned by some distinguished musicologists and critics as one of the most influential composers of the 20th Century alongside Debussy, Stravinsky, Schoenberg, Bartok, and Shostakovich. Recently the Buffalo Philharmonic and Music Director JoAnn Falletta have been tapped by Naxos to record a CD offering a representative cross-section of Ellington’s music. The repertoire was previewed for the Buffalo audience in a two-week Ellington Festival consisting of concerts on the BPO’s Pops series (May 4-5) and Classics Series (May 12-13). This was entirely proper, since Ellington’s compositions, numbering more than 1500, include countless popular classics and a large but less known output of concert music. Choosing among these must have presented problems 8 Music in Concert because of his relative lack of concern about detail. He was probably the most intellectual of jazz musicians. He just wanted to compose and perform, caring little about other musicians’ arrangements of his own works. As a result, more often than not when you hear ‘Mood Indigo’ or ‘Sophisticated Lady’, it will be someone else’s arrangement. Conversely, the Duke sometimes gets credit for songs he made popular, such as ‘Take the A Train’ or ‘Chelsea Bridge’, both composed by Billy Strayhorn. The Duke’s most indelible quote was, “Music is my mistress and she plays second fiddle to no one.” The music mattered to him, not the details. The BPO’s Festival Pops concert opened with Ellington Portrait, a smoothly connected medley of ‘Caravan’, ‘Mood Indigo’, and five other Ellington songs in a glistening, brassy orchestration by Jeff Tyzik. It was an audience hit, but it struck me as more Tyzik than Ellington. Guest vocalist Freda Payne has long been known as a jazz interpreter of sizzling seductiveness and imagination, but in this context her contribution was a mixed blessing. In classics like ‘In a Sentimental Mood’ and ‘I’m Beginning to See the Light’ she unleashed a great sense of style and showmanship but was a bit sloppy sometimes. She concluded with a spectacular traversal of her own signature piece, ‘Band of Gold’, which had little to do with Ellington. But in the middle, Payne contributed one of the festival’s high points, holding the audience spellbound with Billy Strayhorn’s soulfully yearning ‘Lush Life’, accompanied only by a spare, probing Ellingtonian solo piano. There was also a Luther Henderson big-band arrangement of ‘Take the A Train’ that was September/October 2012 overexcited and overextended for the basic character of the music. The main purpose of the Ellington Festival was to throw light on four concert pieces, two each on the Pops and Classics programs. The earliest of these was Black, Brown, and Beige, which debuted in 1943 as a 45-minute work for a Carnegie Hall concert but was heard here in a pared-down 18-minute arrangement by Maurice Peress. Its three movements, played without pause, pay tribute to Black Americans’ faith and work ethic, patriotism, and contributions to American culture. Although it would never be confused with Barber or Copland, the music’s wildly declamatory feeling and the contrasting melancholy blues at its center does present a consistent view of Ellington’s big band jazz sonorities and expressiveness. The music is often undergirded by thunderous percussion, flavored with wah-wah brass, and is fetchingly punctuated by quotations from ‘Come Sunday’, ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot’, and other tunes from Americana. Of similar artistic intent is the 1950 Harlem, arranged by Henderson and Peress. Ellington saw this work as depicting an optimistic view of New York’s Harlem culture, with elegantly dressed church-goers, strollers, parades, and funerals. Introduced by a growling trumpet, the work is episodic, with frequent loud outbursts of Latin-tinged percussion, a fascinating clarinet solo, a captivating ostinato figure in horns that spreads to full orchestra, and lots of screaming trumpets, all in a form that seems more random than carefully structured. The 1970 suite from The River, a ballet written for Alvin Ailey, was arranged by Ron Collier. Here Ellington was clearly aiming toward a more descriptive-impressionist musical language. Falletta and the BPO performed six of the original nine movements depicting the Mississippi River’s progression from a spring to a rapids, lake, whirlpool, and fullfledged river. The wonderfully probing opening horn solo declares the music’s more expansive intentions, which are largely fulfilled in the richly orchestrated ‘Spring’ movement, and especially the ‘Lake’, where a threenote descending motif is extrapolated to create a flowing evocation of serenity and calm. In two of the movements, however, Duke’s jazz roots were too heavily tapped, and the music sounded like big-band Ellington blown up to out-of-place orchestral proportions. The most effective example of the “symphonic Duke” was his last effort in that form, the 1976 Three Black Kings, arranged by Henderson. This was Ellington tipping his hat to King Balthazar of the Three Magi, King Solomon, and Martin Luther King, Jr. Here it’s American Record Guide an almost autumnal Ellington we hear, with confident use of hurried ostinato figures that recur like an old-fashioned ritornello and impressionist upsweeps and swirls, all applied with a master’s brush. The relaxed meditation of Solomon has effective ostinato accompaniment and some rising eight-note figures that momentarily flicker with jazz feeling. The concluding tribute to Martin Luther King, Jr is called a dirge, but initially came across as more of a melancholy reflection with a pulsing theme that finally achieved a power level that had a dirge-like persistence. It was an extremely effective, almost affectionate tribute. The performances by the BPO and Falletta were strikingly clean and assertively projected. To conclude the Classics Series program, Falletta and the BPO called on pianists Orion Weiss and Anna Polonsky as soloists in two works. Poulenc’s witty Two-Piano Concerto fit the program’s theme. As a work by a classically trained composer that was peppered with jazz influences, it stood in a sort of inverse relationship to Ellington. Weiss and Polonsky were also soloists in Saint-Saens’s familiar Carnival of the Animals. Both works were sparklingly played. The Buffalo Philharmonic will perform at Carnegie Hall on May 8 as part of the 2013 Spring for Music Festival. & Music in Concert 9 Philadelphia’s Center City Opera Postman and KKK Premieres Lewis Whittington C enter City Opera Theater, founded in 1999, may still be the new opera kid on the block in Philadelphia; but it has been carving out a lot of new turf as a mid-sized company whose mission is “the creation and production of new works”. Most impressive is their roster of area-based singers who are building audiences via cabarets, flash street arias, and even bar crawls. Founder Andrew Kurtz, the company’s savvy general and artistic director as well as conductor, concentrated this year on two premieres and on moving Center City Opera into its new house, the Prince Music Theater, which presents some acoustical challenges. In May Kurtz conducted the East Coast premiere of Daniel Catan’s Il Postino, launching the company’s Hispanic Opera Initiative. Based on the 1994 Academy Award-winning Italian film, the opera was championed by Placido Domingo, who sang the lead role at its 2010 world premiere in Los Angeles and also in Paris. It was doubly poignant for CCOT to per- 10 Music in Concert form it because the composer, who died last year at age 62, had expressed to Kurtz his wish to have the opera performed by smaller companies. It tells the story of Mario, a shy postman whose only postal stop is the island home of Chilean poet and freedom fighter Pablo Neruda, who is in political exile in Italy. The libretto, also by Catan, is in Spanish. The lyrical score is very cinematic, padded with a lot of soundtrack-like filler, at the expense of more interesting Spanish-centric expression. The production design by Buck Ross and J Dominic Chacon used projected paintings to depict the seaside village and seascape animations as backdrops, which worked very well. Tenor Hugo Vera appeared too young for the aging Neruda, but vocally he was very much the heroic retiring poet. Jorge Garza, also a tenor, was touching as Mario, blooming vocally as he came out of his nervous shell under Neruda’s influence. Jennifer Hoffmann as Neruda’s wife, Matilde, sang with sensual September/October 2012 reserve. Mario falls for Beatrice, a cafe worker, who was played with golden-voiced sincerity by Jennifer Braun. The backdrop of the town’s petty politics sets up all-too-brief choral scenes with the corrupt politico, sung with lusty brio by baritone Paul Corujo, trying to con the crowd. Even with director Leland Kimball keeping the three acts moving at a crisp pace, the opera could easily have been condensed to two. CCOT’s orchestra was made up of members from Camden NJ’s Symphony in C (formerly the Haddonfield Symphony), some of most energized musicians around. Yet at the May 20 performance Kurtz struggled sometimes to stabilize the pitch in several key moments to equalize Catan’s velvety orchestral qualities in the Prince Theater. Two weeks later Kurtz drew the curtain on the world premiere of Michael Ching’s Slaying the Dragon about the KKK and the rise of hate groups in the US. Kimball was tapped once again to direct, this time working with much more arresting images, with the specter of white robed KKK characters singing ‘God Bless America’ with their hands raised in a ‘Heil Hitler’ salute. The in-your-face visuals were part of the very compelling story (libretto by CCOT’s Managing Director Ellen Frankel) of the redemption of Jerry Krieg, a Klan leader who renounces the group and informs on their activities. It must have been doubly creepy to see these images in the opera’s June 9 online stream. Based on Kathryn Watterson’s non-fiction book “Not by the Sword” about Klan leader Larry Trapp, who launched a hate campaign against multiculturalism in Lincoln, Nebraska in the 1990s, the opera is very much in the tradition of the 1930s’ socially conscious plays by Clifford Odets. It is a “message” opera; on its own terms it is a brave, relevant artistic statement. Just as shocking as the white robes was the disconcerting moment when the group removed their hoods, and they looked like reasonable people. There were the expected sneering skinheads, who could be anybody’s alienated youth, but there were also soccer moms whipping out their cell phones to check on their kids’ dinner. After being anointed grand dragon of his chapter of the clan, Krieg and his boys bust up an ecumenical, multiethnic service at Temple Emeth, where they brutally attack American Record Guide Chinese immigrant Giet Long. Also attending the service is Bud Connor, a radio talk show host who comes out as a KKK sympathizer, rallying whites to “take back their country”. The themes of xenophobia, fear, and sedition swirled. Debilitated by advancing diabetes, fearing that the clan will kick him out, Krieg holes up at home and torments the community with threatening phone calls full of racist, sexist, and anti-Semitic slurs. Discovering his condition, Rabbi Nathan and Vera Goodman confront him and try to help him to change his life. As Krieg, tenor Christopher Lorge was vocally impressive in the complex role as he conveyed his inner struggle while backing off the pain. Jennifer Braun turned in a fine performance as Reverend Ava Gray, her soprano voice engulfing the theater. Jody Kidwell as Esther was the emotional high point of the opera, a Holocaust survivor who refused to forgive Jerry until he stopped denying that the genocide occurred. Jason Switzer’s commanding bass-baritone was perfect for Rabbi Nathan, who leads the community away from fighting hate with hate. He and Teresa Eickel as Vera had a wonderful vocal chemistry. Paul Corujo’s silky baritone was perfect for the role of the stealth villain. David Koh as Giet deftly built anger and resolve into his voice. Baritone Roland Burke as Dr Masterson, the black choirmaster, raised the roof in the Hebrew-Gospel number. Ching and Frankel wrote very well for the voice, especially in two strong trios (sung by Burks, Braun, Kidwell, and Koh) in the opera’s most powerful passages. Ching could have developed more cohesive drama in the orchestral architecture, in contrast to his cultural instrumental passages that had fine narrative clarity. Frankel’s libretto leans heavily on sung character speeches that eventually became more “tell” than “show”. But even with a predictable story arc, the opera rode on its messages and musical strengths. Credit Kimball and Kurtz for keeping it at a crisp pace. & Music in Concert 11 Spoleto’s Maverick Operas Glass and Guo Wenjing Premieres Perry Tannenbaum Feng Yi Ting (Shen Tiemei and Jiang Qihu) O pera programming at Spoleto Festival USA has had a maverick aspect to it over the years. For a while, one of the two pieces would be grand in scale but slightly off the beaten track (Luisa Miller, Il Trittico, or Queen of Spades). Secondary works were adventurous, ranging from early operas to modern ones. The formula, never quite predictable, almost invariably offered opera lovers the incentive to travel a long way to the South Carolina coast to see works they couldn’t see elsewhere. Nearly seven years before the Metropolitan Opera discovered a massive audience for Tan Dun’s First Emperor, Spoleto was ahead of the curve in 2000 with Bright Sheng’s Silver River and in 2004 with an epic Peony Pavilion. So the 2012 opera lineup that included two American premieres was daring but not unprecedented. Guo Wenjing’s Feng Yi Ting (Phoenix Pavilion) was merely Spoleto’s latest gaze across the Pacific, the first since Monkey: Journey to the West was the talk of the 2008 festival. And the first American staging of Kepler in the world premiere of its English-language 12 Music in Concert version continued Spoleto’s association with composer Philip Glass that dates back to 1990, when he and poet Allen Ginsberg performed the world premiere of Hydrogen Jukebox. Three more appearances have occurred since. Glass didn’t need to turn 75 to win adulation at Spoleto. He sat for a conversation at Dock Street Theatre on June 2 with Spoleto resident conductor John Kennedy, two hours before Kennedy would conduct Kepler at the Sottile Theatre. Glass even surprised us by scooting over to the keyboard and performing ‘Wichita Vortex Sutra’ from Hydrogen Jukebox, accompanying a rediscovered tape of Ginsberg’s reading. Like his operas, a couple of Glass’s responses to Kennedy’s questions turned expectations upside down. Asked how he found his voice as a composer, Glass said his challenge has always been to lose his voice with the help of his collaborators. Then he described Walt Disney, the subject of Glass’s next “portrait” opera, as the perfect American. Two of the singers from Kepler, Leah Wool and Matt Boehler, appeared as soloists at the second Intermezzo concert the following September/October 2012 afternoon, further compounding the topsyturvy aspects of Glass’s method. Usually we expect an operatic performance to supply the comedy, drama, and compelling stage characters missing in a concert setting. When Boehler and Wool hooked up on Cole Porter’s ‘Oyster Song’ or clowned on Irving Berlin’s ‘You’re Just in Love’, they reaffirmed all that had been missing from Kepler: dialog, suspense, and living, breathing people. Johannes Kepler was the mathematicianastronomer who refined the heliocentric view of the solar system formulated by Copernicus and, against formidable religious and scientific opposition, established the shape of the planetary orbits as elliptical rather than circular. We get that achievement off-handedly in Martina Winkel’s moribund libretto, but Kepler’s struggle and determination to reach his findings and have them accepted never surfaces in the text, which leaves our hero without any named characters to confront him. We can only dimly perceive Kepler’s inner turmoil as he attempts to reconcile divinity with science. Quotes culled from Kepler’s writings certainly resound with his essence. “God wants to be understood through the book of nature” struck me immediately, and, later on, even more poignantly, “Without perfect knowledge, human life is dead.” Glass’s style, with its clockwork repetitions, certainly strengthens the impression that these statements are at the heart of what made Kepler tick. Yet stage director Sam Helfrich was increasingly driven to desperation by the lack of action in the libretto; he inserted intensified action in Act 2 that was shockingly disconnected from what baritone John Hancock (Kepler), a group of six soloists listed as scholars, and the Westminster Choir were singing. At one point the choir was divided into two warring factions, one apparently brandishing Bibles and the other waving scientific textbooks with equal vehemence. The staged action had each faction choosing a champion and the two chosen representatives squaring off for combat as the choir circled around them. At that moment, one of the soloists, possibly their teacher, broke up the conflict, looking up at the sky and declaiming something totally irrelevant to the heavens. Other scenes paraded by that were likewise adrift from dramatic, verbal, or historic context. One by one, the scholars walked up to an official-looking desk and reluctantly signed a document—renouncing or traducing Kepler?—as a scowling actor silently looked on. Another battle was mustered deep in Act 2 where everyone fell down to the floor, many after sprouting gouts of blood on their shirts, though I can’t recall any weapons being drawn. Glass’s music certainly rose to the occasion American Record Guide by echoing the unexplained turmoil. I found the score more involving than the ordeal of Satyagraha. There is grandeur in how the music and libretto circle back to the beginning after 125 minutes, zooming in on the scientist who measured the heavens with unprecedented accuracy, intending to understand and glorify God with his achievement. But where Verdi supplies orchestras with climaxes that draw wild applause to fill the silences that ensue, or where Wagner serenades us with wondrous transitions between scenes, Glass handed Kennedy and the Spoleto Orchestra a jukebox. Music often stopped with a jarring paradoxical abruptness to end episodes. After an awkward pause, a new clockwork was set in motion that was palpably different from the one we just heard, but not sufficiently different to delineate what just ended and what has begun. While Helfrich’s direction often raised the question of whether Kepler is best left as an oratorio until a competent librettist comes along, Kennedy and baritone Hancock brought real vitality to the music. Hancock had to dispatch much of the nebulous business that Helfrich doled out, like communing with a telescope or a pair of ghostly supernumeraries (wife and child? Johannes and his mother?), but his presence, his sure vocal authority, sustained the illusion that Glass’s enterprise holds together when it has actually spun out of control. Phoenix Pavilion, billed as an hour long, actually clocked in at under 42 minutes. But every moment was a rich delight because of all the flavorful colorings Wenjing gave conductor Ken Lam and because of all the evocative details onstage supplied by stage director Atom Egoyan and his wondrous design team: Han Feng (costumes), Derek McLane (scenery), Matt Frey (lighting), Tsang Kin-Wah (video), and Cameron Davis (projections). The depth of the synthesis was astonishing from the moment we sat down at Dock Street Theatre and found ourselves projected on a scrim that spanned across the stage. Mysterious objects were dimly visible behind the scrim, but the only identifiable objects were an ornate vanity mirror and a pair of sacramental statuettes, both at the center. Even if you noticed the camera peephole in the mirror, what happened when the lights went down was still surprising. For when soprano Shen Tiemei entered from stage right as Diao Chan and began admiring herself in the mirror, her image was splayed across the scrim, far larger than life-size, as we gazed at her from behind. A figure of Ancient Chinese legend, Diao, was enlisted to bring down the powerful warlord Dong Zhuo by sowing discord via sexual jealousy between him and his foster son Lü Bu. So in affairs of state, Diao’s beauty was indeed Music in Concert 13 Phillip Glass larger than life. As she and her unseen sponsor Wang Yun hatched and executed their plan that enflamed both the father and the stepson’s adoration, hundreds of additional figurines, like the two that greeted us before the opera began, were artfully illuminated and magnified as shadows onstage. Among the rows of figurines that wove their spell, some were arrayed on little carousels symmetrically spaced at the center of the set, all put into mesmerizing motion by either Diao or a discreet electronic switch. About the only thing that wasn’t magical, at least to Western ears, was the singing of the two principals, Shen Tiemei and tenor Jiang Qihu as Lü. I was still struggling to soften my description of Shen’s singing to something more benign than caterwauling when I found myself eavesdropping on an episode of Ellen DeGeneris’s daytime variety hour that my wife was watching in the next room. Two six- and eight-year-old beauty pageant contestants were singing, and the younger one actually reminded me of Shen. Of course, the sound of Chinese sung in authentic Chinese opera style wound up being exactly what we didn’t realize we wanted. The texture of Guo’s music was easier to anticipate after I peeked down into the orchestra pit to see the array of instruments that Lam would lead, a decidedly East-West assembly. No less than three marimbas were spread 14 Music in Concert along the back wall, adding percussive punch to a light string section plus a clarinet, flute, and bass clarinet. Seated directly in front of Lam (and listed individually in the program) was a quartet playing Chinese instruments: the dizi (wooden flute), pipa (a lute-like instrument), erhu and gaohu (two similar bowed instruments), and sheng (the Chinese answer to the oboe). Pan pipes might be the Western instrument most similar in appearance to the sheng, played through a curved neck connected to a cluster of unevenly sized black pipes that resembled the Chrysler building. Diao’s cunning was icily yet sensuously drawn, and the depiction of Lü, who usually came rolling in from the wings (on some sort of mechanical contraption hidden under his regal dress), was a constant delight. Yet I wish Guo had given us more, both to meet Western expectations and to fully render his legendary source materials. Our femme fatale told us she was prepared to give her life in service of her patriotic cause; she succeeded in toppling the tyrannical Dong; but Feng Yi Teng ends there. It’s as if Shakespeare and Verdi were to end Macbeth at the point where Duncan is murdered and Macbeth is crowned king of Scotland. Guo’s opera would be more powerful if we witnessed the repercussions of Diao’s triumph, the gathering of the inevitable payback, and her downfall. Phoenix Pavilion could then become a full-length evening of exquisitely grand opera. & September/October 2012 Wondrous Pulitzer Foundation Festival St Louis Opera’s Alice in Wonderland Susan Brodie The Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts I t’s impossible to discuss the Pulitzer Contemporary Music Festival in St Louis in June without talking about the art and architecture of the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts, because the series would never have come into being without it. Joseph Pulitzer, Jr, son of the barely educated Moravian-Hungarian immigrant who founded a publishing dynasty, became one of the most discerning art collectors of the 20th Century. His widow, Emily Rauh Pulitzer, a former museum curator, established the foundation as “a sanctuary and laboratory for art, architecture, and ideas”, in the words of Kristina Van Dyke, the Foundation’s director. It’s a glorious platform for synergies among the arts, and it begins with Tadao Ando’s gallery, which opened in October 2001. It’s hard to imagine the wonders in the blank wall of polished concrete fronting the sidewalk in the middle of a dull city block dotted with massive mid-20th Century public buildings looming among parking lots. Archi- American Record Guide tect Tadao Ando’s clean lines are distinctive and recognizable; but the structure, with its cantilevered planes and high, inaccessible windows, also appears to pay homage to Frank Lloyd Wright, the innovative architect of the American prairie. In one of the courtyards, the oxidized coil of Richard Serra’s Joe contrasts with shiny walls; in another, Scott Burton’s Rock Settee forms a naturally rough contrast to the building’s pure lines and a shimmering reflecting pool. Everywhere in the building beams of natural light shift across its spaces through strategically placed apertures. Approaching the near-hidden entrance and moving beyond the contained vestibule, a visitor experiences a space that explodes in multiple dimensions and astonishing shifts in light. The main gallery begins with exhibition space at ground level, then suddenly drops off into a series of stairs that draw the viewer deeper into the building. At the bottom, at the far end of the Music in Concert 15 long, narrow, deep space stands Ellsworth Kelly’s Blue Black, a 28-foot-high canvas designed for the space. Here is where the musicians play, with audience seated on the stairs. A balcony running the length of the gallery offers an observation deck overlooking the space and a choice and coveted vantage point for these concerts. The concert series was conceived not long after the building’s opening when Richard Gaddes, a Pulitzer trustee and former director of the Opera Theatre of St Louis, noticed the superb acoustics created by the spaces surrounding the main gallery. In 2004, David Robertson, newly named music director of the St Louis Symphony, launched the foundation’s first chamber music series with musicians from the orchestra performing two concerts of music of John Adams, Pierre Boulez, Ives, Varese, Stravinsky, and Kevin Puts (b 1972). Subsequent programs have included music primarily by universally recognized master composers of the 20th Century, supplemented with works of younger composers like Donatoni (1927-2000), Pulitzer Prize winner David Lang (b 1957), and Frederic Rzewski (b 1938). Each concert series was curated in conjunction with a gallery installation, making for fascinating interdisciplinary juxtapositions. Reading the old program lists, one senses that Robertson relishes the crossing of artistic boundaries and discovery of interactions. It’s a stimulating series, with an enthusiastic following eager to fill those 200 uncomfortable seats. The 2012 edition was titled “Retrospectives and Innovations: A Celebration of 10 Years of the Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts”, in conjunction with artist Gedi Sibony’s “In the Still Epiphany”, a thoughtful installation of works from the Pulitzer collection. Each concert programmed at least one work that had already been heard on a Pulitzer concert. On the June 14th program George Crumb’s Black Angels (1970) for string quartet (doubling on percussion) had been played in 2007. It was superb, evoking the chaos and yearning of those confused years. St Louis musicians Peter Otto, Eva Kozma, Morris Jacob, and Bjorn Ranheim captured both the frenzy and lyrical calm of the time, whether playing their instruments conventionally or upside down, or bowing, or striking gongs or glasses. The second half of the program was something of a letdown. The People United Will Never Be Defeated!, 36 variations on a Chilean revolutionary song for solo piano by American Frederic Rzewski, was written for Ursula Oppens as a companion piece for Beethoven’s Diabelli Variations. The piece was too long by half, at least as played by Peter Henderson in a rough and undifferentiated performance abounding in clunkers and blurred notes. Still, the evening overall made me regret 16 Music in Concert having to miss the next two concerts: a session of works by Steve Reich and David Lang with the fabulous So Percussion ensemble, and a concert reprising Messiaen’s Visions de l’Amen (reportedly a transformative performance) and works by Donatoni and Unsuk Chin. Across town Opera Theatre of Saint Louis had returned to the Webster Theatre for its annual festival season. Of the four works, the American premiere of Unsuk Chin’s Alice in Wonderland was the big news. First seen in Munich in 2007, Alice, with its colorful scenario and fascinating characters, would seem a fascinating source for an opera. While most English speakers encountered Lewis Carroll’s masterpiece as children, Chin discovered Alice as an adult. After reading about it in scientific works, she was inspired to capture its surreal qualities and universal elements. It really doesn’t work as opera: the story of a little girl who falls asleep on a riverbank and dreams of strange characters talking nonsense has no real dramatic arc with conflict and resolution. Worse, the fantastic language of that nonsense, the essence of Carroll’s genius, is far too intricate and dense to compete with the visual and musical activity. Even in librettist David Henry Hwang’s adaptation, I found myself too often distracted by absurdist wordplay, though I’m now eager to rediscover the original. The production, directed by Artistic Director James Robinson, with sets by Allen Moyer, costumes by James Schuette, video by Greg Emetaz, and lighting by Christopher Akerlind, was quite delightful, cleverly capturing the fantastic elements. The score itself contains many pleasures. Chin, known primarily for her instrumental works, is a wizard of orchestral color and texture. Even with her own reduced orchestration, necessitated by the small pit, the combinations of instruments, conducted by Michael Christie, created an astounding variety of sonorities with minimal resort to extended playing techniques. But Chin’s determined eclecticism, while providing amusing moments like two rap numbers, saps the work of coherence and made the evening seem longer. Chin’s vocal writing remains a weaker element, though the young singers, coached in English diction by Erie Mills, were largely excellent, despite clumsy singing lines. Standouts in the large cast (36 solo singers and a dancer, plus extras) included soprano Ashley Emerson as Alice, countertenor David Trudgen as both the White Rabbit and the March Hare, mezzo Julie Makerov as the imperious Queen of Hearts, and Aubrey Allicock as the demented, rapping Mad Hatter. Choreographer Sean Curran danced expressively as the Mock Turtle as well as Caterpillar, and Tracy Dahl returned to OTSL in a sparkling cameo as the Cheshire Cat. & September/October 2012 Fort Worth Opera Texas Troupe with a Buzz Joseph Dalton Xanthe (Jamie-Rose Guarrine), Myrrhine (Ashley Kerr), and Sappho (Lilliana Piazza) admire General Nico (Scott Scully) in a scene from Lysistrata Three operas in two days means an ambitious festival in progress. When the Fort Worth Opera reinvented itself in 2007 from the traditional format of fall and spring seasons into a concentrated annual festival, the idea was to draw attention and lure audiences, not just North Texans but folks from far and wide. It certainly seems to have worked. Some unscientific observation combined with occasional eavesdropping showed healthy-sized crowds of locals sprinkled with opera buffs and industry professionals from around the country. A well packed schedule isn’t enough, though. Good performances and interesting programming are essential, and on these fronts FWO is also succeeding. At each perfor- American Record Guide mance, the musical execution from cast and orchestra was very good to excellent, while sets and costumes were substantial and fresh. Plus, two out of the three operas—Jake Heggie’s Three Decembers and Mark Adamo’s Lysistrata—were less than 10 years old. Starting with the traditional, Friday May 25 was the season’s third performance of Puccini’s Tosca (I did not see this year’s fourth opera, Mozart’s Marriage of Figaro). Music Director Joe Illick conducted a meaty and driving orchestra in support of a fine cast, including soprano Carter Scott in the title role, baritone Michael Chioldi as Scarpia, and tenor Roger Honeywell as Cavaradossi. The violent murder and reverent aftermath in Act II were Music in Concert 17 appropriately riveting and chilling, yet the ecclesiastical parade in Act I also lingers in memory. Beneath an elaborate set, some 35 feet tall, processed a chorus of 30 adults and 15 children, plus 22 supernumeraries serving as villagers, clerics, and even the pope. It’s interesting trivia that both of the contemporary pieces (seen the next day) were premiered by the Houston Grand Opera. That company, of course, has a long and distinguished track record of premieres, but seems to have lost steam in recent years. Other than being of recent Texas vintage and set in English, the two newer operas might seem to have little in common. Lysistrata is a comedy of mythic origin and grand in scale. It’s based on Aristophanes’s battle of the sexes amidst the male fixation on war. By contrast, Three Decembers is familial, poignant, and intimate. It’s about two adult American children confronting their aging and distant mother, who’s an aloof Broadway actress. The source is a play by Terrance McNally. Seeing these shows back to back in the same day led to still more thoughts on their contrasts and similarities. Adamo’s opera is about two and a half hours long, yet almost devoid of set pieces. Minutes into the first act there’s a fart in the brass, and the orchestral score remains fragmented and grinding. Most of the umpteen gags are in the composer’s original libretto, which is too clever by half. It’s heavy on dialog, lists, and silly accents, and also overstuffed with alliteration. Though replete with rhymes, it’s short of poetry. Heggie’s Three Decembers is 90 minutes of pure lyricism. An offstage chamber ensemble bathes the whole in long smooth lines. There’s also a lot of conversation, some on cell phones, but all three characters are given space and scenes to plumb their emotional depths. Gene Scheer’s libretto betrays the story’s roots in straight play and is sprinkled with profanities. Despite these different terrains, the effect of each opera was largely the same—minimal. Neither drew me into its musical universe or struck home emotionally on any consistent basis. I had one, maybe two, spontaneous laughs in the whole of Lysistrata. In Three Decembers the gay son’s grief after his partner died of AIDS was unexpectedly touching; but the family fights, profane laugh lines, and final apotheosis of the diva mother all left me cold. The audiences, though, seemed to eat up both shows. There were guffaws aplenty in Lysistrata and audible sniffles at the conclusion of Three Decembers. Nevertheless, it’s hard to imagine productions that could make the case for the two operas any more persuasively than the FWO’s 18 Music in Concert admirable efforts. In Lysistrata soprano Ava Pine was on top of her game as Lysia, and was even at her best in the finale, when the libretto peters out into a bunch of stammering syllables. Other fine supporting cast members were tenor Scott Scully, mezzos Meaghan Deiter and Alissa Anderson, and baritone Michael Mayes. Conductor Illick kept the orchestra rolling. The colorful set was a combination of scaffolding, columns, and trompe l’oeil statuary. There was a bit more to quibble about in Three Decembers. Sopranos Janice Hall and Emily Pulley looked more like sisters than mother and daughter, and Hall’s voice had an inconsistent tone and a few pitch problems. Baritone Matthew Worth started out sounding very operatic with a throaty, too-rounded tone, but eventually settled into delivering the vernacular text with a convincing American accent. The offstage ensemble was screechy in the angular interludes, and I longed for a bigger sound in the swelling emotional climaxes. The conductor was Christopher Larkin. The sets by Bob Lavallee were chic and lavish. And, by the way, the opera was performed with no supertitles—a nice statement of confidence in the ability of the singers to be understood, which they were. Speaking of confidence, the programming of Lysistrata and Three Decembers is evidence of Darren Woods, FWO’s general director, having confidence in his audience and the local community. And here I’m not talking about the ability of listeners to accept some new works, but, rather, to handle the subject matter. I once heard (I think it was on PBS) an editor at the Fort Worth Star-Telegram say that Tarrant County was the country’s most conservative after Orange County, California. Yet you wouldn’t know it from the work of the Fort Worth Opera. In 2008 they produced Peter Eötvös’s Angels in America (Sept/Oct 2008) and two years later premiered Jorge Martin’s Before Night Falls (Sept/Oct 2010). Like both of these pieces, Three Decembers overtly addresses homosexuality and AIDS. And for all the silliness in Lysistrata, it contains a fair bit of explicit eroticism. During the whole of Act II the soldiers were literally hard up. Taken as a whole, the whirlwind weekend of opera in Cowtown was a good ride and served as further confirmation that the Fort Worth Opera is the Texas troupe with a buzz. Next year’s contemporary opera, Tim Capillo’s Glory Denied (2007), based on the book about America’s longest-held Vietnam prisoner-of-war, comes with a “contains mature content” notice. In 2013 the festival will run about a month earlier: April 20-May 12. & September/October 2012 Montreal Chamber Music Festival Ambitious Programs, Mixed Results Earl Arthur Love T his year’s 17th Montreal Chamber Music Festival, held May 10 to June 2, offered three complete cycles of masterworks: Bach’s Cello Suites, Shostakovich’s String Quartets, and Mozart’s Viola Quintets, as well as two concerts each by violinist James Ehnes and soprano Isabel Bayrakdarian. In addition, the festival presented four evenings of jazz and one of a comedy duo. I attended 10 of the 17 concerts, all held at St George’s Anglican Church, a wonderful example of English Gothic Revival architecture—a gorgeous space with excellent acoustics. My introduction to the festival was a master class on the Cello Suites with formidable teacher and cellist Colin Carr. He offered what one could call a “vegan” view of the suites. (He told one student that her playing sounded like meat, then turned to the audience and said, with tongue in cheek, “Ugh”.) Canadian radio host Eric Friesen and Quebec musicologist Richard Turp introduced each suite over two evenings (played in sets of 1, 3, 5 and 2, 4, 6), using Montrealer Eric Siblin’s “The Cello Suites” (named by The Economist one of the 10 best books of 2010) as their starting point. Translation of remarks for the English- and French-speaking audience made for long evenings. It was fascinating to hear Carr’s remarks to the students illustrated in his own playing. For him Bach is subtlety, sensitivity, light, economical bowing, an even pulse—in his own words, “easy listening music”. These attributes dominated his performances. His articulation, intonation, phrasing, sincerity, etc., were irreproachable (notwithstanding the odd squeak). But he could have used more dynamic contrast and passion, especially the first evening. Apart from the sorrowful Sarabande of Suite No. 2, there was little that deeply moved me. This pattern was repeated for the next two cycles. For the Shostakovich cycle, before each of the concerts over four consecutive evenings, author Wendy Lesser (“Music for Silenced Voices”), with Richard Turp as translator, gave 50-minute overviews of each group of quartets. Although they were interesting, the excel- American Record Guide P.H.J.B lent program notes by Robert Strong would have been sufficient. The Pacifica Quartet (whose members still appear quite young) has been around for almost 20 years. Although technically adept, they lack the weight to play Shostakovich convincingly. Too often their playing sounded light-hearted and skittish. Violist Masumi Per Rostad and cellist Brandon Vamos showed depth, direction, and musicality; but violinists Simin Ganatra and Sigurbjorn Bernhardsson failed to bring out Shostakovich’s inner agonies that are the bedrock of this music. The players did not find a common voice. Mozart’s six string quintets were introduced by Eric Friesen and Quebec actorpianist Jean Marchand. This time, rather than translating the other’s remarks, they offered different commentary in each language. I attended the first evening and heard the young Canadian Afiara String Quartet (joined by violist Michael Tree, a founding member of the Guarneri Quartet) perform Nos. 1 and 6. They lacked intensity and sense of direction, they skipped repeats and trills, and often the sound from the cellist was scarcely audible. The performance of Quintet No. 2 by the Cecilia Quartet, also a Canadian group (with guest violist Barry Shiffman), was not much better. There were wrong notes, uneven meters in measures, skipped repeats, and a general lack of drive. This was the third time I’d heard disappointing performances from this quartet (more below). The high point of this year’s festival was “Revelation Ravel: James Ehnes and Friends”. (Why was the concert called “Revelation Ravel?” The music was familiar; maybe the organizers thought the performances would be revealing?) At any rate, the overall playing was Music in Concert 19 first-class. Despite the shaky opening by cellist Robert deMaine, the Sonata for Violin and Cello was impassioned and heart-stopping, bristling with musical ideas. The Trio, with pianist Andrew Armstrong, elicited a wide range of emotions, from the warm sunny tone of the first movement to the blistering Scherzo, the reverential and ravishing Passacaglia, and the light and joy of the finale. In the second half of the concert the James Ehnes Quartet, with second violinist Amy Schwartz Moretti, violist Richard O’Neill, and cellist De Maine, made its Canadian debut. The performance, while slightly less impassioned than the Sonata and Trio, was a textbook illustration of sensitivity, nuance, balance, intonation, and expressivity. In a word, perfect Ravel. Second highest on the enjoyment meter was the Preservation Hall Jazz Band. Festival founder and artistic director, cellist Denis Brott (formerly of the Orford Quartet), has a reputation of taking risks. This year he booked four jazz concerts, and I attended two. The Band, led by maverick trumpeter Mark Braud (whose playing sent chills up my spine), offered two generous sets of over 45 minutes each, with such classics as ‘That Slide Trombone’, ‘The Sun’s Gonna Shine On My Back Door Someday’, ‘Puttin’ On the Ritz’, ‘Shake It and Break It’, ‘St James Infirmary Blues’, and of course, ‘When the Saints Go Marching In’. Although the first half was a little low-key, someone must have lit a fire under them during the break, as they had the audience dancing in the aisles in the second half. I believe it was the only sold-out concert. My second jazz event was a performance by the Angelo Debarre Quartet, specializing in “manouche”—gypsy swing popularized by Django Reinhardt in 1930s Paris. The sweet, slow rhythms of this syrupy music are ideal for a Paris cafe but out of context in a concert hall (let alone a church!). Nevertheless, the music was eminently enjoyable, the number of tunes played generous, and the audience appreciative. Not used to this type of music, I was struck by the fact that guitarist Angelo Debarre and violinist Marius Apostol were the stars, while the equally-accomplished double bassist Antonio Licusati had only one solo (they played 17 numbers), and “comp” guitarist Tchavolo Hassan had none. The low point of the Festival was appropriately named “A Little Nightmare Music” with violinist Aleksey Igudesman and pianist Hyugki Joo. They gave consistently cheap, gratuitous renditions of Victor Borge-type sketches (like wiggling their bums or lying on the floor while playing ‘Für Elise’) but without Borge’s sophistication and wit. It’s odd that the near- 20 Music in Concert capacity audience ate it up. It was just too crass for my guest and me, so we left during intermission. The closing concert was this festival’s tradition of a double-header, a four-hour marathon of one composer’s music—this year, Dvorak. 17-year-old Chinese-American piano prodigy Conrad Tao opened with the American Suite. His excellent technique, judicious use of the sustaining pedal, and poetic sensitivity were marred only by some banging in the louder passages and a squeaky piano stool. Tao was then joined by Montreal pianist David Jalbert in six Slavonic Dances (switching places after the third) with expressiveness, elan, and light touch. The Cecilia Quartet followed after the first intermission with Quartet No. 13, which they recently recorded for Analekta. Their playing sounded thin, strident, and lacking in confidence. Equal notes were played with unequal value, portamento was used (none is indicated in the score), and sometimes I could barely detect the presence of the cello and the second violin, even from the second row. They returned later in the evening with a riveting rendition of the Piano Quintet. Perhaps inspired by the solid, propelling accompaniment of pianist David Jalbert, the players hit their stride with an expressive, uplifting performance. Andrew Wan (one of the two concertmasters from the Montreal Symphony) joined Tao for a tightly controlled, technically impressive Sonatina, Op. 100. The concert and festival closed with 16 musicians giving a warm, flowing performance of the Serenade for Strings. The string players were joined by members of the Afiara Quartet, Shiffman, bassist Eric Chappell, and Brott. This year’s festival was an odd mix. Are the organizers happy with several types of audience, or are they searching for one in particular? The two jazz concerts and the comedy evening I attended had larger and different audiences than the classical music concerts, whose numbers seemed to be dropping off near the end. Brott explained to me that he opened it up to jazz because, like chamber groups, each player has a single voice. Should he then open it to other types of music? The concert venue is intimate, attractive, has wonderful acoustics, and is easily accessible; but it also has drawbacks. Despite the cushions, the pews are uncomfortable, washroom facilities scarce, there is no air-conditioning, and sight lines are not great. 17 concerts plus the master class spread over 24 days may discourage some from attending more often, especially out-of-town visitors. But the festival is running in the black and may therefore see no reason to change its formula. & September/October 2012 On the Way to Dresden Via Berlin and Leipzig Gil French A scene from Kurt Weill’s Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny I n May the road to the Dresden Music Festival (next article) was paved with concerts in Berlin and Leipzig. None was more anticipated than hearing the Berlin Philharmonic in its home, the Philharmonie, constructed in 1962 in West Berlin, one year after the rise of the Berlin Wall sealed off the city’s historic hall, the Konzerthaus, as well as the famed Staatsoper Under den Linden in East Berlin. The Philharmonie’s logo, three differently tilted pentagons in one, couldn’t be more apt. The acoustics are a problem. The hall is divided into acoustical caves by walls, with remote American Record Guide wings on the far sides. My seat was on the orchestra level, row 20, dead center. I was right in the middle of a row of about 50 seats, on the dividing line where the otherwise straight row is broken at an angle. Three rows behind was a huge vertical barrier, like a ship’s prow, splitting the Philharmonie into two halls, left and right. The sound of the orchestra was transparent, bright yet somewhat warm, but very direct, not at all embracing. The six string basses Claudio Abbado used in an otherwise full orchestra were barely audible. In Berg’s Music in Concert 21 Altenberg Lieder the mezzo was completely inaudible when the orchestra played forte or louder. Was Anne Sophie von Otter having an “off” night? No, for, when Isabelle Faust followed her as soloist in Berg’s Violin Concerto, the same problem occurred. I was sitting “dead center” in more ways than one. Nor did it help that Abbado interpreted both works with metronomic strictness and intellectual objectivity. How I missed the concerto’s melancholy passion and the atmospheric ripeless he brought to the songs in his 1970 DG recording with Margaret Price and the London Symphony. With Abbado’s three performances sold out for weeks (they were the most expensive tickets in town), it was impossible to change seats at intermission for Schumann’s Symphony No. 2. In it and the Genoveva Overture that opened the concert, Abbado spent at least 75% of his time facing the first violins, conducting again with rigid tempos. There were plenty of shapely melodies and rhythms, but no pulse and no bass line. While he did use the composer’s original instrumentation, his interpretation was in complete contrast to the stirring 1960 New York Philharmonic recordings of Schumann’s complete symphonies (on Sony) with Leonard Bernstein, who pioneered the use of the original scores in modern times. Despite this, I have never encountered an orchestra like the Berlin Philharmonic. Like the Dresden State Orchestra and Vienna Philharmonic, its sound is unique, but for a special reason. Here ensemble goes far beyond mere accuracy or timbre. Body language is intense to the last rows; players sharing music stands relate like long-married couples, the principal oboe and flute included. The sound is rich, deep, beyond professional, personally contoured by players who “fit in” to the BPO sound and listen to each other. What’s more, this is the first time I ever encountered 10 curtain calls, the last after Abbado—now a healthy 79, recovered from two serious illnesses, lean and skipping down the stairs with his hand above the rail—had led the orchestra off-stage and half the audience had left. But the other half still applauded. Out came the BPO’s former artistic director (19902002), then forced out by stomach cancer, now alone onstage, acknowledging the audience’s love affair with Herbert von Karajan’s successor. Three nights later the St Petersburg Philharmonic visited the Philharmonie. From my seat, a few rows closer but more off-center, the sound was superbly balanced and transparent, but still it came at me without a warm embrace. In Liadov’s Kikimora Yuri Temirkanov (without baton) made this darker-col- 22 Music in Concert ored ensemble dance like sprites. Nor did I have any trouble from this seat hearing soloist Julia Fischer in the Sibelius Violin Concerto, though her perfection lacked angst and charisma, as if she were too studied and not demanding enough. Didn’t she hear the gorgeously dark French horns, viola solo, and 16th-note string basses that Temirkanov lifted right out of the orchestra? I could practically feel the wood on the bassoons. It’s a pity she wasn’t inspired more by the accents, sweep, and ecstasy of the orchestra. After intermission I moved down to the third row center for Dvorak’s New World Symphony. Temirkanov used 10—yes, 10!—string basses. Embracing sound at last! All the technical stuff (beats, accents, balances) were taken care of at home. Here Temirkanov closed his eyes, and his hands performed choreography, his brain grasping the overall forms and his gestures drawing long lines with terraced contrasts. I especially noted that he hummed most of the time, not the melody or bass line but interior lines that form the skeleton of each movement’s structure. He maintained the second movement’s poignancy all on one line, and the third movement’s transition to the trio was flexible yet utterly seamless. After two encores (one from Stravinsky’s Pulcinella with the sensational principal string bass’s facetious showmanship), a damsel delivering the flowers gave two kisses Germanstyle, but 73-year-old Temirkanov held her for Russian kiss No. 3. As her pert buttock exited, he turned and eyed her from stem to stern, flipping “Not bad!” eyebrows to the concertmaster. The man in front of me exploded in guffaws. Ah, those Russians! Between Abbado’s and Temirkanov’s conducting style came Riccardo Chailly with his Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, performing at Berlin’s Konzerthaus, the city’s old queen of halls, much like the Musikverein in Vienna: shoe box, flat floor, small rear balcony and side tiers (but with better viewing), brighter in color (white, red, and gold), and brighter (make that louder) acoustically. Chailly, 59, also afflicted with recent health problems, appeared trim, happy, and energetically one with his superb musicians, though the orchestra’s timbre is more generic than the BPO and St Petersburg. In Ravel’s Piano Concerto in G, in contrast to the smiling Chailly’s bright, crisp, transparent accompaniment, Helene Grimaud lived up to her reputation as an erratic player, sometimes hard-toned, sometimes lumbering, and self-indulgent in her first-movement solos. Yet in the second movement she was unmannered and utterly lovely. Chailly’s tempos in the finale defied any possibility of clear articulation. September/October 2012 If you’re familiar with Chailly’s Concertgebouw recording of Mahler’s Symphony No. 4 on Decca, this performance was essentially the same, afflicted with unrelated tempo changes. Without a continuous thread, it came off sounding like a series of effects divided by sudden dynamic changes (tossed at the orchestra with big gestures), big climaxes, and woodwind breaths that broke the line. Chailly couldn’t hold steady tempos in the third movement. He even dickered with the fourth movement’s final four harp notes, adding accents and a retard. Soprano Christina Landshamer’s Slavic timbre was tempered by a softly floating tone in the text’s refrains. Was it my mood or the bright acoustics that made the Gewandhaus seem less subtle than the other two orchestras? Daniel Barenboim was appointed music director of the Staatsoper Unter den Linden (Berlin State Opera) in 1992 and has been appointed conductor for life of the orchestra. Like James Levine did at the Met, he has transformed the orchestra into a world-class instrument (see Mahler festival reviews in July/Aug 2007 and Sept/Oct 2009). With its historic theater now closed for renovation at least through 2015, it currently performs in the 1,067-seat, visually unremarkable Schiller Theater, which has a completely open orchestra pit and dry but well-projected sound. In 2004 three ballet companies were combined into the Staatsballet Berlin and now perform at the city’s three opera houses. While the company’s leading dancers are not the most soaring, its traditional production of John Cranko’s Onegin showed a basic corps (12 couples) of consummate ensemble even in the most intricate and imaginative choreography. Modest sets, rich period costumes, and excellent lighting were upstaged by the electric dynamism and mood shifts of two of the company’s lead dancers, Nadja Saidakova as Tatiana and Wieslaw Dudek as Onegin, assisted by the superb pacing, stylish rhythms, and high drama American conductor Paul Connelly drew from the Berlin Staatskapelle in KurtHeinz Stolze’s orchestration of mostly obscure piano works by Tchaikovsky and a condensed version of Francesca da Rimini for the breathtaking finale (Cranko rejected the use of any music from the opera). Michael Thalheimer’s stupid stage direction of Mozart’s Abduction from the Seraglio put the Unter den Linden to shame. Not a prop on the stage, only a stage divided into two floors. The cast wore inane unrelated Eurotrash costumes. Gestures were worthy of a high school production, except for attempts at dog-like sex. My partner said, “Can you imagine Dmitri Hvorostovsky doing that?” I replied, American Record Guide “He’d shove it right in some twit director’s face!” And nothing beat the Pasha, using a hoarse voice that sounded like a frenzied Adolf Hitler, except for “count 1-2-3” pauses between each sentence. At least Hitler understood rhythm. Above all, the singers were provincial at best (unforgiveable in a major house), except for Corneila Götz as Blonde. Englishman Christopher Mould’s strongly characterized, superbly paced conducting of the Staatskapelle was the evening’s other saving virtue. So it was with trepidation that I moved on to Leipzig to see Kurt Weill’s Rise and Fall of the City of Mahagonny the next night at the Leipzig Opera’s communist-built house— plain, rectangular, but with a large stage, open orchestra pit, and superb acoustics. At first I feared, “No sets again!” But then a few props appeared in front of the huge digital moviescreen backdrop. The stage was black, but stunning lighting, Ingo Krügler’s colorful and tasteful period costumes, Kerstin Polenske’s brilliant staging, and magnificent singing gave every person on stage individual character. The Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra was large enough (saxophones replace violas in the score) to give an orchestral richness even to the Bach chorale-like allusions in the finale. Ulf Schirmer’s conducting accented the humor, drama, and pathos. The general impression was one of spontaneity, but nothing was left to chance in this visually and aurally sumptuous production. My only visit to the Gewandhaus itself was for a performance of the orchestra of the Leipzig Academy that was founded by Mendelssohn himself. Felix would have rolled over in his grave if he had heard this pathetic ensemble of college-level players plus a few professionals. (I wonder if the hall sounds this bright with its home ensemble?) Director Horst Förster is to blame for unbelievably shoddy tuning, soggy rhythmic pulse, blaring brass, unarticulated strings, and utter lack of balances in Debussy’s Prelude to the Afternoon of a Faun and Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5. Different flutists utterly destroyed their opening phrases in both works. (For a distinguished student orchestra, see the next article.) The orchestra was at least tolerable in Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 18. Only soloist Ukrainian-German Alexej Gorlatch, who turns 30 this year and was winner of the 2011 ARD Competition in Munich and silver medalist at Leeds in 2009, was truly worth hearing. His encore, Chopin’s Etude, Op. 10:4, was as highly dramatic and sharply etched as the Mozart was finely articulated and delicately phrased. He’s a talent to watch. & Music in Concert 23 Dresden Music Festival Variety, Ecstasy, and Healing Gil French Jan Vogler. A mericans are so uptight compared to people in Berlin, Leipzig, and Dresden, where it’s rare to see anyone using a cell phone, etc. in public. Everything except food establishments and museums—even the massive shopping mall in central Dresden—is closed on Sundays. So people ride their bikes with friends or family (including kids), stop and have a brew, eat, look at one another, and enjoy each another’s company, which is exactly what they do at concerts. They’re social events; people arrive an hour early, visit, drink, eat, then do the same again at intermissions, which are at least a half-hour long. Inside the concert halls they’re again the opposite of uptight Americans. They don’t fidget with their programs, shift in their seats, adjust their hair, or take 30 seconds to unwrap those damnable cough drops. They sit perfect- 24 Music in Concert ly still, glued to the performers. And when the concert is over, they don’t let their musicians go without a minimum of five curtain calls, as some gradually stand and others begin to voice their ovations. During my May 23 to 28 visit to this year’s Dresden Music Festival (May 15 to June 3), no ovations were more demonstrative than the ones for the debut of the period-instrument Dresden Festival Orchestra at the Semperoper (officially the Saxon State Opera House) on Pentecost Monday morning (a national holiday when all stores were closed for a second day in a row). Its rich, projected acoustics make this Dresden’s best concert hall, with curtains dropped behind the performers, further back for full orchestra, right at the proscenium for chamber groups. Because Ivor Bolton led them with such spry tightly-sprung rhythms, transparent textures, terraced balances, and keenly shaped harmonic flow supporting highly expressive melodies, it took until half-way into the concert before I realized they played with little to no vibrato. Johann Naumann’s Haydnesque Overture to Acis and Galatea sprung right out of the box, followed by two arias, one coloratura, one adagio, with sultry soprano Danielle DeNiese. She not only thought “line”; her gestures, posture (her body rotates around her anchored diaphragm), and eye contact were firmly rooted on Bolton and the orchestra. After a dazzling Exsultate, Jubilate by Mozart, this consummate team player directed all of her alluring presence and evident joy toward her musical partners. One reason WF Bach’s bassy Symphony in D, F 64, Haydn’s Violin Concerto No. 3, and Beethoven’s Symphony No. 1 were ebullient successes was the fact that baroque violinist Giuliano Carmignola was not only soloist in the Haydn but concertmaster of the orchestra. But more important was Bolton’s conducting style: yes, he attended to melodic shape, beat, balance, and pulse; but, above all, he was a choreographer who made the music dance. After the Beethoven, with cutting long-bore trumpets and tightly-rapped timpani, and five curtain calls, he responded with an encore, repeating the final movement, but this time even tighter, brighter, and more dance-like. Three ovations later, all he could say was, “We’re new. We have such limited repertoire.” September/October 2012 As everyone left, it took several minutes before I could speak again. The Semperoper is the home of the famed 150-member, self-governing Dresden State Orchestra (Staatskapelle: funded mainly by the state of Saxony, residing in Dresden, able to serve simultaneously as the opera’s orchestra, a concert orchestra, and a chamber orchestra, and the biggest supplier of players to the Bayreuth Festival). With its unique, profound, dark timbre, and ultra-creamy violins and (especially) violas, it was on home territory in Bruckner’s Symphony No. 8. New chief conductor Christian Thielemann began phrases with exquisitely transparent pianissimos and built to climaxes that I swore would crack the plaster in this ripe, relatively “close” house of 1300 seats with four balconies. But his excited tempos were erratic, dividing each movement into gorgeously played but self-indulgent patches. With overarching form, Bruckner is monumental; without it, he sounds naive and interminable, which is what Thielemann wrought. The most anticipated concert at the Semperoper, with Valery Gergiev and the Mariinsky Orchestra, was by far the worst festival performance I heard. In Bartok’s Miraculous Mandarin Suite and Strauss’s Heldenleben, the orchestra, which lacked the distinctive character of the Berlin Philharmonic or Dresden and sounded as generic as most orchestras in Great Britain or the US, was certainly prepared, but the lifeless Gergiev was not. His head was so buried in the scores it seemed he’d never seen them before. Tempo relationships were nonexistent in the Bartok. And while Thielemann broke the music into patches, Gergiev stretched it with terminal, decelerating tempos. The violin solo in the Strauss was so interminable and the interpretation so “phoned in” that I would have walked out, had I not been stuck dead center in a row of about 50 seats. In Honegger’s Cello Concerto Gergiev at least had the decency to create a light, airy space around soloist Jan Vogler and give terrific support to his spiky jazz, longing melancholy, and coloratura playing. How dare he not! Vogler is the festival’s director. The Semperoper, first built by Gottfried Semper in 1841, destroyed by fire in 1869 and by the Allies’ fire bombs in 1945, and resurrected once again in 1985, is but one of the many historic performance spaces, churches, palaces, and museums authentically rebuilt on the south side of the Elbe River (the more residential north side was spared the bombs). They form the historical heart of this city, whose attractive but large, weighty structures convey the absolute authority of Augustus II (elector of the Austro-Hungarian emperor, American Record Guide King of Poland, and known as the Strong, alias Hercules or Iron-Hand—prolific too, fathering over 250 children). Unlike Berlin and Leipzig, both heavy with German-speaking tourists in May, Dresden was my first encounter with masses of tour groups led by umbrella- or flag-wielding guides. More than the lines of people to see the fabulous jewels collected by Augustus II and the stunning collection of paintings (better than anything in Berlin) collected by Augustus III were the ones for Dresden’s emotional centerpiece, the Frauenkirche (Lutheran Church of our Lady), finally reopened in 2005 (March/April 2006). The 1800 seat structure, at least nine stories tall (not counting the dome) with at least five balconies and a six-second reverberation, is not the place to hear a concert if one wants to appreciate the music, especially when played by a period-instrument ensemble (Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment) and sung by a tenor (Ian Bostridge) performing Bach pitched below his optimum range. On the main floor I could at least hear Bostridge’s diction, but orchestral and solo articulation were impossible to hear in Brandenburg Concerto No. 4 and several sinfonias from cantatas. At intermission I moved up to the third balcony, where I could finally see the orchestra, which projected a bit more clearly but where Bostridge was merely distant vowels. Dresden’s worst concert hall is the Kulturpalast, a huge communist box that authorities are attempting to get permission to close in December for renovation. It is home of the town’s decidedly second orchestra, the Dresden Philharmonic (funding mainly from the city), judging from the results permanent first guest conductor Markus Poschner’s windmill gestures got in Beethoven’s Coriolan Overture and Prokofieff’s Violin Concerto No. 2. Precision, ensemble, and transparency were weak. Subtle he was not. Nor was violinist Vadim Repin, who was usually ahead of the beat, making the concerto sound as if he’d played it too often. Deciding I had nothing more to learn here by staying for Beethoven’s Symphony No. 7, I left at intermission to hear a wild Moldavian. The setting for Patricia Kopatchinskaya, a stunning Moldavian violinist, and her parents, violinist Emilia and cimbalom player Viktor Kopatchinsky, plus the gripping pianist Mihaela Ursuleasa, plus string bassist Martin Gjakonovski in some Eastern European folk music, was the stunning, modern, ecologically pristine Volkswagen factory (where luxury Phaetons are made), found in the Grosser Garten, Dresden’s Central Park! In the corner of a production floor, with suspended body Music in Concert 25 frames glowing royal blue with backlighting, Patricia and Mihaela were so possessed of the kinds of authentic rhythms, flowing rubato, accents, and uninhibited ethnic style that I’ll never be happy with another performance again. The same happened in Ravel’s Tzigane (a week later when hearing an elegant recording of it with Elmar Oliveira, how I longed for that Eastern European intoxication only natives possess). Still, not even these players could make me appreciate my first hearing of Kurtag’s Eight Duos for violin and cembalom and Enesco’s Violin Sonata No. 3. The second floor of the small, still partly ruined Palais in the same Grosser Garten was the perfect acoustic for two chamber concerts on May 27, one probably only the second performance of an opera written (both music and Italian libretto) in 1835 by Princess Amalie von Sachsen (Duchess of Saxony) called La Casa Disabitata (The Uninhabitable or Haunted House). The supplied text was only in German, but the plot was easy enough, about false impressions and married jealousy, all working out in the end. The score, “stolen” by the Russians in the 19th Century, still resides in Moscow and was made available for this one and only “concert” performance (full staging not permitted). Like the Frauenkirche-Coventry Cathedral parallelism, this resurrection was part of Vogler’s “war, peace, and healing” theme that works its way into every festival. Von Sachsen’s music, reminiscent of Haydn and Rossini, has “farce” written all over it. Conductor Helmut Branny told the story with his facial expression and hands, as the 29 Dresden Kapellsolisten (from the orchestra), lit only by music-stand lights, played behind the nine soloists spread across the front of the stage. The fully professional singers ranged from adequate to distinguished. Soprano Anja Zügner was the best in both voice and gesture, hilarious with her inflected Italian. Branny maintained a continuous sprite-like atmosphere that made the 90 minutes pass quickly. The hall’s acoustics flattered everyone. Earlier that same day Cafe Zimmermann (two violins, two violas, one cello, one theorbo, and a portative organ) performed “Baroque Music from Vienna” by Biber, Froberger, and Schemlzer. In the Palais I could feel the vibrations on my skin and in my bones, even with period instruments. The acoustics gave a comforting cushion to music that I instantly forgot. This was an interior experience: the performers were careful, clean, nicely rhythmic, but deadly serious, rarely leaving the scores to make eye contact or register pleasure; the audience too was totally concentrated on the music and players—rare the bobbing head. I prefer a more expressionist musical experience. 26 Music in Concert I got Saturday afternoon at the Dresden Messe, the equivalent of a state fair grounds, with conductor Kristjan Jarvi. One British music critic said he couldn’t stand him, I gathered, because he moves. A lot! He is founder and chief conductor of the Baltic Youth Philharmonic, based on a German island near Hamburg. In Mahler’s Suite for Orchestra based on Bach’s orchestral suites, he elicited long, seamless, remarkably transparent lines in the ‘Air on a G String’ and highly rhythmic, keenly articulated, infectious rhythms in the other movements, even in the equivalent of an airport hangar. Here was student playing that put Leipzig’s Academy Orchestra to utter shame. Jarvi is also chief conductor of Leipzig’s MDR (Mid-German Radio) Symphony, the city’s second orchestra, which, of course, produces a much larger sound. In Beethoven’s Symphony No. 8, while the tempos in each movement at first seemed too fast, Jarvi made them work because he had a firm grip on the form of each movement and because the highly defined enunciation, accents, contrasts, and superbly terraced balances revealed the inner voices. Each movement had a defined character. He caught the humor of the second movement perfectly, the horns in the third movement must have been wearing dancing shoes, the principal cellist practically needed a seat belt, and the total commitment of the orchestra to its new director implied that this successor to Fabio Luisi and Jun Märkl assures this orchestra’s ascendency. The dark side of modern German history seemed below the surface during my three weeks in Germany, but entrepreneurs like Vogler manage to address it and heal the wounds through their art. Thus he brought to the festival Michael Sturmiger’s Infernal Comedy: Confessions of a Serial Killer that John Malkovich, two sopranos, conductor Martin Haselböck and the Vienna Academy Orchestra have been touring with for several years. Malkovich gradually subsumed the character of Austrian Jack Unterweger, a mutilator and mass murderer of prostitutes in both Austria and Los Angeles, and mass deceiver of intellectuals and the justice system alike. Sopranos Sophie Klussman and Martene Grimson sang nine arias by Gluck, Boccherini, Vivaldi, Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven, and Weber echoing the web of doubt Malkovitch wove. The onstage orchestra sounded whiny, with poor balance and articulation in the Schauspielhaus’s acoustics; but Grimson more than made up for it with her electrifying voice and acting skills. The theme of the play stays with me and tempers any judgemental thoughts: “Did Jekyll know what Hyde was doing?” & September/October 2012 English Country House Operas Garsington and Glyndebourne Edward Greenfield La Perichole by Offenbach: Naomi O'Connell (title role) Robert Murray (Piquillo) T he most enjoyable of the offerings this year on England’s Country House Opera circuit was easy to pick: Offenbach’s operetta La Perichole at Garsington Opera in its new home on the Paul Getty estate at Wormsley in the English Midlands, not too far from Oxford. There they have built a removable opera pavilion, extremely handsome with its glass walls, but still with an inbuilt heating problem. Opera-lovers were warned to wear something warm against the chill of the English summer. Not that La Perichole fell short of warmth, thanks largely to the inspired conducting of David Parry with the excellent Garsington Orchestra supporting a splendidly consistent cast. Written in 1868, La Perichole is a satire on Paris Society under Napoleon III and the Second Empire. The action is transferred to colonial Peru, with the Viceroy (played by Geoffrey Dolton with plenty of character) a thinly disguised portrait of the womanising Napoleon III, notoriously pursuing one mistress after American Record Guide another, ensuring that each one is safely married off. La Perichole, a street-singer, attracts the Viceroy’s attentions, which she welcomes for want of food. The problem is to ensure that the man she is forced to marry is her beloved Piquillo, sweet if a little dim. This plot inspired Offenbach to a whole range of his most delicious tunes, with infectious waltzes galore and many numbers with a nice Spanish flavor. It was some 30 years since the piece was produced in Britain. The Garsington production raises hopes that it will prompt a whole sequence of Offenbach revivals there. The staging, with Jeremy Sams as director (as well as translator) and Francis O’Connor as designer, was a delight, with a typical Paris scene turning inside out to reveal an equally atmospheric interior. The cast was consistently good, with Naomi O’Connell as a feisty Perichole and even such a charismatic singer as Simon Butteriss (always brilliant in Gilbert and Sullivan patter songs) consigned to the role of Music in Concert 27 La Perichole by Offenbach: Simon Butteriss (Don Pedro,) Geoffrey Dolton (Viceroy of Peru), and Mark Wilde (Panatellas) the Governor, Don Pedro, who does not even have a solo. The other likewise timely offering at Garsington was Vivaldi’s long-buried opera, L’Olimpiade, chiming with this year’s London Olympics. Forget making sense of the highly involved plot that mixes competition in the games with competition in love. What matters is that the piece offers an unfailing sequence of jolly numbers with just an occasional more serious minor-key solo. In 1734 Vivaldi originally had a trio of castratos; two of the roles were taken here by excellent countertenors (Tim Mead, unusually powerful as the hero Licida, and Michael Maniaci as his tutor Aminta), and the third by agile mezzo Emily Fons as Megacle, who was just as impressive. Beside them the dark bass of Riccardo Novaro as King Clistene brought the necessary contrast, while the scholarly Laurence Cummings, who had edited the score, including an update of the Chariots of Fire theme, drew lively and responsive playing from the modern-instrument orchestra. Director David Freeman gave signs of being desperate to fill out the spectacle with visual tricks, but the whole entertainment worked with admirable smoothness. Meanwhile, Glyndebourne’s first offering of the season was a new production of Janacek’s Cunning Little Vixen, directed by Molly Still, who three years ago directed a winning production of Dvorak’s Rusalka. What dominated on this occasion was the beauty of Janacek’s orchestration, played by the London Philharmonic under Vladimir Jurowski, music director of Glyndebourne and principal conductor of the LPO. In his detached way Jurows- 28 Music in Concert ki made every texture transparent, adding to the evocative atmosphere of the forest setting. The controversial point of the production was that the animals were presented as pantomime characters, with the chickens as a chorus-line of showgirls and both the Vixen and the Fox incommoded by having to carry their huge tails around with them. That device undermined the contrast between animals and humans that’s at the heart of the story, but in practice it was easy enough to put that out of mind in the face of the magical sounds from the orchestra. Casting was generally good, with Lucy Crowe as the Vixen and Emma Bell as the Fox, both outstanding, most of all in their touching duet in Act 2. The busy movement on stage sometimes made it hard to follow the story, even when the Vixen ousts the Badger from his lair; but again one was consistently seduced by the magic of orchestral sound. With the revival of Peter Hall’s 2005 production of Rossini’s Cenerentola, the wonder was that a production that controversially eliminated the supernatural element in the story by introducing a commentator called Alidoro seemed natural and effective this time. That this revival had such a success was largely due not just to a consistently strong cast led by Elizabeth DeShong in the title role but especially to the sparkling conducting of the LPO by young American James Gaffigan. How satisfying it was when we were led up to the supreme pay-off so brilliantly in what could well be counted as Rossini’s most dazzling showpiece for coloratura contralto, ‘Non Piu Mesta’. A total delight. & September/October 2012 Here & There Appointments, Awards, & News Music Director Stefan Sandering, who previously announced he would leave the Florida Orchestra at the end of his contract in 2014, has departed two years early. As a result, 201314 programming has been seriously revamped and seven guest conductors have been added to the five already scheduled. Sanderling will conduct one concert in each of the coming two seasons. Jeff Tyzik has signed a three-year contract to become principal pops conductor of the Florida Orchestra beginning this year. He holds the same position with the Oregon and Vancouver (BC) Symphonies as well as the Rochester Philharmonic, where he began in 1994. Andrew Litton became artistic advisor of the Colorado Symphony September 1. Over the course of his three-year contract he will program the seasons and conduct at least two concerts a year. Andrew Davis has signed a four-year contract to become chief conductor of Australia’s Melbourne Symphony starting in January, succeeding Oleg Caetani, who departed suddenly in 2009. Also, Davis, who began as music director and principal conductor of the Lyric Opera of Chicago in 2000, has extended his contract there until 2021. Jeff Tyzik David Itkin, music director of the Las Vegas Philharmonic since 2007, announced in June that he will leave the orchestra in 2013 as a result of what he called “artistic differences and a lack of institutional transparency”. The board accepted his decision 15-0. Violinist Vadim Gluzman has been appointed creative partner and principal guest artist for the ProMusica Chamber Orchestra of Columbus OH, starting with the 2013-14 season. Glenn Dicterow has announced that he will step down as the longest-serving concertmaster in the history of the New York Philharmonic at the end of the 2013-14 season after 34 years in the position. David Robertson has signed a four-year contract to become artistic director and chief conductor of Australia’s Sydney Symphony in 2014, succeeding Vladimir Ashkenazy. He is also music director of the St Louis Symphony. Matthias Pintscher, 41, has signed a three-year contract to become music director of the Paris-based Ensemble Intercontemporain in 2013. The German conductor lives in New York City. Asher Fisch has signed a three-year contract to become principal conductor of the West Australian Symphony in Perth in 2014, succeeding Paul Daniel. He is currently principal guest conductor of the Seattle Opera. Simon Halsey became director of the London Symphony Chorus in August. He is also chief conductor of the Berlin Radio Choir and director of the City of Birmingham Symphony Chorus. The Toronto Symphony has given two-year appointments to Israeli-born Canadian Shalom Bard as resident conductor and Hong Kong-born Canadian Kevin Lau as affiliate composer, part of the orchestra’s first formal Emerging Artists Program to foster the development of leaders in the Canadian arts community. It is funded by the RBC Foundation (part of RBC Wealth Management) and the Canadian Council for the Arts. In May the Royal Danish Opera appointed Michael Boder principal conductor and artistic advisor and Sven Müller artistic director, following the sudden double resignations of Jacob Hrusa and Keith Warner in January, owing to severe government budget cuts. Boder has been music director of Barcelona’s Gran Teatro del Liceu since 2008. Müller has been acting artistic director since January. American Record Guide Music in Concert 29 Elaine Calder, president of the Oregon Symphony since 2007, resigned August 31 to become executive director of the Shaw Festival in Niagara-on-the-Lake in Ontario, Canada, where she held the same position 1990-94. She leaves the orchestra in the black for a third consecutive year. Two young American artists were awarded 2012 Avery Fisher Career Grants in May: 22year-old violinist Benjamin Beilman, first prize winner of the 2010 Montreal International Music Competition and third prize winner of the 2010 Indianapolis Violin Competition; and 18-year-old pianist Conrad Tao, currently a Gilmore Young Artist. Kentuckian Tessa Clark, 23, was the winner of the Naumberg Violin Competition in New York City in June. Second place went to South Korean Elly Suh, 23, and third to South Korean Kristin Lee, 26. Rochester Philharmonic Music Director Arild Remmereit was given the first-ever Amy Award for Excellence in Orchestral Programming in May from the Women’s Philharmonic Advocacy, founded in 2008 to promote the performance of orchestral and ensemble works by women. Remmereit programmed works by women on each of the eight concerts he conducted in his 2011-12 inaugural season, with eight more works scheduled this coming season. St Louis Symphony musicians ratified a new contact in June, 14 months ahead of the expiration of their current contract. The new one calls for an annual minimum wage increase of 5% from $81,892 to $86,053 over four years, and a 1.5% increase in the pension contribution rate. Obituaries Cecil Refik Kaya, 20, from Turkey was the winner in June of the 2012 JoAnn Falletta International Guitar Competition in Buffalo. Petrit Ceku, 27, from Croatia was second, and Ekachai Jearakul, 25, from Thailand was third. Kaya, the youngest contestant, currently studies at Mannes College in New York City and Ceku at the Peabody Conservatory in Baltimore. Jearakul was first prize winner of competitions in South Korea, Mexico, Italy, France, and Spain in 2010 and 2011. Cecil Refik Kaya American soprano Evelyn Lear, 86, died on July 1 at a nursing center in Sandy Spring MD. Famous in opera houses around the world for her performances from Mozart to Berg, she is perhaps most remembered for her lead roles in Alban Berg’s two operas, particularly Lulu. American soprano Judith Nelson, 72, died on May 28 in Albany CA after suffering from Alzheimer’s disease for 12 years. She was an important voice in the early music movement with her early links to and recordings with René Jacobs, Christopher Hogwood, and the Academy of Ancient Music. She was also a founding member of the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra. The winners in June of the 2012 Montreal International Music Competition (this year for voice) were Canadian bass-baritone Philippe Sly, 23 (first prize); soprano Olga Kindler, 31, of Switzerland (second); and American baritone John Brancy, 23 (third). 30 Music in Concert Violinist Roman Totenberg, 101, died from kidney failure on May 8 at his home in Newton MA. Renowned as he was as a soloist, he was even more influential as a teacher at Boston University for more than 50 years. He was the father of National Public Radio’s legal affairs correspondent, Nina Totenberg. September/October 2012 ConcertsEverywhere L.A. Philharmonic & Master Chorale Adams: Gospel According to the Other Mary (world premiere) John Adams is at the point in his ever-ascending career where whatever he wants, he gets. And for his newest composition, The Gospel According To The Other Mary, he got a lot: the services of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, its celebrity music director Gustavo Dudamel, and the crack Los Angeles Master Chorale, two-and-a-half-hours of playing time at Walt Disney Concert Hall, and a complex web of blue-chip commissioning groups (the Phil, Lincoln Center, London’s Barbican, the Lucerne Festival, Paris’s Salle Pleyel, and the Amsterdam Concertgebouw’s Radio 4 series). The premiere was on May 31; I heard it on June 3. The results, even at what looks to be an early stage in the work’s development, were worth the bother. This is one impressive, fascinating, even surreal piece of music as it stands—possibly the most significant Philharmonic commission since Lutoslawski’s Symphony No. 4 (1993). The Gospel is chronologically a sequel to Adams’s re-telling of the Nativity, El Nino, as it deals with Jesus’s final days using contemporary metaphors. Once again, the PC agenda of Adams’s persistent collaborator Peter Sellars, who patched together another libretto for Adams from sources like the Bible, June Jordan, Hildegard von Bingen, and several others, is driving the train. A troubled Mary Magdalene and her more practical sister Martha run a hospitality home for homeless women, Mary details her harrowing experiences in the Bethany city jail, and Cesar Chavez addresses striking farm workers. I found, though, that the best way to deal with the agenda on first hearing is to forget about it and dive into Adams’s painstakingly, exquisitely detailed sound world, whose colors are often quite different from any other Adams work, humble or grand. The pitches sometimes drift, and invented modes take us out of the usual scales. The massive 449-page score is underpinned by exotic elements like the Hungarian cimbalom that lends a jangling edge to the texture and an electric bass guitar that fortifies the lower end. American Record Guide John Adams Three countertenors (Daniel Bubeck, Brian Cummings, and Nathan Medley), together or often in canon, served as otherworldly narrators. The orchestra was not large, but the array of percussion instruments included an encyclopedic collection of tuned gongs and syncopated cowbells. The chorus, when not singing, was sometimes asked to mutter, babble, shout, and scream at random, reinforced by a prerecorded soundtrack. There was a weirdly beautiful, vibrating, hazy sense of mystery in the best parts of this score, along with jumpy, brutal violence. Some found it too long, but it held my attention for 149 minutes. Mezzo-soprano Kelley O’Connor (Mary) and contralto Tamara Mumford (Martha) sang with force and emotion, even when challenged at the very bottom of their ranges; and tenor Russell Thomas was ringing as Lazarus. Dudamel was unusually yet understandably restrained in his motions, still assimilating a difficult new score, but he pulled it off like a seasoned trouper. He will have many more opportunities to do so, for The Gospel will be performed here again next March with the same cast in a fully-staged production by Sellars and then taken on tour to New York, London, Lucerne, and Paris. RICHARD S GINELL Music in Concert 31 Los Angeles Master Chorale Music of Henryk Gorecki The Los Angeles Master Chorale has not had the recognition it deserves outside the city limits, one reason being that their recording profile had been very low. But that situation has changed dramatically in the last few years under Music Director Grant Gershon. And they have done it the hard way—with new music. After a handful of releases on the small RCM label, the Master Chorale appeared on two high-visibility Steve Reich albums for Nonesuch. Then in 2010 came the big break, a contract with Decca that bore immediate fruit with an album of attractive music by the fashionable American composer Nico Muhly. And this fall there will be another, an all-Henryk Gorecki CD that Gershon and the Master Chorale previewed at Walt Disney Concert Hall on June 10, before the recording sessions later in the week. All three Gorecki works on the program had been performed by them in previous seasons, so they were ready for the project. Two of the three, Lobgesang and Five Marian Songs, had never been recorded by anyone, though there were a few recordings of Miserere after it was banned by the Polish Communist government from public performance for six years. Why ban a Miserere? Well, it was dedicated to the city of Bydgoszcz, the site of a violent 32 Music in Concert beating of Solidarity delegates by the authorities in 1981. Gershon claims that the music is “a representation of Solidarity in music”. There is some truth, perhaps inadvertently, to that, as it does seem to reflect the people gradually coming together to join a movement. The music begins deep in the basses, very slowly and quietly, mostly notes one step apart from each other. Then the baritones, tenors, altos, and sopranos come in sequentially, the stacked harmonies become more modern and complex, and the texture turns brighter and more resounding. If this sounds similar to the formula that drives the opening movement of Gorecki’s famous Symphony No. 3, it is, though the Miserere’s building blocks aren’t as immediately emotional and flowing as in the symphony. There was a not-so-hidden meaning in Lobgesang, a simple, gorgeous “song of praise” that, in the meticulously hushed ‘ewig’ coda, casts its own quiet spell. That spell is broken only by the delicate pings of the glockenspiel (the only instrument heard all night) spelling out the name of Johannes Gutenberg in musical notation (the piece was written for the city of Mainz, Gutenberg’s birthplace). There is an appealing folk-like element in at least two of the Five Marian Songs, one of which moves back and forth hauntingly on two chords. The Master Chorale luxuriated in the harmonies. From the tart sound of their accents, the singers evidently had been well coached by their Polish language consultant. While it was hard to justify a reason for Brahms’s motet ‘Schaffe in Mir, Gott, ein Rein Herz’ (Create in Me, God, a Clean Heart) in the middle of the program other than that Gershon likes it (its contrapuntal workings clashed with Gorecki’s latter-day simplicity), one can’t deny that it was warmly and liltingly sung. RICHARD S GINELL New York Philharmonic Park Avenue Armory Concert The soaring heights of the Drill Hall in New York City’s Park Avenue Armory and its paneled, portrait-lined anterooms currently make the 1861 structure handier for posh art shows than for troop training. Since 2007, the Armory has also been used for site-specific and spacerelated performances. A June 29 concert called “Philharmonic 360” with Stockhausen’s tripleorchestra Gruppen alongside a segment of Mozart’s Don Giovanni was a creative venture by New York Philharmonic Music Director Alan Gilbert. September/October 2012 Gilbert is emerging as an outside-the-box programmer. Janacek’s Cunning Little Vixen, Ligeti’s Grand Macabre, the “Contact!” new music series in halls smaller than Avery Fisher, and the Marie-Josee Kravis Award (this year given to Henri Dutilleux) all suggest to audiences that they’d better stay tuned. For “360” the Armory held 1450 people, counting three sections of bleachers, standing room in the rafters, and floor seating on legless chairs. That’s not gigantic, but the sold-out event, which also included works by Gabrieli, Boulez, and Ives, was repeated the next night and eventually streamed on the Web. Typically for Gilbert’s experiments, there was much to see, beginning with the audience entering past a formation of costumed and bewigged Don Giovanni cast members (costumes by Kaye Voyce) standing still like mannequins. Bleacher stands were placed among three back-lighted orchestra stages (colored panels by Brian Aldous and Kyle Chepulis), and three conductors faced their ensembles and listeners from different angles. Musicians were in Steve-Reich black casual. Whoever said there were no bad seats was right; in the great circle, everyone could see. Before daring to contemplate the time and cost of rehearsal, know that this program was about space. Some pieces worked better than others: the wondrous Gabrieli brass canzona (unannounced), Gruppen (obviously), and Ives’s Unanswered Question—expectedly, if you think about it. Mozart composed Don Giovanni for an opera stage with pit opera orchestra, but the Act I finale had neither. There were no train wrecks, but moments of orchestral non-sync were frequent. Gruppen, the inspiration for this concert, came after intermission. After more than half a century, the aleatoric serial piece—recorded several times but seldom heard in concert because of its complex, grandiose demands— sounds dated and, if not tame, relatively peaceable. Besides timpani licks, its marimba plinks and percussive plunks sparkled like glassware in a china cabinet. The conductors—Gilbert plus the game Magnus Lindberg, completing his composer residency with the Philharmonic, and Matthias Pintscher, newly appointed head of Ensemble Intercontemporain—used big un-nuanced gestures and no batons. (Gilbert’s mostlystring group included concertmaster Glenn Dicterow.) Lindberg had a nice instrumental mix with harp. Gruppen—174 musical units, grouped—is scored for groups, and presents a stellar example of how, if we don’t permit a musical present, we won’t have a past. It was very interesting for 15 of its 24 minutes. How fascinating American Record Guide that it has become boring. No one stalked out; if there were any boos at all, there was only one. In the preceding Mozart, partygoers entered at different speeds, strolling around. The Don, Ryan McKinney, fresh from a Metropolitan Opera debut as Lt Ratcliffe in Britten’s Billy Budd, descended the bleachers from the top, as did the trio of would-be avengers pursuing him. Main-role singers in modern dress and others in period dress with huge wigs were an oxymoron, if not a wardrobe malfunction, but the voices were clean and strong. Mezzosoprano Sasha Cooke (Zerlina) was a pleasure to hear: whatever it is, she gets it, even though here she was in a sophisticated white gown, decidedly big-city. Orchestral efforts at togetherness—and the fuss and effort—were distracting, though Gilbert was able—and invested for sure. He led Boulez’s Rituel in Memoriam Bruno Maderna (for orchestra in eight groups) from a central podium, with floor listeners extending their legs toward him. Like Gruppen, this memorial to Boulez’s friend and predecessor at the Phil was no longer as fearsome as had been perceived when he composed it. Cymbals and gongs were pleasingly resonant, and clarinets burbled merry little tritones and seconds. The substantial group cadenza, with no conducting at all, somehow cohered anyway. The Stockhausen and Ives ensembles were the same, though The Unanswered Question had four flutes in the center, with their own conductor. Heard and seen, its meanings were clarified, as dissonant questions punctuated a reverent chordal blanket. It was revelatory, as was most of the evening, in its way. LESLIE KANDELL San Francisco New York Philharmonic Following in the footsteps of orchestras from LA, Boston, Chicago, and Cleveland (Jan/Feb, Mar/Apr, May/June, and July/Aug 2012), the New York Philharmonic barged into Davies Symphony Hall to help celebrate the San Francisco Symphony’s Centennial. At the start of the orchestra’s May 13 program (I was unable to attend their second program the following night), the fresh sound the NYP shares with the San Francisco Symphony shone through brilliantly. Along with it came a brass section that, once it got going, all but blasted everything in its path out of the way. The French horn players too often sounded as though they were Manhattan cabbies, leaning on their horns as they cut a path through everything and everyone before them. When Music in Concert 33 they weren’t barreling down the Avenue of the Americas, it was possible to admire the silky sound of the orchestra’s strings. This was hardly a warm or glowing orchestra. With Music Director Alan Gilbert at the helm, Dvorak’s Carnival Overture was far more rousing than ingratiating. True, concertmaster Glenn Dicterow played eloquently in his brief solo, and the inward middle section was lovely. Yet all attempts at beauty were effaced when the horns kicked in. The cumulative result was rather silly—much ado about not very much at all—which, I suppose, describes a raucous carnival to which it’s wise to wear earplugs. Yefim Bronfman joined the orchestra for Composer-in-Residence Magnus Lindberg’s Piano Concerto No. 2. It began ominously and soon grew loud and insistent. The orchestra, often violent in its outbursts, often overwhelmed the piano with its brutality. The onslaught became tiresome, especially in alarming episodes. The conclusion saw Bronfman running up and down the keyboard furiously, playing every note he possibly could in an effort to match the orchestra’s aggression. In the evening’s capper, Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4, Gilbert placed far more emphasis on force than fate. His yearning strings could be translucent, even diaphanous, when playing alone; but their beauty and sensitivity were all but obscured when the brass bullied their way in. Prayers for release from oppressive forces strengthened in the second movement Andantino that was short on yearning. The pizzicatos that distinguish the Scherzo supplied some welcome contrast and relief, until the cymbals crashed and the trumpets pushed their way forward once again. The Finale, furious and emphatic, declared that Gilbert was determined to drive his way home without wallowing in sentiment. Not all Tchaikovsky has to wear its heart on its sleeve, but neither does it need to wrap itself in a coat of armor. JASON VICTOR SERINUS San Franciso Symphony Barbery Coast and Beyond If much of what used to be the rage is boring or commonplace now, how do you celebrate entertainment history without eliciting snores instead of claps? That was the dilemma facing the San Francisco Symphony Centennial planners as they put together an unusually themed subscription concert called “Barbary Coast and Beyond: Music from the Gold Rush to the 34 Music in Concert Panama-Pacific Exposition”. The result of their efforts was not a strictly representative sample of all the music played in the city from 1849 to 1915. It wisely included only a few of the quaint artifacts (for flavor) that were scattered among more enduring numbers of the period that still grace concert halls, plus some sensational stories that sufficiently activated the imagination to counteract the triteness of the aural illustrations. An example was an excerpt from Liszt’s repetitive symphonic poem Mazeppa, played in honor of a famous New Orleans prostitute. In 1863 Adah Isaacs Menken reportedly attracted half of San Francisco’s population to a stage play where she, clad only in flesh-colored tights, was tied to a horse onstage as a female Mazeppa. Some of the more lurid aspects of visiting composers supplied reason enough for their music. Louis Moreau Gottschalk, the touring virtuoso who slipped into town under a pseudonym after the press discovered his affair with an Oakland student, was remembered with an excerpt from his Gran Tarantelle. Anton Nel performed it with appropriate overthe-top panache. But he should have dressed for the part like fetching soprano Laura Claycomb did when she emulated Adelina Patti singing an aria from Bellini’s Sonnambula. The crew-cut Nel should have worn a long black wig and handlebar mustache to go with her flouncy bar-girl dress from the 1880s. The true concert curiosities included three short pieces for an equal number of banjo players; ‘A Mountain Vision’ by Norwegian violinist Ole Bull, who toured the US in 1852; JH Stockman’s organ opus, ‘The Earthquake in San Francisco and the Destruction of the City of the Golden West on the 18th of April 1906’; and excerpts from Camille Saint-Saens’s mercifully forgotten ‘Hail! California’, written for the 1915 exposition. The parlor-quality Bull was dutifully presented by violinist Vadim Gluzman, who was impressive later with Fritz Kreisler’s ‘Chinese Tambourine’, one of the few pieces that hasn’t lost its luster over time. The hack quality of ‘Earthquake’ couldn’t damage the reputation of its nobody creator, but the wretched counterpoint of ‘La Marseillaise’ against ‘The Star Spangled Banner’ was a black mark indeed— Saint-Saens must have been paid a lot of money and given little time to assemble his monstrosity. Here he was in the ebb of his life like the retreating tide, exposing organic decay in the estuaries of San Francisco Bay. Among the parade of artists for the event were two standouts. Caroline McCaskey played the violin solo part to Offenbach’s overture to Orpheus in the Underworld with a September/October 2012 musical saw! Who needs a fancy theremin when a hardware store will do? And organist Cameron Carpenter flailed about with what must have been four arms in an amazing arrangement of ‘The Stars and Stripes Forever’. Music Director Michael Tilson Thomas had to watch Carpenter’s unaccompanied solo with envy, but he got the orchestra all to himself with a fine performance of the Scherzo from Tchaikovsky’s Pathetique Symphony. The concert included historical videos designed by Jeffrey Elias Teeter, an Ethel Merman-like narration by Val Diamond (of fame here in the decades-running show Beach Blanket Babylon), and contributions from the US Air Force Band of the Golden West. A singalong of three popular songs concluded the extravaganza: ‘Hello, Frisco, Hello!’, which touted the advent of long-distance calling; ‘San Francisco’ (“My home on the hill, I find I love you still”); and, the irresistible call by musicians world-wide who know where to make their mark, ‘California, Here I Come!’ JEFF DUNN thing connected and sounded utterly “right”. I wish I could have found a miscalculation— how can he be that good? He conducted Ravel and Shostakovich, the latter a favorite composer of his and mine. The Ravel had plenty of atmosphere. The pianist in the Concerto in G was the Macedonian Simon Trpceski. Together they produced a middle movement that was downright hypnotic. In Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 10, one of his greatest works, nothing was left unsaid, nothing was understated, but nothing was exaggerated and nothing was driven. It felt like the best performance of the symphony I have ever heard. He put the music in our laps in its full emotional import. He projected it, and it was insistent, yet it was always refined. It was always moving but also well tailored—never crude, never harsh. The strings are such a joy in Indianapolis. I think Raymond Leppard was responsible for their richness and outspokenness. They properly dominated the Shostakovich with seamless, sensuous sound. The orchestra is in great shape and very much entranced with its new conductor. And why not? He is amazing. Indianapolis Symphony Krzystzov Urbanski update I never worshiped the cult of youth, even when I was young. And certainly all the great conductors I heard in my youth were old men. It takes a long period of living with scores to know how to put them across most effectively. It takes a long time to learn scores to begin with. Most conductors were better in old age than earlier—but not all. I went to Indianapolis in May to hear the new music director conduct. Krzystzov Urbanski is 29 years old. I expected to have a good opportunity to expound my views on the inadequacy of young conductors. I was given no such chance. Instead I had to explain to myself how someone can be so mature musically at such an age. There are possibilities: his photographic memory allows him to learn scores very, very quickly. His training was solid and old-fashioned in Poland. And there’s the simple fact that in a few cases age makes no difference. Some people arrive center stage fully formed and seem hardly to need to grow or “mature”. I would use the word “smooth” to describe his conducting—both the gestures and the results. He never prefers “excitement” to flow. Everything flowed in a perfectly natural way; all the transitions were incredibly smooth. No piece sounded the least bit episodic; every- American Record Guide DONALD VROON Seattle Symphony Bartok: Bluebeard’s Castle Hersch: Along the Ravines (world premiere) How often do you hear gasps of awe from an audience at a symphonic performance? I did frequently when the work being performed was Bartok’s Bluebeard’s Castle with stunning art-glass sets by glass wizard Dale Chihuly. Premiered in 2007, this production, in a semistaged version with the Seattle Symphony and its conductor laureate, Gerard Schwarz, was probably the most visually exciting symphonic experience produced by the orchestra since its founding in 1903. After the sets had traveled to Milwaukee, Nashville, and Tel Aviv, they returned—packed with care in huge boxes—to Benaroya Hall for a two-night engagement in May. The vividlycolored glass elements were installed in six 20foot black towers placed between the orchestra and the audience; the towers’ solid backs faced the house at the beginning. After a prologue, read in the original Hungarian by Helen Szablya (Honorary Hungarian Consul General for Washington, Oregon, and Idaho), the two Music in Concert 35 protagonists, Bluebeard (Charles David Austin) and his bride Judith (Nancy Maultsby), came on stage. Judith looked around uneasily at the forbidding black towers that represented the locked doors of Bluebeard’s castle. As she persuaded Bluebeard to let her unlock the first door, Judith touched the first of the towers, and unseen stagehands slowly rotated it 180 degrees so that the fabulous glass tableau gradually came into view: the torture chamber, filled with glowing red spearlike glass forms. And so it went, door by door, as the gleaming gold glass stalks and multicolored jewels of Bluebeard’s treasury appeared, and a wild array of green and yellow lily-like flowers depicted the garden. Perhaps the most beautiful of all the six pieces was the lake of tears, with elongated milky teardrops suspended from the top of the tower, hovering above a “lake” of clustered glass balls. The total effect—the scale of it all, the drama of the incomparable glass paired with the foreboding and passionate score—immersed the audience in a sensational evening of musical theater. Finally, the seventh door (the only one without a glass installation) opened at the rear of the stage behind the orchestra to reveal Bluebeard’s three preceding wives, who walked to the front of the stage as Bluebeard hailed them—and Judith—in the final moments. And here was the evening’s only theatrical misstep: the six black towers blocked the view of the seventh box (placed far downstage) for many viewers, robbing the culmination of much of its drama. But the music supplied a powerful drama on its own. Bass-baritone Austin, who was Bluebeard in 2007, returned with an eloquent performance full of telling details. Stern and forbidding at first, he turned up the emotional warmth, begging Judith not to persist in her determination to open every door—and became finally rhapsodic as he added Judith to the procession of doomed wives. Maultsby, a reliably excellent mezzo who has appeared as Erda in Seattle Opera’s Ring Cycle, sang Judith with resplendent Wagnerian power and considerable feeling. Her transformation from anxious bride to fiery discoverer was compelling. Schwarz cued the performers with care, not an easy task given his awkward stage placement with respect to the soloists. The orchestra performed with dramatic urgency. The concert’s first half was the world premiere of Michael Hersch’s Along the Ravines for piano and orchestra (soloist Shai Wosner). Commissioned by Wosner and the BorlettiBuitoni Trust, it is in eight movements based on poetic fragments by Zbigniew Herbert. The new work was a major disappoint- 36 Music in Concert ment, one of the longest half-hours in recent Seattle music history. It was hard to discern any relationship between the score and the poetry that inspired it. The opening poem, for instance, begins, “To tremble in the air, blow in the ashes stir the ether”, but the orchestra’s opening passages sounded like loud atonal shrieks of distress, with intermittent clattering arpeggios and attacks from the keyboard. There are hints of Shostakovich’s techniques in the score but no hint of that composer’s genius. Wosner (using a score) gave a heroic account of the ungrateful piano part, but seldom has so much effort produced so little music. MELINDA BARGREEN Minneapolis Minnesota Orchestra Orchestra Hall “Farewell” The final picture in the Minnesota Orchestra’s subscription concerts at Orchestra Hall on June 15 raised some eyebrows in the audience and brought on a volley of applause: a halfdozen conductors, all affiliated with the orchestra, forming a line across the stage and bowing like a chorus line, among them Music Director Osmo Vanska, Sommerfest Artistic Director Andrew Litton, and Pops Conductor September/October 2012 Laureate Doc Severinsen. It’s something not likely ever to be seen again on this stage. The occasion was not just the end of the orchestra’s 2011-12 season; it was a “farewell” to Orchestra Hall: the week after the concert, 13 months of renovation began at a cost of $50 million. This year’s Sommerfest, the orchestra’s summer festival, moved to Ted Mann Concert Hall at the University of Minnesota; and the 2012-13 season will take place at the Minneapolis Convention Center. This wasn’t a permanent departure, in other words. But it was a significant moment in local cultural history: a farewell to Orchestra Hall as audiences here have known it for the past 38 years. The renovation will change the lobby and the exterior look of the hall fairly radically. No more exposed heating and air conditioning ducts—a design idea that was considered “honest” and “democratic” back in the 70s, but that today looks like the boiler room on a submarine. And no more crowding during intermission, no more stepping on toes and holding a drink above your head so as not to get bumped. (“Cramped” was the way the New York Times described the lobby in 1974.) The lobby will expand, but the hall itself will change very little—and it needn’t change. Acoustically, Orchestra Hall remains what it always was: a gem. With so many performers, including a chorus of 200 plus eight dancers, concerts of this sort tend to feel like a variety show—a lot of excerpts and short pieces without any momentum. That was mostly avoided on this occasion. The selections were interesting and unusual; by and large, the performances were alert and polished; and, as for momentum, the concert ended with a big, exciting choralorchestral outburst: the first performance of St Paul composer Steve Heitzeg’s warmhearted Let’s Start the Great Round, a skillfully written tribute both to music and to the community that creates and appreciates it. Along the way there were meaningful and surprising choices. 88-year-old Stanislaw Skrowaczewski conducted his own compelling orchestration of Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D minor, which was the first work to be performed in Orchestra Hall in the dedication concert in 1974. Skrowaczewski, who had been lobbying relentlessly for the new hall, was then in his 14th year as music director (he is now conductor laureate). Following that, Andrew Litton played piano and conducted a sophisticated arrangement of ‘Over the Rainbow’ with Irvin Mayfield, director of the hall’s jazz programming and a gifted trumpeter, as soloist. As for Severinsen, who turned 85 in July, he is probably as famous for his extravagant clothing as for his trumpet playing. But he American Record Guide remains a master. Walking onstage in a gold sequined jacket and tomato-colored pants, he whispered into the microphone, “There isn’t a woman in this audience tonight who wouldn’t kill for this outfit.” In ‘Caruso’, a musical tribute to the great tenor, he produced a big, burnished sound that filled the hall. Vanska conducted energetic readings of excerpts from Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 as well as Orff’s Carmina Burana with bright, articulate singing by the Minnesota Chorale, whose director, Kathy Saltzman Romey, took a bow with the other conductors at the end. Associate Conductor Courtney Lewis added dance to the program, leading the orchestra in a portion of La Mer, where the eight dancers of the local ensemble Black Label Movement performed an evocative number choreographed by Carl Flink. Brian Newhouse served as host, and Tacy Mangan produced a video that served to tell the history of the hall. Additional choral groups—Concordia Christus Chorus, Kantorei, the Minnesota Boychoir, and the Oratorio Society of Minnesota—performed in Heitzeg’s piece. In the spirit of the occasion, the ushers wore hardhats. And, oh, to have been a fly on the wall in the conductor’s studio that night to hear a half-dozen busy conductors compare notes on the various soloists they can’t stand, on the cities they won’t ever return to, and on who’s making the big money. MICHAEL ANTHONY Toronto Symphony Mahler: Symphony No. 8 A performance of Mahler’s Symphony of a Thousand is an inimitable concert experience. The marshaling of close to 100 orchestral musicians, nearly 400 choristers, and 8 operatic singers to grandiloquently beckon the Holy Spirit is almost the definition of a great occasion. The Toronto Symphony’s performance June 13 with the Toronto Mendelssohn Choir, Elmer Iseler Singers, Amadeus Choir, Toronto Children’s Chorus, and eight fine soloists certainly created all the drama built into the gigantic work. I often feel sorry for mezzo-sopranos, whose generally less penetrating tessitura and tone color mean they risk periods of inaudibility when faced with even modest instrumental accompaniment. Mahler gives the Alto 1 singer some open space in the more monumental sections of Part 1 of this symphony, and Susan Platts warmed the room with a beautifully burnished tone. She made the most of her small solo role. Erin Wall, who began her blossoming Music in Concert 37 career at the Lyric Opera of Chicago, did some of the heaviest lifting in Part 1. Like anyone faced with hoisting a weighty object, the excellent Canadian soprano sometimes bent her knees before bursting through the huge orchestral volume pushing from behind her. Tenor John Mac Master, a last-minute replacement for Richard Margeson, delivered much forceful and competitive singing in Part 1; and, after intermission, in the longer Part 2 he made a strong impression with generally less stentorian duties. Baritone Tyler Duncan and bass Robert Pomakov know how to sing this stuff. Duncan, in particular, sang sonorously and without strain, often having to call on his inner tenor to manage Mahler’s clarion lines. Pomakov’s bass was resonant enough to cut through any instrumental resistance. Overall, the musically charged ‘Veni, Creator Spiritus’ section had the requisite declamatory punch, and its propulsive choral effect produced the feeling of overexcitement that Mahler generates in his exultant invitation to the spirit of inspiration. When all the forces were engaged, including the Toronto Children’s Chorus, looking cheerful in their bright red tops and singing from memory, the effect was definitely powerful—some might even say raucous, in a high-brow sort of way. There were a few uneven moments at the start of the transition from the vocally intricate, movingly lyrical ‘Infirma Nostri Corporis’ section of Part 1 into the explosive ‘Accende Lumen Sensibus’, where the massed choir must accelerate together. The takeoff was a little sluggish, and the children were slightly behind for a bit; but, once in sync, this upbeat, light, but urgently sung section was exhilarating. The Toronto Symphony, led by Music Director Peter Oundjian, distinguished itself from start to finish. The brass and woodwinds are central to creating many of the grand and subtle effects in this symphony. The trumpet section, in particular, led the charge effulgently in its many highly exposed moments. The second half, inspired by the closing scene of Goethe’s Faust, gave the TSO everything it needed to display its prowess. Within a few bars, the opening delicate flute and pizzicato passage, establishing the mystical aspect of Mahler’s symphony, made the often clamorous first part seem a distant memory (though the ‘Veni, Creator Spiritus’ does have strong ear-worm potential). The chorus revealed its control exquisitely at the end of the penultimate, ethereal chorus praising the Virgin Mary. But by the conclusion, when the power overtakes the contemplative, reverential mood Mahler so achingly 38 Music in Concert constructs in Part 2, the orchestra and chorus engulfed Roy Thomson Hall with the robust sound that this unique work is renowned for. BILL RANKIN Toronto Elgar: The Kingdom The packed house at Toronto’s Koerner Hall on May 6 stood and cheered an outstanding conductor, soloists, chorus, and orchestra. But it directed an even larger surge of acclaim at a huge red book that the Pax Christi Chorale’s Artistic Director Stephanie Martin, in a characteristic gesture of humility, lifted high above her head. It was the score to this piece, last heard in North America 25 years ago. The Kingdom was the second of a planned trilogy of oratorios on the foundations of Christianity, culminating in the Last Judgement. A tissue of leitmotivs was to have tied the three together in the monumental manner of Wagner’s Ring Cycle. But Elgar seemed to have lost the motivation to complete the project, leaving only a few sketches of the third piece that were incorporated in yet another unfinished work, Symphony No. 3. The result is that The Kingdom does not have a sense of finality about it. It ends quietly, and it’s akin to a slow movement of a three-movement symphony. Yet as demonstrated by its reception here, the high quality and great beauty of the music overcome its large-scale formal imbalance. One example of the music’s appeal is the gorgeous processional tune that Elgar called the New Faith motive. It is sung to the words, “And it shall be that whosoever shall call on the name of the Lord shall be saved.” Like the first theme in Brahms’s Piano Concerto No. 2, it is an earworm characterized by a prominent and gracious triplet, and it appears many times in various guises. Another beauty is the dramatic swirling of sound accompanying “He who walketh on the wings of the wind shall baptize with the Holy Ghost and with fire.” These are masterstrokes that need to grace North American ears at a rate far more than four times per century. This single performance in Toronto was superb in almost all respects. Martin’s direction was remarkably clear and displayed complete mastery of the score. A bit hesitant at first, she soon commanded the dynamic range, ebb and flow necessary to make the most of Elgar’s style. The soloists made fine contributions. Most impressive was baritone Roderick Williams. The Chorale flew him in from the UK, capitalizing on his experience there with September/October 2012 the role of Peter and his ravishing voice. Soprano Shannon Mercer and mezzo Krisztina Szabo added fine voices to music that was new to them but has made them Elgar fans, as they reported afterwards. Keith Klassen’s brilliant but inconsistent tenor brought energy to the role of John. This rare occasion supplied reason for the North American branch of the Elgar Society to hold an annual meeting in Toronto, replete with documentary showings, performance analyses, and examples of Elgar used in motion pictures. A remote presentation by Robert Padgett doggedly tried to prove that ‘A Mighty Fortress Is Our God’ is the hidden theme that runs in counterpoint to the Enigma theme in Elgar’s 1899 Variations. But, despite a deluge of numerological analyses, the resulting mix of random-sounding note placements and dissonances was too unmusical to be believed. The real enigma is why The Kingdom is not a regular visitor to our concert halls and churches. If the word spreads about Martin’s commendable efforts here, perhaps it will be an enigma no longer. Peteris Vasks JEFF DUNN New York Music of Peteris Vasks Recently I performed a number of works that included cello in a Latvian church in Yonkers NY. I was impressed at the determined nationalist feeling generated by both the music and the audience. The service was entirely in Latvian, but with videos of the subjects the preacher spoke of and maps showing the boundaries of Latvia at different times in the past century. This is a country with a distinct personality. Afterwards I went home and explored my record collection for all the Latvian composers I could identify. Listening to them took a week or more, and one of the most recent ones was Peteris Vasks (b 1946). The earlier composers (Kalnins, two Medins, two Skultes, and Vitols are the major names on recordings) sounded much alike. To generalize more than they deserve, they all had a primary interest in folk melodies and a sad outlook, though each approached this from a different angle and showed plenty of individuality. Vasks, born 40 years or so later than those composers, shows a similar attitude but is distinctly contemporary and has considerably more intensity and grandeur. When I heard that a concert was to be given of his music, I was eager to follow him up, partly since my collection does not include his organ works or string quartets, both of which were to be per- American Record Guide formed. I was surprised at the truly mountainous impression his works made on my psyche. The Park Avenue Christian Church in New York City is a large one with a very high ceiling but relatively clear acoustics. I snagged a seat near the front so I could watch the quartet. Of course, that’s all I saw, since the organist was in the balcony. Churches have their limitations. Ever try to play in a full orchestra in a church? Don’t! You’ll be squeezed out of shape forever! But here the space was open and one could concentrate on the spaciousness of the music. The program began with two large works for solo organ, Viatore (2001) and Canto di Forza (2004), played by Paul Vasile, the church’s music director. Viatore (Wanderer) is a transcription of a work originally for string orchestra. As the composer wrote in the notes, it “tells the story of a wanderer who arrives in this world, grows up in it, develops, falls in love, fills himself up, and then departs. The journey is illuminated by the endless and starry universe.” The music has a couple of Latvian-sounding melodies that develop into various moods and events; they alternate with a depiction of the surrounding universe via high-register pianissimo noodling that the clarinetist next to me (an old friend) noted as typical music for clarinet. The wanderer devel- Music in Concert 39 ops into a serious fellow who goes through much of the tragedy that tends to afflict the Latvian world. This is a powerful 20-minute drama that alternates between whispering and building to church-filling climaxes. It is basically tonal. Canto di Forza, originally composed for the 12 Cellists of the Berlin Philharmonic, is described as diatonic by the composer. He also remarks that he is “convinced that music helps to keep the world balanced”. This is a shorter work than Viatore, though just as dramatic, ending with a fortissimo chorale-like climax. Vasile played these works with an effective variety of touch, and the 1982 Holtkamp organ gave a satisfyingly powerful and clear sound in response. As a string player, I would like to hear both of these compositions in their original orchestration, but I must confess that they both make a highly satisfying impression when played on a lovely-sounding organ like this one. The power of the instrument fit Vasks’s pieces very well. Hearing String Quartet No. 4, written in 1999 for the Kronos Quartet, made me wonder further what the differences are between the two organ pieces and their original string instrument scoring. This five-movement halfhour quartet is full of imaginative and colorful effects that play one instrument against the rest, an aspect that was particularly evident in the Afiara Quartet’s performance. Also, there were numerous glissandos all over the instruments and between notes of a melody that added a considerable expressive flavor—something that the organ is not built to do. Clearly, Vasks worked intimately with the instruments at hand. The quartet opens with an Elegy where each instrument converses with the one next to it, violin with violin, viola and cello relating together, with harmonics balancing solid notes. It was a test the Alfiara passed with flying colors, each player taking on the personality given him by the composer and passing it on to another. In the following Toccata, Chorale, and Toccata 2, the test was of virtuosity and balance of voices at fast tempos. Again, this group performed with notable polish and unanimity, not a note out of place or out of tune as they played with total involvement in the composer’s weirdly wonderful world. The quartet ends with a lovely Meditation that pulls the material together for a dying-away ending. As Vasks remarks, “There has been so much bloodshed and destruction, and yet love’s power and idealism have helped to keep the world in balance. I wanted to speak of these things in my new quartet; not from the 40 Music in Concert sidelines, but with direct emotion and sensitivity.” That is precisely the impression given by this powerful and entertaining music, performed by this really fine Canadian quartet. I have seldom heard such an intense connection between composer and performers as was evident in this concert—attributable both to the players’ commitment and the composer’s deeply concentrated inspiration. DAVID MOORE New York Previn: Trio No. 2 (world premiere) Has it really been 35 years? The KalichsteinLaredo-Robinson Trio had scant time to wonder as they spent their anniversary season celebrating in style, with three commissions, a CD of the complete Schubert trios, and extensive touring. For their May 6 concert at Alice Tully Hall for the Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Center, they were joined by violinist Bella Hristova, violist Beth Guterman, and cellist Gary Hoffman for a wide-ranging program. Mozart’s Piano Quartet No. 1 was a choice and substantial opener. The generational difference between Hristova and Guterman and the more senior Hoffman and Kalichstein was never audible; all played in good 20th-Century legato Mozart style, reveling in both the classical symmetry and the rakish hemiolas peppering the first movement. For these Tully Hall veterans, the recently renovated auditorium appeared to require some adjustment: the cello sounded tubby, and the piano sounded harsh at higher volume, but these were quickly corrected. The cantabile second movement was lit by a lyrical violin solo; when the piano finally joined in, the quartet appeared to fall under a collective trance induced by the sweet harmonies. The final Rondo-Allegro was played as a gentle frolic rather than the usual robust romp—perhaps an adaptation to the hyper-resonant hall. The concert’s main attraction was the world premiere of André Previn’s Trio No. 2 (2011), the third of the anniversary commissions. The prodigious octogenarian’s musical career has incorporated jazz, classical, and film work; but this chamber trio embraced the classical idiom with complete assurance and an easy generosity. All three movements develop from three- or four-note motives that build into symmetrical phrases in a range of styles evoking Schumann, Ravel, Satie, and, in occasional quasi-improvisatory piano excursions, lounge music. The piece began with a quiet, searching motif traded between the strings, answered by September/October 2012 soft piano chords, which expanded with increasing energy into denser writing. That was contrasted with an almost percussive second theme of repeated notes. The slow middle movement was more lyrical, in the manner of a 19th-Century trio. Previn’s writing often gave an impression of orderly, throughcomposed structure for the strings, contrasting with a more improvisatory style for the piano. There were plenty of idiomatic, virtuoso moments for each player; but the fast third movement, with its scampering, chasing passagework, gave the cellist a real workout. The piece tempered the easy cascade of tonally-driven sound with the welcome tang of dissonance. Well crafted as it was, Previn’s trio was displaced in memory by a sumptuous, sensuous reading of Schoenberg’s Transfigured Night, here with two violins, two violas, and two cellos. Though often heard in the orchestral transcription, this original sextet version emphasizes the intimacy of the intense and very private encounter between a man and a woman in Richard Dehmel’s eponymous poem. Robinson on lead cello contributed rich tone and real character, embodying the woman in the highly emotional scenario. Playing with unabashed lushness, the players shaped melodic give-and-take into a conversation, now thoughtful, now passionate. The luxuriant chromaticism combined with the ebb and flow of tempo and intensity created an unusually voluptuous performance, leaving this listener hot and bothered—and the rest of the audience as well, judging from their roar of approval. It’s a sure bet that, after 35 years of playing together, the KLR Trio has weathered many a crisis of their own. The splendor of this reading suggests that, like Dehmel and Schoenberg’s couple, they’ve become stronger and closer over the long years of their musical and personal journey. SUSAN BRODIE Banff Centre Gryphon Trio On May 9, at the Banff Centre in the heart of the Canadian Rockies, the Gryphon Trio and clarinettist James Campbell performed Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time with a twist. American Record Guide Gryphon Trio Preceding the work was Echoes of Time, a work commissioned by the Gryphon from Torontobased composer Alexina Louie. Echoes will act as a prelude to a new 40-minute play that tells the story of how Messiaen composed his quartet. The play, written by London-based writer Mieczyslawa Wazacz, will be directed by her sister Helena Kaut-Howson and will eventually become part of the Gryphon Trio’s touring repertoire. Messiaen wrote End of Time while he was a war prisoner and gave the premiere with a group of fellow prisoners on January 15, 1941. It was inspired by the tribulations of his internment and his fascination with the Book of Revelation’s prophecy of the end time. The Gryphon Trio has commissioned at least 60 new works, but this was the first from Louie. As she began to write, she realized that her piece would be compared with the Messiaen masterpiece. “At first I thought, what a great opportunity. This is going to be fun. And then when I started it, I said, ‘Oh my God, what have I done?’ It’s the greatest piece for chamber ensemble that’s possibly ever been written. What am I going to do? And it’s going to be on the same program.” The trepidation caused her many false starts. “Echoes might have more pages thrown Music in Concert 41 out as I was writing than any other piece that I have worked on.” Her first efforts sounded derivative. “It’s hard not to be slavishly devoted to the piece.” Eventually she found her way towards a balance between originality and humility, and the result that I heard was brimming with the Messiaen spirit but did make its own mark, echoing Messiaen’s distinctive musical bursts of violence and his exploration of shards of unexpected scales and agitated angst-ridden rhythms. The concert opened with Ukrainian composer Valentin Silvestrov’s Fugitive Visions of Mozart, a series of six achingly beautiful miniatures that gave us our ration of hummable sweetness and light for the evening. Silvestrov’s music, except for a few short, surprising bursts of forte attacks and occasional poignant punctuating dissonance, would be perfect to soothe a child to sleep. The performance of the Messiaen clearly captivated the 150 or so people who sat positively silent in Rolston Recital Hall. One high point was watching Campbell fend his way through the treacherous musical meditation ‘Abyss of the Birds’. All the repertoire was recorded earlier for the Gryphon Trio’s 20th anniversary album (their 16th recording) to be released on Analekta in the autumn. BILL RANKIN Waltham MA Aston Magna’s 40th Anniversary 1972 marked the beginnings of a revolution in early music performance practice. In that year Lee Elman and Albert Fuller founded the Aston Magna Foundation for Music. Their plan was to teach students and give concerts based on historically informed scholarship of musical materials and instrumental performance. Those concepts were somewhat radical then, but it is a testament to Aston Magna’s pioneering zeal that today we embrace so many topnotch early music musicians and ensembles. Since 1990 the ensemble has thrived under baroque violinist Daniel Stepner’s inspiring direction. The summer season, which opened a week earlier, continued June 14 in Brandeis University’s Slossberg Auditorium with Wilhelm Friedemann Bach’s Duo for two violins. The performance was musical and involved, though I confess that it was only in the third movement that the players and musical score seemed most at home with one another. 42 Music in Concert Next up was a reconstruction of an Oboe Concerto in E-flat, possibly by JS Bach, music used later in his Keyboard Concerto, S 1053. Joshua Rifkin and Werner Breig were the reconstructionists. Stephen Hammer was the imperturbable baroque oboe soloist. Lively tempos and nicely shaped phrasing from all participants enhanced the performance of this somewhat unusual hybrid of a piece. While not all of this reconstruction worked quite as effortlessly and seamlessly as a finished work by Johann Sebastian (what could?), one was grateful to hear artists of this caliber perform it. The evening’s real drama took place behind the scenes. The scheduled soprano soloist had to withdraw, and Kristen Watson took her place. She has lately been the go-to soprano when last-minute substitutions happen, and she had all of 24 hours to prepare two extremely demanding works she had never sung before, Heitor Villa-Lobos’s mesmerizing Bachianas Brasileiras No. 5 and Bach’s Wedding Cantata. When she arrived on stage for Bachianas Brasileiras No. 5 for soprano and eight cellos, one wondered, “Where are the eight cellos?” In their place were two violins, a viola, cello, and contrabass. While the accompanying sonorities were certainly different from the original, this artful arrangement by Daniel Stepner (unattributed in the program book) was ingenious, supplying plenty of color and exoticism. Watson sang the opening ‘Cantilena’ radiantly and seductively, employing a gorgeously shimmering mezza voce when the sinuous opening melody returned at the aria’s close. Also remarkable was her rapid-fire Portuguese in the lively second movement. Stepner told his listeners that Bach’s personal score of the Goldberg Variations, discovered in Paris in 1974, contained a loose sheet of manuscript paper that had written on it, in Bach’s hand, 14 canons based on the first eight notes of the bass line of the Goldberg’s theme. Stepner and colleagues then offered a strungtogether presentation of these canons that ran the gamut, offering their musical lines played forward, backward, upside down, or all of these at once. This interesting glimpse of Bach “at work” reinforced the composer’s reputation as an ever-inquiring intellect. Kristen Watson then reappeared for the exquisite Wedding Cantata. She was in fine form yet again, offering clear and compelling tone and enunciation in each of her German arias and recitatives. Her instrumental cohorts were solo oboist Stephen Hammer and violinist Daniel Stepner, both playing with beauty of tone and intelligent improvisation. And in the aria that tells of Phoebus hurrying with swift September/October 2012 steeds through the newborn world, cellist Loretta O’Sullivan enthusiastically supplied the galloping accompaniment. And, for Watson, all on 24-hour notice! JOHN W EHRLICH New York Andras Schiff, Salzburg Marionette Theater Andras Schiff Carnegie Hall’s annual Perspectives series, by pianist Andras Schiff this season, went further than exploring the legacy of Bartok or Schiff’s other Hungarian countrymen. The pianist’s performance at Zankel Hall in May was about childhood, as imagined by Debussy, Schumann, and the Salzburg Marionette Theater. Children’s Corner Suite, six beloved piano miniatures by Debussy, was inspired by his only daughter (whom he eventually outlived). They reflect the stilted view of children as regimented midgets in the nursery that runs through Robert Louis Stevenson’s “Child’s Garden of Verses”. But who doesn’t love playing them? Three of them, that is. The flowing ‘Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum’, the ethereal ‘Little Shepherd’, and the raffish ‘Golliwog’s Cakewalk’ are wonderful. The others are generic Debussy. (Show me a kid who wants to learn the middle pieces and I’ll show you a fibmeister.) In ‘Gradus’ Schiff was dry and sometimes too soft for my taste, displaying clean pedal work and contrast. His expert voicing in the entire program was a pleasure, though his pointillist approach to the suite should have been a little scrappier. Schumann had no children yet when he composed the 15 Scenes from Childhood as a love-letter to his future wife, Clara—one of history’s great piano virtuosos. But Schumann’s “scenes” are warmly human in subject and musical sound, and it is not surprising that eight children would be in the Schumanns’ future. Of course Kinderszenen was well played, but it didn’t sound as if it were the last time Schiff would ever hear it, which is what I look for in a recital. ‘Frighteners’ was the unscariest ever. But the performance had its moments, like the enthralling final ‘The Poet Speaks’, which seemed as if it had been composed for Schiff himself. The art of puppetry has exploded since the Muppets moved off their wall and beyond Sesame Street. Audiences have watched hand puppets with hidden operators in a Broadway show (Avenue Q) with operators in full view, Basil Twist’s underwater Symphony Fantastique, Julie Taymor’s Lion King with people inside the puppets, the Metropolitan Opera’s Magic Flute with Taymor’s stick puppets, and its Madama Butterfly, whose little boy was operated by kneeling puppeteers. Debussy’s ballet La Boite a Joujoux (The Toy Box) was maneuvered by four members of the renowned Salzburg Marionette Theater, which began in 1913—the era of La Boite and Stravinsky’s Petrouchka. The piece is usually performed in its later orchestration, with dance or projections. This time a black-clad puppeteer, inspecting Schiff as he slumped over the keyboard, dug a big key into his back and wound it. Schiff snapped upright and began to play from an illustrated piano score. Puppeteers, using a center-stage structure of oversized colorful blocks that doubled as doors, enacted the tale of a ballerina (stringed marionette with three operators) who loves a soldier (stick puppet). After her struggle to get rid of a pathetic Jack-in-the-Box suitor (handand-stick operated puppet) with the help of Bear (puppeteer with two-faced mask), love (and middle-aged spread) triumphed, in a house with a fence. La Boite, not well known and largely ignored in the United States, got lucky when the Salzburgers picked it up. Now it will be heard whenever they present this work— which was done first in 2010, and also last spring at McCarter Theater in Princeton. The entire program will be performed nationally and in Canada. LESLIE KANDELL American Record Guide Music in Concert 43 OperaEverywhere A scene form Einstein on the Beach Toronto Glass: Einstein on the Beach The 2012-13 tour of Einstein on the Beach made its first North American stop at Toronto’s Luminato Festival June 9-11, after short runs at the Opera Berlioz in Montpellier, France; the Teatro Valli in Reggio Emilia, Italy; and London’s Barbican Centre. Philip Glass and Robert Wilson’s four-and-a-half-hour abstract theater piece, commonly referred to as Glass’s first opera, challenges audiences not 44 Music in Concert only to abide a show of huge length but also to extract a storyline that Einstein on the Beach aggressively denies them. So one sits as the hours pass, weighing the merits of continuing to sit until the end, or to rise for respite and return (which was permitted), or to draw the line and leave. The staging, a rarity since Einstein was first performed in Avignon in July 1976, felt like an immovable object in a larger opera world where classic works are regularly given adventurous re-imaginings with all the risks nonconformity entails. Wilson’s formalist ethos and the analog aspects of the 1976 production’s limitations are maintained in this incarnation. There is no September/October 2012 digital awesomeness. The first act, called Train, has for its set a large, mostly static, cardboard-looking engine more typical of a school pageant than a modern professional theatre spectacle. In the last act, Spaceship, what looks like a foot-long paper rocket is slowly towed along a line from the bottom left of the stage to the top right until it disappears. Glass’s music, known for its repetitiveness, does little to induce the thrill of cosmic exploration. The stage technology of the 1950s Flash Gordon television episodes looked positively space age in comparison to Wilson’s childlike effects. Einstein on the Beach is called an opera, but it has just one solo soprano vocalist, the role sung with a pure, vibrato-less tone by HaiTing Chinn. The rest of the singing is in small ensembles; those singers deserve high praise for their fervent and precise musicianship. At about the three-and-a-half-hour mark, there was also a welcome diversion from the sometimes hypnotic, sometimes tedious minimalism of this early Glass score. Andrew Sterman played an extended tenor saxophone solo with the verve and inventiveness of free-jazz specialist John Coltrane. The spell of Glass was exuberantly broken. I was greatly relieved. The libretto, if it can be called that, is mainly numbers, counting no higher than eight, and solfege syllables. One of the most enthralling aspects of this avant-garde experiment is the way these meaningless, relentlessly recursive “words”, when sung at high tempo, create illusions of meaningful phrases. The listener, aiming to make sense of it, is drawn in, until the actual meaninglessness of the numbers and notes becomes obvious. In a tiny nod to standard narrative convention at the very end, a male voice tells the story of a man and a woman sitting on a bench, the woman cajoling the man to count the many ways he loves her. The last words we hear are “fervent osculation”, as the woman permits him a kiss. Imagine what a libretto with clunky words like that looks like! Violinist Jennifer Koh, sporting a wig that resembled the famous physicist’s hairdo, played the frenetic scales and arpeggios that propel the music with unrelenting commitment; but Einstein’s presence, mostly at the periphery of the singing and dancing, which followed Lucinda Childs’s vigorously aerobic choreography, begged the unavoidable, nagging question: Where was the beach, and why was the man who levered the world toward nuclear trauma so incidental a character in a musical and theatrical conundrum that bears his name? I’m glad I stayed for the whole thing. It was certainly a once-in-a-too-short-lifetime experience. BILL RANKIN American Record Guide Opera Company of Philadelphia Muhly: Dark Sisters On the surface, composer Nico Muhly and librettist Stephen Karam couldn’t have chosen a harder sell for a chamber opera than Dark Sisters, the very somber story of women trapped in a Mormon sect that still allows polygamy. The opera is a co-commission (and production) of the Opera Company of Philadelphia with Gotham Chamber Opera and Music-Theatre Group. Its premiere was at the Lynch Theater in New York last fall (Mar/Apr 2012). The original creative team and cast were back for the opera’s second outing—a five-performance run. I saw the third on June 13, and there were lots of empty tier seats in the Kimmel Center’s intimate Perelman Theater; but people in attendance, without doubt, embraced this challenging opera. Against a backdrop of projected steel blue clouds, as foreboding as anything Cecil B DeMille summoned in his biblical epics, five women scurry on stage in acute emotional distress because federal agents have just separated them from their children at their remote religious “ranch”. They are instructed by the smarmy Prophet to “stay sweet”. While not giving them any hope that they will see their children again, he tells them to pray instead and to be obedient to his wishes. So begins a story that could be as claustrophobic as the heavy flannel nighties the women are forced to wear. Swirling around this milieu are heavyweight issues of brainwashing, dehumanization, and wives as sex slaves. In the first act the libretto doesn’t escape a certain static quality, even though Karam’s lines are bursting with subtext, if not overt exposition. The first scenes of the opera gradually transform into sleekly austere designs. The women’s lives unfold without any real scenic action, as they pray, mend clothes, and reveal petty jealousies. Eventually one of the wives, Eliza, cannot accept being separated from her children. There are creepy but wonderfully composed fight scenes between Eliza and the Prophet (soprano and bass) when she questions his motives and has to submit to him while she plots her escape from this squalid life. She also vows to save her daughter, who is about be pimped out to another of the sect’s elders. As the women’s personalities are revealed, Muhly composes finely interlocked voice lines and choral passages, keeping the voices from getting too monochromatic. He revealed in interviews that, since the New York run, he has Music in Concert 45 Cincinnati Opera Gershwin: Porgy and Bess A scene from Dark Sisters retooled key transitional phrases with sharper character accents. The great atmospherics by the video design team of Leo Warner and Mark Grimmer, who worked on the Broadway hit War Horse and the Met’s Enchanted Island, support rather than overwhelm the production. Stage director Rebecca Taichman orchestrated much more stage business in the second act as the women confront the world via a CNN-style expose. Her crisp pacing matched the circuslike atmosphere. All of the singers distinguish themselves vocally and dramatically. Jennifer Check was loyal Almera, Margaret Lattimore was the obsessive Presendia, and Jennifer Zetlan was Zina, the pregnant one who wields her power as the current favorite wife. As Ruth, mezzo Eve Gigliotti, in her own world of guilt and loss, communicated all of this in two gutwrenching solos with lines like “What kind of mother am I, who can’t protect her own children?” As Eliza, Caitlin Lynch gave a tour de force vocal performance with warmth, even as she dispatched emotions of loss, rage, and liberation. Kevin Burdette employed a commanding, unctuous bass as the Prophet and was just as effective as the fast-singing investigative journalist. Gotham conductor Neal Goren instantly ignited the 13 players with drama and clarity from start to finish. Among the orchestra standouts, Linda Henderson’s disquieting piano and celeste nailed Muhly’s haunted counterpoint. LEWIS WHITTINGTON 46 Music in Concert When Porgy and Bess opened on Broadway in 1935, George Gershwin had cut about 40 minutes of the music he wrote for it. In the big productions and recordings of the late 1970s (starting with Houston) most of that music was restored. It was the age of “complete original versions”—rather silly, if you ask me. After all, the composer himself made the cuts. Yes, there was the practical reason that Broadway shows started at 8:30 (a civilized hour compared to the current 7:30 Cincinnati Opera start times) and had to be pretty much over by 11:30 if people were to get the last trains out to the suburbs. (Those are also earlier today.) Three hours including intermission was normal and expected. But the cuts actually helped the opera, moved the action along. For example, in the original the crap game goes on far too long. At the Boston tryouts, everyone—including the composer—felt that the opera would be improved by cuts. This recent production, shared by many US opera companies, essentially goes back to the Broadway version, the composer’s final definitive version. (He died two years later, so we don’t know whether he might have tinkered with it some more; but we do know he was happy with the Broadway production.) Still, with a very long intermission this wasn’t over until 11:15. A few small cuts were restored for smooth transitions, but I haven’t figured out why it went so late. Of course, no one who was there cared; we were all completely caught up in it. It was a perfect evening of musical theatre. When Ralph Lucano reviewed Jonathan Lemalu’s recorded Porgy (Jan/Feb 2011), he commented that he was almost too “gentlemanly”. I think I know what he meant, but I think that is part of why we all identified so well with him here. He had such dignity and courage, and his singing was so elegant. I have never felt such sympathy for this character when sung by others. Measha Brueggergosman did the same thing for Bess: elegance and dignity and poise. Both of them were more than singers; both brought their characters abundantly alive and made everyone in the audience sympathetic. Everyone was talking about this after the first weekend, and it sold out the second weekend; four full Cincinnati houses amounts to almost 14,000 people who saw it. People were even talking about it in church Sunday morning. One of the things everyone said—and I said—is that every singer in the cast was on the same high level. Each time we were about to September/October 2012 hear a new character we wondered if he or she could possibly keep up the incredible level of quality—and they all did! The brilliance and consistency were amazing. But this review would not be so brilliant if we tried to list everyone and explain why each was so good. The orchestra, the Cincinnati Symphony, has recorded much of this music and knows it well and plays it well. The conductor was David Charles Abell, and he seemed “inside the music”. The staging was utterly realistic and ingenious. I’ve seen this opera a few times—once in Charleston, where it takes place and where you can walk on (a rather gentrified) Catfish Row after the opera. But every other performance was wooden compared to this one. This was the real thing, and it felt like opera with an infusion of Broadway, as it was in 1935. It had the weight of opera and the flair of Broadway. I can’t imagine it done better. It was one of those evenings when Cincinnati Opera hit the top. DONALD VROON Canadian Opera Company Florentine Tragedy and Gianni Schicchi How do you tell that an opera is a great opera? One indicator: You still enjoy it even though a director’s resetting of it in modern times introduces silly anachronisms. A test case of this principle was offered in May by the Canadian Opera Company in Toronto when Catherine Malfitano directed two short operas that were similar in many respects, Alexander Zemlinsky’s Florentine Tragedy and Giacomo Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi. Zemlinsky foundered, Puccini soared. Both operas were written during World War I and last about 52 minutes. Both stories take place in Florence more than 500 years ago and have a major character named Simone. Both were updated by Malfitano to much more recent times. While not sporting a show-stopper aria like ‘O Mio Babbino Caro’, Zemlinsky’s music is every bit as fascinating and supportive of its libretto as Puccini’s. And neither should be updated. Surely in Italy today, the cutting off of hands and banishment are not the penalty for falsifying a will, yet this crucial plot device keeps the fearful relatives in Puccini’s opera from turning Schicchi over to the authorities when they conspire to alter Donati’s will. And surely a wealthy neighbor in the 1920s would have difficulty making love with a merchant’s wife practically in front of her husband, while American Record Guide the merchant continues to sell him goods— unless the script was a comedy instead of A Florentine Tragedy. Such only makes sense in a time like the 16th Century, where the fact that the neighbor is of the nobility makes the merchant acutely aware of class differences and the consequences of transgressing them, keeping a temporary cork plugged against his increasing rage. The significant point is that the above problems, crucial to both plots, ended up having opposite results. With Schicchi Malfitano’s direction, coupled with the charm of the music, made the absurdity of hands being cut off a non-issue. With Zemlinsky’s opera her direction divorced the music from its libretto and made the stage action an annoying distraction instead of a drama. Malfitano began directing opera with Madama Butterfly in 2005 and has had a fair degree of later success. Her many years of experience as a celebrated operatic soprano certainly must be invaluable in her newer career, guiding the acting and singing of cast members. This showed especially in Schicchi, where Italian over-expression rose to the fore. But for the Zemlinsky, the darker, more static drama didn’t play to her strengths. Her biggest mistake was trying to make up for the stasis by giving weird, almost laughable balletic movements to the lovers Bianca and Prince Guido before the singing began. Abstract projections on a screen would have been a better solution, to allow the audience to concentrate on where the real action was, namely, in Zemlinsky’s music—passionate, Straussian, attempting to outdo Salome without the tunes. In the rest of the opera most movements of the singers didn’t flow well, and the staging was not inventive. Quite the opposite was true for Schicchi. The large stage was dominated by a huge pile of Donati’s former possessions, which were occasionally mounted by relatives. Malfitano took full advantage of the many opportunities offered by Giovacchino Forzano’s terrific libretto. Having a real person as the deceased Donati was a plus, especially when he was stuffed into an old convertible couch when Schicchi took his place. The principle singers were first class. Alan Held as Zemlinsky’s Simone sang beautifully, then shone as an animated Schicchi. Gun-Brit Barkmin was great as both Zemlinsky’s Bianca and Puccini’s Nella. Michael König was fine as Zemlinsky’s Prince. René Barbera excelled as the fiance of Schicchi’s daughter Lauretta, and the role of Lauretta was sung gorgeously by Simone Osborne. Malfitano explained in the program’s “Director’s Notes” that her modernization Music in Concert 47 “came from the desire to allow us to see ourselves mirrored in a more familiar frame”. As a prince with dangerous power? Not conveyed. As people afraid of losing their hands? Africa, or governments enforcing sharia law were not used. I’ll take the renaissance mirror any day over what Malfitano supplied, and laugh just as hard at Forzano’s jokes. JEFF DUNN Frankfurt Opera Stravinsky: The Rake’s Progress Aspiring American singers once needed to gain experience in Europe before they were hired for opera stages closer to home. Young artist programs in the US now supply opportunities for rising performers who would prefer to stay here, but many continue to acquire on-the-job training on foreign shores, to the mutual benefit of both singers and opera companies. Frankfurt Opera hosts several accomplished young Americans on its roster, including rising soprano Brenda Rae (who at this writing is about to make her unexpected Vienna Opera debut as Lucia). And for its “Opera Finale” mini-Stravinsky Festival, Frankfurt invited tenor Paul Appleby, a recent JuilliardLindemann graduate, to join her for its new production of The Rake’s Progress, seen in its third performance on May 27. This score is something of an oddity, written by a Russian expat composer in Hollywood who was inspired by a series of etchings by 18th Century British artist William Hogarth about a lazy young innocent led to his ruin. On a deftly clever libretto by WH Auden and Chester Kallman, Stravinsky translated the wry humor of Hogarth’s images into musical theater, based on 18th Century forms. Director Axel Weidaur’s setting evoked an 18th Century English garden, gradually introducing surreal contemporary design elements as young Tom Rakewell succumbs to the lure of fame and the fast life in, apparently, the Hollywood Hills. Berit Mohr’s stylized costumes likewise started out in the 18th Century and fast-forwarded through mid-20th Century fashion, though Tom and Nick continued to sport Tom Jones pigtails, maintaining their 18th-Century look. Moritz Nitsche’s sets and Joachim Klein’s lighting captured the punch and wit of the music, with plenty of neon and lamé underlining the modern analogs to 18th Century vice. While eye-catching and amusing, the randomly updated visual elements, combined with the arch tone of the score, emphasized an artifi- 48 Music in Concert Brenda Rae ciality and detachment that drained the pathos from the story. In spite of liking the music very much, I’ve never responded warmly to The Rake’s Progress: Stravinsky’s vocal lines, though eminently singable, can’t compare in emotional directness with their Mozartean models. This production didn’t change that, and the empty seats spotted after intermission suggested that others felt the same. If the over-stylized narrative fell somewhat flat, it wasn’t the fault of the excellent cast. In his European operatic debut, Paul Appleby as Tom struck the right balance between innocence and ready cynicism. After some initial vocal roughness, the tenor delivered the honeyed tones, crystalline diction, and ingratiating presence that Met audiences enjoyed in last season’s Enchanted Island. Five-year company member Brenda Rae was winsome as Anne Truelove, the rose-gowned, perpetually faithful ingenue. She made light work of the dazzling ‘No Word from Tom’. The versatile American tenor Peter Marsh, now a permanent company member, was a bright-voiced, giddily manic Sellem. Baby-faced Simon Bailey was a seductive and stentorian Nick Shadow. Paula Murrihy hilariously stole the show as Baba the Turk, with her Lucille Ball pompadour, gunfire monolog, and absolutely nothing under her voluminous hoop skirt (how did they do that??). Conductor Constantine Carydis kept things moving with crisp efficiency; the Frankfurt ensemble’s brass section would be the envy of most American pit orchestras. And Matthias Koehler’s chorus was exemplary in its enunciation and energy. SUSAN BRODIE September/October 2012 CriticalConvictions I became Editor of American Record Guide in the Fall of 1987, so it has been 25 years. The first issue I produced was Nov/Dec 1987. It is a very demanding job and pays very little, but that is true of most jobs in the field of serious music. I haven’t the sheer talent—even genius—of many musicians I know, but I have a very sharp mind and lots of details stored in it. And, like musicians, I may have to work hard, but the rewards are great. For one thing, the subject is so interesting. It is so easy to read and write about great music—and to listen to it is so rewarding. It is such a joy to work with musicians and serious music-lovers like our writers. They are extremely intelligent, great conversationalists, and people with good values and plenty of ideas. Talking with them, staying with them, eating and drinking with them is a real pleasure. I am sure that I know many of the very best people in the land. Our readers are also a remarkable bunch, and I find I never lose the urge to do my best for them. An Editor with a deadline every two months can work hard for six weeks and then take up to two weeks off to travel—another great advantage of this job. Once a year I stretch it to almost three weeks and go to Europe—for sheer pleasure (no reviewing). An Editor of a magazine like this can get free tickets to most concerts and operas in most of the world—another great perk—and necessary, because I couldn’t afford many of those tickets. And it has been easy and not costly to build a fine CD collection and a good library of books on music. I get to indulge my love of language. I even get to exercise my skills at culture criticism, a favorite field. But, best of all, I have plenty of time to listen to glorious music. What a fortunate 25 years it has been for me! I am grateful to our readers, who continue to make it possible. How Have Things Changed? When I started doing this, music was not considered a luxury. People who knew our music well viewed it as a necessity and took it very seriously. It was not just classy entertainment; it was spiritual food. A large part of the audience at concerts (which were not expensive) was old people, poor people, immigrants, and young people. The halls were often old, usually unchanged since the 1930s (Carnegie, Orchestra Hall in Chicago, Academy of Music, Symphony Hall in Boston). There were stairs, not elevators. The seats were often hard. There was no air conditioning (and no summer concerts). All that mattered was the music. And that’s the way serious record collec- American Record Guide tors were too. We all spent way too much of our budget on records (and sometimes on the best machines we could afford to play them on—there was a huge difference from one piece of equipment to another). It didn’t bother me that I couldn’t buy clothes, go to movies, eat out, take a cruise, or whatever. All I cared about was the music—and I knew a great many kindred spirits. We also spent a great deal of time on building a record collection—chasing after sales, for example. Certainly we had to read the magazines that kept us informed about what was available and how the new measured up to the old. So there were many stores and magazines that catered to the serious collector. “The serious collector” is becoming an endangered species. How many of them are there under 50 years old? Under 60? How many people in the concert hall are real music addicts? We spent a lot of time browsing the bins— hours on end, really. We had to know everything available and how good it was. What an education that was! Now there are no bins to browse, almost no stores, and very few magazines. In a mass society unless millions want something it becomes hard to get. Fewer and fewer people want and care deeply for this music, and it is becoming harder and harder to get it. The whole way of life we had 25 years ago is gone—well, this magazine is still around, and a remnant subscribes to it. The record industry had talent scouts— now a legend of the past. The label was going to invest piles of money promoting a new pianist, so they had to know his playing and how it stacked up next to some of the best in the business. An artist was an investment, and it took perceptive people to decide whether he would measure up to expectations. Those people—A&R people (Artists & Repertory) have been replaced by publicity people. Very few record labels have anyone who has the musical knowledge and judgement that the old A&R people had. Instead they hire people to “promote” their artists using the latest propaganda techniques and bags of adjectives. If it sounds unconvincing that’s because no conviction is required, no real judgement has been made—except that some accountant decided they could make money by promoting that artist—that is, saw a way to make him a “star”. His musical depth (or lack of it) is completely beside the point. He impresses audiences, so you can call him “the hottest classical musician on the planet” and make people believe it. Yes, the industry has changed a lot; 49 and friends who worked in it in the good old days often lament what has been lost. Every step of the way, judgements were made. His teachers judge his playing and potential; his school decides him worthy of bearing their degree. Early audiences responded one way or another to his concerts. An agent took him on because he realized he was very good. Then maybe a record company decided he was worth investing in and promoting. Critics at every stage had their say and influenced the next step. Today very few judgements are made, and the decision makers are not likely to know anything about music. Whether he gets recorded may have more to do with how much money he has or can raise than anything else. The reviewers are mostly too ignorant to actually criticize his playing. A whole career can be made out of very little talent or musicality. Audiences will obediently give him standing ovations because of his reputation or his manner. Rubinstein had to play on pretty terrible pianos under awful conditions, but he did it for the audience, for the music, and because he had something to offer. Who does that nowadays? The level of public writing has degenerated badly in these 25 years. The publicity produced in our field is increasingly illiterate and makes no sense. It is written to appeal to idiots. I recently bought the newest American Heritage Dictionary (5th Edition, 2011). A great many of the usages the 1970 edition condemned outright are now condemned more mildly or hardly at all. The makeup of the Usage Panel has changed, so the panel has become much more tolerant. They accept “upcoming” and “due to”. I will never accept “upcoming”—never! And “due to” cannot ever begin a sentence! They even accept “prioritize” on the ground that there isn’t a ready substitute. (But there is: “rank”.) But they often add a note to the effect that you can spot a careful writer because he avoids many of these newer usages that are just becoming accepted. I would say that since most of our readers are older we should usually stick with the stricter 1970 First Edition; that will also tell everyone who can appreciate such matters that we are “careful writers”. I have not accepted the word “segue” in ARG, noun or verb, because it was not in my dictionary and I thought it a radio word with a technical meaning that most people wouldn’t understand. But the newest AHD lists it as both noun and verb. The verb means to make a direct or smooth transition, and I would certainly prefer “segue” to “transition” as a verb. Still, what’s wrong with “becomes” (even “smoothly becomes”) or “moves into” or 50 “changes into”? (I would never allow “morphs”!) I suspect neologisms—words that were not listed in my 1970 dictionary. Although it is in the newest AHD, I will never accept words like “underwhelmed”—too illogical. As far as possible usage should be logical. Nor is “unwelcomed” a verb—not even in the new dictionary. (“This recording was unwelcomed by our editor.”) In 1970 no one used “issues” to mean “problems”, “difficulties”, “matters” or “conditions”. Nowadays instead of sending someone a “get well” card, we send an e-mail saying, “focus on resolving your health issues”. The new AHD acknowledges that but frowns on it, commenting that the use of “issues” is often a way to evade the word “problems”, which is considered too negative (in our wimpy times). The new edition also rejects “read” as a noun, as in, “this book is a good read” (never allowed in ARG—and neither is “a good listen”). And I’m glad that they call the popular use of “awesome” slang. The new edition does not strongly insist that to “aggravate” is to make worse, not to irritate. (But it is.) Nor that the whole comprises the parts, never vice-versa. Nothing can be “comprised of”, but the new edition says “opposition to this usage is abating” (read: sloppy usage is spreading). “Convince” cannot take “to”, but they are weakening on that, too. Something that is fascinating or interesting is not “intriguing”, but they no longer seem so opposed to it (like “convince to”, it is very common). You lend someone something; you don’t “loan” it. That distinction is almost lost in the USA, and so the new edition more or less admits defeat. “Momentarily” means FOR a moment, not IN a moment, but it is so often used the other way that the new edition says, “resistance is waning”. “Transpire” doesn’t mean “happen”; it means “become public knowledge”. The new edition allows it to be used for either but does add that it is pompous and pretentious. “Inauthentic” has replaced “unauthentic”—and “inauthentic” was not even in the 1970 dictionary. There’s not much difference, but I wonder what their reasons were for this. In a few areas the AHD still takes a strong stand. “Impact” as a noun means “collision”, but the Usage Panel now accepts it for “effect” (I don’t; it’s gross exaggeration.) But “impact” as a verb “ranks among the most detested of English usages” (Hear, hear!). It can only mean to strike forcefully or smash together; it’s a physical thing. You cannot be “impacted by” an idea or plan or law. “Hopefully” is still rejected almost absolutely. (It is called “a sign that the writer is unaware of the canons of usage”.) “Bemused” cannot mean amused; it September/October 2012 means something like confused. “Disinterested” cannot mean “uninterested”. But in general the AHD is becoming more descriptive and less prescriptive, which is a shame, because most people want guidance and need it very badly—they are increasingly uneducated in language matters. More and more writers are using circumlocutions that were considered “informal” or even slang in 1970—are you surprised? The usage manuals are still pretty firm on most of those matters, because they are designed to give guidance. The Editor of the new dictionary says in the front of it, “We pay attention to the way people use language”. What people? From his essay I surmise he means “everybody”. So does he aspire to make the AHD just another dictionary that simply describes what people are saying? That’s not what we need. If words are accepted just because they are widely used, the lunatics are in charge of the asylum. We want to know what the best writers and speakers are doing with language—not just anybody! We have had presidents who could hardly construct a meaningful sentence. Our advertising and journalism is dreadful. Our public signs and public speakers are ungrammatical. Are the dictionaries just going to baptize all that? A new feature of this edition is the “Our Living Language” notes. The very name smells of democratic relativism. It’s code for “language is always changing and we refuse to prescribe rules”. But language can improve or it can degenerate. Shouldn’t a dictionary care which—and help it to improve rather than sink into the quicksand of vagueness? In 40 years language does change. But the main thing that has changed in these last 40 years is that people who don’t know language have abused it freely and widely—and loudly. People who don’t know language are writing it everywhere. The inmates really are in charge of the hospital. I can’t understand why a dictionary would view language as democratic. Even the AHD now seems to argue that if lots of people (sometimes lots of writers or speakers—TV newspeople?) use something it has to be accepted. So our language is losing precision every day—and therefore its usefulness as a tool of communication. Words are increasingly coming to mean whatever people want them to mean, and it is apparently unsporting to say to someone, “but that’s not what that word means”. And if it’s a common error, he will find it justified in the dictionary! The odd thing is that very few people use dictionaries any more. They just “wing it”. But the ones who do look in the dictionary are certainly hoping for more than a mere description of the ways people use words. They hear and read American Record Guide that every day. And since Webster’s Third they even read it in dictionaries. The AHD was originally published as an alternative to that kind of dictionary. Yet the editors aren’t quite willing to admit that there isn’t good writing and bad writing! A large part of the distinction is that bad writing is full of the fad words and neologisms that the AHD is no longer opposing! A good writer doesn’t need those things and does not grab words out of the air. He knows what words mean and what words he needs to express his thoughts. He doesn’t need to break rules and become illogical to express himself. And why should good writers accept that kind of writing? Why should intelligent readers? It’s unseemly, and I am disappointed in the new edition of my favorite dictionary. VROON Language and Usage Bloopers Recently Seen A Michigan music series season folder: While this continues to remain the choir’s primary reason for existence... A science journal suggested that global warming would “negatively impact” Antarctic glaciers. The program “experienced” growth. Breathless publicity about a “12-year-old protege” (prodigy). Music described as “shiek” (chic?). A major magazine talked about “books as this” (meaning “books like this”). A classical music magazine told us that “nothing phased him”. I complained to a writer about a dangling participle; I said, “It’s not logical; it makes no sense.” He replied that language is not logical and needn’t be. Whatever is widely done is considered acceptable. And after all, he said, I knew what he meant, so it communicated just fine. The latter is the pragmatic argument—very American—and the former is the “democratic” view of language. Together they are dismantling our language to the point where nobody bothers anymore to say what he means. Soon we will have no idea, because—like the telephone—this great tool of communication is losing its power. I read quite often about dead people “receiving” awards. It’s impossible. And many writers tell us that a work “received” a performance— also impossible. Inanimate objects can’t receive anything. In a major magazine a writer mentioned “the school at which I finished second grade”. Why are “at which” and “in which” replacing “where”? Why is “the manner in which” (or 51 “the way in which”) replacing “how”? Why do people seem to love awkward constructions and steer clear of simplicity and directness? A local paper: “As a reviewer, people ask me...” Asinine. “As a reviewer” must modify the subject, which is “people”. She means “Since I am a reviewer, people ask me...” I have also seen “as a parent, people ask me whether children are worth it”. The airlines say, “as a reminder”—also utterly ungrammatical. From a major record label after a major competition: “X Records eagerly signed John Smith as an exclusive artist, and now, like many of his predecessors, presents his debut recital...” That means either that many of his predecessors presented his debut recital (seems very unlikely) or that he had other record labels that presented his debut recital—which is impossible. There can only be one debut recital. They seem to mean “as in the case of many of his predecessors (that is, other prizewinners at this competition), we present his debut recording”, but that’s not what they said. An important magazine told us who “coined the iconic phrase, ‘The American Dream’”. The word “iconic” has come to mean about the same as “prestigious”—that is, it is just a signal to pay special attention, a term of approval and approbation. It says, “if you want to be ‘with it’, you have to know this stuff.” And it is as unnecessary as “prestigious”, too, because if something is that significant people don’t have to be told. In fact, both are patronizing, as if to say, “I know you are too stupid to realize that the Metropolitan Opera is prestigious (is an important thing) so I am telling you it is.” Yes, in a recent press conference the speaker referred to the Met as “prestigious”. Thanks for telling us. These words are felt to be necessary (I was told by a publicity person) because the public in general now knows so very little about music and musicians (to say nothing of the publicity people themselves, who are learning on the job what entities are “prestigious”). And, after all, it was a “news conference”, and “news” is aimed at idiots—in other words, at people who watch television. “Our focus is providing a quality support experience.” That was the actual sentence spoken while I was waiting “on hold” for someone to help me at a company. Could it be more trendy or illiterate? (or hypocritical?) I think not. Does it mean anything at all? Again, I think not. It is meant to leave an impression— that’s all. My “support experience” was not improved because they kept repeating that sentence. In fact, it is such a bad sentence that it made me angry. Guide to Records ALBENIZ: Guitar Pieces Asturias, Granada, Sevilla, Cordoba, Mallorca, Prelude, Tango, Malaguena, Serenata, Capricho Catalan, Oriental, Zambra Granadina, Torre Bermeja Stephen Marchionda MDG 903 1739 [SACD] 67 minutes When I reviewed Marchionda in Scarlatti (J/A 2010) I found his playing sensitive and expressive, but without quite the technical command that the music demands. I have a similar response to this release. Now, this is still some very fine playing. Marchionda has, with a few exceptions, the “Albeniz rubato” I’ve described in earlier reviews—it’s not overdone, just right for the musical flow. He has a lovely sound, and the SACD release captures that in great detail. He has a nice sense of the architecture of these works, and he is dramatic but not overwrought. I believe he has done most of the HAVE YOU SEEN OUR WEBSITE? No log-in is required. You can subscribe there and order back issues. But there’s a lot more: —a brief history of ARG —an essay on record collecting —a radio interview with the editor —biographies of the record reviewers —a list of record distributors —a list of equivalents (numbers & opus) —a list of overviews —brief descriptions of back issue content —index to editorials —index to Word Police —a sample review —a sample editorial —Editor’s Personal Space If you are a subscriber you have access to our cumulative index (since 1987) on the website, where you can search for composers or works or performers. Subscribers even get to look at the current issue before it arrives in the mail. www.americanrecordguide.com VROON 52 September/October 2012 transcriptions, as he did in the Scarlatti, and that might explain some of the different notes that occur in ‘Torre Bermeja’, ‘Asturias’, and ‘Sevilla’. The technical quibbles are small but significant. The inner lines are lost in ‘Sevilla’, and the pulse doesn’t flow. The rubato in ‘Mallorca’ is uneven and the performance tedious. His rasgueado climax in ‘Cordoba’ is just not as strong as it needs to be, and ‘Malaguena’ is rhythmically jerky. Listen to David Russell’s performance on The Art of the Guitar (M/J 2007) to hear the snap and momentum this piece should have. Part of the issue here is the competition. This is coming out just after Russell’s Albeniz release (J/A 2011), with most of the same pieces, and it’s not in the same league. Nor can it match John Williams’s Sony recording. Even Giuseppe Feola (M/A 2011) is a stronger performer technically, though his program is less interesting. Still, all-Albeniz recordings are comparatively rare in the guitar world, and Marchionda’s recording will satisfy most audiences. KEATON ALBENIZ: Iberia, sel; Mallorca Albert Nieto, p LMG 2105—48:25 Isaac Albeniz’s impressionist piano suite Iberia, composed in the early 1900s, is a wildly difficult masterpiece highly praised for its vivid portrayal of Spain, its virtuosity, and its vitality. Such a work demands tremendous skill of interpretation from the pianist, not to mention great technical facility. In this 2011 recording for La Ma de Guido, Albert Nieto delivers six pieces from this suite in addition to ‘Mallorca’. Nieto notes the challenge he has set up for himself: such evocative works demand of the pianist a great deal of effort to stay true to the character indications Albeniz prescribes for each piece. Each piece is full of juxtapositions, ranging from the festively buoyant to atmospheric remoteness. Things like harmonic basses can too easily accumulate unpleasant fogginess rather than the ornamental brilliance intended. Nieto’s treatment of these matters is not without significant problems. Pieces like the opening ‘Evocacion’ attempt to stay true to Albeniz’s native country. But though Nieto’s interpretation is thoughtful, he takes too much liberty with the tempo, and the rubato is overdone. The lyrical lines in some pieces, while presented with sensitivity and warmth and with an ear for the timbre and harmonic color, tend to feel disrupted as a result. The lively ‘El Puerto’ is sometimes light and sparkling, sometimes bold, though the percussiveness seems to be lacking sometimes. (Alicia de Lar- American Record Guide rocha’s performance seems to evoke more of the timbre of Spanish instruments.) One can still hear in this zapateado, a folk dance of Spain as well as the southern Spanish fandango and the northern Spanish song forms in ‘Evocacion’ the composer’s colorful rendering of the richness of Spain’s musical tradition. In the contemplative ‘Mallorca’ Nieto presents an air of mystery, with an unusual and dramatic fade-out at the end, both dynamically and rhythmically. I must admit that the following applause felt jarring and rather self-congratulatory. The sound of the recording is great, preserving the clarity of the performance. Liner notes in English, Spanish, and Catalan are supplied; but the English translation, while understandable for the most part, often veers into the obtuse. Nieto’s regard for these works is apparent, and some may find his approach unique and interesting, but the recording is recommended with reservations. KANG ANDERSSON: The Garden of Delights; Warriors Norrlands Opera/ B Tommy Andersson Sterling 3001—54 minutes Andersson is active as a conductor and composer; his teachers include Peter Eötvös (conducting) and Sven-David Sandström (composition). The two works on this release are programmatic; in fact, Warriors accompanies a dance work by the choreographer Pontus Lidberg, while The Garden was inspired by Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights. Andersson’s style is conservative, but he shows a clear awareness of musical innovations of this century and the last. His orchestration is superb, and the music is always engaging if not particularly surprising. The sound is fine but doesn’t favor the strings enough. HASKINS ARENSKY: Trio 1; TCHAIKOVSKY: The Seasons Arensky Trio Northern Flowers 9997—75 minutes For pianist Igor Uryash and especially cellist Alexei Massarsky, it’s a case of “all that talent and so little musicality”. In the first movement the exposition repeat and development are on autoplay, the Elegy they play with exact note value, and in IV the piano is utterly wooden in the andante triplets leading into the coda. Such firm touch and full tone, but their pulse and flow have the insight of an unrelenting metronome. Violinist Ilya Ioff, who takes advantage of moments without the cello for expansive shading, ethereal tone colors, and muted dark colors in his mid-range, deserves 53 better partners. What a shame! The Arensky is so filled with emotion, as violinist Andres Cardenes, cellist Jeffrey Solow, and pianist Mona Golabek show on their Delos recording. As for the Tchaikovsky, I’ve been listening to Neeme Jarvi’s fragrant recording of The Seasons with the Detroit Symphony on Chandos, and also to a highly kinetic performance of Onegin with the Berlin State Ballet (see “On the Way to Dresden” in this issue) that uses several selections from this work in its score. And then to encounter ‘January’ deadly straight, a wooden ‘March’, no tease or play to ‘August’ (a scherzo on a hot plate), a rhythmically square ‘June’ (most famous), ‘October’ (also familiar) turned into a wooden lament, and ‘December’ (as familiar as ‘October’) a waltz without swing. And what happened with the engineering in ‘February’? All muddy bass sound—did no one catch this glaring production flaw? The cover production is weird too: faded photo quality straight out of the 1940s, and “St Petersburg Musical Archive” across the front cover, indicating an old recording. Not true! The album was recorded in December 2010 with excellent balances and engineering that captures the full range of each instrument, including the piano’s bass, but to no avail here. completed it in 1913 after returning from Ireland. It is in one movement in four sections and is written for a large orchestra. The Symphony is romantic, impressionist, colorful, powerful, and filled with whole-tone scales and parallel harmonies. There is some Delius and Arnold Bax, but with more whole tones and less froth and sparkle. The atmospheric and dramatic first movement opens like an ocean awakening and has a strong feeling for the sea. The faster section is lighter and Baxian with a bit of militarism. An interlude is warmed by thick string writing that is gorgeous. The militant aspect picks up near the end, which sounds grand and cinematic. II begins with clarinets flitting about before a march steps in. After an interruption of carefree breeziness, the march returns. There is some Bax here (and in the prominent tambourine), but Austin is more straightforward and less complex, save for his whole tones. III is like a warm summer day. After a noble climax and some celebratory horns, it drifts luxuriously into the twilight. (The last three words fittingly invoke a Bax tone poem.) A Holst-like passage leads cleverly into IV, which starts grandly, then settles into a warm bucolic and summery trance. Some of the Russian warmth here may have been picked up from Bax, who visited that country in 1910. FRENCH The Richard II Overture (1900) was Austin’s first truly public work. It is typical of the postWagner and Strauss works prevalent at the time and teems with boldness and adventure. A USTIN: Symphony; Richard II Overture; Sea Venturers Overture; Spring Rhapsody Bournemouth Symphony, Liverpool Philharmonic, Royal College of Music/ Douglas Bostock, Ronald Corp Dutton 7288—69 minutes Frederick Austin (1872-1952) was born in Liverpool and attended Durham University. In 1904 he moved to London and embarked on a singing career that found him the foremost baritone in London. He was known for his Wagner as well as works by Debussy, Strauss, Wolf, and Schoenberg. He was a good friend of Delius and sang the premiere of that composer’s Sea Drift. He was a professor at the Liverpool College of Music, the Music Director of the British National Opera, and after that a Professor of Singing at the Royal Academy of Music. In 1951, Austin joined Cortot, Casals, Stokowski, Stravinsky, and Sibelius as Honorary Members of the Royal Philharmonic Society. He is remembered today for arranging the music for Nigel Playfair’s production of The Beggar’s Opera, which ran for 1463 performances in the 1920s. This is the only record I know devoted to Austin’s compositions, though I am aware of two CDs that include one of his works. The Symphony in E is the gem here. He 54 Rhapsody: Spring (1907) was his second work for orchestra and reflects his happiness at the time. The opening could be mistaken for Delius, but Austin’s Rhapsody is more romantic, especially as the piece goes on, though it never gets as pointed as Frank Bridge’s Enter Spring. There are also strong touches of Bax, though the scoring is not as sophisticated. Sea Venturers Overture (1936) was a tribute to British seamen. After a stormy beginning, things settle into a dreamy quiet nocturne symbolizing calm seas. Brisk roiling waves follow in the strings, then a nautical march (if you can imagine such a thing). There are more than a few gestures toward Vaughan Williams here as well as Bax. The latter reference led annotator Martin Lee-Browne to speculate that Bax may have learned something from the scoring of Sea Venturers. Bax’s biographer, Lewis Foreman, made the same speculation about the Symphony in E. There is a distinction to be drawn here. Bax wrote his Sixth Symphony in 1935 and not much else of serious consequence other than his Seventh after 1936, when Sea Venturers appeared. I believe he was more likely to have been influenced September/October 2012 much earlier in his career by Austin’s 1913 symphony. All these pieces are attractive, but it is the symphony that puts this on the Anglophile’s want list. The sound is very good, as are LeeBrowne’s notes, the quibble noted above aside. HECHT BACH, CPE: Oboe Concertos; Pastorale; Sonata Anna Starr, ob; John Ma, Arwen Bouw, v; Leticia Ballesteros; va; Maria Ramirez, vc; Silvia Soriano, db, Joaquim Codina, bn; Jorn Boysen, hpsi Brilliant 94298—53 minutes Some people today crusade to reveal the beauty of forgotten composers, and other are content playing the music of composers we have now long recognized as tapping some timeless chord in our souls. Anna Starr and her Musica Poetica colleagues bring a great deal of inspiration to their performances. Their blend is well-crafted and refined, save a few moments when the strings might do better to play more in tune with each other. Sometimes their sound is quite robust, and I forget that they are playing period instruments. Within the last five years, two other recordings have been released with one or more of these works. A 1974 set of recordings with Heinz Holliger and the English Chamber Orchestra was rereleased on Pentatone in SACD (5186128, March/April 2009). For audiophiles it was a great thing. For period instrument lovers, Holliger’s performance on the modern instrument with a full chamber orchestra accompaniment was probably blasphemous. On the other hand, the richness of sonorities and timbres on these instruments enhance qualities in the music that just cannot be revealed with period instruments. A few years after that, Yeon-Hee Kwak released a recording with the Sonata in G minor, also performed on the modern instrument, with a number of pieces from various eras. This recording is not bad by any measure, but I think the Heinz Holliger recording with Raymond Leppard and the ECO or Yeon-Hee Kwak with a more varied program are more enjoyable. SCHWARTZ BACH,CPE: Flute Concerto; see HANDEL What comprises good performance? The ability through singing or playing to make the ear conscious of the true content and affect of a composition. —Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach American Record Guide BACH, JE: Passion Oratorio; Psalm 77; German Magnificat Barbara Schlick, Martina Lins, s; Silke Weisheit, a; David Cordier, ct; Christoph Pregardien, Martin Schmitz, t; Stephen Varcoe, Hans-Georg Wimmer, b; Rheinische Kantorei, Das Kleine Konzert/ Hermann Max—Capriccio 5122 [2CD] 123 mins This is a straight reissue of a set that appeared in 1990 as 10310 and was not reviewed. Johann Ernst Bach (1722-77) was a nephew, a godson, and a student of the great Johann Sebastian. His career was subject to lurches in employment and a scattering of directions. Among other things, he served as a business agent for his cousin, Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach, who was his elder by six years. His professional activity is not clearly understood yet, and his legacy needs to be sorted and studied thoroughly. He was primarily a composer of sacred music. While he was thoroughly grounded in counterpoint by his uncle, and was a particular master of treating chorale melodies, his compositional style leans forward, via the prevailing spirit of “sensitivity” (empfindsamkeit). Such elements are quite evident in this Passion, which perhaps dates from the 1750s and runs just over an hour and a half. It displays the abandonment of the old Gospel Passion idiom and the pursuit instead of expressive contemplations on episodes in Christ’s sufferings and passion. The best-remembered example of that genre is Carl Heinrich Graun’s Death of Jesus. While the musical substance of this work is carried by soloists, an important function is reserved for the chorus, which offers its own contemplations but also sings regular chorale settings. (Whether an audience or congregation was expected to join in these is not clear.) This Passion is complemented stylistically by the two shorter works. One is a relatively brief ode derived from Psalm 77. It consists of a recitative and aria for tenor, framed by much longer choral movements. Slightly shorter is a five-movement German Magnificat, with passages for one or more soloists but predominantly for chorus. It is the choral writing in these three scores that most catches my ear. Johann Ernst chose to avoid the severe contrapuntalism of his uncle and mentor, preferring a more flowing and beautifully shaped polyphony, with dramatic undercurrents, all of which makes me think a bit of CPE Bach’s choral writing. But JE’s has a beauty of its own. Hermann Max can always draw on fine soloists: the team of Schlick, Cordier, Pregardien, and Varcoe is particularly fine in the Passion. Schlick’s singing is lovely, and Pregardien 55 is really fresh and outstanding in both the Passion and the Psalm Ode. Choral and orchestral forces are polished and ever-reliable, under Max’s knowing and stylish leadership. The booklet repeats the good annotations and gives the texts (as last time) only in the original German. If you are curious about lesser-known Bachs, and if you missed this set last time, do grab this now. BARKER BACH: Solo Cello Suites Richard Tunnicliffe—Linn 396 [2CD] 2:18 The early music movement has done some wonderful things for our ears. Yes, it led initially to some dry, inexpressive playing with no rubato and no vibrato; but it also created a world that didn’t insist that early composers be romantic or shut up. Yes, I am a lover of romantic music that expresses itself to my heart and my memory. And that is what the Bach suites do for me—and dry, unvaried performances don’t appeal to me. Listening to these interpretations by Tunnicliffe, cellist and viol player in the Avison Ensemble and Fretwork, among other organizations playing both new and old music, I hear an effective compromise between styles. His vibrato is sparing but not non-existent and his rubato limited, but expressive. What initially sounds like unvaried but leisurely tempos develop expressiveness as they proceed. One curious aspect to these readings is that the first three suites have a certain harshness to the cello sound that either diminishes during the last three or Tunnicliffe uses a different instrument. He does seem to employ Bach’s five-stringed preference for Suite 6 and tunes his A string down to G for Suite 5. Also, his use of ornamentation grows as he gets to the later suites. Altogether, this is a carefully thought-out series of recordings, made over a span of a year. They bring out a fine sense of growth on Bach’s side as well as the performer’s. I only wish that the sound of the instrument was less pinched in the upper register. It is harsh on the ear. That goes for Suite 6 as well, played on a different instrument. It seems to be a preference of the player’s. An unusual and interesting set of performances marred by rough cello sound. D MOORE BACH: Flute Works Daniel Pailthorpe; Julian Milford, p; London Conchord Ensemble—Champs Hill 31—66 minutes I am entranced by the Bach of Daniel Pailthorpe et al., but there is only so much that I can 56 say to help you understand just what has cast such a spell. The playing is easy. There is vibrato. Their style is not the period performance practice that our editor despises. It is all just right. To hear Pailthorpe and Milford caress their way through scales and sixths in the opening movement of the Sonata in B minor is a delight. When the playing gets soft, the music never turns dry, as Bach sometimes can. I am amazed at how sonorous and connected Milford can be at the piano without anything sounding wrong. At the end of the first movement they make a big ritard. It sounds inevitable and satisfying. The Presto concludes with a gay jaunt at the turn to 12/16 meter that has me imagine Bach bopping his head along approvingly. The Vivace that opens the Sonata in A finds more punctuated piano playing than in the preceding piece. The first movement was incomplete; this is the completion by Alfred Durr. The Largo is not so slow; it seems odd that Bach gave such a slow indication for a piece written with so much motion. The movement still offers plenty of respite from what it comes between. Pailthorpe’s sound is close up and vibrant in the Partita for solo flute, with just a little electricity that doesn’t disappear from the sound no matter how soft he gets. Even the very last notes in spots that are usually tossed off have life to them. I don’t like a few of the breaths, but I’m willing to excuse anything to be able to listen to this. In the Suite in B minor the London Conchord Ensemble sounds like a rich ensemble, but with plenty of clarity where imitation occurs. The warmth of the string sound had me fondly recalling a performance of this piece by the English Chamber Orchestra. In fact, it is a string quintet playing. The flute is a part of the texture, and I practically melted at 1:10 in the Rondeau. In fact, the flute practically melts its way through the music—consider the central section of the Polonaise. What can I say? Sometimes it gets this good. Thank you, Daniel, Julian, and London Conchord members, for restoring my faith in humanity. When I need it again, I shall return to this...with tissues just in case. GORMAN BACH: Goldberg Variations Frederick Haas, hpsi La Dolce Volta 1—77 minutes Here are the Goldberg Variations played by Frederick Haas on his instrument, an exemplary antique harpsichord built by Henri Hemsch in 1751. The contrast between the two eight-foot stops is notable and is a major asset September/October 2012 in moments, as in the 23rd variation, where the crossing and converging of the hands plays a central expressive role. The label, La Dolce Volta, states that it “wants to change people’s perception of CDs so that they see them as luxury items”. A great deal of care was put into the packaging of this recording. The cover and illustrations were designed by Jerome Reese, an artist and producer. Haas’s playing style is thoughtful and reflective. KATZ BACH: Harpsichord Concertos Igor Kipnis, London String Players/ Neville Marriner—Newton 8802186 [2CD] 146 minutes Here are all seven harpsichord concertos published under Bach’s name, plus someone’s arrangement of an eighth, based on a few bars Bach wrote out. It seems to have been an oboe concerto originally, and it has a lovely Siciliano middle movement—with oboe. Of these seven concertos I only had three in my library. That was a conscious decision: Nos. 1, 4, and 5 are not available any other way. The others are identical musically to violin concertos and, in one case (No. 6), a Brandenburg concerto (No. 4). I like them better on the violin—largely because I simply like the violin a lot better than the harpsichord as an instrument. I like the way a violin sounds, and the harpsichord sounds jangly and nervous to me. Besides these seven harpsichord concertos, there are also six for more than one harpsichord. Some of them are also based on earlier concertos, but there I like the harpsichord versions better, mostly because they produce a wild and ecstatic sound. To further confuse the picture, some scholars no longer think the violin versions were earlier; so if you preferred them on that basis you may want to reconsider the matter. It is needless to praise this team, Kipnis and Marriner. They recorded these from 1967 to 1970, and the style is very appealing. They are not heavy, but they are not light and airy and insubstantial the way later recordings would be. Kipnis does not play like a machine and according to rules; he is an artist. Listen to how much better Bach sounds this way than the way he is played now. Even when this recording was made its tempos were more relaxed than most (but it’s not slow). In No. 5 I prefer Anton Heiler, who also gives Kipnis real competition in a couple of other concertos (Vanguard, July/Aug 1995) and adds in the more than one harpsichord ones. The sound is excellent; it might have been recorded last week. BACH: Lute Pieces Heiki Matlik, g Alba 143 [2CD] 107 minutes Bach’s music transcribes easily. It’s just great music and seems to work beautifully regardless of what is playing it. But he did write works for lute (all playable, and interchangeable, on the guitar): four suites; the Prelude, Fugue, and Allegro; and a separate fugue and prelude. Even those include transcriptions, though Bach’s own, of his E-major Violin Partita and the Fifth Cello Suite. Bach’s complete works for lute is an excellent program, and it’s odd there are so few other such programs. I only know Lutz Kirchhof’s old Sony release (N/D 1991), which was on lute, not guitar. Unfortunately, I can’t recommend Mr Matlik’s program, for several reasons. Recorded sound is quite good, and his playing is clean and reasonably expressive. But Bach needs more. This is some of the greatest music in the guitar and lute repertory, and the works have inspired magnificent performances from others—playing of joy, spirituality, and fresh invention. Matlik’s playing is restrained, almost uninvolved. The most demanding passages, like the Gigue from the Suite in E minor or the Prelude from the Suite in E, are too slow and cautious—they’re clean enough, but they generate no excitement. Repeats are just repeated, without using the opportunity to discover anything different. The one exception is in the Courante of the S 995 suite, where he incorporates the French practice of notes inegales, though only on the repeats, and only on some of the phrases. It’s an odd interpretive choice, and an unconvincing one. If you want this set of works, hold out for Jason Vieaux’s set in progress. His first volume on Azica (J/A 2009) was one of the finest Bach recordings I’ve ever heard and made my Critic’s Choice for that year. Here’s hoping he finishes it soon. Complete sets of the suites are fairly common, since they fit on one well-filled CD. I’m fond of Isbin on Vanguard (J/F 1991), and Williams’s old Sony set is still around. Individual performances like Bream’s old recording of 996 and 997 (still around on RCA, one of those recordings that made me love Bach and the guitar), Scott Tennant’s 997 on GSP, and Barrueco’s debut set on Vox with 997 and 1006a, belong in any guitar lover’s collection. KEATON VROON American Record Guide 57 BACH: St Matthew Passion Irmgard Seefried, s; Hertha Topper, a; Ernst Haefliger, t; Kieth Engen, b; Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau, bar; Munich Youth Choir, Bach Choir & Orchestra/ Karl Richter Profil 12008 [3CD] 197 minutes Once upon a time, musicians had no qualms about making The Greatest Story Ever Told sound like the most imposing music ever written. This Richter recording of the St Matthew— his first—comes from those bygone days. Once known as DG Archiv 439338, it has been reborn on Profil. Our Bach Overview (Nov/Dec 1997) listed it among the preferred Big Band St Matthews, and on that select roster it definitely remains: an expansive, gut-wrenching ascent up Bach’s musical Everest that, despite some stumbles, is still a powerful voyage of spiritual discovery. 50 years after it was recorded, Otto Klemperer’s monumental St Matthew continues to cast a giant shadow over the work’s discography. So before we go anywhere, let’s put the current performance in context. While Klemperer’s tempos are eccentrically slow—perversely so to some listeners—Richter’s are not: expansive yes, but never disconcertingly slow. His opening chorus clocks in at 9:45, a full two minutes faster than Klemperer. And while Richter’s pacing has the story unfolding rather than bounding forward, his flair for dramatic inflection imparts plenty of oomph as events occur. Try his bouncy “Ja nicht auf das Fest” in Part I and you’ll know what I’m talking about. (There are countless other examples.) So if you see Richter’s 1959 vintage and figure he’s crafted a St Matthew too big and slow to get out of its own way, you couldn’t be further from the truth. This is a performance that embraces the passion of the drama and the drama of the Passion. Jesus’s epoch-changing words are framed in shimmering halos of sound created by the Munich strings. In collaboration with bass Kieth Engen’s mellifluous but powerful “voice of God” tone, Richter’s orchestra muscles up to turn the Christ’s “Ich werde den Hirten schlagen” (I will smite the shepherd) into a dramatic utterance worthy of grand opera. Haefliger is as vivid a story-teller as any Evangelist who’s ever recorded the role. When he recounts the Apostle Peter crying bitter tears, it’s hard not to cry along with him. (Just in case you miss the point of the recitative, Richter has the violin obbligato in the ensuing ‘Erbarme dich’ sounding like something on loan from Schindler’s List—quite moving.) The most riveting moment of all is the choir’s dumbstruck response to the crucifixion (“Wahrlich, dieser ist Gottes sohn gewesen”), 58 which stops everything in its tracks (including your breathing). Irmgard Seefried and Hertha Topper do nicely with their solos, but you can find more affecting accounts elsewhere. Klemperer was blessed with Schwarzkopf and Ludwig. The latter’s exquisitely sad ‘Erbarme dich’ is a great one. Nothing Seefried does approaches the gorgeous ‘Aus liebe’ Te Kanawa turned in for Solti, who also bequeathed us one of the best St Matthews on modern instruments (London 421177, March/April 1989). Sir Georg’s approach is more streamlined than Richter’s but still deeply felt, and the Chicago Symphony Chorus is clearer and has more sheen than their counterparts from Munich. When Richter has his children’s choir trumpeting out Bach’s chorale lines at full volume, you might find yourself yearning for Chicago’s smoother tone and for London’s brighter, clearer sound. Profil offers a German text, but no notes, no English translation, and no tracking numbers as the libretto progresses. Sigh. Another pearl of great price in Richter’s account is Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau’s singing in the bass solos. As I listened to this in early June, he had died just a couple of weeks before. How moving to hear him embrace the cross (‘Komm, susses Kreuz’) and bestow his many, many blessings elsewhere in the score. He was in his prime in 1959, which means he sounds very much like the greatest lyric baritone of our time—probably of anybody’s time. I hope Schubert, Schumann, and Bach volunteered for duty on St Peter’s reception committee on 18 May, 2012. GREENFIELD BACH: St Matthew Passion Ute Selbig, s; Britta Schwarz, a; Martin Petzold, t; Matthias Weichert, Thomas Laske, b; St Thomas Boys Choir; Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra/ Georg Christoph Biller Rondeau 4020 [3CD] 164 minutes This St Matthew Passion appears to be the first commercially available recording of the early version, S 244 (b), possibly dating as far back as 1727. It has apparently been performed in recent years, but most recordings are of the 1736 version—Bach’s first extant autograph score—though there are a couple of recordings incorporating minor changes made in 1742. The early version’s original score was lost, but we have what appears to be a faithful copy of it from the 1750s, made either by Bach’s pupil (and later son-in-law) Johann Christoph Altnickol or, more likely, by Altnickol’s own pupil, Johann Christoph Farlau. That version was finally published in 2004. While it’s fairly certain that the work was first performed on Good Friday of 1727, there September/October 2012 remains some confusion as to whether the magnificent opening chorus and later turbae (or “crowd” choruses) were originally scored for double chorus, as we know them. This is, in part, because Bach apparently later used them for a dual purpose. Prince Leopold of AnhaltCöthen, his benevolent earlier noble employer, had died, and Bach was asked to supply music for his late-March (1729) funeral in Cöthen: just three weeks before he was scheduled to deliver his Good Friday Passion in Leipzig. Under considerable pressure, Bach thus used parody-versions of least ten of the choruses intended for the Passion for the good Prince’s funerary service as well. And there is some fairly substantial evidence that the earliest versions of those choruses were for single choir. The author of this release’s excellent notes makes a good case for the likelihood that the Passion’s 1827 version also employed such single-chorus scorings. In 1827, the choral and instrumental resources available to Bach in Leipzig are believed by many to have been somewhat limited. But, by the time of the work’s second performance in 1729, Bach had been appointed director of a Leipzig Collegia Musica, giving him access to a considerably greater number of instrumental musicians and singers than before; thus it was now possible to employ not only double choruses, but also dual supporting orchestras. Since the physical layout of the St Thomas church was well suited for the placement of multiple ensembles in order to impart a “surround-sound” antiphonal effect to the congregation—thereby boosting the music’s impressiveness—it seems only natural that Bach would have jumped at the chance to do so. Actually, while there are a good many differences between the 1729 version and the revised versions that followed, rather few of them will be readily apparent to most listeners. The most significant change was in the later substitution of a different chorus at the end of the Passion’s first main part (of two): the 1729 version’s fairly simple ‘Jesum Lass’ Ich Nicht von Mir’ was replaced by the more complex and impressive ‘O Mensch, Bewein dein Sünde Gross’ in the 1736 edition. Aside from that, two organ parts were added (one of the church’s two organs had been out of commission in 1729). Otherwise, only people intimately familiar with the score will catch most of the changes: mostly switching individual vocal parts in a couple of the arias (i.e., from alto to bass) and a fair number of adjustments to the orchestrations. Indeed, Bach sought merely to refine a work that he was already basically happy with; there are no sweeping alterations to the original work’s overall concept, layout, purpose, or effect. As Herr Biller, current St American Record Guide Thomas Cantor (and conductor here) put it, Bach acted out of his determination to “perfect the perfect”. Still, this particular performance will sound quite different to most listeners, simply because it is delivered here entirely by Leipzig’s famous, 800-year-old St Thomas Boys Choir: an ensemble of boy trebles and young men whom cruel puberty has transformed into youthful tenors and basses. Of course, we’re all familiar with the work’s use of boys as the heavenly-sounding third “ripieno” choir in the massive opening chorus. But I’m not aware of any other recording where all of the choir’s treble voices belong to boys. Thus, the high, floating ripieno voices, as they intone their ethereal ‘O Lamm Gottes Unschuldig’ hymn in the opening chorus, don’t stand out in quite the same sort of contrast as they would in the case of an all-adult double choir; also, the general sonic effect tends to lack the weight that all-adult voices bring to this music. But let me hasten to add that this performance is in no way lacking or inferior; it’s merely different. Once the ear adjusts to a different timbre, the music unfolds to its usual stunning, grief-stricken, and deeply spiritual effect. With nearly 100 voices, this is a pretty big boychoir—and they have no trouble cranking out crashing volume where it’s called for; neither do they fall short in the big crowd scenes, where director Biller draws convincing mob-style outrage and hysteria from them. Whether as crazed crowds or sweet cherubic angels, these kids play their roles supremely well. Quite a few of them also fill the lesser solo roles quite effectively. Musically, all else is well. The adult soloists all acquit themselves admirably; Martin Petzold outdoes himself in the tricky and emotion-laden role of Evangelist, and Matthias Weichert is the very model of a mournfully resigned Jesus. The renowned orchestra is superb at every turn; their shimmering string “halos” as Jesus sings are especially affecting. My few niggling complaints (what performance is ever absolutely perfect?) are hardly worth the print space they would take. Sound quality is excellent, and the thorough liner notes not only cover the St Matthew Passion’s history but offer an informative short history of the Passion tradition in Germany as well. Bach buffs should think seriously about adding this version to their collections—and owners of the classic recordings (Klemperer, Solti, Herreweghe, Gardiner, etc.) will find it a refreshing change. KOOB 59 BACH: WTC I Don Freund, p Navona 5869 [2CD] 111 minutes This is one of the most unusual recordings of Well-Tempered Clavier I’ve ever reviewed. Freund is a composer with a long and distinguished career; since 1992 he’s been at Indiana University. I’ve always found that composers who perform have some of the most interesting things to say about the music, even if their technique doesn’t have the razor-sharp panache and consistency that a virtuoso can boast. That’s what we have on this release. For instance, Freund cannot quite manage the quicksilver speed of the Prelude in G, but goes right ahead and attempts it anyway, no doubt because he believes in the rightness of the tempo. Other pieces that are just as difficult—such as the A-major and A-minor fugues—sound just fine, though. At every turn I sense that he has played this music for many, many years and understands it better than most people do. His tempos are always plausible and often perfect; the moderate, flowing tempo for the F-sharp minor fugue convinces me in spite of myself, and the lively tempo of the G-sharp minor fugue brings out that piece’s Vivaldi-like elan. (With most keyboard players, unfortunately, the fugue becomes a tortured dirge.) He plays without pedal, except certain moments where he uses the sostenuto pedal to add an octave to a bass pedal point or sustain the bass to allow him to play another line in octaves and mimic a harpsichord or organ with 4-foot stops. He doesn’t, as some pianists do, emphasize the fugal subject at the expense of the other voices, and as a result he gracefully reveals the polyphonic texture of the music. Perhaps best of all, he’s not afraid to linger on a phrase or suddenly change tempo (faster or slower)—not to create a kind of meaningless, mannered rubato, but rather to illuminate something important about the music’s compositional design: the music breathes with purpose. I’d prefer a more spacious acoustic, which might have been accomplished in the postrecording engineering and mastering, but the performance is completely satisfying nevertheless. The release includes a DVD where Freund presents lessons on compositional aspects and performances of the first four preludes and fugues; his website includes more of this material. HASKINS 60 B ANKS: Siren; Still Waters; Blade; Wild Pilgrimage; The Oracle; City of Gold Prague Philharmonic/ Paul Englishby Naxos 572986—52 minutes Tony Banks is the founder of the rock band Genesis and a new convert to classical music as well. This is crossover, a hybrid of pop music gestures, film music harmonies, and effective 19th Century retro symphonic writing. This is his second recording for Naxos. These six symphonic songs are full of openhearted melody and glamorous orchestration, predictable and not very innovative but very easy to take. Particularly pleasing is The Oracle, a serene bit of tunefulness that has harmonies, harps, and woodwind writing that sound a bit like early Delius. The orchestra has a big, brassy sound, with lush strings for the soupier lyrical moments— and there are plenty of those. Martin Robertson’s alto sax solos in Siren and Charlie Siem’s violin in Blade are smooth and stylish. SULLIVAN B ARTOK: Concerto for Orchestra; Music for Strings, Percussion, & Celesta Baltimore Symphony/ Marin Alsop Naxos 572486—67 minutes If you are seeking full, rich, and warm sounding Bartok, with glorious string tone, look no further than this beautifully played, Westernized performance of the Concerto for Orchestra. What hits you first is that string tone, which is rich, dark, and full-bodied. The interpretation is full-textured and mostly moderate (never really slow) in tempo. While it lacks the Hungarian color and spice that Bartok injected into the music, it has a point of view and is not just a sound bath. Right from the opening, which is slow, creepy, and smooth—including the trumpet entrance, which is so smooth that the last note is barely articulated—everything flows richly, like a broad river, including the well-rounded brass fugue. Listening to II, it was obvious that the Baltimore woodwinds were selected for, among other virtues, their clear warm sounds. Their duets are well balanced and clearly defined, with only the oboes injecting a touch of bite in their articulations (which is a good thing even if they are on their own in doing so). Even the muted trumpets keep things rounded. The brass chorale is gorgeous. The last section is extraordinarily graceful—perhaps too much so (but only if you think there is such a thing as too much elegance). The opening to III is beautifully spooky, with excellent work from the winds. An unexpected touch occurs about halfway through: given the overall smoothness of Alsop’s September/October 2012 approach, the very deliberate marking of the six-note phrases, first in the violas then the winds, stands out. It almost doesn’t fit, but this is a small point. The one movement where even admirers of “soft Bartok” may object is IV, where you really do want some bite and color. That said, the string playing is gorgeous, particularly the violas in their solo line and later all the silky strings just after the little trombone solo (not the glissandos, which came earlier) and before an oboe entrance. The Finale starts slowly, with clear string tone. The trumpet canon, which can be too edgy, is finely delineated and not too aggressive, and the later fugal passages are brilliantly executed. Smooth as everything is, there is plenty of excitement, and one can only admire the strings, who are breathtakingly fleet, nimble, and tight (here and everywhere else). Playing like this makes us forget how difficult these passages really are. The recording is typical of what we have been getting from Baltimore recently—smooth, big, and full, with a lot of bass. If you are looking for a reading of this piece that is even lusher than Karajan’s, this certainly is a prime candidate. It’s not for everyone. There are many other good choices—I’ve heard very few poor recordings of this piece. Gielen, Reiner (two of the best), Kubelik, Karajan, Solti, Leinsdorf, Bernstein, Ancerl, Boulez, Eschenbach, Paavo Jarvi. Frustrating is Chailly. It’s like the Alsop, but not as well recorded. Two I’d avoid are Ozawa and Schwarz. Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta is another matter, mainly because it is a thornier and more aggressive piece, and it was recorded differently. Without brass and woodwind color, “big” string textures and sleek playing are not enough to bring it off. There has to be fire, drama, and energy. I is very good and best suited to Alsop’s approach. The way it develops like a field of wildflowers opening in slow motion—time-lapse photography—is impressive. The same approach doesn’t work as well in II. Worse, the percussion and piano are covered, essentially disqualifying the performance. The opening to III is creepy, eerie, and full of suspense. The fugal theme slithers in nicely, the crescendo and glissandos are impressive, and the percussion sounds better than in II. If the finale lacks the requisite hairpin turns, it fits the interpretation. MSPC was done about 8 months later, and the mikes seem closer than in the Concerto. Too close. That exaggerates the “bigness”, makes the strings sound a little rough (perhaps the slightly greater distance in the concerto helps them?), and probably explains the problems with the percussion. American Record Guide The Bartok Overview likes Bernstein (dramatic), Reiner (very Hungarian), and Ormandy on Sony. I know and like the first two. I don’t know Ormandy’s Sony, but I do like the EMI. My favorite may be Boulez (the one with the Chicago Symphony, with stunning playing and sound). Keith Anderson’s notes are good—and very good in their breakdown of the first movement of MSPC. HECHT BARTOK: 44 Violin Duos Duo Landon MSR 1401—50 minutes Bela Bartok wrote his 44 Violin Duos in 1931 at the request of the German violin pedagogue Erich Doflein. His purpose in writing these pieces was to introduce music students to different sounds than they would be accustomed to making from exposure to the conventional instructional repertoire. They are written so they can be played by beginners and more advanced students, and they make no special technical demands. But they are very fine works that are much more enjoyable to listen to than most pedagogical works. They are also worthy of the attention of seasoned, professional performers. Duo Landon is Hlif Sigurjonsdottir and Hjörleifur Valsson, two Scandinavian violinists. They named their group after the maker of the violins they play, Christophe Landon. Landon made copies for the Duo of Stradivarius violins made in 1714. Duo Landon do a good job playing these duos, but when I compared them with my favorite set by Andras Keller and Janos Pilz (Nov/Dec 2002), the violinists of the Keller Quartet of Hungary, the Scandinavians cannot compete. The simpler tunes written for the less advanced students are intoxicatingly evocative in Keller and Pilz’s hands, and they make the more boisterous, advanced pieces flow more naturally. Another shortcoming of this release is the sound. The Keller and Pilz disc is ideally recorded, with just the right, slightly dark ambience; but this disc has too much resonance from the hall—it is a hard resonance, and the Landon violins are too bright, their E strings producing an especially harsh, piercing sound. Keller and Pilz’s recording is a classic that I hope will never be deleted. MAGIL BEETHOVEN: Bagatelles, all Steven Osborne, p Hyperion 67879—67 minutes Quite a few recordings of Beethoven’s Bagatelles were issued in the 90s and comparatively 61 few since then: the latest review in our cumulative index dates from 2004. I have none of those releases in my library and have only hazy memories of hearing others; certainly none of the recordings I might have heard sufficiently moved me to include them in my library. On that score alone, it’s very nice to have one CD devoted to all the Bagatelles, and by a pianist of Steven Osborne’s caliber; readers may remember my positive review of his release including Tippett’s works for piano and orchestra as well as the four sonatas, also on Hyperion (Mar/Apr 2008). This release includes, I gather, many if not all of Beethoven’s little pieces for piano: some were composed as souvenirs (for instance, the masterly and compact WoO 61a in G minor, written in 1825 for Charles Burney’s daughter). Indeed, Osborne seems most comfortable with the later and more unclassifiable ones. WoO 61a explores a somewhat austere two-voice contrapuntal terrain—in 32 seconds—while WoO 60, composed around the same time as the Hammerklavier Sonata, breathes some of the same uncomplicated but still rarefied air as passages from that work. Some of the earlier pieces (Op. 33, for example) and even certain numbers of Op. 119 seem too bland, too straightforward. Both Mr Chakwin and Mr Linkowski have recommended Stephen Kovacevich’s recordings, and I would look for those if I wanted to add to my collection. But Osborne satisfies my needs for now. HASKINS B EETHOVEN: Creatures of Prometheus; MOZART: Idomeneo Ballet Vasteras Sinfonietta/ Roy Goodman DB 148—78 minutes The Vasteras Sinfonietta is a part-time Swedish chamber orchestra founded in 1995, here with 34 players (strings 6-5-4-3-2). Their tuning is not good, bordering sometimes on the sour side. Nor do they arrive on the downbeat at the same time. They also tend to play “behind the beat”, and the winds arrive on the beat before the strings do. The fifth section of Prometheus, with its many solos for winds and a few for strings, shows how second-rate the principal players are. In addition, the engineering feels close and congested; more air is needed around the players to let the music breathe. Roy Goodman is the ensemble’s principal guest conductor. With other ensembles he directs, he elicits subtle playing, but not here. He is the one to blame for the biggest sin of all in these performances, an utter lack of style. He lets this orchestra sound like a second-rate provincial ensemble in his ineffective attempt to apply period performance practices (including non-vibrato) to their playing. 62 The Mozart consists of only four selections from the opera (14 minutes). The Beethoven is the complete ballet. Forget this performance and stick with Nikolaus Harnoncourt and the Chamber Orchestra of Europe on Teldec or Warner. FRENCH BEETHOVEN: Diabelli Variations Andreas Staier, fp Harmonia Mundi 902091—67 minutes No, this isn’t a Gouldian reading of Beethoven’s late masterpiece; Staier—who performs on a replica of a Graf fortepiano— includes some of the variations published in the collection by 50 composers (by Czerny, Hummel, Kalkbrenner, Kerzkowsky, Kreutzer, Moscheles, Liszt, Pixis, FX Mozart, and Schubert), plus an introduction—actually Staier’s performance of a sketch from Beethoven’s original manuscript of the work (held privately until it was acquired by the Bonn Beethoven House in 2009—Staier consulted it for this recording). Lasting some three minutes, it recalls the ruminative, inimitable style of the Choral Fantasy’s solo and similar introductory passages in the late sonatas. And even though Beethoven didn’t finally elect to use it for the Diabellis, it makes for a marvelous introduction to that sprawling, complex work. The fortepiano, with its whisper-thin treble, will strike many listeners as too anemic for the piece; indeed, sometimes something’s missing, and even though the historicallyinformed performance practice often appeals to me, a few moments (notably Variation 18) don’t seem effective. On the other hand, the enigmatic expression of the final variation—a wistful minuet—works very well on the fortepiano. The high-registered passages make infinitely more sense with the gossamer textures Staier can achieve with the fortepiano than they do on a modern instrument. Altogether, this is a remarkable and unforgettable performance that many connoisseurs of the Diabellis will not want to be without. HASKINS BEETHOVEN: Choral Der Glorreiche Augenblick; Fantasy Claire Rutter, Matilde Wallevik, Peter Hoare, Stephen Gadd, Marta Fontanals-Simmons, Julian Davies; Leon McCawley, p; Westminster Boys’ Choir; City of London Choir; Royal Philharmonic/ Hilary Davan Wetton Naxos 572783—58 minutes Der Glorreiche Augenblick (The Glorious Moment), written to celebrate the victory over Napoleon, was first performed in 1814 as part of the general festivities surrounding the Con- September/October 2012 gress of Vienna. The text, written by a former army doctor, Aloys Weissenbach, is fairly weak but full of patriotism. It is seldom performed, but probably deserves better because Beethoven left very few cantatas—and besides, the music is a good example of Beethoven in his public mode. The four soloists represent Vienna, a Prophetess, Genius, and Leader of the People and take up about 75% of the score. A lot of the music is challenging for the soloists, and all these do very well. The chorus is limited mostly to the outer movements, but their work is sprightly and enthusiastic. The Choral Fantasy is an earlier work, first performed in an 1808 concert that also included the Fifth and Sixth Symphonies and the Fourth Piano Concerto. It is an odd piece, neither fish nor fowl. First it’s a piano solo, then a concerto, and finally a choral piece. Pianist Julian Davies plays well, but I was more taken with Howard Shelley’s performance (J/A). Nonetheless, this is a persuasive performance, nicely shaped and controlled by the conductor. The choral work is again fine. A good recording, then, of two of Beethoven’s second-tier pieces. Special thanks to Wetton, a strong advocate of these seldomheard works. ALTHOUSE BEETHOVEN: Missa Solemnis Anne Schwanewilms, Annette Jahns, Nikolai Schukoff, Dietrich Henschel; London Philharmonic/ Christoph Eschenbach LPO 61—80 minutes Only a short time after reviewing a very fine Missa Solemnis (Steinberg’s), we have another excellent performance from the LPO and Eschenbach. This was recorded in concert on October 18, 2008 in Royal Festival Hall. This recording has a lot going for it: Eschenbach’s large, expansive view; a fine group of soloists; and finally the LPO in fine form—in particular concertmaster Pieter Schoeman, who plays the violin solo. The real stars for me, though, are the chorus members, especially the sopranos, who pump out Beethoven’s outrageously high writing with full energy and complete assurance. When the Gloria had finished, I wondered if, like a sports team, they would send in subs for the Creed since they were, after all, in a concert rather than a studio. In any case they surmount the rest of the piece without ever sounding tired. To be sure, there are moments when the intensity sags a little (the reprise of “Credo” and perhaps during the “Dona”) and we can find some small spots of shaky ensemble (as are common in concert performances of big choral works). The overwhelming impression, American Record Guide though, is one of great strength and conviction in tackling this gigantic, unwieldy work. The soloists, as I said, are all good, though Annette Jahns’s dark mezzo doesn’t project very well and the opening solo of the Agnus sounds too low for Henschel. Eschenbach’s tempos are on the slow side, allowing the gravity of the piece to be felt with sensitive detailing. A fine job all around. I do wonder, though, if this performance would have been better done over several days in a studio setting. ALTHOUSE BEETHOVEN: Piano Sonatas 1-10 Jean-Efflam Bavouzet Chandos 10720 [3CD] 3:14 Jean-Efflam Bavouzet has decided on a strictly chronological order for his Beethoven sonatas cycle. The first disc covers the three Opus 2 sonatas; his playing is light, fleet, and boasts exceptional clarity and nuance. The last movement of 3 is quite brisk (close to Rubinstein on RCA) but sounds effortless. Bavouzet’s scaledback dynamics barely reach a forte, but that suits these early works. But with the second disc you get the feeling he is merely skimming the surface. In the Pathetique he zips through I at an impressive clip but pulls his rhetorical punches, and III is more of the same. Peter Takacs (Nov/Dec 2011) is no barn-stormer, but even his Pathetique conjures up more gravitas (especially in I). Bavouzet’s pastel readings of 4, 9, and 10 are impressively performed and may charm listeners predisposed to tactful Beethoven. In the three Opus 10 sonatas (5-7) Bavouzet is a bit more assertive, and 6 is a high point of the set. Extras include some unused music from 5: a discarded draft of II and a reconstructed longer finale. Sonics are intimate without a lot of hall sound; 12 pages of notes offer brief analyses of the sonatas (with a few musical examples) and some comments from the performer. Overall this is gorgeously played but not especially gripping Beethoven. KOLDYS BEETHOVEN: Piano Sonatas 8, 17, 23 Sviatoslav Richter Regis 1384—65 minutes Regis is unusually coy about the provenance of these performances; there’s no licensing information, and the only date given is “recordings first published in 1961”. 23 is the masterly 1961 RCA performance praised by our Editor as the best Appassionata he’s ever heard (May/June 1998). More recently it was coupled with Concerto 1 and Sonata 22, again highly recommended by Mr Vroon (July/Aug 2004). 17 turns 63 out to be Richter’s 1961 EMI Tempest. It isn’t quite as bold as 23 but it’s an outstanding rendition; Mr Morin was enthusiastic, calling it “astonishing in its dramatic force, tension, and beauty” (May/June 1997). The Pathetique dates from the late 1950s, a Melodiya production in constricted monaural sound that has surfaced on many different labels. It sounds like Regis has tamed the excessive tape hiss but at the cost of dulling the sound. The performance rivals the Appassionata in its power and grandeur, but primitive sonics spoil the broth. KOLDYS BEETHOVEN: Piano Sonata 21; Andante Favori; MOZART: Fantasy in C minor; Piano Sonata 14 Alejandro Pico-Leonis Oehms 797—66 minutes Pico-Leonis’s new effort improves moderately on his debut Oehms release (July/Aug 2011). The program is more coherent: rather than a mishmash of variation sets we get some more substantial works. The quality is also more even, given that this pianist is a natural fit for Mozart and Beethoven. As before, his sound is extremely polished and pleasant and his technique light and fluid. Also as before, though, the piano threatens to overtake the pianist as the more memorable contributor on the release. It has a huge and immediate sound with full rounded tones in all registers. Pico-Leonis relies too much on it to make his impression on listeners. The first section of the C-minor Fantasy is given in a rigid tempo. It is gently done with attractive attacks but lacks drama. In II the music can only be spoken of in negatives. It’s like there’s nothing there! The tremolos have no nervous energy, and the arpeggios and cadenzas at the end are rattled off as if from a typewriter. There is no humor, or anger, or anything to IV. The only urge I sense in the music is the aspiration to sound beautiful and profound. All the movements of the C-minor Sonata are likewise competent but not thrilling. Both the best and the worst moments occur in the Waldstein. The lack of drive in I makes this track the weakest by far. The music drags as early as the end of the first theme, and then the second one slows down further. The development also runs out of steam early on and never recovers. Everything is just too languid and syrupy. On the other hand, I can find no fault with the interlude. The voicing and dynamics are near perfect, with all of the sforzandos fully honored to great effect. The sound is unmistakably soft and hushed, but the recording makes it big and intimate, result- 64 ing in a perfect blend of intimacy and grandeur. III falls in the middle. The tempo is relaxed, allowing it to proceed in a stately manner. It further avoids the common problem of the virtuosic triplet episodes becoming frantic; instead they sound deliberate. The coda is too slow. AUERBACH BEETHOVEN: Symphonies Renate Behle, Yvonne Naef, Glenn Winslade, Hanno Müller-Brachmann; Berlin Radio Chorus; SW German Radio/ Michael Gielen Hänssler 93285 [5CD] 6:04 Symphony 9 Erin Wall, Mihoko Fujimura, Simon O’Neill, Mikhail Petrenko; Tafelmusik Chamber Choir; Montreal Symphony/ Kent Nagano Sony 91944—63 minutes Now in his mid-80s Michael Gielen was born in Dresden, but moved to Argentina as a teenager and began his career there. Later he held posts in Austria, Sweden, Belgium, Holland and Germany, though in this country we know him best as conductor of the Cincinnati Symphony (1980-86). In recent years he has been with the Radio Orchestra of BadenBaden and Freiburg, which he led from 1986 to 1999. On recordings he is admired mainly for contemporary music. These were made at broadcasts from 1997 to 2000, all in the Freiburg Konzerthaus. Gielen has long advocated fidelity to Beethoven’s metronome markings, so you know the temperature of the water before you stick your toe in the pool. The liner notes quote him defending his tempos as early as 1957, so he was in the pool well before the current generation of speedy conductors. (Remember, though, that a tradition of quick Beethoven extends back at least to the time of Toscanini and Weingartner.) Generally speaking, Gielen draws such clean playing from his orchestra that the tempos seldom sound rushed, and in his way he brings a wide expressive range to the music. One might expect the first two symphonies to go well with Gielen’s approach, and indeed they do. Both opening movements are a little unsettled (moments of poor ensemble), which may be because they opened their programs. Both finales are fine, quick without sounding too fast (and at moments I thought 2:IV could use more energy). Interior movements are good, except for 2:II, which for me is too fast and uncomfortably metronomic. The opening of the Eroica is very satisfying if you like a one-to-a-bar feel. I resist that quick speed because the music threatens to become dance-like, making the rhythm and flow too “easy”. This is followed by a slow September/October 2012 movement that happens too fast for me and thus has little to say. If you like Beethoven with minimal romantic decoration, you may like this, but my best description is “prosaic”. The closing movements, though, are quite good. The Fourth is one of the best. The tempos work well, the playing is energetic and pushes ahead (particularly in the development of I), and Gielen’s detailing illuminates the piece very nicely. This is also a work with lots of wind solos, and here I must report that none of the wind players sounds absolutely top drawer. This is a satisfying performance, but you won’t mistake the orchestra for Berlin or Vienna. The Fifth is an exciting, bloodthirsty affair, generally well played by the orchestra and well controlled by Gielen. I did feel that perhaps too much emotional capital was spent in the first three movements, leaving the finale to sound post-climactic. I wonder what Beethoven had in mind. We know from music history classes that in the classical symphony most of the argument was in the first two movements, and the last two were fun and fluff. There are exceptions—the Jupiter and perhaps the Eroica—but there are few before the Fifth. I do feel sure, though, that Beethoven saw the finale of the Fifth as the culmination of the whole piece. He enlarges the orchestra for this one movement, moves from minor to major, and pounds mercilessly on the tonic at the very end. If I’m right, conductors should be wary of using all their ammunition in the first movement; because the essence of the piece is in the finale, not the earlier movements. As for Gielen’s performance, I think you’ll like it if you like Kleiber’s, but Kleiber’s is better. The Sixth is in the same vein. Rather than a stroll through the woods, the opening movement sounds like a forest ranger who is late for work; it’s nervous and impatient. The “slow” movement comes as a relief, but it is still quick and very much in four (rather than 12). The storm is exciting, and the finale is relaxed, with some tempo fluctuation. Many of the fast string articulations are unusually well played, so this recording may appeal to people who like a fast, no-nonsense Pastorale. But it is a far cry from Walter, Klemperer, or Böhm. The Seventh is the one symphony (after the Second) where I thought I might have no quarrel with tempos, and indeed the pace here feels consistent and appropriate. Even the slow movement, which I almost always find too fast these days, is broad enough to allow for sentiment and feeling to seep in. A satisfying performance, then, but I will admit I miss the richness of orchestras like Berlin and Vienna. This isn’t at all bad, but in this repertory the stakes are high, and we can be picky. Much the same could be said about the American Record Guide Eighth, which is swift without sounding too fast or out of control. Again, we don’t hear the luxury of more famous orchestras, but this is a lighter piece, full of what we call “humor”. So, in all, a very fine performance, one of the best in the set. The Ninth is one of the few pieces to have become an icon of Western civilization and achieved celebrity status, which means the symphony has turned into something Beethoven probably didn’t intend at all. In great performances like Furtwängler’s the Ninth can be almost life-changing. Gielen may be truer to the composer’s intentions, but in so doing he has cut this colossus down to a 40 regular. The opening movement is well done, but the level of emotion is not deep. The scherzo is actually not very fast and with all the repeats sounds interminable. The efficient slow movement floats nicely on the surface, rarely engaging any real feeling and never reminding you this is one of the finest slow movements ever written. Particularly disappointing are the sudden modulations (e.g., B-flat to D), which have no magic whatsoever. The finale is an extraverted affair, with fine soloists and enthusiastic chorus. Gielen urges the piece along, particularly in the opening recitatives, and keeps the level of excitement high, though the balances are not always ideal. This set will appeal to people who want Beethoven fast and exciting, with a minimum of rhetoric and romantic overlay. The playing is generally quite good, and the performances have an honesty and consistent view. I would argue, though, that there is more to tease from this music than fast and exciting playing. The elevated status of Beethoven’s final symphony is admirably confirmed by the Montreal recording, made in September 2011. The piece was played for the inaugural concerts of the new Maison Symphonique in front of an audience that is totally silent until applause at the end. And, as if to suggest Beethoven’s music needs some “context”, it is accompanied by a poetic narration by Yann Martel, read before the symphony in English and afterward in French. Furthermore, the album cover sandwiches the words “Human Misery—Human Love” between “Beethoven” and “Symphony No. 9”. I guess the opening movement is misery and the finale love, but what about the middle movements? I won’t go on. I suppose it’s fine to have such associations with this (or any) piece, but just don’t put them in print! Unless you’re from Montreal, you’ll be interested in the music, which is quite nicely done. The opening movement is strong and muscular, almost a minute slower than Gielen, but still moving ahead with confidence (and 65 hardly suggesting human misery). The scherzo is considerably quicker than Gielen’s puzzling pace and much more satisfying. The Adagio is by the clock about the same as Gielen, but Nagano achieves a better sense of tranquility, and he is more sensitive to Beethoven’s dramatic modulations. The finale, taken quickly like Gielen, is hampered by the sonics, which place the soloists and chorus too far away. (The perspective is a concert hall with soloists in front of the chorus, not in front of the orchestra.) Other than the question of balances the performance is quite fine, musical and well shaped (though soloists and chorus sometimes seem to struggle to keep up with Nagano’s tempos). In many respects this is preferable to Gielen’s reading and a fine testimony to Nagano and his troops. ALTHOUSE B EETHOVEN: Trio 1; HAYDN: Trio with ARMSTRONG: Stop Laughing: We’re Rehearsing!; LISZT: Tristia; Vallee d’Obermann Kit Armstrong, p; Andrej Bielow, v; Adrian Brendel, vc Genuin 12239—70 minutes Continuing Genuin’s commitment to recording new, young musicians, this release presents the accomplished first violinist of the Szymanowski Quartet; the son of a great pianist; and a gifted polymath, 20 year old British-Taiwanese pianist, composer, mathematician, and cook, Kit Armstrong. The extensive interview with Armstrong in the notes suggests he is the main attraction here, and his own work is sandwiched between Beethoven and Haydn. A student of Alfred Brendel, who has sought to keep him out of the bright glare of the media, Armstrong has nonetheless drawn a fair amount of coverage—extensive reviews in The Guardian and The Independent, an appearance on David Letterman, and a recent documentary about the relationship with his mentor, Alfred Brendel. Having more than 50 compositions to his credit and currently doing work above the doctoral level in algebraic geometry and topology, Armstrong is with some frequency described with the word “genius”, though he asserts that such terms have no importance for him. Brendel described the 13-year-old Armstrong as a natural Bach player, and this affinity for Bach’s vast universe of musical structure joined with his mathematical gifts is felt in these performances. In an article in The Independent, Michael Church notes Armstrong’s discomfort with the “overblown” music of late romanticism, and it is clear from this release that his 66 tastes are firmly grounded in classicism, though there is a late Liszt creation. The group’s reading of the Beethoven Trio is a wonderful revelation of structural clarity and balanced sound. The string timbre and phrasing is especially full and expressive in the melodic dialogs of II. Despite the emphasis in the liner notes on how Beethoven moves the piano trio into new territory, the interpretation here consistently reminds the listener of the work’s roots in Haydn. The apt inclusion here of the Haydn D-major Trio, published in the same year (1795) as Beethoven’s, further emphasizes the relation of the pupil’s work to his teacher’s. The occasional and sometimes striking similarities between the two works reveals something of the stylistic shell from which Beethoven’s first trio was hatched. I would prefer that the Armstrong piece not interrupt this Haydn-Beethoven connection on the program. It’s an appealingly playful composition, with a whimsical, unexplained title typical of several of Armstrong’s works— eg, Message in a Cabbage, Who Stole my Wasabi). It has a neo-classical transparency and playful intricacy suggesting the composer’s mathematical abilities and love of structure. Liszt’s late reworking of a piano piece from First Year of Pilgrimage is somewhat of an oddity, since chamber music is by no means common or even particularly noteworthy amid his vast output. As the liner notes observe, Liszt’s arrangement “savors extremes to the full”, but the performance maintains a tense restraint perhaps guided by Armstrong’s distaste for romantic extremes. Here again the musicianship is admirable and engaging, though I find the Beethoven in particular best rewards numerous hearings. JD MOORE BEETHOVEN: Piano Sonata 32; see LIGETI; Quartet 4; see Collections Violin Romances; see BRUCH BERIO: Piano Works Francesco Tritano—Piano Classics 32—79 mins Berio’s piano music takes in the composer’s entire career and reflects his many styles. Every few years a young pianist records this repertory in its entirety, and why not? It’s music by a master, much of it avant garde but some surpassingly lyrical, and you can get it on one CD. I wrote about the expressiveness and delicacy of Andrea Bacchetti and Andrea Lucchesini three years ago and am happy to endorse this pianist (actually recorded in 2004). Listen to the uncanny spatial effects in ‘Erden’, the Ligeti-like swirlings in ‘Luft- September/October 2012 klavier’, or the serene lyricism in ‘Waserklavier’, and you know immediately that Berio’s piano legacy continues to be in good hands. Once again, we have an artist who is willing to understate and suggest as well as aggressively attack, who offers poetry even in dissonant pieces like Sequenza IV. The clear, bright recording illuminates all these qualities. There is not much warmth but plenty of resonance for Berio’s echoes and bells. Tritano brings this composer’s unique world of colors, effects, and abstractions to startling life. SULLIVAN BERLIOZ: Damnation of Faust; RAVEL: Daphnis & Chloe excerpts Beatrice Uria-Monzon, mz; David Kuebler, Franz Grundheber, bar; Denis Sedov, b; Transylvania Philharmonic Choir; Israel Chamber Choir & Philharmonic/ Gary Bertini Helicon 9648 [2CD] 142 minutes Debate has always swirled around Damnation of Faust as to what it is. Choral work? Cantata? Opera? In a full-bodied, red-blooded performance like this, opera wins hands down. The Israel Philharmonic is on top of its game, alert to every nuance of the music and desire of conductor Gary Bertini. They are powerful in all the big places, fiery in the ‘Hungarian March’, and nimble in ‘Esprits des Flammes Inconstantes’ and ‘Maintenant Chantons a Cette Belle’. The soloists fill their roles very well. Leopold Simoneau and Nicolai Gedda are the right tenors for French music. The American David Kuebler sounds more like a not-too-lyrical German tenor—he cannot duplicate the beautiful sounds Gedda makes for Colin Davis in ‘Grand Dieux’—but he makes up in dramatic sense and excitement what he lacks in French lyrical tone. He is moving in ‘Dors! Heureux Faust’, powerful in ‘Nature Immense’, and defiant on his way to Hell. (The tuba is great there.) Beatrice Uria-Monzon (the only French soloist) is a mature Marguerite— dark and almost syrupy of tone. She brings strength to her part even if she does not have a lyrical French voice or great enunciation: Faust displayed some courage walking out on her! A little more delicacy would have helped ‘Autrefois un Roi de Thule’, but she makes up for that in other places. Franz Grundheber’s Mephistopheles is almost noble. The lusty Transylvanian Choir (from Romania) is a huge asset. Just listen to them in ‘Choeurs de Buveurs’, the great ‘Amen’ fugue, and the ‘Choeurs de Soldats’, and of course in Faust’s Hellish end. Bertini’s conducting is magisterial. This is a concert recording, which may help explain the electricity of the perfor- American Record Guide mance. It must have been some experience to have been in Mann Auditorium on that night in 1996. I like the Georges Prêtre Damnation (lighter in tone and somewhat set back in staging) and the Colin Davis (the Philips, in Davis’s neoclassical approach), but Bertini rivets me to my chair in a way neither of those two quite does. The sound is not “demonstration quality”, but it is very good, the best I’ve heard from Helicon. It is full and natural and is no impediment to enjoyment. The booklet notes are detailed on the work’s history and action. There is no text, but there is a separate breakdown of the numbers that includes more information about the plot. The presentation is confusing—it seems that two separate entities were pulled together—but it is worth reading through. The packaging calls the Ravel Daphnis et Chloe: Ballet Music. The booklet text tells us this is Suite No. 2 and goes on to describe that work (after an interesting discussion of the whole ballet). In fact, we hear not a note of Suite No. 2. Instead, the performance starts at the beginning of the ballet and runs to where Dorcon tries to kiss Chloe (just before No. 29 in the score). After a short pause, it resumes where Ravel’s standard Suite No. 1 begins (No. 70) and ends where that Suite ends (just before No. 131). Since chorus is included, this amounts to two large chunks of the complete ballet. (Suite No. 1 is often performed without chorus, using the orchestral parts Ravel substituted at Sergei Diaghilev’s insistence for some performances by the Ballets Russes.) The reading is quite good, but it does not match the best performances of the complete ballet. It took place in 1974, and the Israel Philharmonic does not sound as sophisticated as it does for the Berlioz. Nor is the more forward, slightly less refined sound as good. No matter. The important thing here is The Damnation of Faust. As part of Helicon’s memorial to Bertini, who died in 2005, this performance of that great work by Berlioz is a wonderful tribute to a very underrated maestro. HECHT BERLIOZ: Symphony Fantastique; Beatrice & Benedict Overture Scottish Chamber Orchestra/ Robin Ticciati Linn 400 [SACD] 63 minutes Orchestra da la Francophoni/ Jean-Philippe Tremblay—Analetka 9998—54 minutes The quest for Historically Informed Performances (HIP) has taken on the romantic era. For a while, it was “period instruments”. For Symphony Fantastique there was Roger Norrington and his London Classical Players, then 67 John Gardiner and his Orchestre Revolutionnaire et Romantique recording in the hall where the work’s premiere took place. Norrington moved on to “hybrids”, using a large orchestra with modern instruments but eschewing string vibrato. Several of us at ARG have railed against that practice. There are also recordings of Sibelius and Brahms Symphonies with modern-instrument chamber orchestras. Now Robin Ticciati and the Scottish Chamber Orchestra gives us another hybrid: a Symphonie Fantastique with a chamber orchestra playing modern instruments without vibrato. (The booklet lists 60 players, but the group sounds much smaller.) Berlioz led about 100 players for the premiere, and he wanted (and probably got) the same for the revision three years later. That would seem to eliminate “historically informed” as a justification for a chamber orchestra recording without vibrato. What it leaves is the question of whether this newcomer is enjoyable on its merits and whether it offers any interesting insights. Certainly, the playing is excellent. The recording is fine, though at a very low level. The interpretation is reasonably good and perhaps very good if you sit in the “classical” camp for Fantastique performances. The tempo for the opening segment is slow and labored, but speeds after that are mostly moderate; and there is energy, life and sparkle. Accents are pronounced, and the phrasing is full of sharp angles and hairpin turns, especially in I. The only problem there is edginess in the trumpets. ‘The Ball’ works well, partly because it is easy to accept a small orchestra for an indoor ball. ‘Scene in the Fields’ is slow, pensive, inward, but sounds bleak, more like a tundra than fields. ‘March’ is crisp and almost jaunty but light in weight. ‘Witches Sabbath’ is too polite and reserved, particularly in the Dies Irae, which is not helped by thin, bright bells. (Ticciati takes the repeats in I and IV and does not include the cornet in II.) As with any smallish performance of a large orchestral work, you will catch things you may not have noticed before, though there is little revelatory here, and there are balance problems. There are too few strings for the col legno to rattle the bones in the finale. Ticciati holds the trombones back in key places, making them seem passive and distant in their first entrance of the full section in the march, their replies to the tubas’ Dies Irae, and their reference to it just before the end. On the plus side, the harps are more present than usual in II. A few interpretive points call too much attention to themselves. The passage just before the blade drops in IV is restrained and chorale-like, slowing down while the percus- 68 sion thunders—for what effect I’m not sure. The muted horn just before the crowd outburst in V exaggerates the marked ppp and pppp into inaudibility. The brass accent and back sharply off each note of their collective reprise of the Dies Irae near the end of V. The accents are written, but not the drastic decrescendo, and the effect is mannered. I don’t like the vibratoless string tone at all. If you know any Norrington recordings, you have an idea what to expect, only the sound here is even thinner and whinier because of the smaller ensemble. It is obvious from the start, when in typical HIP fashion, the strings sit hard on edgy long notes. In fact, the string sound is thinner and whinier than on some recent HIP recordings. Perhaps experienced HIP players have become more adept at producing a warm vibratoless tone than the Scottish players, who I presume play without vibrato only occasionally. (If so, the sound heard more than a century ago may have been closer to what we consider modern than some HIPers would have us believe.) The smallerscaled Beatrice and Benedict Overture is more suitable for this kind of performance, and it comes off better. The excellent notes are by the great Berlioz biographer, David Cairns. Nothing in them refers to this or any other small orchestra performance. I don’t see the point of this recording, but many British reviewers loved it, some breathlessly so. If the idea of a hybrid Fantastique appeals to you, Mr Haller endorsed Norrington with the Stuttgart Radio Symphony. Haller and I both strongly advise against Norrington’s London Classical Players recording. For HIP, the Gardiner is very good. The Orchestre de la Francophonie is based in Quebec for young Canadian musicians working toward a professional career. It was established in 2001 by Jean-Philippe Tremblay, who remains its music director. It is a fine group, like many similar ensembles in the US and Europe. The performance is very good. The interpretation is deliberate and squarely phrased (geometrically speaking) but is not lacking in boldness and color. The string tone is not rich, but its clean, colorful string lines sound French, which is not a bad thing at all. It sounds as if the players are using some vibrato but not a lot. Trembley takes his time in between pauses in the early section of I— maybe too much—but the rest goes well, with some good cut and thrust. The ‘Ball’ is lively and good natured. One annoying aspect in these two movements is that the horns seem too present—probably a matter of recording balance, but I’m not sure. Some may not like September/October 2012 the deliberateness, square phrasing, and straightish tone in ‘Scene in the Fields’, but none of those qualities is overdone, and the movement is enjoyable in a simple, straightforward way. The ‘March’ has angry timpani and generates some nice weight; the prelude to the beheading at the end of the movement is frightening (without the odd pullback of the Ticciati). The laugh that begins the finale is more cleanly executed, and the roar of the crowd is terrific. The dead sound of the bells is oddly fitting; and, while the tubas of the Dies Irae are reticent, the trombones (here and elsewhere) have plenty of imposing power, and overall this movement is very well done. This is a performance full of enthusiasm, but at full price without a coupling, it runs into a threshing machine for competition. I have to admit it has grown on me. Tremblay takes both repeats and uses the cornet in II. The notes do the job. HECHT BERNSTEIN: Arias & Barcarolles; BARBER: School for Scandal Overture; DIAMOND: Elegy in Memory of Ravel Jane Bunnell, mz; Dale Duesing, bar; Seattle Symphony/ Gerard Schwarz Naxos 559709—47 minutes The Bernstein was first released on Delos 3078, and Ralph Lucano reviewed it (J/F 1991). He found the orchestration (by Bright Sheng) added nothing to the accompaniment, and he preferred Judy Kaye and William Sharp, the soloists in the first recording of the cycle (with piano, Koch 7000, J/A 1990). That was reviewed by David Greene, and he believed the cycle gave evidence that “Bernstein might well have been the key American composer of our era”, commenting on his natural American idiom and his understanding of “the more selfconscious and artificial devices of post-modern music” and the ability to make real music out of all that. To Lucano, the songs were “disconcertingly personal and sentimental”, even though the orchestral accompaniment made them less intimate. Naxos doesn’t include texts (for shame!), and the singers are not readily understandable. And the playing isn’t the best I’ve heard from Seattle. Mr Lucano felt the Barber needed “a little more plush” and wished that the lyrical second subject had been played with more feeling. I found it somewhat listless and disjointed, and I’ve never thought that any of the other times I’ve heard it. It’s not bad, just not great. Speaking of disjointed, that’s my final word on the Elegy. I’d pass on this release. ESTEP American Record Guide BIZET: Carmen Suite; see LORCA BLOCH: America; Concerto Grosso 1 Patricia Michaelian, p; Seattle Symphony & Chorale/ Gerard Schwarz Naxos 572743—62 minutes The sound here for America is even muddier than on the original release. It is the worst sound I’ve ever heard from Delos’s famous recording engineer, John Eargle. Treble is almost non-existent; flute and French horn passages are often buried, and there is no transparency. The more the instruments, the worse it gets, and it’s worst of all in the final measures when the chorale joins in with the unison patriotic song. Nor does it help that Schwarz is at his rhythmically weakest in America. The score has frequent changes of tempos, which he anticipates and distorts, and he then adds many more tempo changes of his own, which destroy any possible appreciation of an overarching form in each movement. Add to that the spongy character of his conducting when, for example, triplets play against quarter or eighth or 16th notes. I found it impossible to grasp any basic pulse in far too many passages. At 39 minutes, this performance comes across as a meandering mess. The liner notes on Delos by my ARG predecessor, Shirley Fleming, give the early history of the work: composed in 1925 after Bloch became an American citizen, and in 1926 judged for Musical America as “the best symphonic work on an American theme by an American composer by conductors Walter Damrosch, Leopold Stokowski, Serge Koussevitzky, Frederick Stock, and Alfred Hertz—all of them, I might add, immigrants like Bloch. I’m sure they had a different take on patriotism than I do, particularly in an election year when “patriotism is the last refuge of scoundrels”. Either I’m out to lunch in finding the work utterly simple-minded, or it is horribly dated, or Gerard Schwarz makes it sound shallow and sappy. In Carl Bauman’s original review (May/June 1994) he found the work inspiring, the engineering “superior sonically”, and the performance “superb”. Concerning the Concerto Grosso, he found the performance “a good one” and “a version to love”, though he was ambivalent about choosing between this recording and Howard Hanson’s on Mercury. To my ears, the Concerto Grosso, recorded 18 months earlier, is a sonic joy. The string lines are clear, and a wonderful bass presence reinforces the ripe piano part. It’s easy to hear how harmonies, accents, and textures function in the work. Schwarz’s rhythms are rather spongy, and in III the many tempo and meter 69 changes just don’t relate in a flowing manner. His grasp of form and propulsion is weaker than Hanson’s, who offers more snap in I, II, and IV and more effective tenderness and contrasts in III, if you can put up with the fleshless piano and grainy strings of the EastmanRochester Orchestra. Compared to Delos’s more historical notes that also include a listener’s minute-byminute walk through Bloch’s notes in America’s score that quote its poetic and musical sources, the completely different liner notes for Naxos are typical: intelligent, straight-forward, and analytical. FRENCH BLOWER: Horn Concerto; see Collections BLUMENFELD: Piano Pieces Jouni Somero FC 9706—69 minutes For people familiar with the music of Felix Blumenfeld, there should be no qualms about acquiring this recording. All of the selections save one are new to CD, and the performances are beautifully realized with careful attention to phrasing and dynamics. Blumenfeld (1863-1931) was born in Russia and studied composition under Rimsky-Korsakoff. As a piano teacher he counted among his students Simon Barere, Vladimir Horowitz, and Maria Yudina. His music is romantic, technically challenging, and Russian to the core. Only the Etude de Concert, Op. 24, is duplicated on another disc, so this recording is mandatory for expanding your Blumenfeld collection. As a study in contrast it is enlightening to compare this with the performance by Daniel Blumenthal on Marco Polo. Somero is the more powerful player, though Blumenthal achieves impressive results with his refined, more poetic playing. It would be hard to choose between them. The Suite Polonaise has four dance movements and must be a delight to play as well as to hear. It is unpretentious and has the wonderful melodic and harmonic twists of the late Russian romantics. It also owes a certain debt to Chopin. With its ten brief movements, the Moments Lyriques strike a more serious tone, with melody slightly more elusive than the Suite and a definite sadness defining most of the pieces. Nicolas Medtner comes to mind most often in listening to it. Two Nocturnes, Souvenir Douloureux, and the other pieces are all worth getting to know. The short Danse, Op. 53:1 that concludes the program reaches into new harmonic territory reflective of Scriabin or Catoire. In all of this, Finnish-born (1963) Jouni Somero shows complete mastery and the high- 70 est interpretive skills. None of the music save the Suite can be considered to belong to the salon. All of it is serious and requires great subtlety and a willingness to probe the depths. Somero studied in Cologne and Switzerland with Georgy Cziffra and Michael Ponti. In 1987 he was awarded a diploma at the International Music Competition in Rio de Janeiro. He is well represented on records. Notes are decent, if brief, and the recording is very good. Chalk this up as another recent discovery of some importance. BECKER BOLCOM: Gospel Preludes Gregory Hand, org Naxos 559695—71 minutes I believe this is the first time all the Gospel Preludes have been released on one disc. The Dallas chapter of the American Guild of Organists commissioned the first book of three preludes and liked them so much that they asked for three more books of three. I almost sent this back to the Editor, because what I hear is so personal that I didn’t know if I’d be able to think clearly enough about the music to give it a proper review. I was almost exhausted after the first two hearings—it felt like Bolcom had notated all the spiritual upheaval and theological wonderings of my last few years with eerie accuracy. The hymn tunes the preludes are based on are nearly all ones I grew up singing and loving— and being alternately comforted and manipulated by. I can’t think of ‘Just As I Am’ without revival services and horrendously long altar calls coming to mind, including one where I started counting after the organist and I (on piano) had played that song about a dozen times and lost count after another 50 repetitions. Bolcom has painted well the state of much of American Christianity, with the revivalist hymns flirting with High Church musical traditions, ramming their heads against a century of dissonance, whirling around the floor with Black gospel music, walking the sawdust trail teary-eyed, trusting in their own wretched urgency, but ineptly and accidentally finding Christ’s light burden and easy yoke in spite of themselves. The preludes are us, tortured, laughing it all off, taking it seriously again, and coming back to the church as it should be: a hospital for sinners, not a museum for saints, where the unfamiliar incense covers the stale cigarette smell still in our grubby clothes, and where the blood imparted in little sips doesn’t care if it’s a chaser to last night’s rum. It’s a compliment to Bolcom that these dozen preludes can be so personal. And they don’t care much about being genteel! When September/October 2012 they feel the need to burst into song (or “Let ‘er rip”, as I would hear shouted at camp-meeting services), they do without warning, and it’s tinged with the thrill of breaking a taboo. When Bolcom writes in a black gospel style, he’s not just aping the harmonies; he gets the essence of it in the elongated melody lines. Art should sometimes be a commentary on culture, and that’s what these preludes are. They’re an important addition to the organ repertory, and they’re an accurate reflection of American Christianity. Gregory Hand has done a stunning job here, too, on the Skinner Organ at the Rockefeller Memorial Chapel at the University of Chicago. ESTEP B ORTKIEWICZ: Piano Works Volume 3: The Little Wanderer; 6 Preludes, op 13; Marionettes; Sonata 1 Volume 5: 4 Pieces, op 10; 3 Pieces, op 24; 12 New Etudes, op 29 Jouni Somero, p 3: FC 9723—68 minutes 5: FC 9736—72 minutes Sergei Bortkiewicz (1877-1952) was born in the Ukraine, educated in St Petersburg and Leipzig, and died an Austrian citizen in Vienna. While his life began only four years later and lasted nine years longer than Rachmaninoff’s the two Russians can easily be viewed as exact contemporaries. There is no evidence that they ever met or performed each other’s music. While Rachmaninoff’s life story is fairly well known, leaving Russia for good in 1917 during the Revolution and eventually becoming an American citizen, Bortkiewicz found himself caught up in the horrors of the Russian Revolution and both World Wars. He moved often and was financially dependent on the generosity of friends and benefactors. Even though he became an Austrian citizen in 1925, he was viewed as a Russian by the Nazi regime and his works were banned in Germany. The wealth that Rachmaninoff earned as a concert pianist, conductor, and composer the last 25 years of his life were completely unknown to Bortkiewicz. I find it therefore somewhat incongruous that Bortkiewicz’s music, while similar stylistically to Rachmaninoff’s, is more positive and bright than the pervasive melancholy we associate with Rachmaninoff. Bortkiewicz’s musical style is heavily influenced by Chopin, Schumann, Tchaikovsky, and Liadov. There are also similarities with Rachmaninoff and even early Scriabin. 38 of his 70 opus numbers are for solo piano (a number are 10 or more short pieces), two more are for piano duet, plus three piano concertos, a number of songs, and a good quantity of chamber music with piano. He was quite a fine concert pianist; and, except for a few sets of American Record Guide pieces specifically designed for amateur pianists, his music is very challenging. Of the music on these two discs, I found the sonata and the etudes the most compelling, with performances to match. These are big virtuoso pieces, the sonata similar to the first sonatas of Rachmaninoff and Scriabin, except this is in a major key. Bortkiewicz packed the etudes with all the romantic emotion and technical demands that you are familiar with if you know Chopin’s. Both The Little Wanderer and Marionettes are sets of teaching pieces in a wide variety of musical styles, and could easily introduce young musicians to a wide range of music. Somero imbues each with the requisite panache, and they hold your interest over many hearings. The other sets of pieces range from short two-or-three minute pieces like the Six Preludes to more substantial six-minute plus pieces with Chopin-inspired titles like Ballade, Nocturne, and Impromptu. Jouni Somero (b. 1963) is a very busy Finnish pianist with over 2300 concerts and 60 recordings to his credit. He has recorded four volumes of Rachmaninoff, five volumes of Finnish piano music, as well as eight volumes of Bortkiewicz. His booklet notes are very good (and well translated from the original Finnish). He has all the necessary technical equipment and sensitivity, coupled with a clear affinity for late romantic piano music. These are very enjoyable recordings. HARRINGTON BOTTESINI: Duo Concertante; Allegro di Concerto Alla Mendelssohn; Une Bouche Aimee; Tutto che il Mondo Sera; Capriccio di Bravura Rick Stotijn, db; Liza Ferschtman, Candida Thompson, v; Monika Leskovar, vc; Christianne Stotijn, mz; Hans Eijsackers, p; Amsterdam Sinfonietta Channel 32612 [SACD] 57 minutes Here is a joyous performance of some lightly lovely and virtuosic music from the romantic period. Giovanni Bottesini (1821-89) was perhaps the greatest double bass player of his period and certainly the most prolific and polished composer for that oft-ignored instrument. He was also a well-known conductor who led the first performance of Verdi’s Aida in Cairo, marking the opening of the Suez canal. The music played here is not all in its original form. One Duo Concertante was originally written for two double basses and orchestra. Camilla Sivori adapted one of the solo voices for violin and Duncan McTier has cut the instrumentation down to a string orchestra. If you can take all that, the performance here is enthusiastic and virtuoso. 71 The Grande Allegro is played by solo bass and string quintet as arranged by Wijnand van Klaveren. This is followed by two songs to texts probably by the composer with accompaniment of double bass obbligato and piano, sung by Stotijn’s sister. One is in French, the other in Italian. Texts are given, but there is no translation. Christianne sings with a lovely sound. Then it is back to bass and string quintet in another Klaveren arrangement of Capriccio di Bravura. These two works are played with polish and enjoyment by all. The program ends with another Duo Concertant, on themes from Bellini’s Norma, for cello, double bass, and orchestra, arranged for string orchestra by Marijn van Prooijen. Like everyone else in this project, Leskovar plays fine cello, joining in the fun with abandon and perfection. As you can see, this is not for people who want the original versions of anything. On the other hand, the music of Bottesini is played with flair by a bunch of musicians who work well together. Bottesini can take all this arranging since his music is not built for depth but for enjoyment. So enjoy! D MOORE BOURGEOIS: Cantatas (5) Carolyn Sampson, Le Concert Lorrain Carus 83374—72:36 Until getting this record, the only composer named Bourgeois I knew of was Louis Bourgeois, the 16th Century musical assistant to John Calvin in Geneva. There were, in fact, other composers of that surname (unrelated). Here we have Thomas-Louis Bourgeois (16761750), of whom I suspect our readers have likewise been ignorant up to now. This Bourgeois was a singer by training and initial profession, a high-tenor (hautecontre) greatly admired. But, settled in Paris, he turned his energies to composing, moving on then to a pivotal post in Brussels. He composed a large number of theatrical works. But he also contributed to the idiom of the French secular cantata, which was highly popular by the early years of the 18th Century. Besides some isolated examples, he built his reputation in this sphere with two published collections, from which the five examples here are derived: three from the publication of 1708, two from 1715. The release takes its title from the program’s opening cantata, Les Sirenes. I am unable to find any of his music in recordings—not even in anthologies. So here we have a true recording debut. And it is justified. At this remove, the cantatas of Bourgeois (mostly on mythological themes of love) do not sound that different in character from ones by Clerambault, Monteclair, and other well- 72 known masters of the genre. But Bourgeois does have a profile of his own, and I was quite impressed by his capacity for weaving truly sinuous and seductive melodies in the airs. That is just the meat for Sampson, who is skilled at applying her full, ripe voice with rich nuance and assertiveness. She is vigorously supported by an ensemble of six versatile instrumentalists. Lovers of French Baroque music should rush to be the first kid on the block to have rare music by this hitherto-ignored composer. Good notes; full texts with translation. BARKER BRAHMS: Cello Sonatas Laura Buruiana; Matei Varga, p Coviello 51204—51 minutes This is one of the few cello-piano records I have seen where the pianist is listed first. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the performances. They are nicely balanced, and both defer to each other politely and with sensitivity. If there is a lack here, it is in the rather metronomic approach to the tempos. Rubato comes in unexpected places, not where I would expect it. These Romanian musicians have a different feeling about this music than a German or Austrian pair would have, yet Brahms survives very well, as one might expect. On the other hand, these are not the kind of polite performances I would choose to have as my only recording of this music, though they offer an unusual alternative to the normal way of playing Brahms. And then there is the short timing. D MOORE BRAHMS: Piano Pieces 1 Barry Douglas Chandos 10716—77 minutes Since this is the first volume in what will supposedly be a complete Brahms piano music project, I’m rather puzzled and put off by the arrangement of works. This is assembled more like a “My Favorite Brahms” record than the beginning of a methodical traversal of the piano works. Douglas samples pieces from four of the composer’s sets—Opp. 10, 116, 117, 118. Both the Op. 79 Rhapsodies are here but not together. Certainly any of these works is capable of standing on its own, but it is also clear that Brahms often had a clear musical idea behind their groupings. Then the notes discuss the selections in terms of their opus number groupings. The seven Fantasies Op. 116 (Douglas plays only four) are described as “less of a compilation than a self-consistent entity”. This release offers only the first of the three Intermezzos of Op. 117, yet Calum Mac- September/October 2012 Donald’s notes describe them as a “triptych” of interrelated “Lullabies”. The Ballades Op. 10 are accurately noted as “organized around a limited sequence of related tonalities, suggest[ing] a kind of loose sonata pattern”. Unfortunately Douglas’s program doesn’t let us listen for this structure, since it only includes the fourth and final Ballade. Despite these vagaries of programming, Douglas’s playing is warm and full-bodied as well as restrained and introspective in the more intimate lyrical expressions of the Intermezzos. He manages to capture Brahms’s power without hammering at the full chordal passages and climactic moments. He builds forward motion and tension more through attentive phrasing—something especially admirable in the two rhapsodies. The Handel Variations and Fugue pay attention to the varied characters the variations explore while maintaining the sense of constant sweeping movement towards the grand closing fugue. If one approaches this as a “Brahms sampler”, it has a lot to offer; but when it comes to complete collections of the piano works, I think Julius Katchen’s will remain at the top of my list. JD MOORE BRAHMS: Fantasies, op 116; Intermezzos, op 117; 2 Rhapsodies, op 79; Handel Variations Peter Katin Diversions 24157—78:48 This is a reissue of a 1990 Olympia recording. Opuses 79, 116, and 117 are regarded as Brahms’s return to smaller forms from the Sonatas and Variations as he was nearing the end of his career. Concluding the recording is the masterly Variations and Fugue on a Theme by Handel, composed 30 years earlier. It is evident immediately that Peter Katin is an arresting pianist with a fine command of the instrument. These miniatures demand amazing sensitivity, and Katin delivers. While Op. 116 is for the most part interpreted with great attention to detail and character, Katin’s transitions between very fast passages to the slow passages lack continuity. He could also take more care with the B section of the same piece, a particularly passionate section that seems a little rushed. The Intermezzo in E minor, a favorite of mine, drags sometimes here. The Intermezzo in E, “Andante teneramente”, could use a little more tenderness. Despite these quibbles, he is a dexterous performer, and his Op. 117 Intermezzos bring out the beautiful density of texture in these pieces, with great consideration for the buried lines in the accompaniment. There is no extensive bravura here, but rather a gentle inti- American Record Guide macy. Katin’s playing draws attention to such introspective works without becoming too precious. The Variations are the perfect way to close the recording, with their brilliance and sparkling wit. While this interpretation may not be as grand as others, Katin displays the richness of these variations, from the light playfulness of Variation 1 to the exuberant fanfare of Variation 25. The fugue builds up to a climactic finish, and there’s plenty of energy. The sound quality of the Norwegian recording is decent, and many should enjoy this testament to a fine pianist’s storied career. The liner notes are written by Katin himself, and are informative and well researched. KANG BRAHMS: 18 Songs Brigitte Fassbaender, mz; Thomas Riehl, va; Irwin Gage Acanta 233493—51 minutes Fassbaender, now in her early 70s, was one of the finest mezzos of her day. She excelled in stage roles like Octavian and Orlovsky, but later in her career gravitated toward recitals and lieder. She retired from singing in 1995. These songs were recorded in the early 80s when she was at the height of her powers. This is a splendid recital in every way. Fassbaender’s singing is above reproach: securely produced with excellent intonation and a fine sensitivity to the texts. Her fairly dark vocal color is perfect for Brahms, whose songs rarely have soprano innocence. Perhaps best are the big, stormy pieces—’Auf dem Kirchhofe’, ‘Verzagen’, ‘Wehe, so Willst du mich Wieder’—but at the same time it is hard to fault gentler pieces like ‘O Kühler Wald’ or charming ones like ‘Ständchen’. Special mention should be made of the two viola songs, beautifully accompanied by violist Thomas Riehl. Irwin Gage is an excellent partner, though he is too prominent in ‘In Stiller Nacht’. Texts and translations are included, but you have to flip back and forth to get German and English. If your taste or curiosity runs to Brahms sung by a mezzo, look no further. ALTHOUSE BRAHMS: Symphonies (all) Philharmonia Orchestra/ Christoph von Dohnanyi Signum 255 [4CD] 2:48 Dohnanyi recorded Brahms’s symphonies in the late 1980s with the Cleveland Orchestra. They were reviewed, none too enthusiastically, by Kurt Moses (M/A 1990). For this new release Symphonies 1-3 were recorded in Royal Festival Hall concerts, ranging from June 73 2007 to October 2009, while the Fourth was played in Queen Elizabeth Hall in February 2007. Back some two decades my colleague was bothered by a “blandness and stodginess” in the playing, and I have to report that things haven’t gotten much better in the intervening years. The First (which Mr Moses liked the best) has seemingly passionless playing in the first movement, despite the loud brass interjections (the rhythm reminding us of Beethoven’s Fifth). Balances are sometimes odd, as if Dohnanyi were looking for little counterpoints hidden away in the symphonic texture. In the finale of the First he sometimes adjusts tempos, which is fine by me, but he seems to lurch from one pace to another. Things don’t feel organic; the music doesn’t have a natural ebb and flow. I’m tempted to say the slow movement is better than the rest because a stoic restraint here might make sense, but when I think of someone like Furtwängler in this movement, I wonder if I’m wasting my time. The Second begins nicely as a slow, bucolic affair, but it seems over-phrased and fails to gather steam, so with the repeat the whole movement becomes dull. Middle movements are OK, and the finale moves energetically with strong timpani. The Third is generally quite good. The music feels pulled along, rather than poked at, though joined by occasional unsteadiness of rhythm. This performance feels less careful and less detailed than, particularly, the First, and therein may lie its value. It has a muscular strength that is appealing, though the slow movement is rather matter-of-fact without much feeling or warmth. The Fourth is similar. The playing is strong and rugged where required, but the slow movement needs more tenderness, and the rich E-major coda doesn’t glow as it does with rivals. The scherzo is very good. In sum this is, except for the First, a fairly good traversal of the symphonies. I generally found them better than the Gardiner performances, reviewed singly in the past few years. Most movements are played with strength and commitment, though sometimes the music can sound too heavy-handed. All of Dohnanyi’s slow movements, though, need more intensity, often more quiet intensity. The sound is quite good and full, though the orchestra’s ensemble and intonation are not so good as we might like. The four symphonies are spread lavishly over four CDs with no fillers, so each disc averages less than 45 minutes. ALTHOUSE 74 BRAHMS: ESinfonia in B; Scherzo from F-ASonata; SCHUMANN: Intermezzo from F-A-E Sonata; SCHUMANN,C: 3 Romances Malmo Opera Orchestra/ Joseph Swensen Signum 191—66 minutes You’re right. Brahms didn’t write a Sinfonia in B. This is his first Trio (Op. 8), the one Brahms drastically revised later in life. The original, written when he was 21, is seldom heard because the later version is more concise and really superior, but it has been recorded. It is this early work that Joseph Swensen has chosen to orchestrate, dropping the piano and adding winds. In making his arrangement Swensen claims to have included every note of Brahms, even the challenging passagework from the piano part. The new piece works fairly well and sounds convincing (but not always like a Brahms orchestration). It is particularly nice to hear the main theme played by solo horn, but I have to say that the discursiveness of the original Op. 8 Trio is not improved here. Best of the movements is the Scherzo, which is the one least changed in Brahms’s later version of the Trio. I would like to say we have a new work to spice up our concert halls, but I don’t find this piece as engaging as the Brahms serenades (which the piece loosely resembles). The remaining pieces are all arranged for orchestra and solo violin, which is played by Swensen himself. All of them are certainly agreeable as vehicles for solo violin, but I find that enlarging the canvas of a piece to full orchestra leads me to expect more musical substance than was in the original. As a result the pieces sound thin. I would put this in the category of Curiosity. If arrangements like this appeal to you, you’ll find old friends in new places—a little like running to your neighbors when away on vacation. ALTHOUSE BRAHMS: Violin Sonatas Anthony Marwood; Aleksandar Madzar, p Wigmore Hall Live 50—68 minutes These are good, solid performances of the sonatas that were recorded in concert at London’s Wigmore Hall on September 19, 2010 and January 9 and May 15, 2011. There have been quite a few outstanding recordings of these sonatas in recent years, so while I have no caveats about this set, I can name several others that are more satisfying and thoughtprovoking. I would urge anyone who wants a set of these to get Barnabas Kelemen and Tamas Vasary’s outstanding one (Nov/Dec September/October 2012 2004) or Frank Almond and William Wolfram’s (July/Aug 2001). MAGIL BRAHMS: Violin Sonatas Simca Heled, vc; Jonathan Zak, p Centaur 3147—70 minutes No, your eyes are not deceiving you. These are the three violin sonatas all played on the cello! Do you want to hear them done that way? Well, it does give us a different slant on the music, but is it really informative, helpful, or beautiful? We cellists have been playing Sonata 1 for several years now with varying degrees of success. As far as I am concerned, it is one of my favorite pieces of music to listen to in its original form. The cello version disappoints me because of all the changes in register the piece is put through in order to sound convincing on the cello. The ending particularly bothers me, since the final theme is given to the piano when it was originally most beautifully given to the violin. Some cellists obviously feel as I do about it and have changed the arrangement back to Brahms’s way. Heled and Zak do not do this, though they seem perfectly happy with it this way. This is the first time I have heard Sonata 2 on the cello. It doesn’t convince me, but it is good to hear it done. Sonata 3 is a gutsy wonder and sounds possibly most convincing of the three on the cello. It will never replace the original violin sonata in my affections, but it works well this way. Velitchka Yotcheva with Patrice Lare (XXI 1587, Nov/Dec 2009) are the only others to play this one. I believe. Heled and Zak do it better. As for Sonata 1, my choice would be Torleif Thedeen and Roland Pontinen (BIS 1606, SACD, Sept/Oct 2010), who not only play beautifully, but restore Brahms’s original ending. D MOORE B RIAN: The Tigers Variations; Preludio Tragico; Night Ride; Turandot Pieces & Suite BBC Scottish Symphony/ Garry Walker Toccata 113—71 minutes Havergal Brian said his five operas contained his best music. Proof of that awaits their hearing, though there have been studio performances of a couple. Meanwhile, we have here a tantalizing cross-section of orchestral extracts. Except for the Kelly Variations from The Tigers (1929), all are recorded premieres. The variations aren’t the predictable kind where we hear the theme, then a string of modifications. Rather, Brian forges a symphonic movement where, after the initial statement of the once-popular song, bits of it American Record Guide are interlocked, disintegrated, and reassembled. The tune occasionally reappears, giving a spine to a kaleidoscopic sequence of transformations. The result is one of the most compact and ingenious sets of variations ever created. The Preludio Tragico is to his Shelleybased opera The Cenci (1952). I’ve known this piece for over 20 years, and never quite got it, Brian’s fragmented logic being in full cry. At first hearing, its themes are as abstract as in one of his later symphonies and seem to have no dramatic connection with Shelley’s, to put it mildly, grim plot. Yet with this superior performance, aided by Malcolm MacDonald’s superb notes—an education in themselves— the work, though still a rambler, now makes some sense. ‘Night Ride’ from Brian’s Faust is a fiveminute interlude. Its initially steady 12/8 pulse gives it organization; and Brian keeps up the momentum, even with the scoring constantly dividing into ever-changing subgroups. By now (1956), Brian’s language had become so condensed that Faust’s descent into the abyss needs only a few bars to make its point. His Turandot (1949-51)—it seems like Brian wanted to rewrite the opera repertoire— is nearer to Busoni’s commedia dell’arte treatment than to Puccini’s grandiose entry. Die Frau ohne Schatten was a model for its dramaturgy. Brian even borrowed the names of two of Strauss’s characters—Barak and Keikobad. The music has a pronounced satirical streak. The ‘Three Pieces’ sets out some of the major motives, including Turandot’s sinuous, seductive theme and Kalaf’s pentatonic one. MacDonald arranged his suite in 1975, and it’s an astonishing piece of work. He not only captures the Brian sound—and recall that no one had heard a note of this work—but also amplifies the emotional moods of the music. Furthermore, the basic form of the movements is more direct and comprehensible than Brian would have done at this stage, showing the music to better advantage. ‘At the Court of the Emperor’ is a lurching triple-time march in a mock-ceremonial style, similar to the final movement of Brian’s Symphony 9. The ‘Minuet’, occurring while the chancellor is describing the next sucker—er, suitor—to seek Turandot’s hand, is a dance movement of utmost delicacy. At first, hearing the stilted gestures of ‘The Entry of Turandot’, you know this is a court where protocol rules; but the movement ends reflectively. The ‘Nocturne’ has the sheerest beauty of all. With transparent scoring for two harps, divided strings, and winds, it’s the most gossamer Brian music I’ve ever heard. MacDonald has commented on Brian’s throwaway use of textures another composer would milk for years, 75 and this ravishing movement is a perfect example. ‘To the Divan’ is an imposing interlude, making impressive use of a descending do-la-sol figure. The concluding ‘Lugubre Marsch’ symbolizes the death-knell, not of Turandot’s suitors, but of her hopes. Besides Malcolm MacDonald the superb musical writer, we must now acknowledge Malcolm MacDonald the superb composer, arranger, and orchestrator. He’s largely a selftaught musician, and one big edge such artists have is that they treat their acquired knowledge with respect. (The back edge of the blade is that they sometimes develop bad habits for lack of disinterested counsel, vide Elgar’s sequences.) These performances are tasteful and virtuosic. I mention the latter because the music is intricately orchestrated, with constantly overlapping and interweaving voices. It makes for endlessly fascinating sounds, but means the whole orchestra must always be at peak form. The BBC Scots cover themselves with glory in their skill, and Garry Walker’s conducting has real insight into this quirky idiom. With this coming fairly close on the heels of Hyperion’s spectacular Gothic recording (May/June 2012), this is a banner Brian year. O’CONNOR BRITTEN: The Little Sweep; Cantata Academica David Hemmings (Sam), Jennifer Vyvyan (Rowan), Peter Pears (Clem, Alfred); English Opera Group/ Benjamin Britten; Jennifer Vyvyan, s; Helen Watts, mz; Peter Pears, t; Owen Brannigan, b; London Symphony & Chorus/ George Malcolm Heritage 236—65 minutes Britten conducting his own music is always (well, almost always) the performance against which all others must be compared. Britten conducting his music written specifically for children brought out the best of his best. So it is with this reissue of the 1956 recording of his children’s opera The Little Sweep. Such innocence, such charm, such enthusiasm are totally beguiling. The rarely heard or recorded Cantata Academica is a piece d’occasion. The title refers to the commission of the work by Paul Sacher in celebration of the 500th anniversary of the founding of the University of Basel. It also is a sly joke on academia as Britten discreetly uses a 12-tone row (a technique he generally disliked) in the texture. This is the 1961 recording approved by Britten. No libretto, but good notes. PARSONS 76 B RITTEN: Serenade; Nocturne; FINZI: Dies Natalis Mark Padmore, t; Britten Sinfonia/ Jacqueline Shave Harmonia Mundi 807552 [SACD] 78 minutes Enter my 22nd recording of Serenade (30 if I count reissues) and 15th of Nocturne. This is my first encounter with the Finzi piece. Padmore continues his recording of the Britten song-cycles. One can only praise his silver timbre, his nimble agility in fast passages, his unquavering sustaining of notes, his uncanny interpretive ability. Stephen Bell’s horn obbligatos are also worthy of the highest praise. His breath control is quite amazing. The Britten Sinfonia lives up to its name with superior accompaniments. The group gets to shine more in its own right in the Nocturne, with the variety of obbligato instruments and in the Finzi piece, as the ear is so caught up with the voice and horn in the Britten. Texts included. PARSONS B RITTEN: Songs & Proverbs of William Blake; Tit for Tat; Folk-Songs Roderick Williams, bar; Iain Burnside, p Naxos 572600—61 minutes One could hardly wish for a better showcase than these three items by Britten. There is seriousness in the Blake, a wonderful assortment of humor in the Folk-Songs, and a bit of both in Tit for Tat. And Williams has such a wondrous voice to show off. His is no affected, artificial kind of Englishness. He sounds as if he is telling a story for all, no condescension. Simplicity is preeminent. A warmly expressive timbre fills the ear with beauty; immaculate enunciation clearly tells the story. Best of all is the gentle, radiant personality that Williams displays. He is someone I would like to meet as well as hear singing. Burnside’s piano accompaniments are just as pleasing. Britten would have been pleased. The texts are available online at www.Naxos.com/libretti/572600.htm PARSONS BRITTEN: War Requiem Sabina Cvilak, s; Ian Bostridge, t; Simon Keenlyside, bar; Eltham College Choir, London Symphony & Chorus/ Gianandrea Noseda LSO 719 [2SACD] 84 minutes This is an exciting performance boasting eminent soloists, a world-class orchestra, and an excellent choir with the music in its blood. In the booklet there’s a wonderful picture of a chorus member’s vocal score autographed by the likes of Peter Pears, Colin Davis, Richard September/October 2012 Hickox, Galina Vishnevskaya, Mstislav Rostropovich, Robert Tear, Anthony Rolfe Johnson, Heather Harper, Felicity Lott, Bryn Terfel, and others who had joined the orchestra for War Requiems over the years. This is, of course, the orchestra and choir conducted by the composer on that magical first-ever recording with Pears, Vishnevskaya, and Fischer-Dieskau as soloists. Talk about a proprietary connection! This time around, Sabina Cvilak, a young Slovenian soprano, gives us a gutsy Sanctus and a heart-felt Benedictus. Simon Keenlyside’s voice is as handsome as they come, but he doesn’t enter the emotional flow as tellingly as the late Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau who “created the role”. Still, Keenlyside’s timbre blends impeccably with Ian Bostridge, which is important because the tenor and baritone do so much together. Bostridge heads straight for the dramatic jugular, which is good, though the bright intensity of his voice makes me yearn sometimes for the darker, tangier quality of Peter Pears whose singing in this inimitable work has never been bettered. Nobody comes close to Pears in the powerful Agnus Dei (“But they who love the greater love, Lay down their life; they do not hate”). I can’t argue much with Maestro Noseda. He accompanies well, has his choir spitting bullets where it counts (Dies Irae, Confutatis), and gets brilliant playing from the LSO as he paces them smartly through the score. He joins Richard Hickox (Chandos) and Robert Shafer (Naxos) as conductors to turn to for a distinguished War Requiem to augment Britten’s own. The only disappointment is the sound of this concert performance recorded at the Barbican in the fall of 2011. Maybe it’s the sonic gremlins who inhabit that space. Perhaps it’s the engineering, the extremes of Maestro Noseda’s dynamic scheme, or a combination of all three. Whatever the reason, Super Audio or not, parts of this sound like they were recorded under the Get Smart cone of silence. (I know it never worked, but you get the idea.) Quiet introductions and transitions have us straining to hear them. The boys choir creates a small, wispy sound, which is a problem because the young voices are so crucial to the interactive drama of the work. Even the adult ensemble can sound distant when not going full out. And here’s the kicker: none of these problems—not one—is evident on Britten’s own War Requiem recorded 49 years ago this October at London’s Kingsway Hall. Ladies and gentlemen, the winner and still champion... GREENFIELD American Record Guide B ROSTROM: Piano Concerto; Kaleidoscope; Violin Concerto; Transit Underground; Lucernaris Karen Gomyo, v; Per Tengstrand, p; Hakan Hardenberger, tpt; Gävle Symphony/ Johannes Gustavsson Swedish Society 1145 [2SACD] 104 minutes Gävle, a small Swedish city about 100 miles north of Stockholm, is best known as the home of Gevalia coffee. The Gävle Symphony also deserves renown. It sounds very good in this collection of works by Tobias Broström (b 1978), composer-in-residence in Gävle from 2006-9. Transit Underground (2007) is a tenminute study with a free but not atonal harmonic language. Although the notes say it is about the fast pace of urban life—and indeed, there are a couple of propulsive, rhythm-dominated sections—I am enthralled by the languorous, quiet ones where time seems suspended. Kaleidoscope (2008), in three movements lasting 21 minutes, opens with ‘Reflexion-Fauxbourdon’. Here the language is more abstract, the orchestral colors and effects fascinating. For a long time one has the feeling that something spectacular is going to erupt, but instead there is very gradual expansion into what seems like a galaxy of sound. ‘Ombres’ (Shadows) has sustained, beautiful sonorities and textures, a middle passage with softly struck sounds from marimba, and a sort of minimalist ending. ‘Resonance’ brings the galaxy of sound back, but this time with greater intensity and drive. The ending is incandescent. Three concertos round out the program. The young Japanese-Canadian violinist Karen Gomyo (b 1982) is soloist in the three-movement, 19-minute Violin Concerto (2008). I am especially taken by the cadenza opening of II, where Ms Gomyo produces haunting sounds on her Strad, and by the incendiary III. The three-movement, 21-minute Piano Concerto (Belle Epoque, 2011) looks back at the past. Here the musical language is quite tonal, the character sometimes hinting at minimalism in a lively I that ends enigmatically. As did the Violin Concerto, a dreamy II opens with a long cadenza. III is rhythm-driven but also has wistful passages. Swedish pianist Per Tengstrand (b 1968) is the fine soloist. Hakan Hardenberger (b 1961) is soloist in Lucernaris (2009), a 32-minute concerto for trumpet, electronics, and orchestra— Broström’s most committed excursion into contemporary sounds and styles. Extended trumpet techniques like glissandos and muting effects are called for, as are some very high notes. A lengthy passage where Hardenberg- 77 er’s phrases are repeated and piled up by electronic loops is quite spectacular. All in all, it is a fascinating work, loaded with remarkable sounds. I hope I have the chance to hear a Tobias Broström piece in concert someday. Excellent readings by conductor Johannes Gustavsson and the Gävle Symphony. KILPATRICK BRUCH & MENDELSSOHN: Violin Concertos; BEETHOVEN: Romances Philippe Quint; Mineria Symphony/ Carlos Miguel Prieto Avanti 10362 [SACD] 66 minutes These are superb performances, with fantastic solo playing from Mr Quint and solid support from the estimable Mexican ensemble. In the interview on the accompanying DVD, the violinist says, essentially, he just felt it was time for him to record these works, that he finally had something to say. And so he does. The recorded sound is interesting. In SACD mode the violin sound is almost three-dimensional, as if Mr Quint were standing in my living room between the speakers and distinctly in front of them. More important, his tone is gorgeous—firm, singing, powerfully expressive. We’ve all heard these works a million times, but Quint takes you back to the first time you heard them and makes you realize that—holy smoke!—these pieces are popular for a reason. The fast, virtuoso passages don’t faze him, but he doesn’t whip through the finales just to show how fast he can move his fingers. These are intensely expressive interpretations, but never self-indulgent. I don’t have a lot to say about the interpretations. Quint walks down the center of the road. You won’t hear any quirky shenanigans here, just the eloquent beauty of Bruch, Mendelssohn, and Beethoven. Adding the Beethoven Romances was a brilliant idea— juxtaposing them to the later works brings out the “romantic” side of the Titan. We’ve reviewed recordings by the Mineria Symphony in these pages before, and here the ensemble builds on the favorable impression it’s already left. But I wish the engineers had been as flattering to them as they were with Mr Quint. The orchestral tone is not captured poorly by any means; but compared to the soloist, their sound is a little two-dimensional and congested. Maybe I’m hearing things, so I put on the Nicola Benedetti account I enjoyed so much last year (May/June 2011) and a recent dub I’d made of a pristine original LP copy of Zukerman and the Los Angeles Philharmonic/Mehta (Sony). I asked for a little more front-to-back depth to the orchestra in 78 the Benedetti, but the sound was still less congested than here. And even the old LP (a very well-engineered recording for its time) sounded more spacious. This is not a deal-breaker. I’ll still reach for the Quint in the future; but in both of these works the orchestra has too much to say to short-change them on sound quality, even a little. Mr Quint’s name is a bit deceptive: he’s originally from Russia, immigrated to the United States to study with Dorothy DeLay in the 1990s, and has since become a naturalized citizen. For the most part, the bonus DVD is fluff. Soloist and conductor do have nice things to say—mostly the kind of platitudinous stuff we hear from musicians when they’re cornered and forced to talk about how they feel about their music, rather than just cut the BS and PLAY it. We see some shots of the technical folks setting up mikes, etc., which appeals to the electronics geek in me. Otherwise, you can ignore the DVD and just play the CD as soon as you get it. HANSEN BRUCKNER: Symphony 7 Staatskapelle Berlin DG 4790320—67 minutes This is Barenboim’s third recording of this piece. The first was with the Chicago Symphony, then the Berlin Philharmonic. The Chicago performance offered a notfully-developed view of the symphony. Perhaps part of the problem was that Barenboim was trying to get a Furtwangler performance out of Solti’s orchestra, but there were good moments: the lift in the scherzo, some of the building of climaxes in the outer movements, the weight of the opening of the slow movement. There were also bad ones: the harshness of some loud passages, a general feeling that the music was pushed along instead of flowing. The Berlin Philharmonic performance was quite different. Where the Chicago players knew the Bruckner and played it with skill and ease, the Berlin players inhabited the work. They had been formed into an ensemble by two of the greatest Bruckner conductors in history and led in this piece by almost all the others. What Barenboim seems to have done there is let them play their Bruckner. And they did that, with stunning beauty. The problem with that performance was that, unlike the just as beautifully played performance that this orchestra gave Karajan on EMI, the message stopped there. The beautiful playing was the point of the performance, not the starting place, as it was for Karajan. The Staatskapelle, recorded in concert in September/October 2012 the Berlin Philharmonie, is not quite in the Philharmonic’s league. The strings don’t have as big a vocabulary of sounds, the winds aren’t as polished, the percussion isn’t as crisp, and—perhaps most tellingly—the group doesn’t have that tremendous rhythmic power that the Philharmonic exudes. This reading is the lightest of Barenboim’s three. I don’t find it very satisfying: the lightness here is intermittent and doesn’t flow well with the music. It takes the weight out of things like the giant bass chords in the slow movement—pedal notes in Bruckner’s organlike scoring—and the lift out of the ends of the outer movements. It sounds paradoxical to say that the sound is too light to make these codas soar, but that’s what it is. Part of Bruckner’s point, I believe, is to overwhelm the listener with the sheer grandeur of the vistas that he has taken you so far to see. No overwhelm here. Part of the problem may be the thinness of the Staatskapelle violins in Bruckner’s high writing, whether because of the engineering or the hall or Barenboim’s balancing. Barenboim plays the slow movement with great freedom but a kind of sogginess of sound and lack of the feel of a rhythmic skeleton. It’s like a reprise of his other Berlin performance— all about sound—but without the Philharmonic’s ensemble rhythm grounding the sound. I hear this movement as a meditation on mourning, loss, and grief, with public formal mourning and private pain eventually merging. Not here. The tears in the violin writing a little before the middle of the movement, 9:37 in this performance, are dry and formal, as from paid mourners. I hear some lovely sounds here, but little heart—and Bruckner without heart doesn’t amount to much. The scherzo lacks verve. The finale is not much better. If I had to choose a Barenboim performance of this symphony, I would choose Chicago over either of the later ones. It’s not a full exposition of all that this work has to offer, but it’s less empty than its successors. Fortunately, there’s no need to choose a Barenboim performance. This work is very rich in great performances. Better choices include Karajan in Berlin (EMI has better sound and a slightly more relaxed performance), Giulini in Vienna, Blomstedt in Leipzig, Dohnanyi in Cleveland, Böhm in Vienna, and, if you can handle monaural sound, any Furtwangler or any Schuricht. In fairness, I have to note that a lot of Germans in June of 2010 apparently had a different view of the performance than I do and DG has graciously supplied the evidence in the applause at the end. Why this had to be included is a mystery to me. Why, if it had to be American Record Guide included, it wasn’t put onto a separate track is a bigger mystery to me. Who would want to listen to the applause track at the end of this finale even once, much less more than once? Perhaps DG doesn’t expect that many people will be listening to this performance more than once. CHAKWIN BRULL: VC; Serenade 2; see JADASSOHN BUXTEHUDE: Membra Jesu Nostri; Friedund Freudenreiche Hinfahrt La Petite Bande/ Sigiswald Kuijken Accent 24243—65 minutes Membra Jesu Nostri is Buxtehude’s most often recorded work. It is a cycle of seven Latin cantatas on the Passion of Christ written in 1680 for the composer’s friend, Gustav Düben, who served the Swedish royal court in Stockholm. Each cantata is addressed to a different part of Christ’s body: feet, knees, hands, side, chest, heart, and face. Each is introduced by a brief instrumental sonata followed by a “concerto” that sets a brief passage from the Vulgate pertinent to the part of the body. The concerto is followed by an “aria” that sets three stanzas from the medieval devotional poem Oratio Rhythmica, formerly thought to have been written by Bernard of Clairvaux but more likely by Arnulf of Leuven (c1200-48). Five of the seven cantatas conclude with a reprise of the concerto. The intensely personal devotion of the medieval texts may have resonated with the Lutheran pietists of Buxtehude’s day, but it would have been at odds with the devotional culture of staunch Lutheran orthodoxy that prevailed at St Mary’s Church, Lübeck, where the composer spent the greater part of his career. This is not liturgical music, and it is uncertain whether Buxtehude ever performed it in Lübeck. The program is filled out with Fried- und Freudenreiche Hinfahrt. The first part of this work dates from 1671 for the funeral of Meno Hanneken, who for 25 years was superintendent of Lübeck and preacher at St Mary’s. It is based on the melody of Martin Luther’s paraphrase of the Nunc Dimittis. The first and third movements are designated Contrapunctus I and Contrapunctus II, with the chorale melody in the soprano part. Each of these is followed by a movement called Evolutio, where the original contrapuntal voices are rearranged. Although there is nothing overtly ostentatious about the music, the work is a tour de force of invertible counterpoint, perhaps as a fitting tribute to the learned theologian. In this performance the chorale melody is sung with the accompaniment of three viols, but I have heard performances that were purely instru- 79 mental. A few years later, in 1674, Buxtehude appended an elegy (Klaglied) in memory of his own father. It is in the form of a strophic aria with accompaniment of viols and continuo marked by a constant throbbing of repeated notes. Three of the original seven stanzas are sung here. As I have pointed out in reviews of previous recordings of Membra Jesu Nostri, the personality of the music can vary extremely depending on who is performing it. This performance is very much in the early-music camp with period instruments and performance style. I find the recorded sound somewhat close and aggressive, sometimes overbearing. I said much the same a few years ago of a recording by Konrad Junghänel and Cantus Cölln (HM 901912; July/Aug 2006). The string tone has a biting edge that is matched in character by the singers. In some recordings the concertos are sung by a small choir, but here we have one voice to a part. While some solo vocal ensembles can subordinate individual sound to obtain a smooth vocal blend, here the singing is always soloistic. Vibrato is not entirely absent, but used very sparingly. This contrasts with a recording from a few years ago by Alexander Weimann and Les Voix Baroques (ATMA 2563; Jan/Feb 2008) where I commended the vocal blend and teamwork of the solo vocal ensemble. The young singers on the present recording are very good of their kind, but I often found myself wishing for greater evenness and control of tone. In his review of the recording by Erik Van Nevel and Currende (Eufoda 1294; May/June 2000), John Barker gave an overview of recordings up to that time, citing five besides the one reviewed. There have been several worthy recordings since then. One that I find particularly attractive is by Diego Fasolis and the Swiss Radio Choir (Naxos 553787; Nov/Dec 1997), who bring out the Italianate qualities of the music in a performance that is suave and ingratiating. Perhaps no one can surpass Masaaki Suzuki and Bach Collegium Japan in sheer polish and refinement (BIS 971; July/Aug 2006). His performance is more Germanic in personality than Fasolis’s, but without the overbearing quality noted in the present recording. GATENS CABEZON: Intabulations Veronique Musson-Gonneaud, hp Brilliant 94351—45 minutes In 1578, Antonio de Cabezon published a book called Obras para Tecla, Arpa y Vihuela (works for keyboard, harp, and vihuela). The title is important because while there are many recordings of the music of Cabezon played on 80 various keyboard instruments (organ, Nov/Dec 2001; harpsichord, May/June 1999; and clavichord, René Clemencic, Arte Nova 927810) this is the first recording I know that has used a renaissance Spanish harp, and it is a delight to hear these pieces with this different sonority. Most of Cabezon’s book consists of arrangements of popular vocal music, including French chansons, Italian madrigals, and Latin sacred music, especially by Josquin des Prez (Clemencic’s collection includes a whole disc of just Cabezon’s Josquin arrangements). In addition, it includes contrapuntal studies (tientos) and differencias, sets of variations on well-known melodies, such as ‘La Alta’ (better known as ‘La Spanga’) or ‘Las Vacas’ (The Cattle). This collection also includes single pieces by Hernando de Cabezon, Juan de Cabezon, Alfonso Mudarra, and Fernandez Palero. Musson-Gonneaud is an accomplished harpist, and her copy of a renaissance double harp is very sonorous and effectively recorded in a resonant church, adding extra ring to her instrument. Her interpretations are quite shapely and mirror the rich polyphonic textures of Cabezon’s vocal models. Similar works by Luys Venegas de Henestrosa have been recorded by Andrew Lawrence-King and the Harp Consort (July/Aug 2004), but LawrenceKing often takes the original solo pieces and rearranges them for a larger group of instruments. This collection of Cabezon’s music on solo harp is a special joy. BREWER C ASELLA: Concerto for Orchestra; A Notte Alta; Symphonic Fragments from La Donna Serpente Martin Roscoe, p; BBC Philharmonic/ Gianandrea Noseda Chandos 10712—73 minutes The Concerto for Orchestra is big, sometimes dour, sometimes busy, sometimes pretty, but far from memorable. Mengelberg commissioned it and performed it in 1938; this is the first recording. Casella’s style is mid-century Mediterranean, but with a little Hindemithian angularity. A Notte Alta (In Deepest Night) was written for solo piano in 1917, and orchestrated (with a solo piano part) in 1921. It is more interesting and has some spooky, positively psychedelic moments. Still, it’s more wind than earth, water, or fire. The Symphonic Fragments from La Donna Serpente open with the music that accompanies King Altidor’s dream, and that track is by far the best thing on the release, steamy and languid. La Donna Serpente is an opera from late in Casella’s career; he wanted to write something similar to The Magic Flute, September/October 2012 and it has both comedy and magic in it. It’s far better than what’s come before; but still, if I’m going to listen to mid-century Mediterranean, I’ll take Pizzetti (J/F 2010) or CastelnuovoTedesco (M/A 2011). This simply isn’t of the same caliber. Notes in English, German, and French; Chandos sound. ESTEP C ASTELLO: Sonatas; FONTANA: Sonatas John Holloway, v; Lars Ulrik Mortensen, hpsi; Jane Gower, dulcian ECM 16622—71 minutes An ancestor of the bassoon, the dulcian was prized in 17th-Century ensembles as a virtuoso instrument that was much more portable than the bass stringed instruments, and whose characteristic sound also cut through musical textures better. In the same time period, combining string and wind instruments into “mixed” consorts became very popular, and bass instruments took on independent roles far beyond simply providing the lowest notes under the rest of the music. In the booklet notes, violinist John Holloway comments on his long association with Castello’s music (solo sonatas) and describes his enthusiasm at having “found the dulcian player with the necessary virtuosity and musicality for a proper exploration of the even more wonderful trios”. The combination of three excellent players here brings these very fine compositions to life: by turns the music dances, sings, bewitches, and ennobles. The program of 13 pieces is very well selected and sequenced, with a strict alternation of sonatas for solo violin and for violin and dulcian. Two sets of three sonatas by Dario Castello (published in 1621 and 1629) frame seven by Giovanni Battista Fontana (1641). John Holloway and harpsichordist Lars Ulrik Mortensen are both very well known, and I am glad to hear the Australian dulcian player Jane Gower for the first time. There are no bios with the CD, but from online research I found that she studied at the Canberra School of Music, then at the Royal Conservatory at The Hague, and since 2007 she has taught at the Royal College of Music in London. She plays with a sweetness and beauty that is remarkable, both in the highest and lowest registers, with a rich singing tone that is a delight to hear. C MOORE American Record Guide CASTELNUOVO-TEDESCO: Guitar Concerto 1; Quintet; Romancero Gitano Giulio Tampalini, g; Polifonico Castelbarco Chorus; Bolzano Haydn Orchestra/ Luigi Azzolini Concerto 2072—64 minutes First, the good news. The quintet and Romancero Gitano are among the best performances I’ve heard, and are first choices of the available performances. There are few competitors in these works, but this is not faint praise. Tampalini has the composer’s sunny, evocative, and lush style in his bones; and he delivers magnificent performances. The quintet was written for Segovia, and his performance is still available on Decca, but the sound is poor and the quartet less than ideal. Then there’s the Yamashita-Tokyo Quartet, now unavailable. The quartet can’t be beat, if you can endure Yamashita’s playing. Romancero Gitano is an odd but beautiful work for guitar and chorus, on the poetry of Garcia Lorca. There are several performances available, but the only one I know is Romuald Erenc on Acte Preable. He delivers a lovely performance, but the chorus is a bit thin, and the rest of the program consists of several a cappella choral works from the 20th Century, not of much interest to guitar or Castelnuovo fans. Tampalini’s chorus is really lovely, and his recorded sound is better. That brings us to the concerto. He takes an approach I’d call Castelnuovo-lite. He perceives the work as more neo-classical than neo-romantic, and much of the gorgeous lushness is missing. The magical II is ruined by short articulations of passages that should sing. If any sonority of the guitar can be considered massive, it’s the second movement cadenza, but not in Tampalini’s performance. And the unstoppable momentum of III is held back—surely by choice, since he has a real virtuoso technique. One aspect of his performance is interesting—he plays the work, as nearly as I can tell, exactly as it’s written. Those short notes in II are actually in the score, though it’s not clear exactly how they should be realized. One might assume that playing the score as written might be, well, assumed; but this composer’s music for guitar always relied on a guitarist, usually Segovia, to edit it. Indeed, the Maestro makes many alterations in the solo part for his performances of the concerto. I once had a manuscript copy of those changes, and I wrote about the various versions (and suggested a compromise) in American String Teacher 1994, No. 2. Perhaps the composer would appreciate such fidelity, but he was delighted at Segovia’s performances and never complained that his 81 strongly romantic interpretation violated his intent. Perhaps I’m being unfair: I performed the work about a year ago, and I have a totally different conception. The notes, by musicologist and composer Angelo Gilardino, make a thorough case for this approach, but I don’t find it convincing. He even mentions a different arrangement of the orchestral instruments as support for his revision, though I’ve never encountered that, and there’s no mention of it in the conductor’s score. Those notes, by the way, get the award for Smallest Type Ever Used. Why get such thorough, excellent notes and present them in type that one needs a magnifying glass to read? Still, the rest of the program is compelling, and it’s all excellent music. If you’re a guitar lover, you probably already have a reading from Pepe Romero on Philips or John Williams on Sony, both magnificent. My favorite, despite the poor sound, is Segovia in an EMI collection (M/A 2009). It’s not the later one released on Decca, and it’s one of the most joyous readings I’ve ever encountered. It’s on a three-disc set of the Maestro at his prime, well worth seeking out. KEATON CASTELNUOVO-TEDESCO: all Organ Pieces, Livia Mazzanti Aeolus 10541 [SACD] 64 minutes This is the first time all of Mario CastelnuovoTedesco’s organ music, written while he lived in America, has appeared on one release. The Introduction, Air, and Fugue has the most unfugue-like fugue I’ve ever heard, but when there’s so much good humor and even rascality, who cares! The Sacred Service for the Sabbath Eve is sober yet dramatic; the ‘Adoration (Borechu)’ theme sounds a little like a 1950s sentimental organ piece, though, with its romantic melody and unusual registrations. (The organ is the Kleuker & Steinmeyer of the Tonhalle in Zurich.) ‘Invocation (Shema Yisrael)’ is intense and prayerful—I’m no expert on Jewish liturgical music, but C-T captures well the feeling without using stereotypically Jewish harmonies or lines like a cantor would sing. In fact, some of his harmonies, especially in ‘Silent Devotion’, are downright impressionist. The two preludes based on 12-tone rows are almost more tonal than the other pieces! The ‘Prelude on the Name of Frederick Tulan’ is almost shorter than its title—the harmonies meander, and rhythmically it sounds completely improvised. Other of the organ pieces have that same characteristic, and it’s unusual to hear the harmonies connecting what the 82 rhythms dismantle. The ‘Fugue on the Name of Albert Schweitzer’ is again barely fugal, but, wow, is it a deep, blustery piece—very virtuosic. Prayers My Grandfather Wrote are six preludes based on a theme by Bruto Senigaglia, CT’s maternal grandfather, who persuaded Mario’s mother to teach him music on the sly for a year (his father, a banker, didn’t like the idea of having an artist in the family). The Prayers are less disjunct than the other pieces. Mazzanti plays everything exceedingly well, with colorful registration choices, and the sound is terrific. Notes in English, French, Italian, and German, with several pictures— including one of our composer with VillaLobos, Villa-Lobos’s wife Arminda, Edmund Grainger, Willard Coe, and a distracted, bemused-looking Audrey Hepburn. ESTEP C ASTELNUOVO-TEDESCO: Piano Concertos; 4 Dances from Love’s Labour’s Lost Alessandro Marangoni, p; Malmo Symphony/ Andrew Mogrelia Naxos 572823—77 minutes Mario Castelnuovo-Tedesco’s two piano concertos, in G minor (1927) and F (1936-37) are solid half-hour pieces. They have to be about the most cheerful pieces by anyone written in those ten years! 1:I is so vivacious, in fact, that it sounds like the third movement of a piece instead of a first movement. I loved the recordings of his Shakespeare Overtures (Naxos, M/A 2011); the organ works (above) show a more pensive side, but these concertos are sheer sunshine and lazy afternoons. II leans more toward mere pleasantness—the melodies aren’t terribly original, but the mood is what counts. I have to temper my enthusiasm slightly now: 2:I is more gestures and flourishes than themes. It’s still enjoyable to listen to overall, but there isn’t a memorable melody, as there should be, especially in the piano part. II stretches its material a little thin. These probably aren’t better known because the piano writing isn’t that meaty. Lovely as the music can be, they’re more poems than concertos in the usual sense. The Dances are forgettable. Sound and playing are excellent; notes in English. ESTEP C ATOIRE: Piano Concerto; SHERWOOD: Piano Concerto 2 Hiroaki Takenouchi; Scottish National Orchestra/ Martin Yates Dutton 7287—67 minutes Though very different, these concertos have an important similarity—they’re good. Georgy September/October 2012 Catoire (1861-1926), descended from a family of French businessmen, was born and died in Moscow. He began as a science student, but his musical ability gained the support of Tchaikovsky. He eventually taught at the University of Moscow, and his most famous student was Dmitri Kabalevsky. On paper his 1909 concerto looks lopsided, movement I consuming 19 of its 33 minutes. The episodic construction of that movement reduces that impression. Although very much in the grand line of Rachmaninoff concertos, the music rarely sounds Russian. Written a generation earlier than the Sherwood, it’s more advanced harmonically. Catoire uses the piano more as a concertante instrument; as soloist Takenouchi writes, it’s the orchestra that often drives the argument. Though most of the movement is splashy, it ends pensively. II is more coherent, balancing ornament and melody. III begins in an exuberant vein, but grows more tranquil before regaining power. The conclusion recaps the theme from I in a blaze of glory. Percy Sherwood (1866-1939) had an English father, but came from Dresden, Germany. He was a Felix Draeseke student, and when he himself began teaching, one of his students was the Croatian female composer Dora Pejacevic. Her fine symphony is on CPO (Sept/Oct 2011). Sherwood’s output includes, in addition to the two concertos, five symphonies. He moved to London in 1914, but his work became increasingly out of style and he died there all but forgotten. His Concerto 2 (1932-33) in the 1930s must have seemed positively atavistic. Takenouchi, I think rightly, observes that such questions don’t bother us now as much as they used to. It’s a more organized, compact work. The unison opening gesture harks back to Rubinstein, preparing an elaborate piano entry. Its development includes plenty of two against three rhythms, and for once the cadenza is musically intelligent, rather than sounding like Czerny finger drills on steroids. It actually contributes to, and drives, the musical narrative. II has a more lyrical, charming theme. III moves along in a fleet 6/8 meter, demanding a light touch. Its construction is so compact that the movement sounds monothematic, even though there is a second theme. The performances are excellent. Takenouchi’s skill and, as important, his belief in the music makes him a convincing advocate. Yates and the RNSO capably abet a worthy enterprise. O’CONNOR American Record Guide CAVALLI: Giasone Christophe Dumaux (Giasone), Katarina Bradic (Medea), Robin Johannsen (Isifile), Emilio Pons (Egeo, Sole), Andrew Ashwin (Ercole, Oreste), Josef Wagner (Besso, Giove), Filippo Adami (Demo); Flemish Opera/ Federico Maria Sardelli Dynamic 663 [3CD] 191 minutes Francesco Cavalli (1602-76) was perhaps the most famous opera composer of his century and the leading exponent of the Venetian operatic idiom. Giasone’s composition and production (1649) dates about one-third of the way into his massive output. It was among the most popular and often revived of his 30-odd operas. Its libretto is an unbelievable massacre of the ancient myth of Jason and the Argonauts. The action is scrambled and compressed. Scored inappropriately for a castrato, Jason (Giasone) is already the father of twins by an island queen, Hypsipyle (Isifile), whom he seduced on the way to claim the Golden Fleece. He has since had a twin-producing romance with Medea in Colchis. Isifile turns up to claim Giasone, creating a set of problems and choices for him. Hercules (Ercole) has a small but proper appearance, while Isifile’s supporter Orestes might be thought to have wandered in from another mythological cycle. Aegeus (Egeo), King of Athens, is brought in prematurely as a suitor for Medea, totally at odds with his mythic place much later in her extended story. Here, Medea is thrown into the sea (mistakenly, but don’t ask) and rescued by Egeo, with whom she decides to pair off forthwith, while Giasone is (reluctantly or otherwise) sent back to Isifile. Along the way, Medea has a parodistic incantation scene. Some agitated deities argue in the Prologue and butt in in the middle act. As can be seen, as a treatment of venerable mythology this opera is a farce. And it was so intended. It becomes an excuse not only for high-jinx among the leading characters, but for gimmicks involving Venetian theatrical conventions among the lesser roles. These include the stuttering-hunchback tenor role of the servant Demo and the high-tenor travesty role of Delfa, Medea’s nurse. Oh, and there is a comically mis-matched couple—the rough officer Besso and the scheming attendant Alinda— who get together for an ending of their own, probably of the Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf variety. (Oreste had been loving Alinda without success; what happens to him then is not made clear—and perhaps that’s for the best.) Recordings are only belatedly exploring Cavalli’s seminal operatic legacy, which requires a lot of editorial intervention. This Dynamic recording is only the second one 83 accorded the important Giasone. The first was a trail-blazer put together by Rene Jacobs for Harmonia Mundi (901282, 3CD: M/J 1989). In retrospect, that can be seen as a forerunner to Jacobs’s later opera recordings, marked by both exciting insights and textual liberties. He does some cutting, and he interpolates a few things, some of them his own. But he has the benefit of a sterling cast that is almost a who’swho of early-music singers, of the Christie school and beyond. Gloria Banditelli and Michael Chance are solid as Medea and Giasone. Catherine Dubosc is the pleading Isifile, while the expert likes of Dominique Visse, Agnes Mellon, Guy de Mey, Bernard Deletre, and Harry van der Kamp are all solid assets. But Gianpaolo Fagotto is simply hilarious as the stammering Demo, all but stealing the show. Against this Sardelli makes a brave showing. Like Jacobs, he makes some cuts and includes pieces of his own among the instrumental interpolations. (An example is a fake ciaccona used as the Act III finale, complete with his own recorder tootling.) On the whole, though, Sardelli presents a responsible and reliable performing edition of the opera. All of his singers are equal to their roles, but they lack the personality and polish of their Harmonia Mundi rivals. Dumaux, an admired countertenor makes a good show in the title role, and Bradic, if sometimes a bit shrill, is a serious and distinctive Medea. Soprano Johannsen plays the ingenue card in portraying the whining, pleading Isifile. Adami falls a little short of Fagotto but is a genuinely funny Demo, making all the stuttering jokes work well. Thus, while falling short of the Jacobs team in comparison, this is still an able cast that puts itself intently into the action and music. The performance was a public one in Antwerp in May 2010. The extensive theater noises indicate a lot of movement, and audience reactions testify to much fun and enjoyment. But this release is ruined by Dynamic’s irresponsible packaging. The slender multilingual booklet gives inadequate track lists, a tiny background essay, and hopelessly skimpy synopses. No libretto. Now, this opera’s action is complicated and constantly shifting. The synopses do not tell you all that is going on from one scene to another. You must have the full libretto to have any idea of what is happening, or what characters (and, thus, which singers) are involved. Dynamic is issuing a video counterpart to this audio releases, so that might help sort out the action a bit. On the evidence here, Sardelli should sue! BARKER 84 CHABRIER: Le Roi Malgré Lui Gino Quilico (Henri), Peter Jeffes (Count Nangis), Jean-Philippe Lafont (Duke Fritelli), Barbara Hendricks (Minka), Isabel Garcisanz (Alexina); Radio France Philharmonic/ Charles Dutoit Warner 6213 [2CD] 143 minutes In his review of this recording (Jan/Feb 1993, on Erato), Lee Milazzo called Le Roi “the peak of Chabrier’s art. Its irresistible rhythms, startling but by no means grotesque harmonies, and often memorable melodies both look to the past and anticipate the future.” Ravel himself declared, “I would rather have written Le Roi Malgré Lui than The Ring.” It’s really a lovely opera, and its music transcends the inane libretto. (Modern directors have tended to rewrite it entirely.) The reluctant king of the title is Henry of Valois, pressed by his mother Catherine de Medici to accept the crown of Poland in 1574. Henry poses as a courtier, and predictable complications ensue. In the end, he keeps the woman he loves and decides it’s good to be king after all. The opera was first performed in 1887 and revived in 1888, with some revisions. Dutoit uses a combination of the two scores but omits all the spoken dialog, which makes the story even more confusing. His performance is a fine one, and the cast is superb, especially Gino Quilico (a Canadian) as a sleek Henry. Jeffes (an Englishman) and Hendricks (an American) do well in their important roles. She has the necessary coloratura skills for the ‘Chanson Tzigane’, and he rises to the rapture of their final duet. Isabel Garcisanz is lovely as Henry’s love interest, Alexina. Dutoit, his chorus, and orchestra convey both the grandeur of the score and its quirky originality. Warner supplies a good synopsis but no libretto. If you’re curious about Le Roi (and it’s worth investigating), this is the only CD recording available, and it does justice to the music. LUCANO CHARPENTIER: Motets for 3 Men’s Voices Magnificat; Beata est Maria; Veni Creator; Salve Regina; Ad Beatam Virginem Hodie Salus; O Bone Jesu; Laudate Dominum; Litanies for the Virgin; instrumental pieces Vincent Lievre-Picard, ct; Sebastien Obrecht, t; Jean-Manuel Candenot, b; Les Passions/ JeanMarc Andrieu Ligia 202233—57 minutes When Marc-Antoine Charpentier (1643-1704) returned to Paris from his studies in Rome in the late 1660s, he entered the service of the Duchess of Guise, where he remained until her death in 1688. The preponderance of the immense quantity of sacred vocal music he September/October 2012 wrote for her chapel and the Church of Mercy found near her residence is for small ensembles, essentially sacred chamber music. The works on this recording are from an important sub-set of that output: music for a trio of men’s voices with instrumental accompaniment. Some of the pieces here are settings of standard liturgical texts: ‘Magnificat’, ‘Veni Creator’, ‘Salve Regina’, ‘Laudate Dominum’. Others are more specific to the institutions that Charpentier served. For example ‘Beata est Maria’ comes from the Office of the Redemption of Captives, a liturgy peculiar to the Church of Mercy. ‘O Bone Jesu’ was probably written in celebration of a victory of Louis XIV in the Alsace campaign of 1675-76. The king is named in the text of the motet. One of the most remarkable pieces here is the Magnificat (H 73) that opens the program. The entire canticle text is projected over 89 repetitions of a four-note descending ground bass. The degree of melodic freedom and breadth of phrasing Charpentier is able to achieve under this structural constraint is quite amazing. The performances are very fine. My first impression of the three singers was that their delivery is not so much churchly as in a style appropriate for baroque opera. This is quite likely the effect the composer had in mind. They work well together as a tightly-knit solo vocal ensemble. The period instrument accompaniments leave nothing to be desired in technical polish. The baroque orchestra Les Passions was formed in 1986 by recorder player Jean-Marc Andrieu, who both plays and directs in the present recording. There are nine players. Over the years, thanks in large part to ARG, I have amassed a fair collection of recordings of sacred works by Charpentier, and my regard for this composer has grown as a result. Like so much of his output, the works presented here reflect the influence of his studies in Italy, preeminently with Carissimi; but in Charpentier’s hands the Italian idiom speaks with a decidedly French accent, giving his music a distinctive flavor. It is worth noting that only one of the vocal pieces and two of the brief instrumental pieces in this program are duplicated in other recordings from my collection. I think it a safe guess that many of them qualify as rarities, and admirers of the composer’s music will not go wrong in acquiring this. Texts are given in the original Latin with French but not English translation. GATENS American Record Guide CHERUBINI: Piano Sonatas Francesco Giammarco Newton 8802120—67:25 Luigi Cherubini’s six piano sonatas were composed with the increasing popularity of the piano in Florence. Composers developed a lucrative market composing music that showed off the technical capabilities of this new instrument. Cherubini’s sonatas are well suited for the development of dexterity and dynamic variation in amateur players. Giammarco has produced a competent recording of pieces that, while not unpleasant, lack anything outstanding. It is apparent from the start that Giammarco may be trying to emulate the sound of a fortepiano by aiming for a crisp sound with minimal pedaling. But his approach lacks fluidity. This is especially apparent in the Alberti bass left hand of the Sonata No. 1 in F, which sounds choppy. These failings aside, his performance of the Rondo is energetic and lively, and shows that he has an ear for dynamic shadings—a must in performing pieces with such a light aesthetic. The crisp touch he employs, while almost too dry, is well suited to these instances. The dynamic nuances in Sonata No. 3 are well controlled, though his passagework here and in other places is disappointingly uneven. These are works that would otherwise have little opportunity to be recorded or performed. There are buzzing noises scattered through the recording that mar an otherwise pleasant enterprise. KANG C HILCOTT: Requiem; Salisbury Motets; Downing Service; 3 Carols Laurie Ashworth, s; Andrew Staples, t; Jonathan Vaughn, org; Nash Ensemble; Wells Cathedral Choir/ Matthew Owens Hyperion 67650—80 minutes Bob Chilcott (b 1955) was a chorister and later an undergraduate choral scholar at King’s College, Cambridge, where he sang under the direction of Sir David Willcocks. For 12 years he sang tenor with the King’s Singers. It is not surprising that this background has given him an insider’s ability to write effectively for voices. The principal work here is the Requiem (2010), the result of a joint commission from the Oxford Bach Choir, Preston Hollow Presbyterian Church in Dallas, and Music at Oxford. In contrast with the Requiems by Herbert Howells and John Rutter, Chilcott takes his texts from the liturgical Missa pro Defunctis with the insertion of the funeral sentence “Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts” 85 from the Book of Common Prayer. It is meant to serve both as a concert piece and a liturgical setting. It is scored for soprano and tenor soloists, choir, organ, and an instrumental ensemble of flute, oboe, clarinet, horn, and timpani. When Chilcott was in the choir at King’s, the Fauré and Duruflé Requiems were sung in alternate years. The experience of singing this music as a boy left a profound impression on him. Judging from Jonathan Wikeley’s program notes that quote extensively from the composer, the Fauré Requiem left the stronger impression and directly influenced the writing of the new work. Both the Fauré and Duruflé Requiems could be described as contemplative rather than dramatic. but where Duruflé seems to be pondering mysterious and eternal verities from a perspective of great spiritual depth, Fauré gives us a series of exquisitely crafted meditations that are very touching but comparatively earth-bound. Duruflé took Fauré as his chief model, but Duruflé’s music grows from the material and ethos of plainsong, which gives it an otherworldliness not to be found in Fauré or Chilcott. In speaking of Chilcott’s “interest in the human side of religion”, Wikeley quotes the composer’s view of the funeral sentence from the Prayer Book: “It has none of that idea of revenge, it’s just about one human saying ‘Here I am, Lord, with all my faults: be decent to me’.” I think that is very revealing in that it almost trivializes a text that expresses the human soul’s awareness of mortality with a deeply penitential acknowledgement of its own unworthiness. Chilcott’s music seems to grow more from sensibility than conviction, as if he is telling a gently sad story—sad, not tragic or numinous—where one can be casual and chummy with God. He seems squeamish about “words that define God as vengeful”, so it is hardly surprising that his Requiem does not include the Dies Irae or Libera Me. If I were to turn on the radio and hear this music without knowing who wrote it, my first guess would be John Rutter, but there are also shades of Ennio Morricone in the slow harmonic progressions and tempos. The Salisbury Motets are from a larger work, the Salisbury Vespers (2009), written for a choral festival that included more than 500 singers. The greater part of the work consists of large-scale psalm settings, but these four Marian motets are inserted between the psalms. The Downing Service (2009), a setting of the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis, was written for Camilla Godlee, organ scholar of Downing College, Cambridge. The three carols (2010) that conclude the program were commissioned by Philip Brunelle for the Plymouth Congregational Church in Minneapolis. They 86 are settings of texts by Kevin Crossley-Holland (b 1941). The performances are splendid in every respect, and the recorded sound lives up to the lofty standard we have come to expect from Hyperion. All of these works are recorded here for the first time. GATENS CHISHOLM: Piano Concertos 1+2 Danny Driver, BBC Scottish Symphony/ Rory Macdonald Hyperion 67880—69 minutes Having reviewed a few volumes of Chisholm’s piano music in these pages, and finding them mostly less than satisfactory, I was pleased to find a few of his orchestral works making a better impression. Now we have his piano concertos, and they do show impressive facility in handling larger structures. Piano Concerto 1 is called Piobaireachd— pipe music. It definitely has the sound of the Scottish highlands, at least of the bagpipers practicing their skills. The opening movement is based on short rhythmic motifs that remind me a bit of Beethoven’s Symphony 7 (first movement). It almost outstays its welcome, but a contrasting lyrical and somewhat impressionist theme enters and brings the movement to a tranquil close. II is an aggressive Scottish dance with a continuance of strong rhythms. It’s most enjoyable, and Holst comes to mind as the theme grows more elephantine. By contrast, the following Adagio picks at scabs of motifs that intertwine between piano and orchestra. It’s fascinating to listen to, and clearly shows Chisholm to be his own man, with a highly individual way of writing. This is clearly the heart of the concerto. The last movement begins as a reel but soon starts to deconstruct as Chisholm uses every compositional trick to lend interest to his frenzied tour-de-force. It’s all quite wonderful, but hardly the kind of piece one would want to hear when the objective is relaxation. Bartok’s Piano Concerto 2 came to mind a few times, though this is in no way imitative of the Bartok. Concerto 2 Hindustani completed in 1949 is the more modern-sounding work. The long first movement (over 15 minutes) has a manic drive to it and pursues its fierce argument with an almost expressionist abandon. There is little that one would relate to Hindu sounds, though the notes speak of the Raga as a melody type, rather than a tune. It is definitely not pretty music, nor should that be any criterion for its quality. If you enjoy the Carlos Chavez Concerto, you may enjoy this as well. The Theme and Variations Andante is full of September/October 2012 angst and unsettling sonorities. It is soon interrupted by a faster variation that continues to drive the music relentlessly forward. The concluding ‘Rondo Burlesca’ lets its hair down a bit for some short-lived levity. Finally the drive continues as the super busy music spins its web. Like some vicious spider waiting to devour you, it whirls you around, engulfs you in super-strong filament, and waits for the right time to come back and partake of its feast. John Purser’s excellent notes speculate that Sorabji would have been thrilled by the music, and well he might. In all of this difficult music, Danny Driver keeps things moving while performing prodigious pianistic feats. While it is doubtful that another pianist will come along to challenge this one soon, the gauntlet has definitely been thrown down. Scottish conductor Rory Macdonald and the BBC Scottish Orchestra cover themselves with glory. I am not quite sure that I’m ready to begin traveling down the Chisholm trail, but I will certainly be listening to this recording several more times. It is time to give it a rest while I check my blood pressure. BECKER CHOPIN: Piano Pieces Polonaise in E-flat minor; Waltzes opp posth, 34:2, 64:3; Ballade 2; Preludes 10,11,13; Fantasy; Nocturne, Op. 55:2; Mazurkas, opp 7:1, 50:3; Scherzo 2 Janina Fialkowska ATMA 2666—76 minutes Janina Fialkowska is a French-Canadian pianist, born in Montreal circa 1958 (the exact year is tough to pin down) who first obtained recognition internationally by winning the Arthur Rubinstein competition in 1974. She is truly an accomplished pianist if these performances are typical, for I cannot hear a single wrong note or smudged passage in the entire recital. Her playing tends to the staccato, with little legato, smoothness, or relaxation that I can hear, which makes her style metallically brilliant, though not wholly lacking nuance or other expressive content. She can be viewed as an antiparticle to Alfred Cortot, who is in the same music supple, flexible, and legato to a fault. Her tempos are generally well chosen, however, and do not get in the way of Chopin’s expressive intent. The program covers a wide spectrum of the composer’s works. Though I wish she had included some of my favorites (like the splendid little waltz, Op. 64:2) her choice is wideranging. The Mazurka Op. 7:1, titled Notre Temps, for example, was Chopin’s contribution to a series commissioned by the Mainz American Record Guide publishing firm of Schott, works representing “our time” published in 1855. The recorded sound is brilliant to a fault, with admirable clarity and definition, though seriously lacking hall resonance and ambiance of any kind. It thus occupies its own space, with no sonic hint of any surroundings. In summary, this sonically and musically brilliant collection lacks warmth, suppleness, and richness of sound and expression. Extensive musical and historical notes are supplied. MCKELVEY CHOPIN: Piano Pieces 6 Mazurkas, 6 Nocturnes, 4 Waltzes, 1 Impromptus, 1 Etude Byron Janis EMI 2898—77 minutes This release offers stereo recordings originally made in 1996 and 1999 and previously released on EMI labels. Byron Janis is not only a fellow Pittsburgher, but also a near-contemporary of your reviewer. Unfortunately, our relationship ends there, for I have never seen him or heard him play, other than on records. He was a great artist, a phenomenal pianist at the outset, but he suffered from persistent arthritis for most of his career. The performances presented here were recorded when he was around age 70, and they appear to reflect many of the physical limitations of the later phases of his career. This is not to suggest that they are in any sense technically flawed; indeed they are absolutely note-perfect. But they are cautious and somewhat reserved, perfect but unassuming and artistically anonymous. The Valse Brilliante Op. 18 is a good example; it is first of all an early edition, one discovered only recently in the archives of Yale University. It is brilliant, but not technically on the level of Chopin’s end product, which has a more scintillating and more difficult conclusion. MCKELVEY COPLAND: Appalachian Spring; see CRESTON CORELLI: 12 Violin Sonatas, op 5 Trio Corelli Bridge 9371 [2CD] 126 minutes These famous forerunners of Vivaldi’s violin sonatas and concertos have been recorded a number of times, but not a large number of the releases are still easily obtainable. The last time I reviewed a set of these (Sept/Oct 2006) one of the most reliable and well loved recordings, by Monica Huggett, appeared to be deleted. I am happy to report that it is once again available (S/O 1990). The Hyperion set with 87 Elizabeth Wallfisch (M/J 1991) is still available also, as it was re-released in 2004. I quite liked the set that occasioned my 2006 review, and it is still available. I liked it because of the full sound, as more than three instruments were used. Because it is an import, though, and SACD, it is very expensive. Another set that should be mentioned here is the complete Corelli released by Brilliant a few years back (N/D 2005). I can say without hesitation that if the current release were the only set I had, I would be quite content. There are just three musicians playing violin, archlute or theorbo, and organ. But the organ offers a warm and full continuo, and the combination of organ with both plucked and bowed strings yields a pleasing texture. In addition, the performances are lively and even sprightly sometimes—energetic and creative. Listeners who pay attention to embellishments may be interested to know that ornaments believed to have originated with Corelli are used for the church sonatas, and the musicians added their own embellishment for the chamber sonatas, except for No. 9, where they used Geminiani’s ornaments. Another consideration here is the price: this is a two-disc set for the price of one. CRAWFORD COUPERIN: Apotheoses Ricercar Consort/ Philippe Pierlot Mirare 150—67 minutes In 1724, François Couperin published Les Gouts-reünis (The Reunited Tastes), a musical manifesto that the different styles of French and Italian music could be combined. Following the ten suites of the Nouveaux Concerts (a continuation of his earlier Concerts Royaux), Couperin raised the deity of the foremost Italian instrumental composer in Le Parnasse ou L’Apotheose de Corelli, a collection of programmatic pieces, each subtitled with some event in the elevation of Arcangelo Corelli to Mount Parnassus. The following year, Couperin paid equal homage to the foremost “French” composer in a separate publication, Concert Instrumental sous le titre D’Apotheose Composé a la memoire immortelle de l’incomparable Monsieur de Lully. This was also a collection of character pieces, honoring Jean-Baptiste Lully, who is given Apollo’s “violon” and invited by Corelli to join with him in a trio sonata. Both of these works are important expressions of extra-musical meaning in the baroque and documents of the changing tastes in 18th Century French music. There have been a number of recordings for both over the years, and this new release by the Ricercar Consort is a distinguished addition. Among the earlier ones are the 1973 Seon 88 recording by the Kuijkens and colleagues (released on CD as Pro Arte 254 in 1987), John Eliot Gardiner and the English Baroque soloists (Erato 45011, 1990), and London Baroque (BIS 1275, 2003); unfortunately, I haven’t heard the complete recording of Couperin’s chamber music by Musica ad Rhenum (Jan/Feb 2006). One aspect that is common to three of these recordings (not Gardiner’s) is the reading of the titles for each of the movements. While apparently a common practice, it is most doubtful that this was Couperin’s intention, since at least two movements in the Apotheosis of Corelli are to be played attacca; in the London Baroque recording the narration is actually spoken over the music. The more difficult comparison is how each of these groups responds to the subtleties of Couperin’s united musical tastes. The least satisfactory is Gardiner (though his is the only recording I know without narration), whose players lack the elan I would expect in French music. But each of the remaining three readings is very strong. The London Baroque takes a minimal approach: two violins, viola da gamba, and continuo (even though Couperin’s preferred instrumentation for the ‘Lamentations’ of Lully’s detractors is two flutes—the composer did allow for the substitution of violins), but the music and rhythm are phrased with great subtlety. The new release by the Ricercar Consort is more elaborately scored, adding two flutes and a theorbo to the texture. The exquisite use of “notes inegales” and the effective contrasts between flutes and violins gives this recording a slight edge. What was astonishing to me as I prepared this review was how this same elegance was evident in the older recording by the Kuijkens, though they also added two oboes and a bassoon to the strings and flutes. What I would really have wished is for at least one of these recordings to have left out the narration. BREWER COUPERIN: Premier Livre Davitt Moroney, hpsi Plectra 21201 [3CD] 231 minutes Moroney has recorded the entire Pieces de Clavecin, Book 1 (1713) of Francois Couperin. He appends preludes from Couperin’s Art de Toucher le Clavecin to each ordre (suites and dances grouped by key; Moroney explains the Italian origin of this word in the liner notes). He has also included a free-standing Sicilienne in G at the end of the first ordre. The piece was published in 1707 by Ballard and is also found in several manuscripts. Although he has doubts about its authenticity, he lavishes the September/October 2012 same care on it as he does all the other music here and delivers a compelling and nuanced performance. He is as at home with the harpsichord’s “standard repertoire” as he is with little-known music. His recording of music from the Borel Manuscript (Plectra, N/D 2008) attests to this versatility. He records here on two of the finest extant antique harpsichords, built by Nicolas Dumont (Paris, 1707) and Ioannes Ruckers (Antwerp, 1627). The instruments are in a private USA collection and were restored by John Phillips of Berkeley. The Dumont harpsichord appears on the first two discs (Ordres 1-3). The sound of both 8-foot stops together is magnificent. The 8-foot stops played separately offer more subtle pleasures. In the first Courante of the Third Ordre, a piercing drone in the alto register reveals the instrument’s complex decay. In the Minuet of the same ordre, Moroney alternates between the two eightfoot stops, like the violin and oboe sections of a dance orchestra. The sound of the Ruckers harpsichord is deep and full-bodied. The sound of the tenor and bass registers together in ‘La Flore’ (Fifth Ordre) is particularly effective on the instrument. Moroney has cultivated sweetness of tone and smoothness of line in his playing. A piece like ‘Les Baccanales’ (Fourth Ordre) risks sounding hokey without a sensitive, vocal approach. In his hands, the piece seems to speak and sing all at once. This effect is achieved by extremes of legato and staccato touch. The contrast creates the feeling of language, complete with vowels and consonants. His liner notes add immensely to the overall experience of the recording. In particular, the inclusion of Nicholas Siret’s dedication to Couperin, from his first book of harpsichord pieces, goes a long way in bringing the composer to life in our time. Siret (1663-1754) was a close friend of Couperin. He remarks, “How many times have I heard you called by people in our profession their protector, their father!” Though no one in our time will have the pleasure of knowing the “perfect honest man” that Siret speaks of, I suspect that more than a few harpsichordists and harpsichord builders today proudly claim Couperin le Grand as an artistic father. KATZ COZZOLANI: Psalms; PERUCONA: Motets Hanover Girls Choir & Hofkapelle/ Gudrun Schrofel Rondeau 6020—59 minutes Visitors to 17th-Century Milan lavished praise on the famous nuns there, renowned for composing and performing music of the highest American Record Guide caliber. Chiara Margarita Cozzolani (1602c1677) not only was a leading composer, but also the abbess of her convent. The six largescale psalm settings in this program all come from her 1650 publication Salmi A Otto Voci Concertati. The pieces are glorious, and very well performed by the Hanover Girls Choir, an adult female vocal quintet (four are alumnae of the same girls choir), and the Hanover Hofkapelle instrumental ensemble. The contrasting timbres and styles of the two vocal groups enrich the interpretation: the five solo singers use their mature voices and skillful ensemble experience to supply character and expression; and the girls—teens and young adults, not little children—are in a large ensemble (likely 70-80 voices judging from the photograph in the booklet) and therefore don’t need to force their voices or over-sing to supply the considerable volume needed in this music. Whether the larger or the smaller group sings a particular passage is up to the conductor (not specified in the score), and Gudrun Schrofel’s choices here attest to her mastery of the idiom and skill at using variety to good effect. Often there is a style difference too, with the girls singing more of a staccato articulation and in exact time and the solo ensemble more legato with a greater flexibility of tempo and pulse. Very little is known about the other composer here, Maria Xaviera Perucona (1652-99), “who left behind a print of her music in the Ursuline convent of Galaite in 1675”. Two Perucona motets are in this program: the first, ‘Gaude Plaude’, is a tribute to St Ursula for solo soprano; the second, ‘O Superbi Mundi Machina’, a reflection on the fleeting and empty vanity of the world’s pomp and wondrous grandeur for soprano, mezzo, and alto. All the music here is extremely well performed. The Hofkapelle is a large ensemble of strings and winds, with a range of colors to complement the vocal forces. In Cozzolani’s ‘Beatus Vir Qui Timet Dominum’ (Psalm 112) active bass figures drive the music forward in the fine choral opening section; and in a later passage, notes are scattered across the voice parts in effective depictions of the “dispersit” text. In ‘Gloria In Altissimis Deo’ (paraphrase of St Luke, Chapter 2) the solo singers—as individual shepherds and angels—are accompanied by a delicate combination of dulcian and lute, with the choir coming in at the end as the angelic host, with exuberant alleluias and then a beautifully tapered diminuendo closing. Notes, bios, texts, translations. You may need to experiment with your playback volume so that both the large choir and the soloist ensemble come through well. The Magnificat ensemble, singing one voice to a part, has 89 released fine programs of music by Cozzolani (Musica Omnia 103, M/J 2002; 209, N/D 2002; 401, N/D 2010), and I praised a vespers performed by the Orlando Di Lasso ensemble (Thor 2461, M/A 2003). DANIELPOUR: Symphony 3; First Light; Awakened Heart Faith Esham, p; Seattle Symphony & Chorale/ Gerard Schwarz Naxos 559712—66 minutes C MOORE C RESTON: Symphony 3; COPLAND: Appalachian Spring Suite; Symphonic Ode Seattle Symphony/ Gerard Schwarz Naxos 571203—70 minutes These have all been reviewed here before; Naxos is apparently going on a Schwarz spree and reissuing a bunch of recordings formerly found on Delos—I’ve got two in this issue (see Bernstein), and I saw one in the last issue. Copland’s Piano Concerto, with Lorin Hollander, was originally in the company with the other two of his pieces; Charles Berigan (M/J 1996) thought it was the most valuable piece on the Delos release. He concluded that Appalachian Spring was decent, but too subdued and almost manicured, except for the too-loud timpani. He said the Symphonic Ode was “most biting and impressive, with its rhythmic chordal relentlessness towards its finish a seeming foretaste of the pounding opening of the Harmonielehre of John Adams”. I could do without the pompous, dour opening, but there are some charming spots further on—not charming enough to make me go back and listen to the piece again, but at least enough to get me through it. Karl Miller reviewed the Creston (N/D 1992), noting that his music has been “all but ignored the last 40 years”. And it hasn’t improved too much since then, though the terrific Saxophone Sonata gets played a lot in colleges. Naxos has put out Theodore Kuchar’s recording of Symphonies 1-3 (559034, S/O 2000) and Symphony No. 5 (Seattle/ Schwarz; 559153, J/F 2004). I wish someone would release the excellent recordings of Symphonies 2 and 3 that Howard Mitchell did for Westminster more than half a century ago. They’re in mono, but as Mr Miller noted, the performance is tighter. Seattle is more relaxed, but the playing is better. The Third Symphony is Creston’s most lyrical. It has the subtitle Three Mysteries. Creston was a fine organist, and his music tends to be thick and sumptuous. Many people have noted that his style tends toward impressionism, but I don’t hear that as much. His music is very rhythmic, sometimes cerebral, but nearly always interesting. If you’ve not heard his music, this is a good place to start. ESTEP 90 Richard Danielpour’s Third Symphony (1989), Journey Without Distance, is a large singlemovement work based on Helen Schucman’s book “A Course in Miracles”, about the Columbia University psychology professor’s experience having her new book dictated to her by “an inner voice”. The text was prepared for the composition by Judith Skutch Whitson and the composer. It is scored for soprano solo and orchestra, with a brief appearance by a chorus at the end. The piece is musically involving, often beautiful, brilliantly orchestrated, and filled with memorable motives and tunes; but unfortunately Naxos fails to supply texts. They don’t appear on Naxos’s website, nor on the composer’s, so I see no reason to purchase this, except for the second half of the disc, which contains two of Danielpour’s best pieces. First Light (1988), which opens the program, is a 13-minute overture alternating Danielpour’s vivacious dance-like music with a central contrasting section of warm romanticism. The lovely coda is filled with a couple of richly harmonized chant melodies. This would make an excellent program opener, especially for concerts of American music. The Awakened Heart (1990) could be considered a symphony in all but name. It has three impressive movements. It opens with a tightly argued allegro, moves through an expressive slow movement with another chorale, and concludes with an energetic transformation of previous material. I could do without the pretentious movement titles, but heard in purely symphonic terms this work could easily take its place in the better American symphonic repertoire. This originally appeared on Delos in 1993. Naxos shouldn’t bother releasing vocal music until they find ways to deliver texts. GIMBEL D AVIES: Ave Maris Stella; Psalm 124; Dove, Star-Folded; Economies of Scale Gemini/ Ian Mitchell Metier 28503—53 minutes Of the four chamber works on this program, the main event is the nearly half-hour Ave Maris Stella (1975), a sextet for flute(s), clarinet, viola, cello, marimba, and piano. Taking off from the plainchant, Davies produces (for the first time) one of his “magic squares”, a serial matrix generating both the piece’s pitch and rhythmic material. Despite its diatonic September/October 2012 roots, the perpetual variation concept and 70s chromatic serialism make imposing demands on listener’s patience and attention, though we are told in the notes that the compositional processes involved are “of little concern to anyone but the composer and those who concern themselves professionally with such matters”. This suggests a “just let the music wash all over you” listening strategy, which may be enough to satisfy some, but I always have preferred more substantial involvement in the music I listen to. The piece does break into nine easily audible sections, and Metier thoughtfully offers track divisions. People who don’t care about such things could still appreciate the sheer virtuosity involved. This seems enough for the composer’s many fans and made him “Master of the Queen’s Music” in 2004, and what could be more impressive than his dramatic Orkney Islands isolation and his huge catalog? Audiences have changed since the 70s, but if you are nostalgic for those times you will certainly value this excellent performance. Turning to the remaining pieces, the contemporaneous and considerably less complicated Psalm 124 (1974), also built on Early Music material, is described by the composer as a “Motet for Instrumental Ensemble after [medieval and renaissance composers] David Peebles, John Fethy, and an Anonymous Scottish Source”. Davies transforms and superimposes melodic lines from this music with counterpoint built with what one of my teachers liked to call “dirty harmony”. The piece’s three sections have brief interludes from a solo guitar that transform the previous material. Dove, Star-Folded (2000) is a brief work for string trio in memory of scholar Sir Steven Runciman, and is based on a Greek Byzantine hymn (apparently Sir Steven’s object of study). The piece, essentially a more traditional theme and variations, alternates somber treatments of the hymn with livelier passages. Economies of Scale (2002), for clarinet, violin, cello, and piano, was commissioned by Nobel Laureate economist Sir James Mirrlees. Opening with a bombastic explosion, the piece is primarily angular and “difficult”—more chromatic and old-fashioned-modernist than anything else on the program—yet it is the most recent work here. GIMBEL DAVIES: Symphony 2; St Thomas Wake BBC Philharmonic/ Peter Maxwell Davies Naxos 572349—77 minutes Peter Maxwell Davies’s Second Symphony (1980) is known as his Sea Symphony. Apparently his house overlooks the ocean, and that was the inspiration for this nearly hour-long American Record Guide four-movement work. Its formal layout follows the usual classical-romantic norm: a wildly explosive sonata form allegro, an expressive (but here meandering) slow movement, a relatively gentle scherzo, and a dramatic finale. The composer, in his notes, purports to be writing in an expanded B minor tonality, “but that tonality might be extended to furnish new methods of cohesion”. The new methods are said to be based on his famous technique of “magic squares”—arrangements of sequences of numbers producing “arithmetical constants” that when “read in a particular way” produce “architectural modules”. These modules are read astrologically (the Sun and Mars are symbolized by the squares in this instance.) These squares take as their source the plainsong Nativitas Tua, Dei Genetrix, never clearly heard (the composer and the Virgin Mary share the same birthday, by the way). And if all that were not enough, the rhythmic and even formal processes are said to reflect the wave motions of the ocean. So how does it sound? Unrelievedly dense, turgid, overwrought, and very difficult to follow. Since the music consists of an endless flow of non-repeating transformations (like the sea, I suppose), the listener has little chance to process coherent musical information, so any notion of relation to classical structure is wishful thinking at best (and disingenuous at worst). Detailed score study might help, but this is a tough way to spend an hour, and only the most courageous listeners will have the patience to take the plunge (pun intended). Also included is St Thomas Wake (1969), a “Foxtrot for Orchestra on a Pavan by John Bull”. In this 20-minute exercise in 60s naughtiness, a sensitive John Bull pavan is deformed offstage by an out-of-tune early music ensemble, becomes absorbed into avant-garde 60s Maxwell Davies music, and is then interrupted by irritating wartime foxtrots (the composer was trapped in Manchester during the bombings). The result seems more than a little dated, and not only as a relic of the World War II subject matter. The atonal vs tonal battle needed to be fought back then, but that war is over. Annotator Stephen Pruslin’s proposal that the composer was commenting on “the failure of between-the-wars popular music to reflect the political and moral climate of its time” was true until we hit the late 60s (it’s surely true today), but the serious music in vogue at the time was an even worse culprit, especially in the modernist arena. That makes this piece not only precious but a probably unintentional good example of exactly what the problem was. The symphony was recorded in 1993 and 91 released on Collins back in 1995. St Thomas Wake was recorded at the 1991 Cheltenham Music Festival. GIMBEL DAVIS: Ben-Hur Liverpool Philharmonic/ Carl Davis Carl Davis 14—72 minutes Carl Davis composed a 143-minute wall-towall score for the restoration of Ben-Hur, and when heard with the 1925 silent film it fits the visuals seamlessly. This recording (from a 1989 Silva Screen release) is about half that length and includes the major sequences and themes. Some of the nativity music recently appeared in a Christmas collection (Nov/Dec 2011, p 247) but it was encumbered with narration. Here Davis’s use of Martin Luther’s ‘Dresden Amen’ is heard unfettered, growing from a whisper to a powerful statement combining organ and orchestra. What follows is less impressive. The themes assigned to the key characters are not especially inspired (particularly when compared to Miklos Rozsa’s music for the 1959 film) and some of the development sounds more efficient than creative. The spectacular sequences come off better: the ‘Pirate Battle’ is rousing bravado, the earthquake finale a cataclysmic riot of sounds. The film’s famous set-piece, the chariot race, is a mixture of themes for Ben-Hur and Messala set against relentless, warring antiphonal timpani (a la Carl Nielsen). It’s spectacular but at nearly 10 minutes a bit repetitive. The Liverpool ensemble plays all this to the hilt (especially those timpanists!) and the sound is A-1. KOLDYS DEBUSSY: La Mer; RAVEL: Mother Goose; La Valse Seoul Philharmonic/ Myung-Whun Chung DG 4764498—54 minutes The Seoul Philharmonic was formed in 1948 and reorganized as an incorporated foundation in 2006, the year Myung-Whun Chung became Music Director. It has played under many major conductors and has toured Asia and Europe. This is the first of 11 recordings of the orchestra to be issued by DG. The performances are scrupulously played, with a rich, colorful string sound that suits them well. If the orchestra does not have a huge sound, it is well blended and cultivated. The woodwinds exude personality and dexterity; the brass are not quite as refined, but they are good, if a bit reticent, and that is probably a result of Chung’s balancing. The recording is balanced, clear, and detailed. The performances are slightly on the slow side, but they are not static. The overall approach is detailed, rhythmi- 92 cally precise, and even literal; but there is a lot going on here precisely because of those qualities. La Mer seemed slow and aloof at first hearing, but once I settled in it was possible to substitute studied and attentive for aloof—a fine distinction, but it holds. ‘From Dawn to Noon on the Sea’ is more mysterious than usual, almost as if afraid of what the sea will reveal, while the ending is a true hymn. The brass are restrained and even reverent—probably too much, but the effect is compelling, and you can hear the waves in the strings unusually well in one place as a result. The clarity, lively rhythms, and sheer control of ‘Games of the Waves’ make the movement more light-hearted and game-like than usual, and the harps are audible even in their softest passages. The result is not pointillistic, but it is certainly not romantic. The opening of ‘Dialog of the Wind and Sea’ has an ominous quality, stemming especially from the drum, which is always audible and sustained underneath. The strings take their time to grow, and the English horn sounds less bold and opulent over the bassoons in their two chords right near the opening than it should. The big horn calls near the end are throaty, like foghorns in a mist or creatures from the depths of the sea, and the answering waves in the strings are subdued. The ending, as in I, begins like a hymn and is anything but overblown. The approach to Ravel’s Mother Goose Suite is similar. ‘Pavane of Sleeping Beauty’ is again on the slow side. The attention to detail makes sure that the lower woodwinds are as prominent as the upper ones, and the slight ritard at the end is a nice touch. ‘Tom Thumb’ is well balanced, but I wish the English horn had a larger sound. Chung’s control is palpable in ‘Little Ugly Girl’. The fast scurrying in the quick passages comes as a surprise, though it is hardly out of place. The gong is gorgeous, a fine example of percussion control. Several nice details enlighten ‘Beauty and the Beast’: the way the basses hold their own against the contrabassoon making the beast more threatening than usual, the lilt to the strings’ rhythm in their dance over the contra, and the exquisite violin solo as it goes from sweet to warm. The opening to ‘Fairy Garden’ fans out beautifully, leading to a movement that fulfills its function as a noble and uplifting conclusion. All the above qualities are prevalent in La Valse, but it is a very different piece. Detail, control, clarity, and beautiful playing (particularly in the luscious strings) are admirable, but account must be taken of the work’s manic and destructive qualities, and Chung doesn’t do that until the end. Until then the performance is so careful that it sounds interpretive- September/October 2012 ly uncertain, and the reticence of the brass does not help. They do come alive at the end, but it’s too late. The sound is clean and detailed, fitting the performances well. I was working from a press kit, so I don’t know if the adequate notes are the ones that will be in retail copies. HECHT DEBUSSY: Orchestral Pieces Nocturnes; La Mer; Jeux; Images; Afternoon of a Faun; Printemps; Enfant Prodigue excerpts: Marche Ecossaise; Berceuse Heroique Scottish National Orchestra/ Stephane Deneve Chandos 5102 [2SACD] 146 minutes Stephane Deneve seems on the road to making himself the leading conductor of French music today. Having apparently finished his excellent Albert Roussel traversal for Naxos, he is taking on Claude Debussy for Chandos. In doing so, he takes Debussy at his word that impressionism was not a term that should apply to his music. There is no haze, rhythm is clearly delineated, tempos are very well chosen, and there is no lingering. The Scottish National sounds more agile, sensitive, refined, and French than it did in Roussel—and it sounded all of that then. The recording is more open and airier than usual from Chandos and is well suited to the music. My only quibble is a slight lack of bass, making it seem as if the sound were built from the top down. Both the orchestra and the recording are much better, and less strident, than their Chandos recordings with Jarvi. Deneve’s approach to Debussy is consistent, so a few examples should make things clear. La Mer is quiet, mysterious, and restrained at the beginning, but soon comes alive with a burst of light. Rhythms are clear and almost swing. It is intimate, balanced, and detailed without seeming pedantic, and the ending to I is beautifully scaled. I is taut, sleek, clean, and beautifully serene; and the ending tapers off almost to nothing. III is dramatic from the outset, with fine tension. The trumpet is unusually legato, trombones are menacing, and the horns are restrained in their big calls against the waves. The tempo is quite slow toward the end, which is full, built from the bottom up in this case, with beautiful brass. It is often said that La Mer is as close as Debussy came to writing a symphony, and this performance bolsters that theory. It is good to hear the outer movements of Images get their due. Because of the stress on the underlying rhythm, ‘Gigues’ really does dance. Everything is clear, yet, full, and the ending seems appropriately careful after all the previous activity. ‘Iberia’ follows, appropriately, as if it is from the same piece rather than American Record Guide a stand-alone. The stress on rhythm brings out the Spanish flavor, and the night music is pensive but very much alive. ‘Rondes des Printemps’ glitters. Jeux may be the best performance I’ve heard of the piece. It certainly is one of the few that puts it across. The trick is steady, very clear rhythm, lively colors, and a sense of the whole, rather than of “modern” music that just wanders around and sounds pretty. Deneve elaborates on Jeux in an essay included in the booklet, and this performance is exactly what I’d expect from his sentiments. The excellent booklet also contains a vital scene-by-scene analysis of this elusive work. If you have had trouble with Jeux but otherwise like Debussy, this is a must for that reason alone. Deneve’s seamlessness really helps ‘Nuages’ in Nocturnes. One distinction of ‘Fetes’ is the way the muted trumpets start from a much greater distance than usual. I’m not sure I like it, but it may work well for some listeners. ‘Sirenes’ often seems like a tag-on after ‘Fetes’, but it makes a case for itself here because everything is laid out clearly and given its say. That includes the choir, which has more presence than usual. Prelude a L’Apres-Midi D’un Faune is beautifully shaped, bright yet warm, and seamlessly structured. The one oddity, and it is a subtle one, is slightly greater emphasis on the horn than the flute. Some performances bring a touch of menace to this work, but this is more hypnotic than ominous. I’ve always thought Printemps a better piece than it is given credit for, and Deneve makes that case. He is also a strong advocate for the minor pieces here, particularly Marche Ecossaise. The Enfant Prodigue excerpts are ‘Prelude’ and the ‘Cortege et Air de Danse’. Deneve says he wants every note heard, adding that “one must emphasize transparency, freshness of timbre energy, and rhythmic precision”. His idol as a youth was Charles Munch, but his Debussy is much closer to Haitink’s. Where Haitink leans to warmth, Deneve goes for airy, rhythmic clarity. Jun Markl’s excellent Debussy series is far more complete, smaller in scale, and more intensely colorful. Ideally, I would not be without Deneve, Haitink, and Markl and have come to prefer them to Martinon, Boulez, Munch, Ansermet, Tortelier, and others. Deneve proclaims Debussy’s Pelleas et Melisande his favorite opera. I hope that translates into a recording. I’d like one of the complete Martyrdom of St Sebastian, too. HECHT 93 D EBUSSY: Preludes, Book 1 with Arabesques; Ballade; Nocturne; Danse Bohemienne; Danse Amir Tebenikhin, p Genuin 12227—77 minutes with Khamma; Les Soirs Illuminés par l’Ardeur du Charbon; Toomai des Elephants; Intermede; Petite Valse Michael Korstick, p Hänssler 93290—73 minutes with Preludes, Book 2; Afternoon of a Faun; 3 Nocturnes Alexei Lubimov, Alexei Zuev, p ECM 16958 [2CD] 113 minutes There are few sets of piano pieces more foundational to the repertoire than Debussy’s Preludes, Book 1, composed from December 1909 to February 1910. I cannot imagine any pianist who has not performed at least one of these. Like Chopin’s Preludes, there is a wide range of pianistic requirements in the set. Perhaps half of Debussy’s 12 are within the abilities of talented teenage pianists. At the other end, the most difficult require a fully developed virtuoso technique, a full pallet of pianistic colors, and the intelligence to make both music and sense out of quite complex scores. The titles are placed at the end of each piece, supposedly so they would not be the pianist’s primary source of interpretation. That might have worked early on, but at this point everyone knows the titles, and they are very descriptive and inspirational. Each of the above recordings has its strengths, and the choice might easily come down to the other pieces. Tebenikhin on Genuin continues a very special series that uses four different pianists playing a Blüthner. Last issue I was quite favorably impressed by the playing of Juliana Steinbach in Volume 1. This second volume continues in the same strong vein. Debussy purchased a Blüthner in 1905 that was fitted with the Aliquot system of strings. Blüthners still are, and they have a fourth string for every note in the treble, which is not struck by the hammer. It simply vibrates sympathetically with the other three and adds to the resonance and sonic richness. Debussy loved his piano, and one can safely assume that all of his piano pieces from 1905 on were composed with its sound in mind. The technicians at Blüthner went to great lengths to prepare the piano used for these recordings so it would sound as close to Debussy’s as possible. The instrument is in the Musée Labenche in Brive-la-Gaillarde. There are exemplary notes by Roy Howat, a noted Debussy scholar. All would be for naught if the performances weren’t on the same level and, so far, they certainly are. The series is not striving for the kind of complete- 94 ness that might include Debussy’s student fugues written as examination pieces. It will have all of the pieces published for solo piano on four generous discs. Tebenikhin has a group of early works (1880-92) that set the stage perfectly for a wonderful set of Preludes. The Arabesques were Debussy’s first piano pieces to appear in print in 1891. The ‘Danse Bohemienne’, composed in 1880 was not published until 1932. The other ‘Danse’ (Tarantelle Styrienne), ‘Ballade’, and ‘Nocturne’ all date from 1890-92. These are substantial pieces, five to eight minutes long. Tebenikhin brings all the necessary elements to these works: imagination, rhythmic drive, tenderness, and an unfailing sense of legato line. As for the Preludes themselves, I make particular note of Tebenikhin’s ‘Cathedrale Engloutie’, perhaps the best known of the Preludes. He follows the rhythm of the score, not Debussy’s piano roll recording. His tempos are flexible but a bit faster where Debussy doubles the time. He also only plays one low C in the big middle section where many play two C’s an octave apart (somewhat necessary on small pianos). Tebenikhin is always faithful to Debussy’s score, which the composer was notoriously meticulous about. I would have no compunction about giving this recording an unqualified recommendation, especially if you are just learning these masterpieces. Michael Korstick offers his first installment in a projected complete series. The drawing card for this volume is three world premiere recordings (as per the booklet notes): ‘Intermede’, ‘Petite Valse’, and ‘Toomai des Elephants’ (the last two completed by Robert Orledge, who supplies excellent notes). The last work, inspired by Kipling’s Jungle Book, was originally intended as the 11th Prelude in Book 2. The very difficult piano arrangement (by Debussy) of his late ballet Khamma takes 20 minutes, and few include in the complete piano music. Korstick gives us a strong performance. The piece called ‘Les Soirs Illuminés par l’Ardeur du Charbon’, Debussy’s last known piano composition, is also a rarity, having appeared only in 2001. Its opening measures are very similar to the Prelude ‘Les Sons et les Parfums Tournent dans l’Air du Soir’, and it contains some exceptionally beautifully music. I am not happy with the sound quality. Whether it’s the pianist, the piano, or the recording (or a little of each), there are a number of rather harsh, loud upper-register moments, and the overall sound is not as good as the other two recordings under consideration. As for Korstick’s Preludes, his ‘Sunken Cathedral’ accurately follows the newest Durand complete edition corrections to the September/October 2012 tempo. As per Debussy’s piano roll recording and eyewitness accounts of his playing, he doubles the time in measures 7-12 and 22-83. I wish someone had told me about that when I was 12 years old and learning the piece. I simply felt guilty at the time for speeding up considerably in those places. But he does not hit the rhythms in the left hand accurately enough for me in measure 21. He also has a harsh sound at the big section beginning at measure 28. Debussy’s marking is “sonorous without hardness” but I hear hardness. On the other hand, except for an extra note in one chord, Korstick’s ‘Ce qu’a vu le Vent d’Ouest’ is as good as they come. It is marked “strident”, “incisive”, and “furious”; and some of the harshness I hear is perfectly in keeping with the nature of the piece. Alexei Lubimov’s 2CD set is of both books of Preludes with a unique addition of two major orchestral works in two-piano arrangements: Prelude a l’Apres-midi d’un Faune by Debussy and Trois Nocturnes in Ravel’s arrangement. He plays a 1925 Bechstein for the first book of Preludes and a 1913 Steinway for the second. Both are used in the two-piano arrangements, where he is joined by Alexei Zuev. These older instruments have a mellow tone that is somewhat uneven by modern standards. But the unique timbres of the instruments allowed his imagination to take flight. His unique and compelling interpretations are always tasteful and imaginative. Even more fascinating are the textures and sonorities from the two old pianos together.L u b i mov’s Preludes (both books) are consistently a joy to listen to. His are not textbook examples of utmost fidelity to the printed score, or traditional interpretations. Nor is he doing anything remotely outlandish. He makes you listen closely and think. Even the most familiar of these, like ‘The Girl with the Flaxen Hair’, sound fresh and alive. Close attention to the score showed me he was not above some rubato and a little tinkering with dynamics and accents, but always in a musical line. His ‘Sunken Cathedral’ is like Korstick’s, following the newest edition and stretching the first note of four in the left hand on both the first and third beats of measure 21. When we get to Book 2 Lubimov switches pianos. His descriptions of the sounds is worth repeating here. The Steinway is “divinely soft in pianissimo, resonant and marvelously suitable for unexpected colors”. The Bechstein (Book 1) is “clear, sharply-etched, translucent and light, even in complex textures”. In Debussy’s orchestral masterpieces, there is as much variety of sound as can be imagined in the twopiano versions, though they can never displace the magic of Debussy’s orchestrations. American Record Guide Lubimov and Korstick have similar timings; Tebenikhin is slower. He takes a minute longer than Korstick in the ‘Sunken Cathedral’, and Korstick is a minute longer than Lubimov in ‘Footprints in the Snow’. Most of the time the differences are less. The Blüthner wins for the most beautiful sound. I am very glad to have the new pieces from Korstick, the early works played so beautifully by Tebenikhin, and both Book 2 of the Preludes and the arrangements for two pianos from Lubimov. HARRINGTON DEBUSSY: Quartet; Trio; Sacred & Profane Dances; Reverie Jean-Efflam Bavouzet, p; Sioned Williams, hp; Chris Laurence, db; Brodsky Quartet Chandos 10717—65 minutes After reviewing the Brodsky Quartet’s “PetitFours” in the last issue, I could be accused of wearing rose-colored glasses in approaching this next album. But the glasses came off enough in the String Quartet to allow a fair look. In the first movement the balances are exquisite. Each line has the space to make its function radiate warmly. The players are not rigid—they yield nicely to lyrical opportunities with a little tenuto here, a wave of tenderness there, so poignantly felt. And in II they lead the ear so well as the line shifts from one instrument to another amid the twos-against-threes, pizzicatos, and accented chords. “Atmosphere” is what they create, the essence of impressionism. Then in III each player takes so many individual liberties with phrases that the music feels like a series of mismatched recitatives. The pulse is so irregular, so rhetorical that it’s impossible to tell the meter without a score. Yet all that disappears in the recapitulation, which is utterly divine. Then IV is no more than ordinary. Sacred and Profane Dances (on the cover simply called Deux Danses) with the quartet, Williams, and Laurence absolutely floats. The ‘Sacred Dance’ is like chiffon, and the ‘Profane Dance’ emerges without a break on a bed of air. Harmonies between the string lines are utterly clear and delicately felt, and overall balances are exquisite. The gem performance here is the trio. With drama, expressive depth, natural flow, exquisite balances, and uniform concept of style, this performance is a prime example of how to make a second-rate early work sound first rate. It’s too bad the engineers delete all bass quality from the piano—something I partly fixed by turning the bass knob all the way up. ‘Reverie’, arranged for string quartet by violist Paul Cassidy, here sounds exceptionally labored, especially the eighth-note arpeggios. 95 Strange to say, I’ve created a more legato impression myself on the piano (and I’m worse than amateur at the keyboard). The piece here comes across as merely series of effects with enharmonics, arpeggios, etc. FRENCH DEBUSSY: Songs 2 Lorna Anderson, Lisa Milne, s; Malcolm Martineau, p Hyperion 67883—66:47 This is a sequel to Hyperion’s recording of Debussy songs with baritone Christopher Maltman and pianist Malcolm Martineau (May/June 2003.) The two sopranos here are both marvelous: their voices are full and lustrous, capable of delicate nuance and with ample power for dramatic expression; and their French declamation is natural and compelling. Martineau’s playing is, as ever, sensitive and assured. The program includes Debussy’s first version of the three songs in Fêtes Galantes from 1882, as well as Proses Lyriques (1893), Chansons de Bilitis (1897), Ariettes Oubliées (1903), Trois Chansons de France (1904), and Trois Poemes de Mallarmé (1913). A number of the individual songs are very familiar, appearing on numerous recital programs and recordings; but it is enlightening to hear them in the context of their original groupings and in chronological order, revealing something of the composer’s musical and harmonic development. The excellent notes by Roger Nichols are perceptive and informative, especially about the revisions Debussy made over time to some of the songs. Yet for all its strengths, there is something about this recording that is too smooth, too perfect; so that while it is a great pleasure to listen to, the songs, which are often quite shocking in their harmonic explorations and erotic suggestiveness, are less compelling than one might expect. For freshness and sheer risk-taking, I still recommend Susanna Phillips’s performance on Bridge Records (March/April 2012). MARCUSE DEBUSSY: En Blanc et Noir; see MESSIAEN; Epigraphes Antiques; see STRAVINSKY D EMESSIEUX: Te Deum; Easter Response; Prelude & Fugue in C; 9 Chorale Preludes; Etudes 5+6; LINDWALL: Homage to Demessieux Hampus Lindwall, org Ligia 109228—67 minutes Esprit, Paris from 1933 until 1962 when she left and took on the same title at La Madeleine. Her organ compositions, limited as they are, are far better known than the ones for organ and orchestra, piano, chamber players, and voice. Lindwall is a Swedish musician who studied with Toren, Lebrun, Pincemaille, and Mallie. He also worked with Rolande Falcinelli for eight years. He is currently titulaire at the same Saint-Esprit church. The first 13 selections are performed in La Madeleine on the 485 Cavaillé-Coll (1846, Dargassies 2002); the remaining four—called bonus tracks—are played on the 2-24 Gloton-Debierre (1934, Cicchero 1985) in Saint-Esprit. This organ is only slightly larger than it was when Demessieux played there. The clarity of the engineering is excellent. Most organ music listeners probably have heard a few of the Chorale- Preludes (1947), a collection of well known melodies (e.g. Stabat Mater; Veni Creator; Domine Jesu). They are short and fairly easy. The chant melodies are surrounded by pleasantly modern harmonies. A good recording of all of them is from Leclerc at La Madeleine (Motette 11671, M/A 1993). Lindwall does a first rate job with this music. His performance of the challenging Etudes 5 and 6 is as satisfying as any. Three of the final four pieces simply repeat two chorale preludes and the Te Deum heard earlier from La Madeleine—this to demonstrate the potency and breadth of sound from the small SaintEsprit organ. They sound just as full and warm as when performed on the much larger organ. Finally, Lindwall adds a personal tribute to Demessieux by turning her name into a 16-letter acrostic. His jazz background shows through in this jaunty, atonal ramble that offers little in the way of tribute unless we count its syncopated rhythms. A far more appropriate dedication can be found at the end of Labric’s recording, where we hear the first movement of Labric’s Homage, very much in the Demessieux world of harmony and technical prowess. All said, I believe Lindwall is a talent worthy of attention. The complete Etudes (1-6) can be heard by Labric (Solstice 269, J/F 2011), Ciampi (Stradivarius 33384, S/O 1995), Patel (FUGO 25), and Tharp (Aeolus 10561—no longer available, but it can be downloaded). If you like the Te Deum, hear it played by Demessieux herself: Festivo 132. METZ DIAMOND: Elegy; see BERNSTEIN This is a recording aimed at a small but appreciative audience. Demessieux (1921-68) was a musical prodigy, becoming titulaire at Saint- 96 September/October 2012 DOVE: The Passing of the Year; In Beauty May I Walk; My Love Is Mine; Who Killed Cock Robin?; It Sounded As If the Streets Were Running; I Am the Day; Wellcome, All Wonders in One Sight!; Three Kings Christopher Cromar, p; Convivium Singers/ Neil Ferris Naxos 572733—69 minutes This affords a nice opportunity to sample the work of British composer Jonathan Dove (b 1959). His music is accessible and well crafted. He also has a flair for making great poetry come alive in song. His Passing of the Year, for example, is an engaging cycle of seven songs for double chorus and piano that makes excellent use of poems by Blake, Tennyson, and Emily Dickinson, among others. He also has a flair for theatrical story-telling, as in ‘Who Killed Cock Robin’, a clever entry full of chirpy calls from a number of ornithological sources. The British chamber choir is aptly named, as these are convivial performances caught in strong, clear sound by the Naxos engineers. I do find, however, that the straight, steely sound of the soprano section detracts from the radiance of some of the choral effects the composer was after. ‘Hot sun, cool fire’ from the Passing Year, for example, conveys more cool fire than hot sun, and that’s not the only place where I would have welcomed more warmth. Loud passages are particularly chilly. Notes and texts are supplied. GREENFIELD D RATTELL: Sorrow is Not Melancholy; Fire Dances; Lilith; The Fire Within; Syzygy David Shifrin, cl; Scott Goff, fl; Seattle Symphony/ Gerard Schwarz Naxos 571204—61 minutes Deborah Drattell is one of the more talented neo-romantic composers to emerge in the 80s. This is a composer with real lyrical talent rather than just skill at tonal pastiche. My only problem is that she tends to conclude her livelier pieces with coarse, repetitive crescendos. They really deserve better endings. Sorrow is Not Melancholy, from 1993, is an eloquent threnody for strings, packing a great deal of mournful emotion into its 11 minutes before its final sigh. A piquant contrast is Fire Dances, her clarinet concerto, a ritualistic dance (in Drattell’s words) full of haunting Eastern colors. It too, however, slows down into Drattell’s signature sorrow. Drattell wrote this one-movement work (again, just over 11 minutes) for David Shifrin, who plays it here with uninhibited passion. The orchestra has a great deal to say as well, and the Seattle Symphony under Gerard Schwarz (a Drattell cham- American Record Guide pion) comes through splendidly, as it does in all these performances from the early 90s. A more sinister note is struck in both Lilith, a two-movement portrait of the mythical vampire seductress, and The Fire Within, a concertante piece for flute and orchestra played with intensity by Scott Goff. Again, the lyrical sections have an Eastern sensuousness—the legacy, says Drattell, of her upbringing with synagogue music. Some of the violin solos in exotic modes sound a bit like Delius’s Hassan. Concluding the program on an apocalyptic note is Syzygy, depicting the violence of nature. This is raw, compelling music, a bit overcooked but certainly not bland. SULLIVAN DUBERY: Oboe Sonatina; Cello Sonata; 2 Stopfordian Impressions; Degrees of Evidence Suite; Escapades; Harlequinade; Walking Cimbrone; Mrs Harris in Paris; 3 Graves Songs; 4 songs; Remember Adrienne Murray, mz; John Turner, rec; Richard Simpson, ob; Graham Salvage, bn; Richard Williamson, va; Peter Dixon, vc; Craig Ogden, g; David Dubery, Paul James, p Metier 28523—79 minutes David Dubery (b 1948) hails from South Africa and has lived in England for many years. His music has a traditional flavor to it, and the pieces recorded here are for recorder, oboe, and cello, along with a number of quite lovely songs sung with beautiful intonation and clear diction by Murray. Texts are included. The instrumental works are quite concise, none of the movements more than 4-1/2 minutes. Dubery’s musical idiom is romantic at heart with a leaning towards jazz. It reminds me somewhat of the music of Judith Lang Zaimont, whose piano pieces I was just listening to, though it is rather more conservative harmonically. It is very pleasant to listen to. The scoring should be mentioned. The suite from Degrees of Evidence is for recorder, oboe, and viola. The Escapades are for recorder, bassoon, and piano and Walking Cimbrone for bassoon and piano. Harlequinades is for recorder and guitar; Stopfordian Impressions and Mrs Harris in Paris are for recorder and piano. The three songs on Robert Graves poems are for mezzo-soprano, recorder, and piano. The longest suite is only 12-1/2 minutes. Though not particularly deep in its emotional pull, it has much beauty and humor. All of the performers here are competent and seem to be enjoying themselves. I enjoyed it a good deal. D MOORE 97 DVORAK: Piano Quartet 2; Piano Quintet; Gypsy Songs; Songs My Mother Taught Me Schubert Ensemble Chandos 10719—77 minutes The Schubert Ensemble has covered most of the notable piano quartet and quintet repertory on various labels, and thus one expects some seasoned musicianship in their readings of these two major Dvorak works. These interpretations, though pretty straightforward, are laced with perceptive and memorable moments, particularly in the crisp clarity of both final movements. On the other hand, the quality is uneven. In II of the quartet, rhythm and articulation feel insecure, and the declamatory thematic material in I is marked by rather heavy-handed bluntness. In I of the quintet, Jane Salmon’s opening cello solo (heard twice, since the group takes the repeat for the exposition) is rather timid; and the sound, here as elsewhere in these performances, lacks a full, lyric resonance. In the delivery of both these works I miss much of the excitement and freedom that I hear in the recordings made by Rudolf Firkusny, particularly the ones from 1977 and 1978 on CBS Masterworks. Though the delightful encore item may not redeem the whole program, this arrangement by the Schubert Ensemble of Dvorak’s most famous song is a welcome addition to a rather meager catalog of chamber group encores. That Dvorak was not averse to recasting his vocal works as chamber music is demonstrated by his resurrection of the early cycle, Cypresses, in a version for string quartet. Perpetuating this practice, as well as keeping it in the family, Dvorak’s great-grandson, Josef Suk recorded Suk’s own arrangements both for violin and for viola with piano of 30 Dvorak songs on the Toccata label (100). JD MOORE DVORAK: Quartet 13; Cypresses; Waltzes Cecilia Quartet Analekta 9892—58 minutes The musicians in the Toronto-based Cecilia Quartet are all fine players, and they play well together, have lovely instruments, and seem to be doing well touring in Canada and elsewhere. This is their first recording. They play with a great deal of energy, but I find listening to the G-major Quartet, Op. 106, emotionally exhausting because every phrase is nuanced to the fullest. The only place where I feel the space and clarity of mind to really hear the music is in the slow section of IV, which is genuinely beautiful. The rest of the recording is like a brilliant aural neon blur. Perhaps these musicians are reaching out 98 to an audience that might enjoy a kind of “inyour-face” stimulation that is not normally associated with readings of what I consider to be very earthy music. They play half a dozen of the 12 Cypresses (Dvorak’s transcriptions of some early songs), and two of the eight Waltzes that Dvorak wrote for piano and transcribed for string quartet. They really shine in the waltzes, where their particular brand of heightened collective expression is quite appropriate. FINE DVORAK: Songs & Duets Genia Kühmeier, s; Bernarda Fink, mz; Christoph Berner, p Harmonia Mundi 902081—65:46 Dvorak’s so-called Gypsy Songs are not based on actual Gypsy melodies, but are intended to evoke the character and instrumentation of their traditional music and the proud independence of their people. Soprano Kühmeier sings them beautifully, with great sensitivity but not a trace of sentimentality. She has a voice of remarkable purity and clarity and a sinewy sense of line, especially evident in the exquisite ‘And the Forest is Silent all Around’ as well as the nostalgic ‘Songs my Mother Taught Me’. An allegory of freedom for the Czech people is given passionate voice in ‘Give a Hawk a Pure Gold Cage’. The Biblical Songs, settings of parts of Psalms, were composed in 1894 in response to threatening news from Europe as well as the deaths of Tchaikovsky, Gounod, Dvorak’s own father, and his friend and champion Hans von Bülow. Kühmeier has a clear sense of the arc of the cycle as a conflict between despair and faith, from the raw anguish of No. 1, ‘Clouds and Darkness are Round About’, with its stark unaccompanied exclamations, to the glowing serenity of No. 10, ‘O Sing unto the Lord a New Song’. Pianist Christoph Berner shows impressive restraint in the spare, exposed accompaniments. The Moravian Duets were the first published works to gain serious success for Dvorak, and they are still popular for their delightful, folksong-inflected melodies and perfectly balanced vocal lines. They are most often treated as lovely confections, but here they have real weight and an unexpected bitter tinge underlying their charm. Mezzo-soprano Bernarda Fink is a firm, richly-colored foil to Kühmeier, and both texts and harmonies are faultlessly clear. The booklet includes full texts and excellent notes, in Czech with translations in English, French, and German. MARCUSE September/October 2012 DVORAK: Stabat Mater Janice Watson, Dagmar Peckova, Peter Auty, Peter Rose; London Philharmonic/ Neeme Jarvi LPO 62—67 minutes Dvorak’s Stabat Mater is a fairly early work, drafted in early 1876 (after his Fifth Symphony) and orchestrated in 1877 (just before the Slavonic Dances). It was, in fact, his first sacred work except for a now lost setting of the Mass. The Stabat Mater was written without commission, apparently in response to the death of three of his children between 1875 and 1877. The first performance had to wait until 1880, but it soon added to his fame. In 1884 Dvorak was invited to conduct in London, and one of the pieces presented (in the Royal Albert Hall) was his Stabat Mater. Dvorak divided the medieval sequence into 11 sections, which use various combinations of soloists and chorus, along with full orchestra. In Jarvi’s hands this is not an introspective, meditative work, which the text might suggest, but rather a full-throated, passionate piece, recorded, by the way, in a Royal Festival Hall concert in October 2010. The liner notes by Anthony Burton make a connection with Verdi, whose music Dvorak knew from his many years as principal violist at the Provisional Theatre in Prague. This is a fine performance if you accept the premise of Jarvi’s pace, which is very fast. Most performances run from 80 to 90 minutes, and Jarvi, at 67 minutes, isn’t even close. It’s a thrilling experience, quite consistent and satisfying, but if you didn’t know the words, you’d have trouble identifying this as a work springing from the saddest of texts: a bereaved Mary lamenting the death of the crucified Jesus. The chorus does an excellent job, particularly in the tough chromatic passage in ‘Virgo, Virginum Praeclara’, and they sound terrific in the fortissimo sections. Soloists are all acceptable, though tenor Auty strains above the staff and the women have the maximum vibrato allowed by law. And the sound from LPO’s engineers is very fine—clear and exciting, with things in good balance. I enjoyed this quite a bit, but I think most listeners would be better served by broader readings that are more attentive to the text. In particular I would suggest the recommendations of the late Carl Bauman, who spoke highly of Kubelik, Belohlavek, and Shaw (his last recording). ALTHOUSE American Record Guide DVORAK: Trios Gould Trio Champs Hill 34 [2CD] 141 minutes Dvorak’s four trios are endlessly delightful. They are rich with emotion but still light and charming, with that special Czech flavor. The thought of English Dvorak did not appeal to me at all, but naturally the actual performances are not as bad as I feared they would be. Still, my two favorite sets of these trios need not fear this competition. The Guarneri Trio Prague (Praga, Nov/Dec 2009) is utterly idiomatic in a way no English group ever could be. (Perhaps that’s a bit of bias on my part: theoretically music is music, and a bunch of English musicians can “get” it as well as anyone else. But I think it’s unlikely.) Listen to the way the violin skips thru the folklike theme of 1:I—yes, right from the start the Czech musicians have just the right feel for the music. Even in 3:II (the F-minor is the most Brahmsian trio of the four) they sound more Czech than anyone else. My other favorite set is by the Fontenay Trio (Teldec, Jan/Feb 1994). For some reason Germans often dig right into Czech music, as if they are very fond of their neighbors. It’s not as idiomatic as the Czech group, but it comes a lot closer than the English, and it adds a certain German assurance and polish that makes you accept it. One of our reviewers said the Fontenay Dvorak is smooth and spirited—sensitive, romantic, and intelligent. There’s nothing wrong with the tempos here, though some first movement repeats annoy me. There is nothing much wrong with the playing, though the violinist sounds metallic and a bit frantic sometimes (too much nervous attack, too little calm assurance). The music does not unfold naturally. They do not sound warm and Brahmsian—and I do think they should. The English are getting colder and colder as they forsake continuous vibrato. I think the violinist sinks these performances— and they are not about to replace her, because her name is Gould. Any further comment would just be details. VROON E LGAR: Enigma Variations; Cockaigne Overture; Pomp & Circumstance Marches Royal Philharmonic/ Barry Wordsworth RPO 35—75 minutes Edward Elgar was 32 when he completed Enigma Variations, and this performance, one of the fresher ones I’ve heard, reminds us that he was still a young man. The tempos are on the slow side, and the pacing is deliberate; but things never lag, and timbres are bright. The 99 deliberate ‘Theme’ sets that tone. ‘CAE’ moves along without hurrying or too much sentiment, and Wordsworth does not overpower the climax the way some conductors do. The portrait of Richard Penrose Arnold (‘RPA’), doesn’t catch the melancholy nature of the man, but as abstract music it works. ‘Ysobel’ displays a warm sentiment with nice leaps and a seductive leaning on the long notes. ‘WN’ laughs delightedly as she snaps to her task of serving travelers (possibly Elgar and Troyte) who came to her, dampened by the storm of the latter’s variation. The ‘Nimrod’ is one of the slower ones, with deliberate pacing that does not hurry or crush the climax. Its grandeur makes a strong case for playing the variation without affectation and allowing the music to take care of itself. In ‘Dorabella’ I like the little drag on the long note from the stuttering oboe, a result of close attention and the slow tempo. ‘GRS’ is suitably gruff. ‘BGN’ is both eloquent and dignified, and the transition to ‘ê’ is wonderfully natural. Wordsworth takes his greatest interpretive pains with ‘ê’ itself, slowing down a great deal for the Mendelssohn quotes and diminishing to a whisper in the clarinets at the end. ‘EDU’ often blusters like a crusty old man looking back defiantly at conquests over ancient criticisms, but here we have a young man, full of confidence, ready to take on the world. There is great deal to be said for this straightforward dignity and clear-headed approach. Wordsworth clearly knows what he wants to do, and there is not a single unsure moment or passage of questionable taste. I’ve never found him that interesting a conductor, but the results here are fresh and entertaining. Cockaigne (1901) displays good feeling and insouciance—both fitting in a work subtitled In London Town and dedicated to Elgar’s “friends, the members of British orchestras”. The instrumental color is bright, as it is in Enigma, but the tempos are not as slow in what is a delightful and lively performance. Wordsworth doesn’t quite capture the work’s sentimental moments, but he can be forgiven for that. The marches are played to the hilt—blazing and powerful—and like Cockaigne, they eschew the slow tempos of the Enigma. These are rousers, and no less enjoyable for that, but you may not want to listen to them all at once. The sound is fine, and the notes are quite good, too. My one quibble is their declaration that ‘ê’ is for Lady Mary Lygon. That is the common belief, but there are other theories. As long as we’re talking about enigmas, the booklet presents an interesting solution for the one surrounding Enigma Variations. But in the spirit of the occasion—and I trust that that 100 great puzzler Sir Edward will approve—its identity will be revealed only to purchasers of this disc. I’m not sure I buy the theory, but it is novel and interesting. HECHT ELGAR: Cello Concerto; see GAL ESCHMANN: Quartet; Fantasy Pieces Ceruti Quartet; Dave Lee, hn; Roy Howat, p; Oliver Lewis, v Guild 7171—66 minutes Johann Carl Eschmann was born in Winterthur in 1826 and died in Zurich in 1882. The listing in Hugo Reinmann’s Musiklexicon gives his name as Julius and gives his year of birth as 1825. Something we certainly do know about Eschmann is that he emulated Mendelssohn. His string quartet, a work he never published, is Mendelssohnian to the core. It could also be used as a textbook example of the mechanics of writing in sonata form. Everything is in order here: he writes well for the instruments, develops his material well, and follows the rules of good counterpoint and of good voiceleading. These musicians do a fine job of bringing out what is good in this music, but this quartet is an example of a case where the great is the enemy of the good. I can understand why Eschmann never had it published. The set of 6 Fantasy Pieces, with the subtitle In Autumn, was published in 1849 as Op. 6. They are lovely pieces that are very well written for the horn and very nicely played here. The undeniable influence is Robert Schumann (but there’s nothing wrong with that). The also Schumannesque Fantasy Pieces, published for violin or clarinet and piano as Op. 9, probably sound better on the violin than they would on the clarinet. Oliver Lewis plays them with spirit and imagination, along with a healthy helping of air in the sound and many audible shifts (there for stylistic reasons, I imagine). I am particularly impressed by Roy Howat’s piano playing on both sets of Fantasy Pieces. FINE FASCH: Orchestral Suites Capella Savana/ Pal Nemeth Dynamic 8029—73 minutes This program was originally released as Dynamic 233 (M/A 2000). It includes three suites in F, D, and A minor. Both times we found the performance lacking in fire and precision, the sound odd—somewhat hollow. It made my speakers buzz. We still cannot recommend it. The wait continues for an excellent recording of anything approaching a complete collection of Fasch’s orchestral suites. CRAWFORD September/October 2012 FINGER: Recorder Sonatas Ernst Kubitschek; Daniel Pilz, gamba; Annemarie Dragosits, hpsi; Andreas Arend, theorbo Cornetto 10034—46 minutes Gottfried Finger (1660-1723) is a good representative of the kind of internationalism we find in the high baroque. He hails from Bohemia, trained with Viennese teachers, and then made his career in Moravia, England, and Prussia. The chamber sonatas are conventional suites of dances. The playing is fine, quite ornamental, though Kubitschek is sometimes out of tune. Notes are in English. LOEWEN FINNISSY: Quartets 2+3 Kreutzer Qt NMC 180—64 minutes Michael Finnissy’s Second Quartet (2006-7) is what amounts to a 20 minute deconstruction of a Haydn quartet. Random shards of Haydn are pasted into a muddy haze produced by not coordinating the quartet parts and composing angular, ear-scraping dissonances to go along with the Haydn fragments. The last 10 minutes consist of quiet static harmony inducing welcome sleep. The Third Quartet (2007-9) perpetrates a similar massacre of, of all things, Bruckner’s First and Second Symphonies, this time for 44 excruciating minutes. Relatively extended shards of the Bruckner are defaced, producing more sprawling agony for the unfortunate listener. Bits of recorded bird song are tossed in starting about 22 minutes in for added ludicrousness, referring to Schoenberg’s “air from other planets”, according to the apparently deranged composer. We don’t have a Worst of the Year award, but this would be a top contender. GIMBEL FINZI: Dies Natalis; see BRITTEN FLAGELLO: Passion of Martin Luther King; L’Infinito; The Land Ezio Flagello, b; Leslie Pearson, org; Ambrosian Singers; London Philharmonic, I Musici di Firenze/ Nicolas Flagello Naxos 112065—78 minutes The Flagello brothers were born in New York City, Nicolas in 1928 and Ezio in 1931. Ezio won first place in the Metropolitan Opera Auditions of the Air in 1957 and made his debut in Tosca that same year. He performed on the Met stage 528 times. Nicolas studied with Vittorio Giannini and earned his Bachelor’s and Master’s from the Manhattan School of Music, where he then taught for 25 years. American Record Guide Nicolas’s style is romantic but not derivative. Paul Cook described him as “something of a second-generation Roy Harris or Howard Hanson” (M/J 1996). The music here is very sober, certainly. Of course, the assassination of King deserves such. This is the first release of the original version of the Passion (it was recorded in 1969). James DePreist led the premiere in 1974 and asked Nicolas to leave out the ‘Jubilate Deo’ and ‘I Have a Dream’ movements that end the piece. He felt that the music “was so incredibly beautiful that it captured the spirit of the words, but in a crucial sense it did not capture the contrast of the context of those words— that it was necessary to have a march to the Capitol to make those words, that dream, a reality”. Nicolas wrote a new ending based on the theme of the third movement, ‘Cor Jesu’. The Flagello estate thought that Obama’s election was enough of a milestone in the realization of King’s dream and justified the release of Nicolas’s original conception. He had composed five choral settings from the Latin liturgy that he called Pentaptych (1953); they remained unperformed. He took those five pieces and interspersed settings of King’s speeches among them to form the Passion. His inspiration was Pope Paul VI’s statement after hearing of King’s murder, “I liken the life of this man to the life of our Lord.” The whole piece is nearly 49 minutes long, and I can imagine it would be more engrossing in concert. By about the seventh part (out of ten), my attention was flagging. It is mostly slow. King’s speeches are deep but not dramatic, and the arioso style Flagello used tends toward sameness. And I didn’t find the ‘I Have a Dream’ finale so overwhelmingly beautiful. The Passion is heavy and even draining—definitely not for casual listening. It’s a good piece, but it needs about 8 minutes of creative trimming. The Land is a setting of six poems by Tennyson: ‘The Eagle’, ‘The Owl’, ‘The Throstle’, ‘The Oak’, ‘The Snowdrop’, and ‘Flower in the Cranny’. ‘The Eagle’ is introduced by a restless, but not turgid, depiction of the sea. The set is often moody, except for ‘The Throstle’ and ‘The Snowdrop’—they sound a little like escapees from Songs of the Auvergne. Paul Cook reviewed this when it was first released (Citadel 88115, M/J 1996) and noted that Ezio’s “aggressive basso is fairly scary, given the pastoral light-heartedness of the music”. Ezio does often sound grim. The music has been interesting to hear, but it’s not something I’m going to pull off the shelf again next week. The performances are good, if dated, though the individual winds and horns could have been improved on. The 101 remastering of the Passion was well done, but there’s a little distortion in The Land. Notes in English, but no texts; the Latin texts are easily found elsewhere, and Ezio’s diction is a marvel. ESTEP FOERSTER: Trios 1-3 They are more daring and imaginative, and the string players have a range of tone color lacking in the current recording. Even the fidelity of the sound is much better in the earlier performances. I do commend the Janacek Trio for undertaking this music, since any adequate recording will draw attention to these excellent trios. Janacek Trio—Supraphon 4079—75 minutes Until recently, Foerster has been known largely through recordings of his Fourth Symphony (Easter Eve). Though awarded the title of “National Composer” by Czechoslovakia in 1946, Foerster, unlike Dvorak and Smetana, did not draw as evidently on national folk music and literary themes. Having spent much of his life with his wife, the soprano, Berta Lautererova, in Hamburg and Vienna, befriended and supported by such as Mahler, Tchaikovsky, and Grieg, he was more of an internationalist, registering influence from a variety of musical directions. These trios span nearly four decades of Foerster’s career, with the first in F minor written when he was 23. All three were written against a background of loss. The first (1883) can be heard as a meditation on the loss of the composer’s mother when he was 17; the second (1894) is dedicated to the memory of his younger sister, who died at 23; and the third, written 28 years later, is touched by the loss of his only son. The First Trio has the most nationalist flavor, especially in I, II, and IV, though it’s debatable which nation’s flavor we are sampling. Echoes of Dvorak are evident, and more than a smattering of Grieg, the work’s dedicatee, can be heard, especially in the contemplative and emotional lyricism of III. The polka rhythm of IV adds the presence of Smetana to a mixture that is nonetheless Foerster’s own. The background of Czech and Norwegian influences is less evident in the Second Trio, which, though more bright and optimistic, gives way to elegiac meditation in its final movement. The final trio, in A minor, is the most progressive of the three. The harmony is more elaborate, the polyphony more complex; and though lyricism is not absent, the writing inhabits a very different world from Dvorak or Grieg. The Janacek Trio offer a strong case for this music. They have been together only since 2003 but have achieved a balanced and attentive ensemble that does adequate justice to these trios. I say “adequate” because I much prefer Supraphon’s earlier release of these works with the Foerster Trio (3603). Their 1970 and 1979 readings are marked by a deeper understanding and emotional involvement. 102 JD MOORE FONTANA: Violin Sonatas; see CASTELLO FOULDS: Cello Concerto; see SAINSBURY FRANCAIX: Clarinet Concerto; Variations; PROKOFIEFF: Sonata, op 94 Shirley Brill, cl; Romanian Radio Orchestra/ Adrian Morar—Aparte 24—60 minutes Over the past decade Israeli clarinetist Shirley Brill has quietly been building a respectable career as a soloist and chamber musician. Now residing in Berlin, Brill and her Israeli-born pianist husband Jonathan Aner both teach at the Hans Eisler Hochschule and play together often. Since 2000 they have produced three albums, but on this release Brill enters the concert hall. She joins noted Romanian opera conductor Adrian Morar and the Radio Orchestra for a very challenging program: French composer Jean Francaix’s works for clarinet and orchestra, as well as American composer Kent Kennan’s transcription of the Prokofieff Flute Sonata. Despite its delightful humor and tender moments, the Francaix Clarinet Concerto (1968) is one of the most technically demanding pieces for the instrument; and although the clarinet and piano version of the Tema con Variazioni (1974) is a popular recital piece, it originated as a Solo de Concours, and it pulls no punches. Four years after the commission, Francaix recast it for clarinet and string orchestra. While working on the music for the Sergei Eisenstein film Ivan the Terrible (1943), Prokofieff wrote his virtuosic Flute Sonata, and at the request of his violinist friend David Oistrakh, he turned it into his Violin Sonata No. 2. Shortly after his retirement from the University of Texas at Austin, Kennan imagined the work as a vehicle for the clarinet, producing a clarinet sonata (1984) and a clarinet concerto (1986) for full orchestra. While the sonata is a very faithful transcription of the original, the concerto sparkles with the kind of witty and colorful scoring that Prokofieff would have loved. Brill and the orchestra give solid performances, even if they are not ground-breaking. Despite her resistant German equipment, Brill has a clear sound, and she skillfully interacts with the orchestra, fading into the background September/October 2012 when required, then bursting forth with a brisk soloist personality. She phrases nicely; boasts a remarkable gamut of dynamics, including quadruple pianissimos; and handles all the finger-breaking passages with breathtaking facility. At the same time, her approach is somewhat conservative. She often limits herself to one or two colors, never fully exploring the expressive potential of the music; and she rarely offers a vision or drive that grabs the listener and demands attention. The orchestra is reliable and even with some scrappy playing manages the scores well and serves as a good foil to the guest artist. HANUDEL FRANCAIX: Wind Quintets; Wind Quartet; Divertissement Bergen Woodwind Quintet BIS 2008—63 minutes This may be the best wind quintet making recordings today, and it is delightful that they have selected this music. One of the underappreciated composers by the larger classical music audience, Jean Francaix contributed some of the more challenging and enjoyable music to the wind repertoire in the 20th Century. His first quintet, written in 1948, is a favorite among performers—and a favorite of mine, too. More than just a well-crafted display of technical virtuosity, the work has wit, charm, and dazzle. And the Quartet written in 1933 and Divertissement for oboe, clarinet, and bassoon written in 1947 bear the marks of a quirky intellectualism styled with jazz. The second quintet, however, written nearly 40 years later, sits a notch below the vibrancy of those earlier compositions. A product of the sappy 1980s, it sometimes waxes sentimental and just lacks the same level of substance and inspiration. Nevertheless, like good stewards of their art, the Bergen Quintet keeps all this music brimming with expression. The strongest and most interesting pieces on the program, not to mention the most lovingly played, are the first quintet and the Divertissement. Overall, Bergen’s performance has all the elements of what sometimes seems unattainable—tremendous technical capacity, ideal sense of balance and hierarchy of sound and tone, and the convergence of talented musicians with similar sensibilities. There is not a better recording of these works. SCHWARTZ FRANCK: Organ Pieces David Enlow Pro Organo 7247 [3CD] 161 minutes Just when you thought that Franck’s organ music had been recorded enough (there are 13 American Record Guide complete or nearly complete recordings available now) another collection comes on the market—this one titled “Pater Seraphicus”. Enlow is Organist and Choir Master at the Church of the Resurrection, New York and teaches at Juilliard; the instrument is the 4-93 Aeolian-Skinner (1932, 1942, 2002) in St Mary the Virgin, New York. The 12 major compositions—considered the canon—make up the program. Interpreters of Franck’s organ works face the challenge of how they will play the notes so that they reflect the player’s honest feelings about the music and not copy another’s interpretation. Enlow seems to have figured all this out, as his performance exhibits a certain style for Franck: emphasis on very loud and very soft wherever it seems to fit, and favoring the pungent Pedal ranks, which, alas, cover the manual work. I am guessing that the 32’ Bombarde is the culprit. This observation goes not just for the obvious selections but also the Fantasy in A, the Final, and the Chorales. I find the Piece Heroique lacking heroism with its ponderous registration and tempo. Most of the pieces are slower than the competition. A case in point: the Final from Enlow is 12:14; Kaunzinger does it in 9:10, Langlais in 9:56. Research by Marie-Louise Langlais concludes that Franck’s own tempos were faster than generally assumed (The American Organist, March 2000, 42-3). This does not mean that Enlow’s approach is wrong, but I find his interpretations less compelling than others, flawed especially by his penchant for the heavy Pedal registration. The cover title, originally applied to St Francis, refers to one “selfless, saintly, and wise” who shepherds his flock of disciples. Franck fans may wish to know of other interpretations. The following list of best recordings of the canon was compiled by fellow ARG critic Bill Gatens and me: Demessieux, Robilliard, Roth, Marchal (J/F 2011), and Pincemaille (S/O 2006). METZ FRANCK: Trios 1+2; Fantasy; Andantino Quietoso Mariana Sirbu, v; Mihai Dancila, vc; Mihail Sarbu, p Dynamic 8030—77 minutes This is sweet and beautiful music; every work is a treasure. Trio 1 is as attractive as any piano trio I know. A theme of heartwarming beauty recurs in every movement, and I can’t imagine any real music lover not captivated by it on hearing it. These recordings date from LP days—1981 or so. We reviewed the first CD release (two discs, with Trios 3 and 4 and the ubiquitous violin sonata) in January/February 1991. That 103 is probably deleted, so you’ll have to settle for this. There is no better recording. The violin is sweet and relaxed, the piano natural and recessed, the cello mostly unobtrusive but quite tender and mellow. I have lent these recordings to friends, and they routinely praise them and find the music a delight. The musicians are Romanian, and Mariana Sirbu seems to have all the best characteristics of Eastern European playing. She is the soloist in the two non-trio pieces. VROON FROBERGER: Suites & Toccatas Alina Rotaru, hpsi Carpe Diem 16290—64 minutes Rotaru offers suites, toccatas, the Tombeau for Blacheroche, and a ricercar of Johann Jakob Froberger, played on an original Ruckers harpsichord housed in the Musee d’art et d’histoire in Neuchatel, Switzerland. The sound of the instrument is sublime. After reading in the liner notes about Froberger’s association with the brilliant Jesuit polymath Athanasius Kircher, I was drawn to the ricercar on this disc. It is a piece that brings to life a time when, as in Kircher’s intellectual world, science and mysticism were not always separate. Rotaru accentuates the piece’s esoteric and earthbound aspects in equal parts. She mingles the grand sound of pillar-like organ sonorities with a style of free resonance that evokes the lute’s “broken style” of playing. Her deep understanding of musical structure in the ricercar is evidenced in her acute sense of timing between sections. This release is excellent, musically satisfying, and beautifully presented. KATZ FUCHS: Serenades 3,4,5 Cologne Chamber Orchestra/ Christian Ludwig Naxos 572607—69 minutes Robert Fuchs (1847-1927) is better known as a musical pedagogue than as a composer. He was a professor at the Vienna Conservatory where he taught at least two generations of composers including Mahler, Sibelius, Richard Strauss, Wolf, Schreker, Korngold, and Zemlinsky. He was a friend of Brahms, who apparently encouraged his efforts at musical composition. But Fuchs’s music gradually lost popularity in the 1920s and is only now coming back, thanks no doubt to CDs. His serenades (he wrote five) were among his most played works, but that’s not saying much. This is the first recording, as far as I know, of Serenades 3 and 4. A recording of Serenade 5 was reviewed by Mr Althouse (J/A 2004) and of Serenades 1 and 2 by Mr O’Connor (J/A 2011). 104 Serenade 3, heavily scored for strings and not much else, will surely remind listeners of Brahms’s serenades if not of some of his other works like his Third Symphony. In Serenade 4, French horns have been added to the instrumentation; and in Serenade 5 there are more wind instruments but it still sounds Brahmsian to me, even with the allusion to Johann Strauss waltzes. Still, these serenades have charm and are pleasant to hear. They share tempo markings, and the finale in each case sounds, like a Hungarian Dance by Brahms. But I could not find “the darker hints of distinctly Mahlerian hue” that the writer of the notes claims to find in the Adagio of Serenade 5. These works are pleasant music and easy listening, but profound they are not. The Cologne Chamber Orchestra produces a rich, romantic sound that’s quite attractive and expressive; but it’s not always clear what they are trying to express. MOSES GAL; ELGAR: Cello Concertos Antonio Meneses; Northern Sinfonia/ Claudio Cruz Avie 2237—62 minutes Pairing these two cello concertos was a good idea. They are both basically romantic in nature and tragic in background. Edward Elgar’s was his last major work, written in 1919, just before his wife died and after four years of war that put an end to many composers’ productivity. Austrian composer Hans Gal (1890-1987) wrote his concerto in 1944 after losing four of his close relatives two years earlier to the Nazis, including the suicide of his youngest son. The music, in both cases, though sad, is still an expression of a positive kind. Music is, if not an escape, an activity that keeps both composer and listener alive and opens new possibilities. So I find it, and these composers did it well. I have always loved Elgar and this concerto. The Gal is new to me and I am very glad to make its acquaintance. It is a beautiful and strong work, not overtly virtuosic but rich in warmth and love for mankind. Meneses hasn’t the richest sound I have heard, but his technique is excellent and he plays with musical insight and involvement in the deep emotions of these pieces. Cruz and the Northern Sinfonia blend beautifully. In other words, though his Elgar is not as richtoned as Du Pre or Rostropovich, it is moving and a fine representation of the piece. Still, I will be keeping this primarily for the Gal—a 33-minute piece of great depth and musical beauty. This is its first recording—and a good one! D MOORE September/October 2012 GALUPPI: Harpsichord Sonatas Ilario Gregoletto Newton 8802112 [4CD] 239 minutes Galuppi’s harpsichord sonatas are truly inspired compositions, full of eloquence and invention. As a performer Galuppi was remarkably erudite. His music is also blessed by a wild, brilliant sense of humor. The delights in these pieces are so numerous that I can only describe a few. In the Larghetto of Sonata No. 3 in C minor grand expository arpeggios rub up against pensive contrapuntal material, like a glimpse into an epic hero’s inner thoughts. The sly, systematic rhythmic mutations in the Andante Spiritoso of Sonata No. 5 in E minor create an extra level of subtext in an otherwise typical galant keyboard sonata. The effect is like vines growing on a decaying baroque building: in the midst of human creations we are reminded of the great force of nature. Galant music is sometimes maligned as stemming from a vain and superficial emotional place. Not so with Galuppi. One need only look to a piece like the Andante of Sonata 21 in G minor to refute such a claim. It starts simply and builds in emotional intensity, almost unbearably. If you hear the piece and are impressed that the composer can provoke a vast sense of catharsis in a minute-long musical miniature then you are in for an extremely rewarding experience when you explore his larger-scale keyboard works. The seven-minute-long Andante of Sonata No. 10 in A is a longer piece that is one of the high points of this recording. It is languid, sensuous, and larger than life, like Ingres’s Odalisque. Ilario Gregoletto knows Galuppi’s music as intimately as one knows a close friend or family member. I have no doubt that his graceful and generous style of playing contributed in large part to my newfound love of Galuppi’s music. I truly hope this recording will have a similar effect on a great many listeners. KATZ GALUPPI: Trio Sonatas Accademia Vivaldiana Newton 8802121—57 minutes Baldassare Galuppi (1706-85) was a well-traveled composer, who in addition to his important place in the history of Venetian music spent time in London and St Petersburg. Though better known for his dramatic works and his keyboard sonatas, he was also a respected composer of instrumental music, though little of this legacy has been recorded. The six trio sonatas on this recording are American Record Guide found in an Italian manuscript now in the collection of the University of Uppsala; it was purchased by Jean-Henri Lefebure, the son of a Swedish merchant of Huguenot descent, while on his Grand Tour around 1760. In contrast to the more contrapuntal sonatas of the baroque, these are clearly “galant” works, with an emphasis on elegant melodies and clear tonal harmony. Most are in the more modern three-movement format (fast-slow-fast), though Sonata 3 begins with a Largo. Also unusual is the inclusion in Sonata 6 of a recitative movement called ‘Dialog between Pasquino and Marforio’, which mimics two of the “talking statues” in Rome. There was another recent recording of this same set of trio sonatas by the Accademia dei Solinghi (Dynamic 694, Jan/Feb 2012), which is somewhat less “galant”, with less emphasis on the refined melodic phrasing heard on this new release. But I like this new one better. BREWER GEHOT: 4 Trios, op 5 Bacchanalia Eroica 3466—60 minutes Joseph Gehot (1756-c.1795) was a contemporary of Mozart, and this set of six trios dates from 1781. They were written for two violins and cello, but we hear them performed on flute, viola, and cello. Gehot was a violinistcomposer born in Liege who, like Mozart, traveled extensively as a teenager and young adult to perform in France and Germany. He settled in London in 1780, which is where this music was published in 1781. In the summer of 1792 he and three colleagues decided to come to the United States, and Gehot died in Philadelphia. The refinement and charm of this music reminds me most of Boccherini. This program presents Trios 1-3 and 6. They are all in three movements except Trio 3, which is an Andante cantabile and a Fugue. This is also the only trio in a minor key, and the Andante is quite chromatic. Overall, the third trio has a dramatic heft the others don’t have; think of amiable Pleyel for the rest of them. The members of Bacchanalia are baroque flutist Laura Thompson, violist Louise Schulman, and cellist Myron Lutzke. These three New York-based musicians have performing credits with many period instrument groups as well as larger ensembles such as the Orchestra of St Luke’s. They play this music with emphasis on the refinement rather than the drama, and the recorded sound is on the soft side, but otherwise very good. I would not consider these trios—or the playing—such a discovery as the 4-Flute Concertos by Schickhardt (Ars Musica 232341; July/Aug 2010), but they are 105 pleasant; and the notes by flutist Thompson offer more details of Gehot’s interesting life. GORMAN GEMMINGEN: Violin Concertos 1+2; SPERGER: Sinfonia in F Kolya Lessing; Munich Radio Orchestra/ Ulf Schirmer CPO 777454—63 minutes Ernst von Gemmingen lived from 1759 to 1813. These concertos sound a lot like Haydn’s, but he is not as good a composer as Haydn. It’s pretty ordinary classical period stuff, and if you like the period it may interest you. I find it somewhat boring. Johann Matthias Sperger is a contemporary of Gemmingen (1750-1812). His 13minute piece is an Arrival Symphony—his answer to Haydn’s Farewell Symphony. Two violins start it off, and other strings are added. It’s 6 minutes in before we hear a wind (oboe). There will eventually be two of them, plus two horns. By 8 minutes in we even hear a harpsichord, filling out the texture—now it’s a symphony! It’s a pleasant piece, once it gets going, and it sounds better than the two concertos. The performances are irritating. The violin sounds very metallic (yes, tinny). He uses vibrato on held notes only. The rest is scraping sounds that strike me as unpleasant. The strings also play with essentially no vibrato and sound raw. How long are we going to have to put up with this kind of thing? The orchestra (not to be confused with the Bavarian Radio Orchestra in the same town) is a small one—all the time, but especially here. At maximum there are about 60 players, but here it’s closer to 40, I would guess (there’s also a picture, but was that taken especially for this release?). VROON G ERNSHEIM: Zu Einem Drama; KLUGHARDT: Lenore SW German Radio Orchestra/ Klaus Arp; Anhalt Philharmonic/ Manfred Mayrhofer Sterling 1096—51 minutes Both Friedrich Gernsheim and August Klughardt languished in the shadow of Brahms. Gernsheim’s First Symphony often sounds remarkably like Brahms, whose own first attempt would not see the light of day for another year; and he often scheduled Brahms’s symphonies at his concerts in Rotterdam. In turn Klughardt had an epiphany on attending the first Wagner Festival at Bayreuth in 1876 and not only directed his Dessau Opera in the Ring cycle 16 years later but also borrowed Wagner’s leitmotif principle for his own operas, Gudrun and Die Hochzeit des Münchs. Thus both composers were obliged to find 106 their own style amidst the schools of Brahms and Schumann on one side, Liszt and Wagner on the other; and while their relative neglect these days would suggest neither of them was able to develop a distinct musical physiognomy that would set them apart from the others, both wrote music that repays repeated hearings. Arte Nova has generously made all four of Gernsheim’s symphonies available at very low cost (Jan/Feb 2000); you may also find Klughardt’s Third Symphony and Violin Concerto on CPO (July/Aug 2011), and Sterling has already given us Klughardt’s suite Auf der Wanderschaft along with his Cello Concerto (Mar/Apr 2004). Friedrich was born in Worms and emotionally always remained close to that city. As a youth he took lessons with a student of Louis Spohr. With the Revolution of 1848 the family moved first to Mainz and later Frankfurt, where the 11-year-old Gernsheim made his debut as a triple-threat recitalist, playing both violin and piano and also directing his newly written Overture. From Frankfurt he traveled to Leipzig to learn more but soon broke off to study piano at the Paris Conservatoire, where he frequented Rossini’s famous salons and found himself witnessing the scandalous performance of Wagner’s Tannhäuser. He had formed a close friendship with Hermann Levi, who would become a staunch advocate of both Brahms and Wagner; and after leaving Paris he succeeded Levi as music director in Saarbrücken. In Cologne he became a protege of the noted composer and conductor Ferdinand Hiller, who introduced him to Brahms; and when Brahms declined Hiller’s invitation to teach piano and composition at the Cologne Conservatory, he turned instead to Gernsheim. Gernsheim championed Brahms’s German Requiem and Alto Rhapsody during his 16 years in Holland and finally settled in Berlin, where he died in 1916 at the age of 77. Two years before he died Dortmund held a Gernsheim Festival—only a few weeks before the start of World War I. But his music soon became passe, and matters only grew worse when Gernsheim as a Jew was banned by the Third Reich. August Klughardt may have slightly greater name recognition, if only for his C-major Wind Quartet—but not his symphonies. He was born in 1847 in Cöthen, but his family moved to Dessau when he was 16. He had already started to make a name for himself as a composer—mostly for small ensembles—and also as a pianist. Upon relocating to Dresden, his expansive choral setting of Sleeping Beauty (also set by Gernsheim’s student Humperdinck) impressed audiences with its flowing melodies and skillful orchestration (yet September/October 2012 remains unavailable). Further travels took him to Bayreuth and also Weimar, where he became infatuated with the symphonic poems of Liszt. At first it was hoped he might become one of the shining lights of Liszt’s New German School, but he strayed from the righteous path first with his initial attempt at opera, Mirjam— deemed unpalatable for its strange mix of Weimar and Mehul’s classical-romantic style, and later with Gudrun whose clear Wagnerian influences went beyond the pale. With the unification of the German states under Bismarck that followed the Franco-Prussian War, Brahms wrote his Triumphlied and Klughardt contributed two works, Die Grenzberichtigung (literally “border adjustment”) and the overture Die Wacht am Rhin hailed by Kaiser Wilhelm I. In 1873 Klughardt accepted the post of Hofkapellmeister at Strelitz, where he wrote the Lenore Symphony heard here along with numerous other works in nearly every conceivable genre. Finally in 1882 he returned to Dessau, where he died in 1902—he was only 54. While his operas may not move a modern generation, his symphonies—six in all—surely deserve an occasional hearing if the two now on records are any indication, though Lenore was doomed to obscurity by a composer whose musical gifts far surpassed his. Perhaps under the influence of Liszt, Friedrich Gernsheim’s swan song, the tone poem Zu Einem Drama, speaks mostly in generalities; no specific drama is cited in the score. It also contains enough melodies or motifs for half a dozen pieces, as if the 63-yearold Gernsheim wanted to say everything he had to say while he was still at the peak of his creative powers; thus there is so much to admire and yet the listener has little time to enjoy one melody before the next one is on him. One might welcome a more expansive exploration of such bounty. The tranquil opening soon erupts in fury; the horn now introduces a sweeping romantic melody in the strings, yet just as suddenly more tempestuous busywork leads to a quasi fantasia interlude, in turn yielding the floor to an opulent, soaring melody that annotator Malcolm MacDonald considers Gernsheim’s “love theme” (it is marked Andante amoroso). A thunderous return of the central strife, quite Brahmsian, leads to a ringing coda—yet not quite the final word. The ensuing majestic apotheosis of the amoroso theme is a sign that love has conquered all. Perhaps this rather personal program shows how Gernsheim might have expanded his art beyond the Brahmsian ideal if he only had more time. The first problem with August Klughardt’s Lenore is that no one seems to know whether it’s a symphony or a suite in four movements American Record Guide (here the two middle movements are combined). Apparently the composer had it published as a suite, yet listed it as a symphony in his own catalog—a situation not unlike Rimsky-Korsakoff’s Antar. But the larger problem for Klughardt is that he came up against one of the acclaimed composers of his day, Joachim Raff, whose own Lenore Symphony (5) has been recorded many times. Apparently Klughardt only learned of Raff’s symphony on the day his own had its premiere, Both were published in 1873, but Raff actually completed his symphony the year before. Both Raff and Klughardt took their inspiration from the popular ballad of Gottfried August Bürger that caught the fancy of several composers of the time. Some think Bürger’s Lenore even resonates in Edgar Allan Poe’s brooding poem, The Raven. The maiden Lenore grows weary of waiting for her lover, the gallant Wilhelm, to return home from the battlefield, and in a fit of anger she blasphemes against God. That night she hears a knock on the door and is overjoyed to see Wilhelm in full armor standing before his panting steed. At once she begs him to take her to their wedding bed, and a furious ride ensues; but suddenly he dismounts and points to a newly dug grave clearly meant for two, and as Lenore stares at him in horror she now sees him for the rotting skeleton he has become as he declares “Tis done, tis done, we’ve come full run, the wedding bed awaits not just one”. Unlike Raff’s more fortunate maiden, who is redeemed at the end, Klughardt steadfastly follows Bürger’s cautionary tale: Lenore’s wish has been fulfilled, God’s justice rendered. We can clearly hear Lenore’s anguish in the opening outcry; this dissipates, and a more chivalric motif in the winds might be the valiant Wilhelm. Thereafter the thrusting orchestral writing, spelled by a more romantic swelling of the strings, builds steadily to an even more agitated section; there’s a forceful return of the primary materials, with romance finally yielding to the fray. Much like Raff (who placed it third, after the slow movement), Klughardt intersperses a march for Wilhelm that reaches a brilliant peroration, while the slow movement—again, as with Raff—shows poor Lenore now quite distraught; there’s more agitato material that’s soon combined with the main subject, but the ethereal close in the high violins suggests she has given up all hope of ever seeing her lover again. Of course Klughardt also sets up a ride of eternal damnation in the closing movement; despite the rapturous embrace of the lovers we may hear in the violins early on, the Devil (or is it God?) will have his due, and following a heated gallop ominous chords tell us the riders have reached 107 their destination. The sardonic writing for the woodwinds near the close (6:15) might well be Wilhelm—or what’s left of him—beckoning the doomed Lenore to join him forever in their nuptial dirt bed. But even played at full room volume it must be admitted Klughardt’s Lenore is scarcely a patch on Raff’s; the trenchant ride to the abyss spawned by Raff conjures terrors not hinted at by Klughardt, while the power of Raff’s march for Wilhelm stirred intense feelings in me when I heard it for the first time from Bernard Herrmann’s epic Unicorn recording, whereas Klughardt’s seems rather foursquare by comparison. But that doesn’t prevent me from recommending these entirely unknown works for your consideration if you have any iota of interest in romantic music. Both performances were taken down in concert—though I would never guess it of the pristine Gernsheim—and my only nitpick for the Klughardt is Sterling’s decision to break off between movements; they could have been joined together very easily. There is some congestion at climaxes, mostly in Lenore. Perhaps Bo Hyttner might be cajoled into giving us Klughardt’s other symphonies, or possibly his Sleeping Beauty? HALLER GERSHWIN: American in Paris; see GROFE GESUALDO: Madrigals, Book 5 Hilliard Ensemble ECM 16769—55 minutes In the text of Gesualdo’s madrigal ‘O Dolorosa Gioia’ lie two words—graditi martiri (welcome torments)—that very aptly describe what performers must embrace in tackling the Prince of Venosa’s notoriously difficult music. Discipline, commitment, and preparation must be welded to a certain delight in the painful experimentation that effective Gesualdo interpretation exacts from even the most experienced of performers. The Hilliard Ensemble’s decades of high accomplishment are well documented, and this new recording is very fine. It is not surprising to learn from baritone Gordon Jones in the booklet that although their only previous recording of Gesualdo was some 20 years ago (Tenebrae, N/D 1991), they have performed Gesualdo’s late madrigals in the intervening years. One could invent an apt heraldic motto here: “In mastery is service”. By mastering the style the singers serve the music. In ‘O Dolorosa Gioia’ the ensemble has exquisite control over the suave lines; and the singers’ excellent articulation of the text—on pain, joy, and the above-mentioned welcome tor- 108 ments—is a model of the Italian Renaissance ideal of sprezzatura. The torturous nature of Gesualdo’s music is there for performers to bring forth, but there is no need to overplay the effect. The graceful nonchalance of sprezzatura is far harder to achieve than an exhibition of just how hard it is to sing this music. To balance the matter of fact and the extraordinary is the key to effective interpretation of this music, and The Hilliard Ensemble never overdoes the oddities for superficial effect. In ‘Itene, O Miei Sospiri’ the delicacy of expression, the five voices singing as one, the shaping of lines, subtle dynamic coloring, and the harmonic squeezing of dissonance all denote the ensemble’s familiarity with this difficult idiom. ‘Languisce Al Fin’ has all of Gesualdo’s extremes: dissonance, chromaticism, going to meet Death. Don’t forget that Gesualdo demands a lot from the listener, too. It is draining to hear these madrigals, as they wear on the emotions and command close listening. Listen to the CD in sections, perhaps starting at Track 12 (‘O Voi, Troppo Felice’) after taking a break to refresh your spirit. Brief notes, texts, translations. John Barker had very high regard for The Hilliard Ensemble’s earlier Gesualdo program (N/D 1991), and to compare Book 5 interpretations and enrich your experience of this remarkable music I recommend The Consort of Musicke (Oiseau 4759110, M/J 2008, reissue from 1983) and Concerto Italiano (Naive 30486, J/F 2010, with madrigals from Book 6 and by other composers). C MOORE GETTY: Plump Jack Christopher Robertson (Henry IV), Nikolai Schukoff (Henry V), Nathaniel Webster (Bardolph), Lester Lynch (Falstaff), Melody Moore (Clarence), Susanne Mentzer (Quickly); Munich Radio Orchestra/ Ulf Schirmer Pentatone 5186445 [SACD] 76 minutes “Plump Jack” is our old friend Sir John Falstaff. Gordon Getty’s opera has been years in the making. Parts of the “Boar’s Head Inn” scene go back to 1982. The libretto, by the composer himself, assembles scenes from the three Henry IV and Henry V plays of Shakespeare (no merry wives), and it really doesn’t tell a coherent story. The crown passes from father to son; Falstaff interacts with his familiar cohorts (Pistol, Shallow, Bardolph, Nell Quickly) and is finally expelled from Henry V’s court. If we didn’t know these characters from other contexts, we wouldn’t get to know them very well here. “Banish plump Jack and banish all the world”, says Falstaff, but you’ll have to take his word for it. Getty may have been worried about writ- September/October 2012 ing too long an opera, but I would have welcomed more. He has a real knack for setting words well and sensibly, but he deprives us of almost all of the most famous lines from the plays—no “Uneasy lies the head”, no St Crispin’s day speech. To reinforce the realism of his story, he quotes some Renaissance music and Latin plainchant. His spare orchestration can be quite vivid (as in the final scene). He compares much of what he writes to movie music, citing such characters as Sylvester, Tweety, Yosemite Sam, and Mr Magoo, which is perhaps carrying self-denigration too far. Plump Jack is far more sophisticated than anything from Looney Tunes and would probably be effective on stage for an audience already familiar with Shakespeare’s plays. One of the most familiar lines from Henry V is given to Pistol: “O for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention.” How bright a heaven Getty ascends should probably be decided by each individual listener. I loved Nell’s heartfelt eulogy for the dead Falstaff, “Nay, sure, he’s not in hell, he’s in Arthur’s bosom”, and the byplay among Falstaff, Bardolph, Shallow, and Pistol earlier on; the speeches of the two kings are rather stiff and less striking. This performance, from Bavarian Radio of all places, does not make the best case for Plump Jack. Susanne Mentzer as Quickly and Robert Breault as Shallow are impressive, and so is Lester Lynch as an articulate Falstaff. Melody Moore sings sweetly as Clarence, and Nikolai Schukoff brings some ring and clarity to Hal’s lines, but Christopher Robertson is too diffident and muffled as Henry IV. The orchestra plays well under Ulf Schirmer’s direction, and the sound is excellent. A libretto is supplied. Some cuts are made in this “concert version”, including all of Scenes 1 and 8. We’ve reviewed quite a lot of Getty’s music in ARG (check the index), and our critics have generally been positive. Here’s another interesting recording to add to the list. LUCANO GIANNINI: Piano Quintet; Trio Manchester Music Festival Quintet MSR 1394—61 minutes Despite a handful of releases of his music on CD, Italian-American Vittorio Giannini (190366) isn’t much remembered or played these days. Too bad. He was a gifted melodist and fine craftsman who wrote symphonies, concertos, and operas in a modern-but-traditional idiom that began with late-19th Century harmonic language and progressed to the more expanded tonality and somewhat leaner textures of Hanson, Barber, and Piston (as of American Record Guide course they were progressing themselves). But like them he remained a romantic in his expressive aims. Giannini’s best-known work today is probably his 1958 Third Symphony, one of the best ever written for wind ensemble and deservedly popular for that reason. It came out on a Mercury LP and was reissued on CD (Mercury 434320, Mar/Apr 1993, p 178); there’s also a more recent recording on Naxos 570130 (Sept/Oct 2006). Two orchestral works in a neo-baroque vein are on Albany 143 (July/Aug 1995), and his Rachmaninoffian 1934 Piano Concerto and splendid 1959 Fourth Symphony are on Naxos 559352 (May/June 2009). Readers wanting more details about Giannini and his slender discography should seek out the review of that release. The two chamber pieces on this superblyplayed-and-recorded MSR are early works (from the early 1930s) and show Giannini at his most effusive and fervent. The 34-minute, three-movement Piano Quintet is the prize here: full-throated, packed with glorious melodies that work up to passionate climaxes, cunningly crafted and idiomatically laid-out for the instruments, commanding in its youthful exuberance. The harmonic idiom and thematic inflections bring to mind Puccini more than anyone else I can think of; occasional touches of exoticism and modality—and the prevailing high level of emotional intensity— recall Bloch. The pianism owes much to Rachmaninoff; calmer moments might have come from Fauré; the flair and sweeping power owe something to Respighi. Yet the piece doesn’t sound like anyone else. The opening allegro begins with a dandy, swaying tune in 5/4 time over minor triads a major third apart that rock back and forth with an anticipatory, almost erotic restlessness. The second theme—also an indelible melody— arrives a minute and a half later. It’s an interesting contrast: still surging and romantic, certainly, but more stately and ceremonious, with ornaments that suggest adventures in mysterious, far-off places of epic and legend. These two ideas are extensively developed, often in alternating strophes, until, after a satisfying grand recapitulation, the movement ends with a final climactic restatement of the two themes, this time not merely in alternation but instead in thrilling contrapuntal superimpositions. The following adagio builds a seductive, dreamily lyrical meditation into an outpouring of impassioned rapture on yet another beautiful, long-lined melody, first presented in octaves on the piano over murmuring strings, that might have served as an aria for one of Puccini’s lovelorn heroines. If III doesn’t quite match the exaltation of the first two move- 109 ments, still it brims over with fine tunes, bravura excitement, and forward-driving energy. Three decades I’ve known and loved this resplendent quintet (from non-commercial recordings as well as the score), and now at last I can proclaim that here it is for all to hear and enjoy. Yes, there are more up-to-date, more original, more profound, and more “important” piano quintets than this one, but if there is another more sheerly beautiful, I have yet to hear it. Giannini didn’t have the same success with the slightly later trio as with the quintet. Though the works share a similar language and romantic ethos, the fervency and melodic inspiration had slackened and become too formulaic and obligatory in the later work. It’s not a bad piece by any means, but so outshone by the earlier one that it feel superfluous. Buy this for the quintet. And thank the superlative musicians of the Manchester Music Festival who have brought it into the recorded repertoire with such magniloquence and devotion. LEHMAN GIORDANI: Lamentations & Miserere Il Terzo Suono Pan 10265 [2CD] 100:18 Giuseppe Giordani (1751-98) is most likely not a household name. He was trained at the Conservatory of St Maria di Lorato in Naples along with Domenico Cimarosa. Though an active opera composer, he held church positions in Naples and later was the director of the Metropolitan Church in Fermo, a position he held until he died. The Lamentations for Holy Week included on this new release are in an autograph score from the Fermo archives, labeled “Lamentations and Miserere, more solemn than those that are sung ordinarily”. What Giordani termed “more solemn” might be better interpreted as more operatic. Each of the lessons from Jeremiah’s Lamentations is a miniature cantata for solo voice, duet, or small ensemble, and sometimes the affect of the texts seems contradicted by the lively nature of the vocal and instrumental writing. In Giordani’s score it is unclear what instruments should play the accompaniment. In this recording we have a delightful 18th Century Italian organ by Gaetano Callido, but Massimilliano Raschietti struggles with the repeated notes and tremolos more typical of Italian string writing. This type of substitution was prevalent among the poorer churches that wanted to emulate the modern style, and in a similar fashion the four vocal parts are performed by soloists (Marinella Pennicchi, Jeffrey Gall, Gian Paolo Fagotto, and Furio Zanasi). The booklet has an excellent essay 110 and includes full texts and translations. The performance is very good, but this is not your typical set of Lamentations. BREWER GLASS: Symphony 9 Bruckner Orchestra/ Dennis Russell Davies Orange Mountain 81—50 minutes As Glass observes in an interview with Richard Guerin in the liner notes, Dennis Russell Davies is largely responsible for his ten symphonies. (The tenth was first performed in August.) Davies commissioned all except No. 7, and I’m very grateful for his advocacy of them; this performance is, as always, committed and authoritative. Glass’s symphonies certainly arouse very extreme responses from their listeners: I can remember hearing No. 2 performed at Eastman with more than a few composers and new-music enthusiasts in the audience showing quite open hostility and bad-mannered derision. Still, the claim that Glass’s music is too simple-minded to be taken seriously is now almost a cliche. Frankly, I think he actually encourages such talk, almost as a kind of private joke, because—despite his protestations to the contrary—he’s a very intelligent composer with a very clear sense of music past and present and his own position in it. In Symphony No. 9 he refines the deceptive tonal leanings of his music still further— they’ve always been ambiguous, but here the ambiguity seems even more nuanced than in earlier works. And as always he offers a very unusual idea of what a symphony is: the material feels neither quite weighty enough to resemble a symphony of the 19th Century nor so overtly programmatic that it completely resembles his operas or such evocative orchestral scores as The Light (May/June 2007) or Itaipu (July/Aug 2010). I believe Glass’s symphonies—and perhaps the Ninth in particular—are important much in the way Satie’s music is: resolutely equivocal, impossible to assign to simplistic categories. If they continue to be played in years to come, as I hope they will be, Glass will attract very heterogeneous audiences just as Satie has—from people who simply delight in the apparently uncomplicated sentiment of the music, or in its humor, to people who suspect that something far more subversive and vital is at work: nothing less than music that disorients us precisely because it seems to come, quite literally, without much sense of a lineage from tradition and without any particular allegiance to a self-conscious avant-garde. HASKINS September/October 2012 GOMES: Salvator Rosa Maria Porubcinova (Isabella), Ray M Wade (Salvator Rosa), Malte Roesner (Masaniello); Braunschweig/ Georg Menskes Oehms 957 [2CD] 133 minutes Brazilian opera is rarely encountered on any stage outside of Brazil, and recordings of Brazilian opera are just as rare. In May/June 2000 it was interesting and mainly pleasurable to totally immerse my ears in eight operas of Antonio Carlos Gomes (his entire operatic output except for his second opera, Joana de Flandro. and three operettas). In general those recordings from Brazil were inadequate. In excellent sound is a 1994 performance of Il Guarany (Sony 66273, July/Aug 1996) with Placido Domingo as the Guarany tribal hero. He sings sternly, with little imagination, characterization, or musical variety, turning out a workman-like, one-dimensional performance. The notes are all there, but little else. Veronica Villarroel is an agreeable heroine—a bit short on technical facility, but a credible character. Again it is the baritone who steals the show. Carlos Alvarez creates a virile, strongly sung villain. Finally a Don Antonio that can at least sing the music: Hao Jiang Tian. John Neschling led the Beethovenhalle Orchestra in the best of the orchestral readings. Although of Spanish colonist descent, the composer’s father altered the Spanish Z ending (Gomez) to S (Gomes) to look more Portuguese. The composer was born in the province of Sao Paulo July 11, 1836. His grandfather was Spanish, his grandmother from the indigenous Guarany tribe. The son of a provincial bandmaster, Gomes was the 11th of 12 children. Having learned the rudiments of music from his father, at age 18 he composed a mass that was performed in a local church by the entire Gomes family. He began a career as a concert pianist, touring Brazil while still in his early 20s. The Brazilian Emperor Dom Pedro II had him admitted to the National Conservatory of Music to study composition with an Italian maestro, Gioacchino Gianini. Following the success of his first two operas, A Noite do Castelo (1861) and Joana de Flandro (1863), the Emperor gave him a grant for further studies in Germany. But, with some assistance from the Emperor’s wife, Teresa Cristina, Gomes went to Italy instead. In Milan he studied with Lauro Rossi, a popular composer of operas. It was in Italy that he composed six of his major operas, two musical theater works, and a huge collection of chamber music. We are told that his musical style is heavily influenced by Brazilian music, itself an amalgamation of Spanish, Portuguese, native Indi- American Record Guide an, and African elements. But on listening to these operas, it soon becomes obvious that there is only one musical style and influence: late 19th Century Italian music—Ponchielli and Verdi by way of Bellini, Donizetti, and Rossini. Only in some of the extensive ballet music in his operas is there a touch of local color—Brazilian dance rhythms. Such is the excellence of much of Gomes’s music and drama that his entire oeuvre needs to be reexamined and published in decent modern editions and recordings. Although Salvatore Rosa became almost as popular as Guarany, perhaps the less said about the opera the better. At least that was my judgement of the opera in 2000 on the basis of a Brazilian recording. Despite another Italian libretto by Antonio Ghislanzoni after Eugene Mirecourt’s novel Masaniello about the Neapolitan revolution against Spanish oppression, the music isn’t much. It’s a lighter opera than the others, with two not very sympathetic heroes. This performance—January 20, 2010 at Braunschweig—is infinitely superior. Wade sings a brilliant, ringing Rosa, so full of life, practically champing at the bits to thrill the audience. He is met full head on by the roaring passionate Isabella of Porubcinova. The chorus is a character in itys own right. It unleashes a torrent of sound every time the baton points at them. It’s really exciting. The program notes are helpful, but there is no libretto. PARSONS G ORECKI: Little Requiem for a Certain Polka; Concerto-Cantata; Harpsichord Concerto; Dances Carol Wincenc, fl; Anna Gorecka, p; Warsaw Philharmonic/ Antoni Wit Naxos 572872—70 minutes The oddly titled Little Requiem for a Certain Polka (1993), a continuous four-movement piece for piano and orchestra, opens with misty chimes and the ubiquitous Dies Irae motive and becomes a quiet trio for two violins and piano. The “wake-up” pick-up chant is harshly developed, and after a brief recap the Dies Irae appears with aggressive brass and crashing piano chords. Sinister tritones (“the devil’s interval”) appear, but a peaceful clarinet solo ushers in an elevated prayer for strings. In celebration (I presume), a hearty but eventually nightmarish Polka follows (I don’t know what “Certain” refers to), and all that’s left are the church bells and a pensive chorale. Following Maria Cizmic’s recent work on Gorecki (in her Performing Pain, which I cited in a recent review of Schnittke), it’s not hard to 111 suggest an interpretation of the piece. Struggle between trauma and redemption can be taken personally or politically (not to mention theologically), and given the composer’s and his country’s history, the work’s expressive trajectory can be clearly followed. In any event, the result is very effective. The Concerto-Cantata (1992), for flute and orchestra, is a four-movement work built around a moody recitative (again with tritones) and serious arioso, with a capricious Concertino in between with unmistakable burlesque elements. The juxtapositions again seem suggestive. The brief two-movement Harpsichord Concerto (1980) is given here in an arrangement for piano and orchestra. A tempestuous, stormy opening movement is followed by a jocular finale, again with grotesquely burlesque overtones. The Three Dances (1973) are pulsating and obsessive chunks of Polish peasant stuff, the beautiful middle movement showing an early resemblance to the figuration in the last movement of the famous Third Symphony. It would make a terrific substitute for the 19th Century folk music rhapsodies heard so often closing orchestra concerts. This is a wonderful selection of this great composer’s not often heard orchestral music. The Warsaw Phil is obviously a definitive source for it. Ms Wincenc, of course, needs no introduction, but note that Ms Gorecka is the composer’s daughter. GIMBEL G RAENER: Comedietta; Russian Folksong Variations; Evening Music; Short Symphony Hanover Radio/ Werner Andreas Albert CPO 777 447—67 minutes The Internet has much self-righteous ado about this release. Graener has been misidentified as “the official Nazi composer”—there was no such figure. Despite holding some significant posts under the Reich, his tenure was rocky. Goebbels griped that he was interested only in money—as though composers weren’t supposed to care about paying bills. Furthermore, he was fired from his teaching post because he was unable to document properly his Aryan lineage. Toscanini, hardly a fascist suck-up, often conducted his Flute of SansSouci Suite, and the publisher Eulenberg, who had been exiled by the Nazis, continued to promote his work even after the war. As for me, when it comes to judging anyone’s day-today survival under a homicidal dictatorship, I refuse to demand of others a level of courage I don’t have myself. (I have all the respect in the world for the few who do have such courage.) So, PC posturing aside, what’s the music 112 like? Paul Graener (1872-1944) was a largely self-taught composer. From 1898 to 1909 he conducted at London’s Haymarket Theater, and even during WW II was technically a British citizen. His music is conservative in idiom, often in a neo-baroque or classical vein, rather along the lines of Stravinsky. It lacks the tang of the Russian master, but is less condescending to its material. Evening Music (1913) is a suite of three attractive sketches for small orchestra—mood music in the best sense of the phrase. Variations on a Russian Folk Song date from 1917. The song is the familiar ‘Volga Boatmen’. Graener’s variations are first class, leading it through a range of guises. Like the better sets, he not only varies the tune, but creates from it new, yet discernibly related themes. The scoring sounds unusually rich, because it favors the orchestra’s mid to lower registers, like the song itself, which I’ve never heard sung by anyone higher than a baritone. The variations have a central European flavor—only the 10th has a Russian cast. Unlike his model Reger, Graener, with admirable restraint, chooses not to end with a fugue. The Comedietta (1928) is a cute caprice for small orchestra, with changing humors and colors, also orchestrated with taste and skill. In the listenable Short Symphony (1932), I is more like an 18th Century concerto grosso, even to the concluding Picardy third. II, for strings only, is more emotionally moving. III is a sustained, stately processional. The score is marked “moderate and somewhat majestic” and has no other tempo indications at all, but any time I’ve heard it, I’ve always felt it should go faster. In sum, Graener is a good, not great, composer worth exploring. For score-readers, the Petrucci online library has the Evening Music and Variations. CPO is supposedly working on another Graener disc, but they’ve toyed with us before. I’m still waiting for their promised releases of Nicode and more music by Siegmund von Hausegger. O’CONNOR GRAGNANI: 3 Sonatas Franco Mezzena, v; Massimo Scattolin, g Newton 8802113—46 minutes Filippo Gragnani (1767-1820) was one of many contemporaries of Beethoven who wrote chamber music for amateur players. Like so many of his fellow guitarists-whose-namesend-in-a-vowel (Carulli, Carcassi, Molino, Moretti, Giuliani, Legnani, etc.) he was born in Italy, but spent much of his life abroad, in cities more welcoming to instrumental music. His output consists of about 40 pieces; about 17 were published in his lifetime, mostly September/October 2012 chamber music for guitar and other instruments. Gragnani isn’t the strongest of his generation—he was apparently a protege of Carulli, also not the strongest of his generation—but his music has charm. It’s fun to play (perhaps more so than to listen to), and it’s great for introducing students to the joys of chamber music-making. Each of these three sonatas is in three movements: an opening in sonata form, a slow theme and variations, and a concluding polacca. You won’t find anything profound or particularly inventive here, but it does have some pretty melodies and enjoyable rhythmic momentum. I reviewed Mr Scattolin (M/J 2012) as part of a three-disc Giuliani set with two other players. His disc was devoted to some of Giuliani’s most virtuosic works inspired by Rossini, and he wasn’t quite up to the demands of those works—at least with the competition at that level. He is more comfortable here. Indeed, he and Mezzena play quite well together. Intonation is perfect, ensemble well coordinated. Both have a sweet tone. They recognize the nature of this music and don’t try to make it greater than it is—this is a tasteful performance. It’s also a reissue, first recorded in 1990, with excellent sound. KEATON GRAUN, JG: Trios (3), Quadro Les Recreations RaumKlang 3008—70:27 Johann Gottlieb Graun (1702-71) and Carl Heinrich Graun (1704-59) were brothers who both served the Potsdam court of Frederick the Great. JG was one of the great violinists of his day and teacher-founder of the German school of violin playing that ran through the 18th Century. He was also a prolific composer of instrumental music. CH was best known as a very effective composer of operas. Though they had very distinct personalities, the two are often confused, especially in surviving instrumental music. Only a few of these works are sometimes attributed to CH, but some of them could actually represent collaborations. That was very much the assumption made, for example, in a release of Graun Trio Sonatas, played by Ludger Remy’s ensemble Les Amis de Philippe, for CPO (777 423: J/F 2010). That earlier release includes a Trio Sonata in C minor that is offered here. Comparison is revealing. Remy’s group uses a hammerflugel or early piano in the keyboard role, which suggests anticipation of “classical” expression to come, whereas the ensemble here employs a harpsichord, connecting the music more firmly to baroque roots—and that feeling is American Record Guide emphasized by the more aggressive limitation of vibrato in the string playing. Remy’s group offers an expert and elegant Gallic vivacity that Mr Loewen greatly admired. But I find their playing relatively anemic against the forceful, sometimes almost savage, intensity of these musicians. Of the other three selections offered here, unequivocally credited to JG, there is a Trio Sonata in G, also for the conventional scoring of two violins and continuo. (That was, in fact, included in an earlier Graun program by Remy’s group for CPO: 999 623; M/J 2000.) But there is also a Quadro in G minor—think Telemann—which requires an added viola. The most striking work here, however, is titled Trio per cembalo obligato e viola. “Trio” is apparently meant to suggest that the two hands of the harpsichordist are to be counted separately, meaning that this is really a duo-sonata for viola and harpsichord, without any other bass or continuo function. And what a work it is! Based in the dark key of C minor, it is 22 minutes long, with a central slow movement that clocks in at 10:33. I have never heard viola writing of such powerful, even ferocious character, especially as realized with almost frightening force by Matthieu Camilleri. This is astonishing stuff—whether you call it late baroque or early classical, or whatever—and it has to be heard to be believed. The bold, close sound only emphasizes the power of this ensemble’s playing. In sum, this is more than just perfunctory baroque note-spinning. This is strong music, strongly delivered, and I recommend it strongly. BARKER GRAUPNER: 7 Words of Christ on the Cross Ingrid Schmithüsen, Claudine Ledoux, Nils Brown, Normand Richard; Les Idées Heureuses/ Genevieve Soly Analekta 9122 [2CD] 135 minutes Christoph Graupner (1683-1760) spent most of his long career in the service of the court of Darmstadt where he was recruited in 1709 as vice-Kapellmeister, succeeding to the position of Kapellmeister in 1712. He was an alumnus of the St Thomas School of Leipzig, where he had an excellent musical education from Johann Kuhnau. In Graupner’s early years at Darmstadt, he was involved with the court opera as well as church music, but in 1719 circumstances dictated a major cutback in expenses and the dissolution of the court opera. With the death of Kuhnau in 1722, Graupner became a candidate for his old teacher’s position as Thomaskantor. After Telemann refused this position, the offer was made to Graupner, but the Landgrave of 113 Hesse-Darmstadt refused to accept his resignation and made a generous offer to retain him in the service of his court. As we all know, the Leipzig position went to the third choice: JS Bach. The Seven Words (1743) is a cycle of seven church cantatas intended for performance on the first five Sundays in Lent, on Maundy Thursday, and on Good Friday. Each cantata is a meditation on one of Christ’s words from the cross. Each cantata opens with a “Dictum”, a presentation of the scriptural text of the word in question, sometimes with a narrative or devotional context. These are given as accompanied recitative. Each cantata contains two arias with recitatives. In three instances there are alto-tenor duets. The concluding movements are chorales for three or four voices with figural instrumental accompaniment, a trademark of Graupner’s sacred composition. The tenor and bass voices bear the brunt of the solo work. There are no alto solo arias, and the soprano has a solo recitative and aria only in the last of the seven cantatas. Genevieve Soly, who directs these performances from the organ, is a noted authority on the works of Graupner. She claims that this music was probably never heard between 1743 and the time of her first concert performance of it with Les Idées Heureuses in 2005 in Montreal. This is the first recording. Soly’s program notes read in part like a disclaimer. She advises the listener not to expect the scale and grandeur of the Bach Passion oratorios or their colorful instrumentation. The court chapel at Darmstadt, with a seating capacity of about 130, was a more modest space than the major city churches of Leipzig. Graupner’s scoring is for strings and continuo with oboe and, in a couple of the movements, tenor and bass chalumeau, mistranslated here as tenor and bass recorders. The chalumeau is an early form of the clarinet. While the concluding chorales could conceivably have been sung by a small choir, it is more likely that they were sung by solo voices as they are here. Graupner’s compositional technique is recognizably baroque, but the personality of his music leans in the direction of the galant. He was a consummate musical craftsman and accomplished contrapuntist, and while these cantatas are full of lively part writing, there is nothing in the way of rigorously formal contrapuntal writing in contrast with the Bach cantatas where a fugue, canon, or ingenious cantus firmus treatment is lurking around almost every corner. Graupner was the more “modern” composer, whose genial works went down easily. It is not hard to imagine how attractive he must have been to the Leipzig authorities in 1723. 114 The performances here are very fine. If the vocal soloists are not quite up to the standard of the very best exponents of this idiom, they are not far behind them. I was pleased to hear a bold and warm, though not overpowering sound from the continuo organ. For the more exuberant and dramatic recitatives Soly will sometimes use a fuller registration than one usually hears in continuo playing, and to great effect. It is a vast improvement over the feeblesounding cabinet organs so often used in this kind of repertory. The recorded sound itself is warm and ingratiating yet always clear. Listeners who want to make an acquaintance with this music should not hesitate to acquire this recording—not that there are yet any alternatives. Full texts and translations are not included in the booklet, but they can be obtained from the Analekta website. GATENS GRIEG: Piano Concerto; Holberg Suite; Lyric Suite Bella Davidovich; Seattle Symphony/ Gerard Schwarz Naxos 571206—69 minutes This originally appeared on Delos, won scant attention, and is now seeking a new lease on life as a Naxos reissue. It was reviewed in this journal (July/Aug 1991); the Concerto was called “plodding, leaden, stodgy” and the suites “played with lovely understatement”. Recorded in 1989, the sound is perfectly fine, and the performance of the concerto, in my opinion, is quite lovely, if a bit restrained. The Holberg Suite is mostly gentle, though the ‘March of the Dwarfs’ from the Lyric Suite works up quite a lather. Given the Naxos low price, it can be recommended to anyone who responds to a quieter, more nuanced performance of this warhorse. Others may wish to explore performances with a more explosive response to the music; there’s an almost endless supply. BECKER GRIEG: Orchestral Works Piano Concerto; Peer Gynt Suites; Symphonic Dances; Holberg Suite; 2 Elegiac Melodies; 2 Lyric Pieces; Wedding Day at Troldhaugen Garrick Ohlsson, p; Academy of St Martin-in-theFields/ Neville Marriner Hänssler 94610 [2CD] 2:15 This is a reissue in Hänssler’s “Premium Composers” series combining the 1997 Grieg Piano Concerto and Symphonic Dances covered by Tom Godell (July/Aug 1998) with a 1995 release of the Holberg Suite and Peer Gynt that apparently escaped our notice. I fear I must echo Mr Godell’s negative assessment of Garrick Ohlsson’s Grieg Concerto; tempos are so September/October 2012 erratic it sounds like they took passages from several different performances and pasted them together, and much of the time his playing seems calculated purely for effect. The capricious pendant to the opening section (1:40) becomes something of a scramble; and the lyrical second strain, once set forth by the cellos, Ohlsson stretches out like taffy, and when it’s repeated midway in (7:47) it seems even slower, to the point of very nearly coming to a halt. I almost nodded off during the cadenza; someone should have reminded Ohlsson the concerto is not by Brahms! The peerless strings of the St Martin Academy establish an almost timeless mood at the opening of the Adagio, but Ohlsson ruins everything with his moribund tempos and wayward phrasing. In the finale he runs slipshod over Grieg’s clear-cut halling rhythms, grasping at fistfuls of notes and leaning on the music until everything spins out of control. And once again in the central reverie he all but falls asleep draped over the keyboard. All through this mishmash the St Martin players give Ohlsson far better than he deserves, but there are far too many vastly superior performances out there to recommend this. While I share Mr Godell’s evident enthusiasm for the Symphonic Dances, there are several others I’d put above this one, including the RCA with Morton Gould and Barbirolli on Dutton. He seems too tense by half in much of it, though he really nails the closing dance; still, for people who prefer such an overheated approach there’s much to enjoy, most of all the brawny St Martins brass. If I didn’t have the booklet in front of me, I would have thought Neeme Jarvi was conducting Wedding Day at Troldhaugen; this slowpaced and belligerent account, becoming downright rackety at the close, does neither the composer nor the listener any favors. Fortunately the much better RCA with Mackerras and the RPO has just been brought back by Alto. Matters improve greatly with the other disc. Marriner’s highly characterized Peer Gynt suites made me wish he’d recorded the whole thing. All of these miraculous essays bespeak Grieg’s expertise at painting memorable episodes from Henrik Ibsen’s play in the space of only a few minutes, from the rapt ‘Morning’ with its flute solo and the heart-rending scene of Peer at the deathbed of his beloved mother Ase to the awkward gait of the trolls who inhabit the ‘Hall of the Mountain King’ and the poignant strain of the faithful Solveig as she continues to await the errant Peer’s return—a melody that will continue to haunt the memory long after the music is finished whether heard from the strings (as here) or the sopra- American Record Guide no. The orchestra plays beautifully. Marriner starts the Mountain King’s entry too briskly, leaving the ensuing crescendo with nowhere to go, but that’s a minor quibble. The 2 Elegiac Melodies are simply models of string playing— most of all the bittersweet ‘Last Spring’—while the 2 Lyric Pieces, ‘Evening in the Mountains’ and ‘At the Cradle’, offer welcome variety. Only Marriner’s Holberg Suite is disappointing, with tempos ranging from too fast in the opening Prelude to too slow in the ‘Sarabande’ and ‘Air’, though the concluding ‘Rigadoun’ certainly counts as Allegro con brio. In sum, a mixed bag, worth having most of all for Peer Gynt if the price is right. HALLER GRIEG: Quartet; Elegiac Melodies; Holberg Suite; Erotiek Australian Chamber Orchestra/ Richard Tognetti BIS 1877 [SACD] 63:30 Grieg’s quartet played by 17 string instruments instead of 4. If that appeals to you, you might like this. I must admit that was never very attached to Grieg’s quartet, but I always liked the Holberg Suite and Elegiac Melodies. So I was pleased to hear the quartet in a new light. The conductor made the arrangement. But the Elegiac Melodies here have vibratoless violins; they screech. You don’t want this recording of that! And it’s asinine to play that way. The same sauce is applied to the Holberg Suite—no vibrato, no legato—and I find it obnoxious. Notes are not connected; there is no phrasing. It’s jumpy and cold. Believe me, sometime in the future recordings like this will be thoroughly despised. The “no vibrato” school hasn’t a leg to stand on, and scholar after scholar is refuting that idiocy. It may take 10 years for the true scholarship to filter down and cure this disease, but I guarantee you, it is coming. A whole edifice has been built on sand, and the result is simply ugly—so, reject it! Refuse to listen! If it matters, the sound is as rich and strong as we expect from BIS, and SACD makes it even better. VROON GROFE: Grand Canyon Suite; GERSHWIN: American in Paris Seattle Symphony/ Gerard Schwarz Naxos 571205—55 minutes Another welcome installment in Naxos’s reissue of Delos recordings from the 1980s and 90s. Both of these works were once staples of “pops concerts” when the term referred to programs of light, popular classics, instead of “symphony orchestra pointlessly vamping background for a pop star”. Now, they’re kind 115 of orphaned: not “popular” enough, but not grand enough for regular symphony programs. The Grofe originally appeared on Delos 3104 coupled with the Copland Billy the Kid suite and Rodeo dances that I just reviewed last issue. Our American Music Overview (July/Aug 1995) reports a preference for this recording. It’s an excellent one. The sound is fantastic, with crisp, clean brass and sweet-toned strings; and the interpretation is spot-on. In his review of the Delos release (May/June 1991), our Editor attributes that to Schwarz’s time as principal trumpet of the New York Philharmonic under Bernstein. Maybe so. He and his players don’t make the music sound hoaky—especially ‘On the Trail’—nor does he make it all stiff and seriously symphonic. The Gershwin was originally released on Delos 3078, accompanied by an orchestrated version of Bernstein’s Arias and Barcarolles song cycle and Barber’s School for Scandal Overture. This is another fine performance that really catches some of the breeziness we expect from Gershwin without downplaying the complexity of some of the musical ideas. Our reviewer of the original release (Jan/Feb 1991) reported that Schwarz includes an extra three minutes or so of music Gershwin cut before the premiere. Naxos says nothing in its album notes; I didn’t really notice anything strikingly different. HANSEN GUBAIDULINA: 5 Quartets Stamitz Quartet Supraphon 4078—67 minutes Margaret MacDuffie; Matthias Fischer, v Parnassi Musici CPO 777543—60 minutes A wealth of color animates this very fine music, played with engaging energy and beauty by Parnassi Musici. The players excel in all performing techniques, turning on a dime in ‘La Galeazza’ from vigorous shaking effects to gentle legato lines, and sprinting like arrows at the very rapid end of ‘La Sevesca’. Solo recorder, organ, and harp join solo violins in these 16 selections from Agostino Guerrieri’s 1673 Opera Prima sonatas for one to four melody instruments. Both delicacy and virtuosity abound, as the players eagerly welcome the listener into the music. The program is very well chosen and sequenced, as is the instrumentation. The use of harp is most effective in pieces like ‘La Rotini’, because its deep bass notes are not dampened (in contrast to a harpsichord) and therefore they ring out powerfully under the soaring voice-like solo violin melody. Notes, bios of all seven players. There is no Guerrieri in the ARG index, which makes this an even more welcome release. Among the many fine recordings by Parnassi Musici, of music by many composers, John Barker called a Telemann program “deliciously playful and stylish” (CPO 777301, J/A 2009), and I had high praise for Caldara trio sonatas (CPO 999871, M/A 2003). C MOORE The music of Sofia Gubaidulina (b. 1931) is abstract in tonality, usually slow-moving in its progression from one sound world to another, and basically philosophical and religious in inspiration. If these elements seem difficult to picture together, particularly as applied to the world of the string quartet, then perhaps you should get this recording and see what you can get out of it. She is undeniably a fine musician with strong convictions. I can’t say that I am turned on by her sound palette, but it is undeniable that she has something to say and says it. The first three quartets have been recorded before by the Danish Quartet (CPO 999 064, March/April 1995). We found the performances good—as I do these—but whether I like the music itself is another question. It is all so thoughtful yet distant that one has trouble getting involved with it. She doesn’t push her specific religious convictions at you, but she is pushing something into your mind. Isn’t life fascinating? D MOORE 116 GUERRIERI: Violin Sonatas HAGEN: 6 Lute Sonatas Robert Barto Pan 10267—67 minutes In the mid-18th Century the Margravina of Brandenburg was Wilhelmina, Princess of Prussia, sister of Frederick the Great. She was also a lute student of Silvius Leopold Weiss, probably the greatest lutenist of the High Baroque. She hired three of the finest lutenists of her era to serve in the Bayreuth court: Adam Falkenhagen, Charles Durant, and Bernhard Joachim Hagen. Falkenhagen and Durant were hired as lutenists; Hagen was a violinist. But he wrote a number of works for lute, all contained in the Augsburg Manuscript, and Barto presents six solo sonatas from that source. Robert Barto is currently involved in a series of recordings for Naxos of the complete lute sonatas of Weiss (M/J 2010 & J/A 2012). Hagen’s music is a generation removed from Weiss’s. By that time the contrapuntal and chromatic grandeur of the baroque was considered hopelessly out of date, and AustroGermanic music was following the empfind- September/October 2012 samer stil, the sensitive style—simpler music on all fronts—less chromaticism, slower harmonic rhythm, little counterpoint. It is enjoyably melodic, intentionally lighter, aspiring to a more personal and less exalted affect. The six sonatas are still baroque, at least in that the movements are all monothematic—sonataallegro form, with its contrasting themes and keys, was just being developed. I suppose the audience for this music is a bit limited—I’ll confess that I find most preclassic music rather uninteresting. But Barto obviously does not. His performance is completely convincing. His sonority is rich and compelling, his phrasing elegant and graceful, his passagework expertly executed without strain. He plays a 13-course lute, even larger than Weiss’s 11-course instrument (the extra two strings are bass extensions, which make for a richer sound), and the sound is excellent, as are his notes for the recording. KEATON H AKIM: Bach’orama; Jonquilles; Mit seinem Geist; Theotokos; Salve Regina; Gershwinesca Naji Hakim, org Signum 284—69 minutes Hakim, from 1985 to 1993 Organist at Trinité, Paris (following Messiaen), is currently a professor of music analysis at the National Conservatory in the Boulogne-Billancourt region (western suburbs of Paris). He is married to Marie-Bernadette Dufourcet, prize winning organist and titulaire at Notre-Dame des Champs, Paris. The organ here is the 4-94 Stahlhuth (1912, Jahn, 2002) in St Martin’s, Dudelange, Luxembourg. The instrument is designed to supply appropriate ranks for the performance of German, French, and English music. Hakim may be known to organ music fans from his recordings at Sacre- Coeur, Paris. His improvisations generally have an angular, dissonant quality, but often that is balanced with very pleasant modern-romantic harmonies such as heard in the eight variations on ‘Ein Feste Burg’ in Mit seinem Geist. The bulk of this program is devoted to variations on tunes that won’t be familiar to many listeners. Jonquilles is based on Danish hymn tunes; Theotokos presents seven improvisations on Gregorian, Maronite, French, and Basque melodies. As most of the melodies are unfamiliar, it’s difficult to appreciate what Hakim does to them. The Salve Regina setting is refreshingly clear, while the concluding Gershwin romp is a bit of fresh air. Hakim’s Lebanese heritage perhaps enabled him to interpret music from mid-Eastern countries with a knowing hand. The organ is more than able to supply the American Record Guide sounds he wants. Unless you are a Hakim fan or enjoy off the beaten track organ pieces, you’ll probably pass this one by. METZ HANDEL: Alceste Lucy Crowe, s; Benjamin Hulett, t; Andrew Foster-Williams, b; Early Opera Company/ Christian Curnyn Chandos 788—63:16 For an English-language dramatization of the Greek tale of Alcestis (as adapted from Racine), Handel composed in 1749 music that constitutes the most significant of his very few ventures into English theater. As it turned out, the production was cancelled, and so Handel recycled much of his music into a kind of mini-oratorio (a dramatic cantata, or “musical interlude” as he called it), The Choice of Hercules, with other bits distributed elsewhere. Handel composed 20 numbers for the play, most of them short. None of them involved the main characters (whose text has been lost). In this respect, Handel’s score is similar to Purcell’s “semi-operas”. Rather than annexing segments of each act for extensive musical entertainments, as in the larger Purcell predecessors, Handel’s musical numbers are scattered through the action as diversions. Though some pieces are trivial, there is a good wedding scene for soloists and chorus, another one welcoming Alceste to Elysium, and two or three songs that Handel fans should certainly know and cherish, such as Calliope’s beautiful first song, ‘Gentle Morpheus, Son of Night’. This Alceste score has had a skimpy history, and this is only its third recording. The first, led by Christopher Hogwood in 1979 for Oiseau-Lyre LP, was briefly reissued on CD (421 479), joined with his 1980 recording of pieces Handel composed for Milton’s Comus. The second recording was made in 1997 by French forces under Franck-Emmanuel Comte and released on the obscure Absalon label (897: N/D 1998). It was quite simply a provincial venture, inferior in all ways to Hogwood’s achievement. So Hogwood remains the predecessor to beat. Curnyn comes about as close to doing so as anyone could. He adds a twist of his own by filling out Handel’s score a bit. Whereas Hogwood recorded only the 20 numbers straight (totalling 57 minutes), Curnyn interpolates two “symphonies” from earlier Handel operas. A brief one comes from Admeto, which is, after all, an Italian treatment of the Alcestis story. The other is an ambitious Passacaille from Radamisto. These add a bit more value for money, as well as further substance to the score. Curnyn’s team of soloists makes a mixed 117 showing. Hogwood’s Emma Kirkby is lovely, of course, but Crowe is simply glowing in her soprano functions, notably the two Calliope airs. Hulett makes a very strong and admirable showing here, but cannot quite better Hogwood’s Paul Elliot. Foster-Williams is too light a baritone to do full justice to Charon’s display of sardonic cloddishness in ‘Ye fleeting shades, I come’: he makes what he can of comic inflections, but he is no match for Hogwood’s really nasty David Thomas. In style, Curnyn is just a bit more suave, Hogwood more blunt. But each is fully satisfying. The choral and instrumental forces are superb here, and the sound is quite full in Chandos’s updated engineering. The packaging is exemplary. In sum, if you have the Hogwood release, hang onto it for dear life; but Curnyn has given us a thoroughly acceptable replacement, and one that Handelians previously ignorant of this work should definitely investigate. BARKER H ANDEL: Concerti Grossi, op 6: 1,6,9; VIVALDI: Flute Concerto, op 10:3; BACH,CPE: Flute Concerto in D minor Scott Goff, fl; Seattle Symphony/ Gerard Schwarz Naxos 571208—79:16 I have sets of Opus 6 conducted by Angerer, Rolla, and Malcolm. I’ve had them for years. They were classic recordings, and to me they represent not a past and old-fashioned Handel, but Handel the way he ought to sound. None of them are available now, but you can get classic recordings by the Academy of St Martin-in-the-Fields (both under Brown and under Marriner) and Yehudi Menuhin. They were not favorites of mine, but they were rightminded. The historical and period performances are wrong-headed—and apart from ASMF and Menuhin, that is all you can get now. Gerard Schwarz, like those other classic recordings, treats Handel (and Vivaldi and Bach) as music, not as historical curiosities to sniff at. The PPP people would accuse him, I’m sure, of “romanticizing” Handel; but that is not at all the case (except that music is essentially a romantic art). I like romanticized Handel, the way Stokowski conducted it. It’s wonderful, and there’s no reason not to do it if that’s the way you hear it. (Stokowski was a remnant of the romantic age.) Schwarz is stricter with rhythm and more limited in expression, but still more expressive than the PPP people. Some people consider any expression “romantic”. But music has to be expressive! Otherwise, what’s the point? This is full-bodied and substantial, not airy-fairy piss-elegant. The harpsichord is per- 118 haps too prominent, and that has to be microphone placement and engineering. A harpsichord doesn’t naturally project much and belongs in the background, underlying the rest of the music. But the rhythms are not sewingmachine regular and monotonous. These recordings were made in 2008. How nice that one major orchestra and conductor have not given up on Handel. Everyone else seems to think his music inappropriate for a modern orchestra. It is rare to hear this music so well played and projected, so we should all grab this record right away. Who else is doing this kind of thing today? VROON HANDEL: Esther Susan Hamilton (Esther), James Gilchrist (Ahasuerus), Matthew Brook (Haman), Nicholas Mulroy (Mordecai), Robin Blaze (Priest), Dunedin Consort/ John Butt Linn 397 [2SACD] 99:31 Among other things, this recording is a companion to Butt’s recent treatment of Handel’s Acis and Galatea (Linn 319, 2SACD: M/A 2009). In both Butt has devoted intense thought to recapturing the specifics of texts and scoring that made up the origins of these entertainments for Handel’s patron, the Duke of Chandos, at his estate, Cannons. Acis was composed and first performed in 1718. Getting back to its original qualities is not too very difficult, with a reliable edition available in the Hallische Handel-Ausgabe. Esther, however, poses some tricky problems. It was Handel’s first venture into the idiom of English oratorio—as its actual creator—and its genesis suggests some of the growing pains of that idiom. Handel used a text based on Racine’s drama about the Biblical Jewish Queen of Persia who saved her people from persecution. He was happy to recycle into it some music from his recent Brockes Passion, a German work not known in England. He began composing his setting in 1718, the same year as Acis. But there is evidence of a performance (and an edition to go with it) in 1720. The HHA editor accepted score evidence that was identified as of 1718, and that modern edition was used by the work’s first recording, made in 1984 under Christopher Hogwood (OiseauLyre 414 423). Recent researches have suggested that Handel discarded or altered much of what he began with in 1718, and that a “revised” version we have dated to 1718 really belongs to 1720. Awareness of that was taken into account in the second recording, made in 1995 under Harry Christophers for Collins (7040: S/O 1996; reissued as Regis 2025). In making his own attempt to re-establish a true “origi- September/October 2012 nal”, John Butt and the Linn promotion team have proclaimed this the “First Reconstructable Version (Cannons), 1720”. In point of fact, there is not too much difference in the musical text between the Christophers and Butt recordings. The latter restores the Israelite Woman’s number to an Israelite Boy, the three-act format is restored, and there are details that certainly do put this new recording a few points ahead of Hogwood’s. On musical grounds, comparisons yield mixed results. Butt’s cast seems a youngish one. I find Hamilton disappointing in the title role. Though she sings the lines with feeling, her voice is just too girlish to carry the character’s dramatic strength. Hogwood’s dignified Patrizia Kwella and Christophers’s weightier Lynda Russell are more convincing. As King Ahasuerus, Gilchrist here is quite competitive with Hogwood’s more sensitive Anthony Rolfe Johnson or Christophers’s Thomas Randle. Nicholas Mulroy is a serviceable Mordecai, Esther’s mentor, stronger than Hogwood’s Ian Partridge, but yielding to Mark Padmore for Christophers. But Brook, however appropriate his dark bass is for the villainous Haman, is not as sinister as Hogwood’s David Thomas, nor as blackly menacing as Christophers’s Michael George. Robin Blaze is musically eloquent as the Israelite Priest, the equal of Michael Chance for Christophers and a step ahead of Drew Minter for Hogwood. Electra Lochhead is boyish enough here for the redefined Israelite Boy, but can hardly match Emma Kirkby or Nancy Argenta as the “Israelite Woman”. Lesser soloists do well enough. Generally, I was much impressed by the clarity of diction. And the choral and orchestral work is certainly equal to the competition (especially from Christophers), in sound even better than Christophers. I must say, too, that the unusually long, anthem-like final peroration for soloists and chorus (almost 12 minutes long here) is absolutely magnificent here. This is a brief work by Handelian standards. Only Christophers was embarrassed enough to include a bonus, a chamber piece, orchestrally enlarged, bringing his running time up to 104:09, as against Hogwood’s 96:47, In all this discussion of competing 1718-20 versions, it should not be forgotten that Esther exists in another, much more complex (and redefined) version, cobbled together for public consumption in 1732. Crazy as that confection looks on paper, it works rather well musically, as demonstrated in its sole recording, under Laurence Cummings (Somm 238: S/O 2008). As for the “original” Esther, we are lucky to have had the two earlier recordings, which still American Record Guide have their merits, but we can be grateful for this new and very carefully thought-out rendition. BARKER HANDEL: Theodora Dawn Upshaw (Theodora), Lorraine Hunt (Irene), David Daniels (Didymus), Richard Croft (Septimius), Frode Olsen (Valens); Glyndebourne Chorus, Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment/ William Christie Glyndebourne 14 [3CD] 200:42 Utterly different from Handel’s only other Christian oratorio for London (guess what that is!), lacking any Gospel or Scriptural theme, and instead retailing the preachy story of an early Christian martyr, Theodora, was quite out of tune with public interests and fashions by 1749-50, the years it was composed and first performed. The ageing composer, wanting to explore deeper truths and values than before, was very disappointed. This truly great masterpiece has been rediscovered by musicians and music-lovers only in recent decades, and now is recognized for its worth, musically and dramatically. At hand is no less than the eighth audio recording (plus one video)—a quite impressive showing in the Handel discography, and I think that the composer would be pleased that this seeming stepchild has been vindicated. For surveys of earlier recordings, I refer you to my reviews (Jan/Feb 2004, July/Aug 2001, July/Aug 2012). Aside from a quite respectable bargain-rate reading under Joachim Carlos Martini for Naxos (572700), the serious contenders are sets under Nicholas McGegan for Harmonia Mundi (907060), under Paul McCreesh for DG Archiv (469 061), and under William Christie for Erato (43181). Now joining them is this new release, recorded at public performances in May and June 1996 at Glyndebourne, in a production staged by Peter Sellars. It is curious that the promotional folks have chosen to stress the involvement of the still-missed Lorraine Hunt (not yet -Lieberson). Her photo is on the cover and she appears predominantly in the albumbook’s photography—but she only sings a secondary role rather than the title part. To be sure, she had a long involvement with this oratorio—longer than any other singer. She did sing the title role in McGegan’s 1991 recording, creating a warmly human heroine while she was still functioning as a soprano. Here, in 1996, she has shifted to her mezzo fach and to the mezzo role of Irene, the doomed Theodora’s friend and supporter. She proves herself just the devoted, humane friend we all would want. Her identification with that character was affirmed in 2003 in one of her late record- 119 ings—with Harry Bickett conducting (Avie 30: J/F 2005)—where she sang again all five of Irene’s arias (four with their recitatives). On other full recordings, only McCreesh’s Susan Bickley can challenge Hunt for definitiveness in this role. So seemingly overshadowed, Upshaw sounds vocally restrained and inconsistent; but she manages to suggest a young, fragile heroine quite convincingly. Of course, she is up against Hunt again, and the latter’s more mature portrayal—and the mature warmth of McCreesh’s Susan Gritton. As Theodora’s loyal lover Didymus—a role Handel wrote for the famous castrato Guagagni—countertenors Drew Minter (McGegan) and Robin Blaze (McCreesh) make strong rivals to Daniels, but he proves beguiling in some of the most beautiful singing I have heard from him on records. Croft here repeats the manly Septimius, the friend of Didymus, he gave for Christie. Unfortunately, the role of Valens, the Roman governor who condemns Christians in general and Theodora in particular, has been subjected by Sellars to the same vulgar trashing followed by Christof Loy in his production for the Salzburg Festival in 2009, and documented in a DVD from Unitel (705804: N/D 2011). In this approach—did Loy copy it from Sellars?—Valens becomes a coarse, drunken lecher. It seems to have amused Sellar’s audience, but it is a cheap play for laughs that does not belong in this serious story. Olsen hardly has a chance in this characterization, and one longs for the sternness of David Thomas (McGegan) or the dignity of Klaus Mertens (Martini). The Glyndebourne chorus sings lustily, but its stage placement dilutes the clarity of the supreme chorus, ‘He saw the lovely youth’ that ends Act II, and such a letdown is a serious detriment to any performance of this work. The Enlightenment orchestra (the same one used by Bickett and Hunt for her arias) is given knowing leadership by Christie. It is interesting that, four years after this Glyndebourne performance, Christie chose to make his own audio recording for Erato. Despite some merits, his leadership then seemed to have lost the feeling of dramatic involvement he showed at Glyndebourne, and the later cast is generally less appealing. The Glyndebourne production by Sellars has been praised by some. A BBC video of not exactly the same performance has been issued on DVD by Warner, which I have not seen. Judging from the book’s photos here, I am just as glad, for it seems to have been another of those irrelevant re-settings into a present-day totalitarian state. But it cannot be escaped 120 even in this purely audio souvenir. Beyond the usual sound of stage noises, there are evidences of a great deal of movement, complete with bawling and screaming from the chorus. Frequent ovations following individual numbers are bad enough, but the 40-minute round of clapping, shouting, and whistling by the audience at the end is a shameful conclusion, especially when it bursts brutally on the quiet, poignant ending of the closing chorus. The Loy staging has made me conclude that this oratorio does not benefit from staging, especially anything “modern”. And this recording makes me ask why editors cannot trim out the disruptive intrusions of audience reactions. Thanks to the work of Upshaw, Hunt, and Daniels, this performance would deserve to be placed beside the recordings by McGegan and McCreesh. But the intrusions spoil it so badly that I cannot fully recommend it. Handel’s profound tribute to virtue, loyalty, and loving devotion deserves serious absorption, not trivialization. Full text is in the bound-book album. BARKER H ANSSON: Endless Borders; Som Nar Handen; Salve Regina; Then I Heard the Singing; For As the Rain; The Place Amongst the Trees; Missa Brevis; Lighten Mine Eyes William Baldry, org; Royal Holloway Choir/ Rupert Gough Hyperion 67881—68 minutes If you like your choral fare caressed with spiritual touches but find the likes of Whitacre and Lauridsen a mite caloric for your taste, you might enjoy the music of Bo Hansson (b 1950). Born in Sweden, Hansson began his career as a guitarist and arranger of folk and popular songs. In his mid 30s he changed direction and began experimenting with an emotionally direct, spiritually rapt classical style that avoids harmonic excess and tends to keep its dynamics between mezzo piano and mezzo forte. Some might find him too restrained to get excited about. (I would be one of those.) Others might be drawn to his writing. Whatever the final verdict, all of us would do well to hear this composer at his best. ‘Then I Heard the Singing’ is luminous and very affecting. I also admire the crystalline harmonies in ‘Som Nar Handen’ (As the Day Dawns), which begins the program. The soft spring shower that falls from the organ console in the quiet section of ‘For As the Rain’ is beautiful, as is the quiet ecstasy of the Sanctus from his 20-minute Mass. Royal Holloway gives Hansson the royal treatment, as do Hyperion’s engineers and annotators. GREENFIELD September/October 2012 HARTY: Quartets 1+2; Piano Quintet Piers Lane, p; Goldner Quartet Hyperion 67927 [2CD] 83 minutes Herbert Hamilton Harty (1879-1941) was born in Northern Ireland, the son of an organist and a highly respected doyen of music in Lisburn. As a boy he studied piano and viola with his father and was playing services by the age of 12. He also learned a great deal from his father’s vast library. As Harty developed, he began to play in churches away from home. In 1899, he met Michele Esposito, an important figure in the Dublin music scene, particularly in helping to develop the Feis Coeil, an Irish music society. The two developed a respect for each other, and Esposito proved an early influence. Harty wrote a number of orchestral pieces that achieved a little popularity, particularly the Irish Symphony, but he may be best known for his arrangements of Handel’s Water Music and Fireworks Music for modern orchestra. His compositional style was rather old fashioned. Even Elgar was more modern. The three pieces here are purely romantic and on the light side. They are of often modal melodies, recalling Irish folk tunes and the work of Percy Grainger, though the tunes are all Harty’s. Quartet No. 1 in F was Harty’s first success, winning a prize at the 1900 Feis Coeil. The high-spirited Allegro con Brio is reminiscent of Mendelssohn and perhaps even Haydn, though it turns more serious as it goes on in passages that Annotator Jeremy Dibble found “overambitious”. Still, the composer’s enthusiasm is hard to resist. The Vivace is full of verve and creativity, a combination of Mendelssohn and light Dvorak. The Andante Pastorale lacks the country feeling associated with “pastorale”, but it is nicely song-like, if too dependent on the violins. The Vivace appears briefly in the middle then disappears like a brief sun shower. The Allegro Vivace is the most complex and serious movement—it even displays a touch of the chromatic Bruckner—though it never stops being tuneful. Harty wrote his Quartet No. 2 in A minor a year later, and it won a prize at the Dublin Feis of 1902. It was played one more time that year and not again until this recording. To the youthful ebullience of the First Quartet, the Second adds study and polish. The melodies take a slightly more mature turn; in I I hear a bit of Schumann with an Irish accent. The Vivace (not that fast) sounds like a complex Irish gig with a dreamy Irish trio. The romantic and yearning Lento is the most outright serious movement of both quartets, taking a dark turn about two-thirds of the way through for what sounds like a pensive recapitulation. The finale is more romantic, but relieved with American Record Guide interesting effects and turns, a lilting main theme, and, after a short pious chorale, a nicely tossed-off ending. The Piano Quintet in F (1905) won a prize in a local contest. It appears that only two movements were played for that competition. The complete revised work was performed in 1906, but not again until now. It is the strongest piece here, though it is more showy and entertaining than deep. It sounds like the Elgar Piano Quintet, and there is some influence from Franck’s Piano Quintet, but I do not agree with Dibble that it can stand beside those and other major piano quintets. Still, it is a fine work, strictly 19th Century romantic, with a lot of diatonic melody and nice writing for the first violin. The Allegro is mildly Russian, though the big chordal piano part comes closer to Brahms but with harmonies less dark. The Vivace sounds more Irish, with a strong touch of Grainger. The viola is the star here, particularly with its nice arpeggios. The Lento brings back the Russian flavor, with a touch of 1940s Hollywood and an effluent climax. The Allegro con Brio contrasts Irish and Russian sounding themes to produce an upbeat opening, some mystery, a bit of what could be Russian fairy music, and a stirring ending. The Goldner Quartet and Piers Lane play well and very musically, but the overall tone sounds a little bright, and the piano is a bit too prominent. The recording may be partly to blame for the brightness, but Harty bears responsibility for the piano balance. Sometimes it sounds like he was writing a piano concerto. It would be interesting to hear these pieces with a darker tone and a better balanced piano, but these performances should be enjoyed by admirers of light to moderately serious romantic chamber music. Dibble’s notes are well written and informative. People interested in Harty might look forward to his biography of the composer. HECHT HASSE: Arias from Didone Abbandonata; La Gelosia; Artaserse Valer Berna-Sabadus, ct; Hofkapelle Munich/ Michael Hofstetter—Oehms 830—62 minutes Hasse’s music is absolutely gorgeous, and Valer Berna-Sabadus’s singing is astonishing! Of course his voice is high, but that seems beside the point when one considers the extreme subtlety of his voice. There is no reaching or screeching here, only pure beauty. The program presents arias and recitatives from three kinds of works where 18th Century audiences would have encountered a voice like this, all by Hasse: his opera Didone Abbandonata of 1742, his cantata La Gelosia of 1762, and his pastichio Artaserse of 1734. Each of 121 them will put you on the edge of your seat. Arias like ‘Chiama mi Pur Cosi’ from Didone Abbandonata and ‘Giura il Nocchier che al Mar’ from La Gelosia give you all the fireworks your heart could desire. But the slow melodic arias like ‘Cadra fra Poco in Cenere’ from Didone Abbandonata are the ones that will melt your heart. The notes are in English, but the texts are in Italian and German only. LOEWEN HAYDN: Keyboard music (all) Tom Beghin, hpsi, p Naxos 501203 [12CD] 18 hours Someone at McGill University had a wonderful idea: what if we tried to reconstruct the actual performing circumstances of the playing of Haydn keyboard works—instruments and room ambience—and recorded these reconstructions? It would be a wonderful experiment. Haydn’s works span the scale from small pieces to be played by a player alone or perhaps a student for a teacher all the way up to the big sonatas meant for concerts. His work spans an important time in the development of keyboard music. The early works are for harpsichord, clavichord, or primitive piano; and the last works were meant for instruments fairly close to modern pianos. And there’s enough music to make a series of programs to show how the music and the players and the purpose of the music all interact. McGill, as a major university that takes the arts seriously, had the resources to put into this and very smart people to make it happen. There’s a DVD bonus disc in this set that shows a lot of what they went through in investigating room sizes and reverberation and selecting instruments. I think they may have worked from empty rooms and not compensated later for the dampening effects of spectators and their clothing, but still it’s a wonderfully clever and laboriously carried out enterprise. If you ever have a chance to see the video presentation, either on television (fat chance if you live in the US) or perhaps on YouTube, try to take advantage of it. But now we come to the problems, and they’re big ones. The first and lesser problem is the instruments. The ones used here are two harpsichords (copies of a 1755 Johann Leydecker and a c. 1770 French one), a clavichord (Saxon style c. 1760); a table-piano (a copy of 1788 Ignaz Kober); and three fortepianos (copies of Anton Walter from 1782 and after 1791 and Longman, Clementi & Co, 1798). They are played with old tunings that will sound strange to modern ears, and the instruments themselves, except for the fortepianos, sound strange in this music. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but 122 it is something to be mentioned and understood. The early works actually sound better on harpsichord and clavichord than they do on modern pianos because the writing is spare and the bass-treble balance of the old instruments works with the writing better. Of course, some of these early works could well have been played with a bass instrument (gamba or cello) doubling the bass line and a flute or violin playing the treble, but no need to go there. The second problem, which is serious, is who is doing the playing. Mr Beghin, who is a Belgian-born academic, studied with harpsichordist Malcolm Bilson and pianist Rudolf Buchbinder, among others, but he plays like, well... an academic. We’ve been spoiled with the supple, beautifully rhetorical Haydn performances of players like Schiff and Bavouzet; and Beghin, who probably knows and deeply understands rhetoric and its role in 18th Century music, seems not to be able to translate this knowledge into performance. What we get instead are odd performances that seem to lurch hammishly in attempts at expression— the great F minor Variations are the worst victim of this—or to relax into blandness—Sonata 34 in E minor, so beautifully played by Schiff— is pretty plain-vanilla musically, despite the ingenious use of ornamentation. I don’t know why this is so. Perhaps he had to learn a lot of music in a short time and didn’t have a chance to get deeply into it—or maybe he’s just not a natural performer. One thing he is is a consistently interesting and informative writer. His copious notes are a fine exploration of many of the concerns involved in trying to perform this music. If you’re looking for Haydn sonatas to listen to and get to know, this is not the set for you. Get the Schiff set and then buy the Bavouzet discs as they come out (he’s up to three, I believe). There are some good complete sets (Jando on Naxos, McCabe on Decca—though a little subdued sometimes, Walid Akl, if you can find him), but Schiff and Bavouzet are really at the top of what you can get now. On the other hand, if you already know these works or are a scholar or a university music department librarian, this is worth considering. The oddity of the playing won’t matter that much, since you already know the music and you can listen past it to the sounds of the instruments and the “play” between the instruments and the halls. You may also be able to hear, as Beghin suggests, how the music and the instruments shaped each other, since Haydn was a true professional deeply involved in the day-to-day matters of how is music was to be performed and what instrumental resources he had available to perform it. CHAKWIN September/October 2012 HAYDN: Quartets, op 64: 3-5 Leipzig Quartet MDG 307 1723—66:51 Herewith another stunning chapter in the Leipzig’s survey of the string quartets by the man who invented the form and brought it to full maturity. These works represent that maturity—though certainly not the final greatness of Opuses 76 and 77—and the Leipzig gives them full-throated, vibrato-laden, glorious readings. There is a discreet sense of order and respect for the composer’s wishes embellished by a tasteful freedom of expression and a lovely bloom to the recorded sound. Listening to the players transform the simple opening of No. 3 into such joy is to think alchemy is at work. Their quicksilver attention to the vivace finale of No. 5, The Lark, confirms the impression. BENDER HAYDN: The Seasons Agnes Giebel, Fritz Wunderlich, Kieth Engen; Stuttgart Radio/ Hans Muller-Kray Hänssler 93714—129 minutes This is the only recorded Seasons that boasts Fritz Wunderlich among its soloists, and that alone could stir some interest. Whether frolicking among the lambs in spring, languishing under the blazing summer sun, falling in love during the autumn harvest, or becoming lost in a wintry snowstorm, Wunderlich is a tenor for all seasons. His story-telling is vivid, and his tone gleams through each agrarian montage of Haydn’s musical year. Wunderlich’s excellence is complemented by Kieth Engen (1925-2004), a NorwegianAmerican bass who was a mainstay at the Bavarian Opera for several decades. He’s perfect for Haydn; bright, agile, powerful where it counts, and never tubby. Agnes Giebel isn’t as affecting as the men, but her attractive voice also does honor to Haydn’s intentions. This was the opening concert of Germany’s Schwetzingen Festival in 1959, the 150th anniversary of Haydn’s death. Presumably there was an audience, though I hear no ambient noises at all. For the most part, the sound is pretty good for a 53-year-old recording. The level does drop, however, in some choral passages. One of those fade-outs, alas, occurs in the ‘Dan bricht der grosse Morgen an’ doublechorus that ends the work with such a joyful flourish. Pity that bleached out sonics had to dull Haydn’s final exclamation point. Missing most of all is the flair a great conductor would have brought to the proceedings. Herr Muller-Kray keeps the trains running on time and there’s brio to spare, which is all to American Record Guide the good. But the strings in the recitatives should shimmer more, and I wish the genius of Haydn’s counterpoint had been rendered more imaginatively, especially with regard to the terracing of dynamics. (Part of the latter problem is the choir, which is no better than so-so.) Also, Muller-Kray’s rhythms could have more snap; especially the spinning wheels of winter, which don’t work up much torque. So our Best of the Seasons list remains what it was. For Big Band Haydn auf Deutsch, Solti and Bohm. Beecham is still the prime English language entry. Gardiner, Harnoncourt, and Jacobs are the best from the period performance side of the tracks. Even if antiques aren’t your thing, each is blessed with soloists who are brilliant by anybody’s standard. But if you are looking for Haydn and legendary singers in action, you will be pleased to hear Fritz Wunderlich work his magic on the score. You’ll recall that the great tenor died before he could complete the recording sessions of The Creation he was working on with Karajan. Here, he was alive, well, and enchanting from Spring through Winter, from first to last. GREENFIELD HAYDN: Symphonies 6, 7, 8 Apollo Ensemble Centaur 3173—71 minutes Bad news right off the bat: the first two measures of Symphony 6 form one lyrical phrase, but the violins make a complete break between them. This is followed in all three symphonies with occasional weak ensemble and frequent sour tuning. When’s the last time you’ve encountered tuning to 430 hz (415 is more usual)? This group has a devil of a time matching pitches at 430. Also, you’d think that with only two first violins, two seconds, one viola, one string bass, two traverse flutes, two oboes, and two French horns, you’d be able to hear all the instruments; but all too often notes in the flutes disappear even when they have the melody. This is ugly period instrument playing from the bad old days of sour sounds and no vibrato with a vengeance. The notes say that leader David Rabinovich has worked with William Christie, Philippe Herreweghe, and Ton Koopman; apparently he didn’t learn much. FRENCH I was cut off from the world. There was no one to confuse or torment me, and I was forced to become original. —Joseph Haydn 123 HAYDN: Trios 27-30 Kungsbacka Trio—Naxos 572062—67 minutes Trios 8,24,25,35,36 Mendelssohn Trio—Centaur 3126—73 minutes The first group has recorded all the Mozart trios; and Paul Althouse and I were not disgusted, though I commented that this is very plain playing, and I longed for a little warmth and atmosphere (May/June 2009). The second group is also guilty of very plain playing, very forthright and without nuance—almost mechanical. (There are people who think that’s right for classical period music, but it’s never right for any music.) Two of the trios on the first disc and one from the second were recorded by the Kalichstein-Laredo-Robinson Trio (Dorian 90164, Jan/Feb 2008) and they have all the warmth and perfume I miss here. Their musicality is much more traditional; that is, they make the most of the music and are not inhibited by rules devised by so-called “scholars” as to the correct period style. As you would expect, music played from the heart is a lot better than music played by the rules. That is so obvious! I can’t imagine why anyone plays “by the rules”. Another older group that was certainly not “romantic” but might be accused of that nowadays was the Beaux Arts Trio. Their Haydn trios are far better than either of these. VROON HAYDN: Violin Sonatas Monika Tschurl; Michael Dartsch, p Telos 71—63 minutes Unlike Mozart and Beethoven, Haydn is not noted for his violin sonatas. One reason for this is he really didn’t write any. Of the four sonatas and one divertimento recorded here, all but the Sonata in G and the Divertimento are versions of other works. The Sonatas in D, E-flat, and A are three of the six so-called “Esterhazy Sonatas” for piano, to which Haydn added the violin part mainly to reinforce and add tonal color to the piano’s melodic line. In 1803 Haydn identified the Divertimento as “for piano and violin”, but because of the traditional bass-doubling cello part, it also appears as a piano trio in the Hoboken catalog, as does the Sonata in G. Moreover, in these works—for piano and violin, not vice versa—the keyboard is dominant. This is not to say that the violin is merely an ad libitum presence. Haydn does much here that anticipates the equality of the instruments realized in Mozart’s later sonatas as well as Beethoven’s. Often Haydn allows the violin to carry the melody on its own; sometimes it echoes a phrase in the piano, embellishes it or inverts it; often it will double an 124 inner voice rather than the melodic line. Though not “true” violin sonatas, there is much to enjoy here in Haydn’s imaginative turns of phrase and exploration of what the violin can add in tone color. These works offer delightful surprises—the sudden appearance of a diminished chord, as if introducing a cadenza, in the coda of the G-major Sonata’s Minuet; the repetition of the Minuet note by note in reverse after the trio in the A-major Sonata. Dartsch and Tschurl deliver convincingly clear and witty readings of these works. They are particularly adept at revealing the variety of Haydn’s inventiveness through careful attention to tone and dynamic contrasts. The recording overall is of excellent sound quality except for a perceptible drop in volume between the first two sonatas. The notes are well researched and of interest if you are curious about the vagaries of cataloguing Haydn’s work. JD MOORE HAYDN: Quartet, op 64:6; see Collections HENSEL: Songs without Words; see MENDELSSOHN HERBERT: Songs Margaret Jane Wray, Marnie Breckenridge, Rosalie Sullivan, Korliss Uecker, Jeanne Lehman, Rebecca Luker, Sara Jean Ford; Jonathan Michie, Valerian Ruminski, Dillon McCartney, George Dvorsky, Zachary Staines, Steven La Brie, Daniel Marcus, Ron Raines; William Hicks, p New World 80726 [4CD] 3 hours This is a very strange album. It collects a great many of Victor Herbert’s published songs, with only a few from his better-known operettas. It begins with German lieder, a whole disc’s worth, which are not especially memorable, though they smack of other more famous composers sometimes. These were written quite early in Herbert’s career, when he was a student in Germany. He was a passionate lover of Ireland, his home country, and there are dozens of Irish songs, some with distinguished authors (Robert Burns), though most of them are negligible, and they seem exactly the same, every one of them. Crowing about Tara’s Halls, the harps, and such blarney. None of these hold a candle to the Irish songs he composed for Eileen, his patriotic operetta, which is filled to the brim with glorious tunes. There are selections from his first operettas—not terribly distinguished—like Prince Ananias and Peg Woofington, which are forgotten today. The problem with the accompaniments is that they are piano only, so we don’t hear his very fine orchestrations. There are two September/October 2012 songs dropped from Babes in Toyland, which is probably his best-known work. I happened to work with the producer of this album, Larry Moore, on a new version of Babes in Toyland for the Houston Grand Opera, where we incorporated many cut numbers. There are lyrics by James Russell Lowell, Thomas Moore, and others, but the songs themselves are barely memorable. One problem is the rather thick verses to the songs, which was the style of the day. The refrains for many of the numbers are moody romantic garblings on the girl of one’s dreams and such. I did like almost every number sung by Ron Raines and Rebecca Luker, who sings a condensation of ‘Kiss Me Again’. The more vigorous songs, like ‘In the Folds of the Starry Flag’ and ‘Uncle Sam’, caught my attention. Some very sentimental numbers, like ‘When Knighthood Was in Flower’ (composed for a Marion Davies film) and ‘That Old Fashioned Garden’, composed for various revues in the late teens and 20s, are also somewhat striking. But many of the tunes are not that good and seem to have been tossed out to fill certain revues, like The Ziegfeld Follies of 1923. At the end is a series of unpublished songs, which perhaps ought to have remained unpublished. If you like achingly sentimental songs, with complicated verses (as in some of the operettas), you will probably like this very complete set of Herbert’s songs. But bear in mind that his operettas contain the great numbers. TRAUBNER HERZOGENBERG: Secular Choral Pieces II Cantissimo/ Markus Utz Carus 83452—56 minutes This is Volume 2 of Herzogenberg’s a cappella output. It only duplicates about 10 minutes of the recent CPO album of that genre (May/June 2012). A significant difference is that here, Herzogenberg sets mostly older texts, many dating from the 15th to the 17th Century. His settings often consciously revert to the practices of those times, both contrapuntally and in part distributions. As usual with this fine musician, the writing is clean in texture and direct in expression. Generally, the music is lyrical and attractive, its beauties enhanced by these elegant performances and spirited directing. To note some high points, ‘The Night Song’ has fascinating and unusual harmonies, but they result directly from the voice-leading. For ‘The Three Kings’, Herzogenberg revives not only Bachian, but late Renaissance techniques. ‘The Highest Joy’, a 16th Century poem, takes us musically into the realm of, say, Philipp Nicolai, and it’s a great place to visit. In ‘The Convert’ (Goethe), whose verses mention American Record Guide Damon’s flute, it was apparently a pan-flute, given its self-harmonization. ‘Christmas Song’ from Op. 28 was, for me, the peak of the album. Herzogenberg takes the familiar ‘In Dulce Jubilo’ and uses it both as a theme in itself and as a cantus firmus under and among the other parts. His inspired handling creates a masterpiece of less than four minutes. An enterprising choir director should take up this little jewel in lieu of the hackneyed fare typically cluttering up the Christmas season. It’s difficult, but unless you have the absolute fetish for a cappella sound that some choir directors do (I was never one of them), there’s no reason you couldn’t add accompaniment. The texts and notes are in German and English. O’CONNOR HILLER: Piano Sonatas 2+3; Ghazals, op 54: 1+2; Piano Pieces, opp 81+130 Alexandra Oehler—CPO 777584—53 minutes Oehler has recorded for CPO before, serving up a volume of Fritz von Bose that Alan Becker found delightfully eye-opening (May/June 2012). Here she turns to another mostly forgotten composer, Ferdinand Hiller, who despite a rich career as a performer and conductor is better remembered as a writer, public lecturer, and music school director. No doubt influenced by his biography and printed comments about him, I have always tended to regard Hiller’s music as “academic” in the worst sense of the word. I am glad to report my prejudice has been punctured by some of the works here, which contain some genuine surprises. A noteworthy one appears in I of the Second Sonata. This is a light-hearted work in triple time that, after its first two balanced phrases, launches into a free exploration of its materials. Everything is breathlessly connected in the manner of a Wagnerian endless melody. Another fine work is the ‘Idyll’ that appears in Op. 130. It is simply built of floating chords over a pedal, but manifests a steady restless spirit. Among other innovations, Hiller claims to have been the first to transfer the ghazal, an Arab poetic form, to music. That may be so. Practically speaking, though, his ghazals just sound like songs without words, simple isolated melodies placed over rolling, repetitive lefthand figures. The two from Op. 54 are sweet and yearning, if a little repetitive and monochromatic; the one from Op. 130 is blocky and stiff. I enjoyed Oehler’s playing, though certainly not as much as Mr Becker. Her style is genial and she has a broad expressive palette, with good control over volume and tempo. There are a number of places where she falls short of 125 realizing the music’s beauty, though. In the Second Sonata, the impassioned intermezzo of II is bland (the staccatos have no teeth) and III sounds tired (the rippling textures are all soft edges and you can hear where she lifts her hands in the virtuosic passages). Everything else is well done, though, leading to the assessment that this is all quite decent music played quite decently. AUERBACH HOCHREITHER: Mass Requiem; Jubilus Sacer Ars Antiqua Austria; St Florian Boychoir/ Gunar Letzbar—Pan 10264—59 minutes Joseph Balthasar Hochreither (1669-1731) was trained in Salzburg probably under the tutelage of two of the luminaries of the era: Heinrich Ignaz von Biber and Georg Muffat. Alas, Hochreither lacks much of their genius. The Requiem is an early work, dating from around 1712, while the Jubilus Sacer Mass comes from the year of his death. Gunar Letzbar writes in his notes “This is ‘Catholic Baroque music’ to the finest degree!” No doubt, Hochreither is a capable composer. His use of harmony is rather simple and a bit predictable, but his music sounds pleasant and has plenty of color with its combination of vocal soloists and impressive corps of brass players and timpani. In any case, Ars Antiqua Austria and the boychoir sound wonderful. Notes are in English, but the Latin texts have German translations only. LOEWEN HOFFDING: Symphony 3; Evolution; It’s Perfectly True Jena Philharmonic/ Frank Cramer DaCapo 8226080—60 minutes Annotator Per Norgard describes Finn Hoffding (1899-1997) as the link between Nielsen and the three great Danish symphonists of the generation following him—Bentzon, Holmboe, and Koppel (see our cumulative index for all three). That may well be, but the superblyperformed-and-recorded orchestral works here, though they show affinities with both Nielsen and the later Danish “Big Three”, are just as close to many other between-the-wars, modern-but-romantic symphonists from many countries. One hears echoes of Shostakovich, of Americans like David Diamond or Walter Piston, of Englishmen like Richard Arnell or Stanley Bate or Bernard Stevens, of Dutchmen like Henk Badings, of Germans like Harald Genzmer, of Norwegians like Klaus Egge, of Slavs like Graznya Bacewicz. One could adduce dozens more—but none Gallic or Mediterranean. Hoffding is sturdy and solid, 126 never frothy or hedonic—even when he’s joking. By far the most ambitious and substantial work here is the 1928 Third Symphony. It’s in four movements lasting 36 minutes, and with an extensive part (orchestral—not soloistic) for two pianos that color the music with their own sonorities both in big chordal announcements and in single-line articulative edges they add to other instruments. Like so many other symphonies from the war-torn first half of the last century, the symphony has a somewhat dark, martial character, with pounding marches, minatory battle-cries, and roiling percussion, as well as an elegiac slow movement brooded over by long-lined laments in the winds from which funereal marches erupt and then subside. But I wouldn’t call it a “war symphony” exactly; the turmoil is more sublimated, more controlled and “objective”, or perhaps just more stoic, than such a designation suggests. At any rate the symphony is shapely, potent, dramatic, and powerful without eccentricity or bombast—well worth seeking out for listeners drawn to modern-but-mainstream symphonic music. Two shorter works fill out the program. Evolution, from 1939, is a 15-minute “symphonic fantasy” (as the composer describes it) that’s sometimes wispy, sometimes vehement, and as a whole rather enigmatic. It’s Perfectly True, from 1943, is another fantasy, this one programmatic rather than abstract, as well as shorter and more playful. It’s based on the Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale about a hen who makes an ill-considered comment about a missing feather (musically depicted as a brief “clucking” motive in the winds) that’s inflated out of all proportion as it’s passed around a circle of gossips—somewhat like the treatment afforded the musical theme itself. Indeed both “fantasies” could as easily be described as variation cycles. Though both are cleverly made, these minor works don’t present the fuller picture of Hoffding’s gifts offered by his more memorable and imposing Third Symphony. LEHMAN HOLST: The Planets Buzz Brass Ensemble; Melanie Barney, org Fidelio 28 [2LP] 55 minutes Will classical labels—after a quarter-century hiatus—actually begin issuing new releases on vinyl in any quantity? Hard to say. For now it’s just a trickle, presumably aimed at a niche market for audiophile analog devotees or nostalgic retro-cool. Any prediction is complicated by the recent proliferation of small, ensemble or artist-owned labels that issue only a handful of recordings, often of only a very few, or even just one, performer (or even just one September/October 2012 composer). These may not follow any patterns set by the larger labels. At any rate the re-appearance of new classical recordings on vinyl has been keeping things interesting for us black-licorice spinners. As I pointed out in my review of the superb new LP of Tchaikovsky’s Serenade on 2L last issue, the most ambitious new releases of classical vinyl have been the complete symphonic cycles of Mahler (from the San Francisco Symphony) and Beethoven (from the Bremen Chamber Symphony). Those are productions of the individual orchestras and probably one-off issues. But at least a few established classical labels seem ready to test the possibility of getting back into LPs. Deutsche Grammophon has just released a vinyl-only recording of Mendelssohn’s Third Symphony with Gustavo Dudamel and the Vienna Philharmonic—an excellent-sounding in-concert recording, by the way—and Fidelio, an audiophile-oriented label from Canada, has now chosen to show off its analog credentials by reissuing its recent recording of Enrico Dastous’s arrangement for brass quintet and organ of The Planets (Mar/Apr 2012) on a set of two 45-rpm discs (the faster turntable speed improves sonic fidelity). The recording was made using all-analog, all-tube microphones and electronics, and it sounds tremendous on a good stereo. Of course Holst’s warhorse is a sonic showpiece to begin with, and the organand-brass version, with its thunderous bass and brilliant brass fusillades, is perfectly suited to test state-of-the-art systems. As Barry Kilpatrick points out in his review of the CD, Dastous’s brass-and-organ version feels closer to the original in the more imposing and majestic brass-heavy parts of the work, and imparts a somewhat different character— less agile and transparent but more liquid—to its more elfin or diaphanous sections where strings and woodwind predominate in Holst’s scoring. So some parts of the transcription work better than others, but on the whole it’s effective. The organ in particular creates quite a persuasive sense of ghostly menace and, finally, rapt mysticism in the outer planets, and the muted brasses (taking the part of the wordless women’s chorus in ‘Neptune’) bring the work to a fitting otherworldly conclusion. Whether this novelty arrangement on a novelty format is worth investigating depends on what you’re looking for in a new recording. $30 isn’t inexpensive, but this certainly delivers on its promise of vivid, detailed, widedynamic-range, spacious sonics, with stunning clarity and positively tectonic low bass. If that sounds like your cup of tea, and you have the sound system to implement it, you might American Record Guide want to try this new black-disc rendering of Holst’s spectacular interplanetary tour. LEHMAN HUXLEY: Choral & Organ Pieces Timothy Harper & Marcus Huxley, org; Birmingham Cathedral Choir/ Marcus Huxley Regent 361—68 minutes I never cease to be amazed at the endless depth, variety, and quality of the English sacred choral scene and its profusion of excellent composers. Fresh and worthy voices among them keep popping up at such a dizzying rate that hapless reviewers like me are hard-pressed to keep track of them all. One such distinctive voice is organist and composer Marcus Huxley, who is honored here with the first-ever CD devoted entirely to his music. Distinctly Anglican in style and purpose, Huxley’s music is of course best suited to that liturgy, though much of it would not sound out of place in other churches with tradition-minded music programs. It ranges from fairly simple, yet tremendously appealing pieces that can involve congregational participation to music of comparative complexity and sophistication. The mostly organ-supported selections here include several stand-alone shorter pieces, an excellent Christmas setting and two touching traditional carol arrangements among them. We also get two excellent Psalmsettings: Psalm 150 is a rousing anthem, while ‘A Psalm of Thanksgiving’ (from Psalm 126) elaborates flowingly on the style of traditional modified Anglican chant. We also get very unusual single settings of the classic Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis texts, though they were composed separately and are very different in style and scoring. The fascinating Magnificat, for men’s voices, follows the so-called “falso bordone” practice, dating from 16th Century Italy and Spain, described in the booklet as “harmonizing the Gregorian Psalm tone for alternate verses of a psalm or canticle”. The Nunc Dimittis is a very sweet setting for treble voices. Of greatest interest (and enjoyment) to me were three longer works that can serve as centerpieces for special services. The first, Common Worship Evening Prayer, is a winning assortment of pieces in Anglican style that consists of two responsories; one hymn, one Psalm, three canticles (including another Magnificat setting), and a setting of the Lord’s Prayer. Most of these lovely, but fairly simple pieces can also be sung by congregations; together, they make for a haunting and memorable evening prayer service that will be of tremendous appeal to any tradition-minded congregation. There’s also the fairly short, but very effective Mass of St Henry & St Philip, con- 127 sisting of only three sections: the Gloria, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei, all set in English. I was most profoundly struck by The Passion of Our Lord According to Luke, a compact (barely 20 minutes) but fairly complete rendition of the passion story that any church with a competent choir could build a memorable Palm Sunday or Good Friday service around. It’s got just about everything that a classic Passion oratorio does (save for extended arias), but in microcosm. We hear an Evangelist as primary narrator, responses, chorales, and brief character role portrayals (Jesus, Pilate, etc.) sung by either soloists or sub-ensembles. While it’s modeled on the ancient tradition of making a drama out of the Passion story, I’ve never heard anything quite like it. It moved me deeply; I’ll definitely be bending my own choirmaster’s ear about this one. While the organ accompaniments to the choral selections are no doubt played by Mr Harper, the three appealing selections for solo organ are probably done by the composer, who first made a name for himself as an organ virtuoso. The polished and confident choir is certainly one of the finest among England’s excellent cathedral choirs. Thanks to director Huxley, it’s one of several that, in recent years, have nurtured ensembles of well-trained girl choristers that can stand to-to-toe with the usual complement of boys; they now take turns performing with their men’s ensemble in the church’s many regular services. Here they are heard about as often as the boys, or (apparently) in mixed groupings. Frankly, I can hardly tell the difference between them. Regent honors them with glowing sound and succinct, but helpful booklet notes, as well as complete texts. Choirmasters, take heed. Huxley is a composer who has never forgotten that sacred music must, first and foremost, serve the primary purpose of enhancing worship rather than showing off one’s compositional chops or brilliant choir. All of this is music that you can use—material that will convey sacred sentiment and nostalgia (an important worship component) to your congregations, leaving them spiritually inspired and satisfied. Some of it will give your choirs a decent workout, but all of it will rest easy on parishioners’ ears while stimulating their souls. I urge you to give this man’s music a try. KOOB ISAAC: Paschal Mass Ensemble Officium/ Wilfried Rombach Christophorus 77356—71 minutes This is a reissue of a recording that was welcomed by Mr Barker, as there is too little of 128 Heinrich Isaac’s music available on recordings (Nov/Dec 2004). I agree fully with his evaluation that “If you like your Renaissance polyphony done with broad sonority rather than with slashing detail” this is recommended. Mr Barker thought that too many of the chant intonations were performed by the treble voices (in this case, women). In most of the Middle Ages and Renaissance, and even into the baroque, chant was actually more likely to have been sung by the choirboys trained in the church, monastery, and cathedral schools than by the adult clerics, so that the women may be a suitable substitute for a sonority that Isaac would have expected. A number of recordings by the Schola Hungarica have either women or children singing chant, a wonderful contrast to all those monks. BREWER J ADASSOHN: Serenades 1+2 BRULL: Serenade 2 Malta Philharmonic/ Marius Stravinsky Cameo 9031—68 minutes Symphony 1; PABST: Piano Concerto Panagiotis Trochopoulos, Belorussian Symphony/ Marius Stravinsky Piano Concerto 1 Valentina Seferinova, Karelia Symphony/ Denis Vlasenko Cameo 9033—73 minutes Serenade; BRULL: Violin Concerto; Macbeth Overture Ilya Hoffman, v; Rebecca Hall, fl; Malta Philharmonic/ Michael Laus Cameo 9048—67 minutes In July/August 2009 we covered what would become the first two volumes in Cameo’s series “Music of German Jewish Composers”, including works of Ignaz Brüll and Salomon Jadassohn. Before that I compared Cameo’s disc of the Pabst Piano Concerto to Oleg Marshev on Danacord (Sept/Oct 2008). Now Cameo has thoroughly revamped their product, issuing three new releases that combine new performances with old, though 9027 coupling Brüll’s Symphony 1 and Serenade 1 remains in the catalog. In revisiting these performances and making the acquaintance of much wonderful new music, I feel privileged to recommend all three discs (or four counting 9027) to lovers of romantic music everywhere. Where should I begin? Some biographical material, surely. Ignaz Brüll you may already know from his piano concertos on Hyperion (July/Aug 1999); he was a favored member of Brahms’s inner circle. Indeed, Brahms thought so highly of his keyboard skills that he routine- September/October 2012 ly asked Brüll to join him in presenting his new works to friends and critics in arrangements for piano four-hands. Yet save for his opera Das Goldene Kreuz (The Golden Cross) his works were generally either thought inferior to the Master or else ignored altogether. It seems unconscionable that his Violin Concerto should have fallen into disrepair, so much so that conductor Michael Laus had to pore over three different copies of the score to come up with this recording; and he went through it with great care together with the Russian violinist Ilya Hoffman, who contributed the slow movement to Cameo 9026 (now discontinued)—it was all they had to work with. No one will be surprised to hear that the opening movement sounds like the Brahms written four years earlier; but this music lies well for the soloist and it would be nice if other violinists would take it up, along with Joachim’s concertos. The glorious slow movement is harder to pin down, but with all the embellishments by the woodwinds my best guess would be Dvorak. And the dance-like finale bears no resemblance whatever to Brahms’s Gypsy double-stopping; I hear Mendelssohn. though, and a supporting chorale that might be an Orthodox chant of the type Rimsky-Korsakoff employed in his Russian Easter Overture. Soloist Hoffman sounds like he’s in an echo chamber and displays a trace of insecurity when he ventures into the stratosphere; but that’s just reviewer nitpicking and it’s a pleasure to welcome this fine concerto to the literature. The string of musical cognates continues unabated in the Second Serenade of Brüll. I felt like radio’s Tune Detective as one old friend after another paraded by. Right off the bat the horns sounded like Weber (don’t they always?) or possibly the opening bars of Coppelia. The serene melody that follows reminded me of Goldmark’s Im Frühling, and one motif (0:43f) has an “Eastern” tang to it that made me think of Weber’s Turandot. While the good-natured Marcia clearly has no hint of the battlefield, once things heat up the similarity to Raff’s Lenore is unmistakable. In fact, the spirit of Raff hovers over the entire piece. What then might we think of the finale, which begins with a jaunty tune rhythmically close cousin to the Rakoczy March before the flutes echo the mirlitons from The Nutcracker and right before the end (5:10) you could just as easily think of Schubert’s Ninth. In the Macbeth Overture, we hear the Thane’s struggle for power as well as the triumphant march that hails his downfall. Once we get into it the rhythms suggest Grieg’s In Autumn, most of all near the close (7:40) where the roiling strings just as clearly point to Mendelssohn’s Erste Walpurgisnacht. I still American Record Guide prefer the earlier performance by Denis Vlasenko (9026) who works it up more than Laus; but especially if you remember the Genesis LP with Zsolt Deaky, Laus is clearly on the same page. (Here’s another piece I wish conductors would program.) Incidentally, conductor Marius Stravinsky is the grand-nephew of you-know-who. Sad to say, Salomon Jadassohn failed to achieve even the glimmer of fame accorded Brüll. It has been suggested that his music would have been completely forgotten if the Nazis hadn’t called attention to it by banning it from the concert hall (something that never stopped Mendelssohn). We covered both of his piano concertos with Markus Becker (Hyperion) in the same review as the Cameos; on 9033 Valentina Seferinova plays with great confidence, but you really need both. The Symphony in C—the first of four—lurches forward like Schumann’s symphony in the same key (2), but much of what follows seems closer to Sullivan—likewise the sweetly sentimental Largo. In turn the Mendelssohnian trio of the Scherzo as well as the bustling finale seem pretty much busywork, yet engaging busywork for all that. If the title of the Serenade in 4 Canons suggests Brahms, that’s deceptive—and this is no sterile pedagogic exercise. Jadassohn was far overshadowed in his time by Reinecke, and that master certainly comes to mind in the first movement, most of all the playful sub-theme that might have come from the Children’s Symphony (Sept/Oct 2002). The Minuet trips along winningly, yet the serene Adagietto is over almost before it begins. Like Brüll’s Serenade the flutes in the Intermezzo seem to have stepped from the pages of the The Nutcracker. The finale, opening with a Handelian “shake”, gives us a back-and-forth rhythm redolent of Bizet’s Patrie, and we may even hear the valiant warrior returning from the battlefield in Weber’s Konzertstück at 6:11. In the Second Serenade the opening Intrada that might be Lully leads into an impassioned Notturno that clearly conjures Raff. The Minuet just as obviously summons the Second Symphony of Schubert, while the flutes disport in the patented Mendelssohn manner. The main theme of the finale might be a cocky variant of Schubert’s Unfinished, with a gracious flowing melody as foil. Rebecca Hall’s silvery tones make the Serenade for flute and strings very special, even though she seems cooped up in the same echo chamber as Ilya Hoffman. In the opening movement she flits above and around the striding orchestra like Tinker Bell jesting with Peter Pan. The long-breathed Notturno follows without a break, and there’s some whimsical banter between flute and strings before the 129 music sighs itself to sleep. The Minuet could reflect Bruckner’s tentative efforts before finally setting down the F-minor Studiensymphonie (often numbered 00), offering as trio first a sturdy fugato and then a winsome waltz. Jadassohn labels the finale a tarantella; of course it turns out to be really a saltarello, as usually happens; and it can’t be any coincidence that Mendelssohn in the finale of his Italian Symphony (which makes use of both saltarello and tarantella rhythms) entrusted much of that heady romp to the flutes. (David Kent-Watson, head honcho of Cameo Classics, sent me a photo of his cat intently following a video of Ms Hall playing the Serenade.) The Pabst Piano Concerto was discussed in some detail in my earlier review. No less than Anton Rubinstein hand-picked the Prussianborn Pavel Pabst to teach at the Moscow Conservatory; the young Rachmaninoff performed with him on numerous occasions, and Tchaikovsky called him “a pianist blessed by God”. Big-boned and imposing in the manner of both Tchaikovsky and Rachmaninoff, the concerto also affords the resourceful pianist ample opportunities for embellishment much like Liszt; but its emotional core is the central Andante cantabile. That reminds us the young Pabst helped his mentor Tchaikovsky complete his own B-flat minor Concerto. We may also hear Tchaikovsky in the spirited finale, which might be a folk dance of the type all Russians no doubt absorb while still in the womb. The Greek pianist Panagiotis Trochopoulos, a graduate of the Moscow Conservatory, has all the right impulses and displays clear affection for the music; but he doesn’t tear up the keyboard in the finale like Marshev—but you’re going to want the Jadassohn pieces anyway. All three recordings are warm and resonant, and the performances could scarcely be bettered. Moreover the engineers have brought out the repartee between high and low strings remarkably well, further enhancing enjoyment (but then both my front and back pairs of speakers are set 15 feet apart). These new releases have exponentially increased my appreciation of Jadassohn and Brüll; now if only Cameo could come up with Jadassohn’s other three symphonies I’d really be a happy camper! HALLER JANACEK: Sonata 1.X.1905; On An Over grown Path; RAVEL: Valses Nobles et Sentimentales; PROKOFIEFF: Piano Sonata 2 Ivana Gavric—Champs Hill 26—79 minutes This is Gavric’s second CD to come out of her self-described year studying and performing 130 the solo piano works of Janacek. It takes its title from the subtitle of the Sonata, From the Street>. Her first disc, In the Mists (Champs Hill 9, Mar/Apr 2011), was highly praised by Alan Becker. Although one disc would have held the three major Janacek works, she has chosen to present these lesser-known works alongside Schubert, Liszt, and Rachmaninoff in the first disc, and here, Ravel and Prokofieff. This is the kind of programming I thoroughly enjoy: just the right mixture of works I know and listen to regularly, along with something less known, and finally an unknown composition. It gives me the opportunity to compare the pianist’s technical and interpretive skills with other great pianists, and allows me to get better acquainted with something I know only casually and to explore a brand new piece. The Ravel and Prokofieff are favorites dating back to my undergraduate years in the early 1970s. Only recently have I come across some recordings of the Janacek Sonata, and I have never come across the collection of his pieces titled On An Overgrown Path. Gavric is a complete pianist: technically proficient, very musical, intelligent and exciting. Her Ravel never loses sight of the fact that they are waltzes. Even in the Epilogue, where all of the prior waltzes are recalled through a bit of a rhythmic haze, Gavric keeps that triple beat going. The Prokofieff ranks with the best, especially the Scherzo, and would be reason enough to get this release. But her Janacek will be the main reason many get this recording. Her ability to handle to complex rhythms and textures in the sonata are quite good. I listened several times before using the score and then was astounded following along. There is no feeling of any difficulty in Gavric’s performance, just a secure musical interpretation. She has all the power for the big climaxes, but it is her finesse and ability to spin a beautiful musical line that makes her a pianist to watch. HARRINGTON JOPLIN: Treemonisha Paragon Ragtime Orchestra & Singers/ Rick Benjamin—New World 80720 The new recording of Treemonisha is presumably closer to the original than the recording way back in the 1970s. But that one, for all its glitzy sound (orchestrated by Gunther Schiller) I prefer to the new one, which has orchestrations by Rick Benjamin, its conductor. I have never seen a CD with as many notes as this one, giving a complete account of the career of Scott Joplin, with many pictures. And there is also, fortunately, a libretto. Whether we need a complete dossier about Joplin is questionable, though it mentions other operas and other works. September/October 2012 If you are a passionate admirer of ragtime, you will like this new recording. The recitative sections are for the most part quite bland, but the ragtime ditties are reminiscent of the Joplin musical tracks for the film, The Sting. Things start ebulliently with ‘The Corn Huskers’, and continue with ‘Aunt Dinah has blowed de horn’, and the final ‘Slow Drag’, which is very catchy. There are also impressive sections depicting a church service, and a scene where Treemonisha is lost, The third act is full of lectures, to deal with the criminals who stole Treemonisha. The vocal writing is impressive; and the soloists are very good, particularly Anita Johnson as Treemonisha. At the end of the recording is a historical resume of the story, but I really can’t tell you too much about the plot. It was never terribly well spelled out in the 1970s version, either. TRAUBNER JUON: Viola Sonata; see Collections KAGEL: Flute Pieces Michael Faust; Paulo Alvares, p; Ensemble Contrasts/ Robert HP Platz; Sinfonia Finlandia Jyvaskyla/ Patrick Gallois Naxos 572635—66 minutes Mauricio Kagel (1931-2008) is surely among the most famous Argentine musicians after Piazzolla. Unlike Piazzolla, who studied under Nadia Boulanger, Kagel was famously selftaught. Here Michael Faust, the dedicatee of Das Konzert for flute and orchestra (2001-2), plays that work and two others. Pan for piccolo and string quartet (1985) is a nearly fiveminute work that continuously varies its opening idea. Much of it is quiet. Then there are two versions of the Phantasiestuck (1987-8): one for flute and piano and the other for flute, piano, and ensemble. This is a large continuous piece with a variety of episodes and textures. Das Konzert runs 25 minutes and is not nearly as avant-garde as I expected. The sound of the orchestra is rather flattened, and only the harp and percussion stand out, but often the strings are only soft background. Faust certainly knows this music as well as anyone and carries out the extended playing techniques well. GORMAN KAMINSKI: String Orchestra Pieces Neuss German Chamber Academy/ Lavard SkouLarsen—CPO 777 578—54 minutes The German composer Heinrich Kaminski (1886-1946) was the son of a former priest whose father was Jewish. Thus, Kaminski’s American Record Guide music was banned under Hitler. This piece is actually an arrangement for string orchestra of the composer’s F-sharp minor Quintet by his student, Rudolf Schwarz-Schilling. I has constantly shifting chord progressions, with faster interjections. Kaminski buries the ‘Dies Irae’ in some phrases. I don’t know the quintet version, but can’t help thinking this string orchestra arrangement is better. Many pages that would sound strained and hysterical with a quintet here sound impressive, majestic even, played by a larger string body. (I guess that’s why I also much prefer the orchestral version of Schoenberg’s Chamber Symphony 1.) II has a ghostly beginning, developing into a slow movement worthy of Beethoven in its conveyance of a composer totally at one with his thoughts. III begins with graceful, but irregular rhythms moving into a more serious emotional section incorporating ascending wholetone passages. A quieter segment reflects on what has gone on up to now, to the point of seeming like an unresolved enigma. The music begins anew with denser harmonies and a passing salute to the scherzo of the Beethoven 9th. The pace slows down for an ethereal ending. In IV, a monumental and powerfully fleshed out melody dominates. After a reminiscence of III, the work proceeds to an impressive ending. I can best describe the general musical language of this superb work by saying if Ernest Bloch wrote a third concerto grosso, summarizing all his work in that genre, it would sound like this. The string writing has that much vigor and bite. For all its substantial length, there’s not a bar of padding, but rather an abundance of inspiration. It makes me wish Kaminski’s symphonic output were larger. The playing of the Neuss orchestra is outstanding in a difficult work, and Skou-Larsen’s conducting is a match. For instance, I concludes with many tempo changes that could easily drift into chaos, but Larsen has them completely under control. Ditto his firm guiding hand in the playful rhythms of III. Eckhardt van den Hoogen’s notes, though his style still inhabits the bizarre world, have genuinely valuable information about the composer, for once worth the excavation effort. O’CONNOR KERNIS: Quartet 1; SCHUBERT: Quartet 14 Jasper Qt Sono Luminus 92152—73 minutes We now have three recordings of this terrific Kernis Quartet, all of them well played but with different couplings. The competition for this one is the two recordings by two different incarnations of the Lark Quartet (S/O 1999 & 131 J/F 2007). My comments on the Jasper’s disc containing Kernis’s Second Quartet hold for this one as well: the Jaspers are generally less pointed than the Lark and somewhat less technically accomplished. If I had to make a choice for this piece I would go with either of the Larks, but couplings may be decisive for some listeners, and those discs are deleted. Lark I was coupled with Kernis’s Pulitzer Prize-winning Second Quartet, which was written for that group; Lark II has a re-release of the Argo Symphony in Waves; the Jasper Second Quartet is paired with Beethoven’s Second Razoumovsky. The present release’s coupling is a very intense reading of Schubert’s Death and the Maiden and makes the point of comparing the formal archetypes of the two quartets—but the comparisons are fairly strained. Both works’ slow movements are in the “Heavenly Length” mode, but the Schubert is a theme and variations based on a song about death and demonic possession, whereas Kernis’s is a clear but extended ABA form subtitled Musica Celestis and has more ethereal subject matter. Both quartets open with inventive sonata forms, have dances with trios as third movements, and close with rapid virtuosic dances, with Schubert’s outdoing all comers. Both update their classical models with brilliance. A case could be made that the central slow movements are so different in topic that their central position casts a very different light on the overall expressive content of both works. This unlikely pairing could be seen to be misleading, but listeners can certainly make their own decisions on the topic, and everyone loves to discuss the issue of Form and Content, so this offers as good a stimulus as any. The Jasper is a talented and ambitious young group who I think we’ll be hearing much of in the future. Sound is excellent. GIMBEL KLUGHARDT: Lenore; see GERNSHEIM K NUSSEN: Symphonies 2-3; Trumpets; Ophelia Dances; Coursing; Cantata Elaine Barry, Linda Hirst, s; Nash Ensemble; Philharmonia Orchestra/ Michael Tilson Thomas; London Sinfonietta/ Oliver Knussen NMC 175—68 minutes Six works by conductor-composer Oliver Knussen (b. 1952), written at the beginning of his career in the 1970s. The major pieces are two symphonies. Symphony 2 (1970-71), for soprano and chamber orchestra, was written when the composer was just 18 and shows its depressive youthfulness. The work is a set of four poems by Georg Trakl and Sylvia Plath, dealing with dreams, 132 scurrying rats (the scherzo), female death (Plath, of course), and a portrait of Trakl’s living sister (with an inserted closing echo by Plath). The work closes the program. Symphony 3 (1973-79) is a 15-minute piece in two parts. The first section is composed of five characteristically amorphous but busy textures differentiated by orchestration, while the second amounts to a theme and variations with a slow series of complex chords as repeated background (the composer refers to the conception as “passacaglia-like”.) Eventually the chord series is revealed unambiguously as the coda. The effect is colorful but dense. The remaining works begin with Trumpets (1975), a setting of another Trakl poem for soprano and three clarinets, based on material from the Third Symphony. The poem’s subject of rural isolation and cowering are mirrored by turbulently windswept clarinets and a lyrically hysterical soprano part. The Ophelia Dances (1975), for nine instruments, use as their material the ‘Sphinx’ motto from Schumann’s Carnaval, placed in the composer’s typically abstract language. There are four easily discernible and rather humorous dances framed by an introduction and lengthy coda. Coursing (1979) is a brief piece for chamber orchestra composed for Elliott Carter’s 70th birthday (Carter seems to be a major influence on Knussen’s music). It opens with what comes across as a wild fugal exposition with the material then splintered into fragments that “course” through the piece, its inspiration said to be the Rapids of Niagara Falls. Finally, the Cantata (1977) is a singlemovement 10-minute piece for oboe and string trio contrasting long lyrical lines with breathtaking scherzo-like virtuosity. Brilliant oboist Gareth Hulse is not credited as soloist on the jewel box and buried in small print with the Nash Ensemble personnel at the beginning of the booklet. Mr Knussen is obviously an exceptional musician, and even though the language of 70s atonality comes across as a bit dated today, there is much to admire. Performances are exceptional, which should come as no surprise given the participants. GIMBEL KOECHLIN: Orchestrations Sarah Wegener, s; Florian Hoelscher, p; Stuttgart Radio Symphony/ Heinz Holliger Hänssler 93286—78 minutes My favorite anecdote on Koechlin’s musicianship concerns his late 1930s book on orchestration. He needed an example from Schoenberg’s Erwartung. As there was no score September/October 2012 handy, and the piece was almost never performed, he simply wrote it in from memory. Even now, many of us feel it’s a good day when we can follow, never mind quote by heart from, this staggeringly complex score. Here we get a good cross-section of his orchestral talents applied to other composers. In addition to his own Sur les Flots Lointain, the album also includes his arrangements of Chabrier’s Bourree Fantasque, Debussy’s Khamma, Fauré’s Pelleas and Melisande Suite and Schubert’s Wanderer Fantasy. Koechlin’s scoring of Khamma is already familiar to Debussy fans. Debussy scored the opening— Koechlin takes over at 4:33. He includes a piano as part of the overall texture. This is a departure from Debussy, but not from French music as a whole. The musicologist Alan Krueck has noted the continuation in 19th Century French music of the concertante practice, bridging its use between the 18th and 20th centuries. Sur Les Flots Lointains is the orchestral version; Hänssler plans to release the string orchestra arrangement on a future disc. It’s an orchestration of a song given to Koechlin by his American student Catherine Urnes. The Pelleas and Melisande Suite heard here adds three more movements to the familiar four. A real bonus is the inclusion of ‘Melisande’s Song’, well sung in English by Sarah Wegener. The vocal line has the haunting beauty of Elgar’s ‘Land Where Corals Lie’. The Chabrier is also more 20th Century French in its penchant for isolated choirs and more transparent brass distribution. In the Wanderer, commissioned for a 1933 Balanchine ballet, Koechlin handles the orchestral choirs in a Pointillistic way, the parts sometimes broken up into overlapping cells. One curious choice concerns the beginning of IV. Liszt’s arrangement with orchestra gives the hammering fugue introduction to the solo piano. Tovey praised this detail, observing that no orchestral bass has the resonance of that piano register. Koechlin gives it to the lower winds, even though his scoring does have an important piano part. Much as I enjoyed the arrangement, at that point I missed the power of the Liszt. Overall, this is an interesting entry in Hänssler’s documentation of the work of one of the most fascinating minds in music. O’CONNOR The only authentic performance is one that reflects our own time and the character of the musician playing. Nothing could be more unauthentic than a reconstruction of historical performance practice. American Record Guide KRAEHENBUEHL: Diptych; Landscapes; Betrayal; Ash Wednesday; Drumfire; Pas des Papillons; Our Father Have Mercy on Us Who Gather Wood; Toccata Sinfonica; Circus Overture; 4 Christmas Choruses; Jazz & Blues Frank Costanzo, v; Joel Krosnick, vc; David Kraehenbuehl, p, fl; Max Lanner, Susan Neebel, Samuel Sanders, p; Warren Stannard, Howard Niblock, ob; Josephine Vadala, s; Megan Friar, mz; LaSalle Quartet; Artaria Quartet; La Crosse Chamber Chorale/ Paul Rusterholz; Amor Artis Chorus & Orchestra/ Johannes Somary; White Heron Chorale/ Richard Bjella; Evangel University Orchestra/ Larry Dissmore; The Concert Choir/ Margaret Hillis David Kraehenbuehl Society [2CD] 141 minutes (c/o Burkhart, Apt. 1403 550 E 12th Ave, Denver CO 80203) David Kraehenbuehl (CRANE-BYOOL—Mark Lehman reviewed the piano pieces in S/O 2000) was born in 1923, graduated from the University of Chicago with degrees in music, mathematics, and German (after entering said university at 16), and was mustered out of the service at the rank of captain after World War II. He applied to Yale and won the last spot in Hindemith’s select studio; Hindemith called him the most gifted student he ever had. His music, especially the instrumental pieces, is often agreeably aggressive. It’s free with its dissonance, a little cerebral, and never cluttered. He wrote, “12-tone set technique offers harmonic control; Hindemith influences the harmonies and melodic gestures; Stravinsky offers the rhythmic vitality; and I determine the aesthetic effect.... [W]hen I make a new composition, I can concentrate on its ‘message’. That is a happy condition for any composer.” The Diptych for violin and piano consists of the ‘Canzona di Dionigi’ and the ‘Partita d’Apollone’, the latter in the form of a baroque suite. The ‘Canzona’ has a good bit of humor, even a little subtle jazziness. Stravinsky’s neoclassical influence is quite recognizable; the piece is a lot of fun to listen to, and I bet it would be a blast to play. Landscapes is a setting of five TS Eliot poems for soprano, flute, oboe, and string quartet. It’s more restrained than the Diptych, and not quite as sensitively played as it should be by the strings. A better recording would help—this and the Diptych were transferred straight from very scratchy records, with no attempt at cleaning up the sound (and capable software is not at all expensive!); the acoustics are dry, too. The Betrayal: A Motet Cycle for the Passion Season is homophonic in texture; the first three of the nine responsories from the Tenebrae service are here (Kraehenbuehl set the other six as well). They’re capably sung by a 133 talented community choir, and were taped in front of a fairly silent audience. Ash Wednesday, for cello and piano, is a reflection on Eliot’s six-part poem of the same name from 1927, written after Eliot had converted to Anglicanism. It is, of course, serious, but it has some virtuosic passages as well. The cellist is mostly in tune, the audience a little intrusive, and the tape sometimes distorted and murky. Drumfire: A Cantata Against War is represented only by the first two movements (out of about nine or ten): ‘The First Horseman: Oppression’, and ‘....of the Guns’. It is rather dated sounding in scoring and sonics. The chorus sounds distant, and reading along is necessary. Pas des Papillons is a very enjoyable piece, the most consonant of anything on the program—full of glorious hesitations, alluring harmonies, and bursts of vigor. It is a paraphrase of Schumann’s Papillons and a broad depiction of that composer’s life, with young love, sadness, Eusebius and Florestan, and finally insanity and death. The Artaria Quartet does a tremendous job, keeping an unbelievable tension through the quiet parts, and loving each phrase exquisitely. The sound here is about the best as well, if a little bright; it’s a decent concert recording of the 1995 premiere. Toccata Sinfonica is another dated-sounding work, performed by a somewhat-capable college orchestra. Circus Overture, for piano four hands, takes us back to scratchy record land; it’s more austere than its title indicates, veering close to abstraction. The Four Christmas Choruses are solid if not terribly creative. Jazz & Blues (seven excerpts appear here) is a six-volume pedagogical tool Kraehenbuehl wrote to give his piano students experience in playing swing, boogie, ballad, folk song, and Latin American styles. The recording comes from a nasal-sounding LP with the composer playing. They’re not neglected masterpieces, but they’d be quite useful teaching tools, and Kraehenbuehl plays them with a lot of expression and care. ‘Got the Jitters’ reminds me of the Super Mario Brothers theme. I’m quite glad I’ve heard this music—I only wish the sound were better. I also had fits getting the CDs out of my car stereo, and my home system had a little trouble reading them. If there is a second run of these, the Society should look for someone else to press them. In-depth notes in English. ESTEP KRAUS: Viola Concertos David Aaron Carpenter; Riitta Pesola, vc; Tapiola Sinfonietta—Ondine 1193—62 minutes Joseph Martin Kraus (1756-92) is known as the Swedish Mozart. Not only was he an almost 134 exact contemporary of the more famous composer, but when I listened to these concertos, I was strongly reminded of Mozart’s violin concertos and some other compositions of his. Kraus was born in the town of Miltenberg in Franconia, and he had his musical education in Erfurt and Mannheim, where he had intensive training on the violin with Father Anton Keck and was even allowed to play in the city’s famous orchestra. In 1778 he moved to Stockholm and finally got the attention of King Gustav III two years later. The King appointed Krauss deputy kapellmeister in 1781, and in 1782 he financed a five-year grand tour of Europe for him. The now cosmopolitan composer returned to Stockholm in 1787 and was appointed first kapellmeister the following year. Kraus remained a leading light in the Stockholm music scene until he died in 1792. The quality of the music is quite high. These works make greater technical demands on the viola than one usually hears in music from this period, except of course, from Mozart. Kraus and Mozart also shared a preference for the viola. Kraus had been trained on the violin, but when he died the only stringed instrument in his possession was a viola. These works have only recently been attributed to Kraus. They were not unknown in the time from Kraus’s death until now, but they were published by Breitkopf in 1787 under the name of the Benedictine monk Romanus Hoffstetter, a close friend of Kraus. The discovery of the manuscript of one of these works, clearly in the hand of Kraus, has convinced the scholar who wrote the fine booklet notes for this release, Bertil van Boer, that that work and the other two, which are stylistically related, must all be by Kraus. Boer also dates these works to 1777 to 1781. One stylistic peculiarity is the odd cadence on the dominant instead of the tonic in the key of F at the close of the middle movement of the Concerto in C. Not only does the movement end in the dominant, but the ending sounds abrupt and incomplete. No doubt, this is a touch of Haydnesque humor. Kraus distinguishes himself from Mozart in the Concerto for Viola and Cello, where the cello plays a subservient role to the viola. The degree of independence and equality that Mozart gives the two solo instruments in his Sinfonia Concertante is lacking here. This is the first time I have heard David Aaron Carpenter, who is an excellent violist. Carpenter has had instruction from some of the best viola soloists in the world: Yuri Bashmet, Nobuko Imai, Roberto Diaz, and Pinchas Zukerman. He won First Prize in the Walter E Naumberg Viola Competition in 2006. He has the temperament of a soloist and draws a full, September/October 2012 mellow tone from the “ex-Hamma” viola made by the Venetian violin maker Michele Deconet in 1766. The Tapiola Sinfonietta, apparently directed by their concertmaster, Janne Nisonen, follows modern period-performance practice and eschews vibrato; but Carpenter uses a continuous vibrato of a pleasingly wide amplitude and inserts the occasional juicy slide. The cadenzas, not credited, have some coy quotes from two other classical concertos: Haydn’s Cello Concerto 1 and Beethoven’s Violin Concerto. Excellent sound as usual from Ondine. MAGIL KREEK: Psalms; see MENDELSSOHN KROMMER: Clarinet Concertos Dmitri Ashkenazy; Sefika Kutluer, fl; Kamilla Schatz, v; Northern Sinfonia/ Howard Griffiths Paladino 25—57 minutes Thomas Friedli, Antony Pay, cl; English Chamber Orchestra Claves 8602—70 minutes Composers who happen to have careers during transitional phases in Western music often have an unfair burden. If they insist on pushing their art forward, they could, after some scathing criticism, be hailed as landmark revolutionaries. If they simply write good quality music that reflects the uncertain time period, though, they are usually greeted with question marks. Such is the case with Franz Krommer, the Czech son of a country innkeeper born in the year of Handel’s death (1759). He learned violin and organ from his uncle, enjoyed fame and success in Vienna as one of the last court composers, and died a year after the premiere of Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique (1831). With the exception of a few sacred choral works, he preferred to write for instruments; and he was extraordinarily prolific, completing over 300 published works in 110 opus numbers. Known for his symphonies and string quartets, he wrote generously for winds, including solo concertos, sinfonia concertantes, quintets with strings, and wind octets. In his day, Krommer was justly admired for his craftsmanship and sincerity, and he paid respect to the conservative Viennese tradition with a persistent classical framework and sound. Yet he also acknowledged the change that was in the air. Krommer never let the peasantry storm the castle like Beethoven— perhaps the reason that he was soon forgotten amidst the rise of the middle class and the freelance artist—but he knew where things were going. Both albums here have been released before. The Paladino is a 1994 effort by three American Record Guide then-young musicians with the assistance of experienced British conductor Howard Griffiths, and the Claves is a 1985 collaboration between Swiss clarinetist Thomas Friedli and noted British clarinetist and conductor Antony Pay. The rarely heard Sinfonia Concertante in E-flat, Op. 70 (1808), is a delightfully creative five-movement divertimento played by the American-born Russian clarinetist Dmitri Ashkenazy, Turkish flutist Sefika Kutluer, and the Danish-born Swiss violinist Kamilla Schatz. Ashkenazy then remains to play the better known Clarinet Concerto in E-flat, Op. 36 (1803), whose virtuosic demands foreshadow Spohr and Weber. The Claves label offers the same Opus 36; the Concerto in E minor, Op. 86 (1809), a transcription of a flute concerto rendered by Krommer’s violinist friend Joseph Kuffner; and the notable Concerto for Two Clarinets in E-flat, Op. 35 (1802). While the Northern Sinfonia and the English Chamber Orchestra are professional in energy, style, and sonic concept, the soloists fall short. The Paladino crew is talented, but require much more polish and artistic insight. Friedli and Pay tackle the scores with zest and character, yet their timbres lack the core and clarity that would make their ideas truly shine. HANUDEL LANGGAARD: Quartets 2, 3, 6; Variations Nightingale Quartet DaCapo 6220575 [SACD] 70 minutes I think Rued Langgaard, a Danish musical outsider who died in 1952 at age 58, would be quite happy with DaCapo’s releases of his music. I reviewed one program of piano music (S/O 2011) and Alan Becker covered the previous volume (S/O 2005), and the performances and sound have been excellent. The music often doesn’t live up to its promise, though; as the Editor pointed out (Symphonies, Music of the Spheres, M/J 2002), form is not Langgaard’s strong point. III of Quartet 2 (1918, revised in 1931) is a lovely slow movement, sounding almost like one of those hesitating Kodaly songs; it’s by far the best thing here. Quartet 3, from 1924, is a little like Bartok in tone, but not as creative or visceral. Tonal parts interrupt the almostexpressionist core of the piece, but they don’t sound like they’re there for any particular reason. Quartet 6 (one movement, 1918-1919) opens with a tender, childlike hymn; and much of what follows is pretty, but there’s not much depth. I’d take a Dvorak quartet over this any day. Like the other pieces, the Variations have nice moments, but Langgaard doesn’t really know how to develop and control his 135 material. If you like his style, you’ll certainly like this, but it doesn’t convince me he had any great talent. The performance is stellar—the Nightingale Quartet is expressive, and they obviously care a lot about the music. I can think of many composers whose work should be played and recorded this well. Extensive notes in English and Danish. ESTEP LEGRENZI: Sonatas Lauretana Mass; Motets; Oficina Musicum/ Riccardo Favero Dynamic 710—59 minutes This program of music by Giovanni Legrenzi (1626-90), who spent most of his career in Venice, brings together a Mass, three vocal pieces that honor the Virgin Mary (published 1655, 1660, and 1670), and two string sonatas from a 1655 collection. The five-voice Mass—recorded here for the first time—is dedicated to the Virgin of Loreto, hence its name. It survives in a single manuscript source dated 1689 and conserved in the archive of the Holy House Shrine in Loreto, on Italy’s Adriatic coast. The notation used in the Mass manuscript is archaic (with note-shapes from the 15th and 16th Centuries) but the manuscript is also modern because it contains specific markings for “piano” and “forte” passages. Legrenzi’s compositions are of a consistently high quality, and in recent years the singers and players of Oficina Musicum have specialized in his music. The ensemble chose appropriate vocal music to complement the Mass (including three anonymous pieces from a choral book at the Loreto shrine for the Introit, Gradual, and Alleluia sections of the Mass), and their performances are full of fervent and devotional veneration. Strings, organ, and theorbo accompany the singers and perform the sonatas with beautiful elegance and sparkle. In the accompanied Marian antiphons, soprano soloists Lia Serafini and Roberta Giua are very well matched in their intertwining figures and expressive spirit, and their joy-filled exuberance depicts the delight of the angelic host (in ‘Hodie Collaetantur Coeli’) to fittingly crown this celebration of the triumphant Queen of heaven. Two short organ improvisations frame one of the vocal pieces. They are rather in the style of reflective “elevation” toccatas, so might fit better in the Mass. But this is my only quibble with a satisfying program. The program title is Testamentum. Notes in English; texts in Latin. I praised this same ensemble’s 2-CD set of Legrenzi containing a Mass, Vespers, and other pieces (Dynamic 653, 136 J/A 2010); David Schwartz recommends Parnassi Musici’s program of Legrenzi sonatas (CPO 777030, M/A 2005), and John Barker welcomed a release including Legrenzi’s oratorio Il Cuor Umano All’Incanto as the restoration to the catalog of an interesting work (Brilliant 93354, M/J 2008). C MOORE LEKEU: Trio; Piano Quartet Trio Hochelaga; Teng Li, va ATMA 2651—66 minutes This is very similar to the recording by the Spiller Trio (Arts; March/April 2000)—and that may be the only other one around these days. Both are fast and the musicians technically excellent, but neither reading is intense or warm or poignant. Both have clear sound. But neither seems to get very deep into the music; both are rather surface readings. The trio here takes 40-1/2 minutes; the Spiller Trio takes 42 minutes. But the trio from La Monnaie (Schwann, March/April 1990) takes more than 56 minutes for the same music. Guillaume Lekeu lived from 1870 to 1894—died at 24—and was quite taken with Wagner’s music. I realize the tragedy of such a short life should not affect the tempos, but he did use the word “Lent” (slow) to mark three of these four movements. One (II) is even marked ‘Tres Lent’. III is ‘Tres Anime’. He liked Wagner and he wanted exaggerated tempos. Why turn his music into Mendelssohn? If you can’t get the music any other way, the notes are here, and the players are not crude. The Schwann recording is gone (for now, anyway—and those players were not as refined as these), but Gil French liked the Signum (54; Jan/Feb 1995) for its sensitivity and full sound. It is a little slower than this new one; it takes about 42 minutes. I’m not sure it is still around. No one knows Lekeu, so his music is a hard sell; but this is a beautiful piece. VROON L IGETI: Etudes, Books 1+2; BEETHOVEN: Sonata 32 Jeremy Denk, p Nonesuch 530562—67 minutes Denk, on combining Ligeti and Beethoven in a program: “The romantic composers followed in Beethoven’s footsteps, anxiously, with more than a few daddy issues. But they drew most often on middle Beethoven; many elements of Beethoven’s late period were left behind—perhaps too unsettling to deal with at that historical moment. One has to wait for the 20th Century for some of those crazed late urges of Beethoven to find continuation, to find resonance. Ligeti’s Etudes seem sometimes like a September/October 2012 sequel to late Beethoven mania.” He gives other reasons, but I’ll leave them to your discovery. I’ve not heard the praised Biret recording of the Ligeti Etudes (Naxos 555777, S/O 2003), but I generally found Denk more impressive than Aimard (Sony 62308, J/A 1997). Denk’s ‘Escalier du Diable’ is more frightening. He gets the Hungarian (or perhaps Bartokian) tone of ‘Der Zauberlehrling’ (The Sorcerer’s Apprentice) that Aimard completely misses. Aimard sounds a little businesslike in comparison; Denk’s microphrasing is more exciting. This piano is better recorded and a little less harsh. Two faults. Denk chose not to record the final etude of Book II, ‘Coloana Infinita’, because he couldn’t imagine going on after ‘L’escalier du Diable’, and points out that Ligeti had also thought of ending the book there. Truth be told, it does sound like clutter when placed at the end, until that final thunk on wood that makes it so salient. Also, Denk’s ‘Escalier’, though better than Aimard’s, still pales next to Greg Anderson’s video of that piece (ignoring the tacky opening); Anderson is the only person I’ve heard yet who makes ‘Escalier’ shriek and scream with terror. (I believe Anderson’s is only available on YouTube and at www.andersonroe.com.) The Beethoven is grand and confident, but also cheerful in spots. Denk proves himself to be quite the poet of tone and emotion. Now, the beginning of II is patient, but not yet sublime; I’d like to hear Denk re-record this in about 30 years. It’s still an excellent performance, though, and I’m happy to have the whole program. Intelligent notes in English by the performer. ESTEP LISZT: Opera Paraphrases Rigoletto, Aida, Trovatore, Boccanegra, Lohengrin, Carmen Jerome Lowenthal, p LP Classics 1003—70 minutes Lowenthal, a faculty member at the Juilliard School since 1991, has recorded extensively on RCA, Columbia, Arabesque, and Bridge. His recent releases have included composers such as Rorem and Sinding; the latter earned strong praise here (March/April 2010). Here he returns to one of his specialties, the music of Liszt, with impressive results. The quartet from Rigoletto is profound, jubilant, and virtuosic. The rapid curlicues in the music are thoroughly elegant, spinning up and down the keyboard with lightness and delicacy. The ‘Miserere’ from Il Trovatore is another gem. In the depths, he pounds out the bleakest, black, loud music. The music com- American Record Guide municates so well, I think, because of his tendency to withhold pedal: every note sounds clearly. It is always a joy to come across Liszt played this well. Keep in mind that these are not powerhouse performance of the likes given by Fialkowska or Bellucci. His touch, in contrast to theirs, is transparent. It is easy and fluid, yet solid enough so that it never sounds facile. This gentler approach has another advantage: it never leaves you feeling manipulated. He can play loud enough, but chooses to shun heavy artillery, preferring to present the music in a way that successive waves gently convey listeners higher at every crest. Only occasional cracks show in the facade of this generally strong program. The march from Verdi’s Simon Boccanegra begins with great energy, but later episodes drag. And his merely competent playing of the prelude to Lohengrin Act III is not sufficient to overcome the weaknesses of the piece and the transcription. The melodies there are uncharacteristically garish and hard-edged. These are minor quibbles with a release that offers a generous amount of great piano music. It is definitely worth looking into, especially if past releases by this accomplished musician have somehow escaped your attention. Also included are two informal, light-hearted encores that inject narrations—one relating the plot of the opera itself and the other the story of Peter and the Wolf—between the phrases of the introduction section of the Rigoletto paraphrase. AUERBACH LISZT: Piano Sonata; Paganini Etudes; Au Lac de Wallenstadt; Il Penseroso; Hungarian Rhapsody 13; Valse Oubliée 1 Andre Watts Hänssler 93718—77 minutes This festival performance dates from May 1986, well after the time that Watts rocketed to fame when he stood in for Glenn Gould, but still early in his performing career (to this day he tours actively and is on the faculty at Indiana University). There is plenty of youthful exuberance on hand in this fine Liszt recital. Watts warms up with two contrasting pieces from the Années de Pelerinage. ‘Au Lac de Wallenstadt’ is absolutely smooth and even. Above the sun-dappled lake texture, he weaves a delicate melody out of rich velvet tones. ‘Il Penseroso’ offers a glorious contrast. The first 1:30 is a solid crescendo where the dotted rhythm idea grows in volume and menace. The supporting, punctuating chords are bare, stark, and hard edged. The wonders continue when the bass changes over to the deep-register walking accompaniment that growls even when it remains quiet. 137 The main offering of the recital is the Sonata in B minor. Initially this performance disappointed me, particularly the first ten minutes of it. The first plunge into the allegro material is too cautious, and most of the later tempos sound relaxed compared to mainstream readings by Korstick and Matsuev (both March/April 2010). In addition, many of the rubatos are overdone, which degrades the decorative slides into drawn-out, syrupy scales. At first, the playing is only compelling in the moderato areas where we may still delight in his facile touch. All of this changes at the first real presto passage at 8:45. Although he doesn’t drop a single note for the next two minutes, a sense of dislocation between the hands is projected. This imprecision will bother some listeners, but I found it dizzyingly heady. From this point forward he plays with abandon at every moment, resulting in unparalleled beauty in the longest adagio episode and cataclysmic explosions in the vivo material that follows. The fugue sounds too fast and light when it enters, and remains flippant for most of its duration. But it works marvelously in context. Instead of conceiving it as a climactic episode in its own right, he boldly and correctly portrays it as a re-transition, a long fuse leading to the powder keg of the impending recapitulation. The remaining performances are technically sound. The Hungarian Rhapsody in A minor is uncommonly musical. I usually suffer through this showpiece and do not respect it or its brethren enough to even keep track of which is which. Here, though, Watts’s longbreathed legatos and gift for ornamentation make the dancing melodies enticing. The final sprint is shockingly virtuosic, both by virtue of his repeated tone technique and an acceleration that goes too fast even for him (the left hand barely keeps up with the right)! The Grand Etudes, on the other hand, suffer from a host of problems ranging from grating tones and overbearing intensity to unimaginative, rote performances. All that can be salvaged of them is Number 6, which is sufficiently epic in scope to serve as a worthy encore to this mostly fantastic evening of music. AUERBACH LISZT: Songs Elisabeth Kulman, mz; Eduard Kutrowatz, p Preiser 91197—74 minutes Titled “Roots and Routes”, these 23 songs in six languages are selected to demonstrate how Liszt, in his international career, “never forgot his roots” in the Austrian-Hungarian monarchy where he spent his first 11 years. The performers are from the same region and chose songs that demonstrate Liszt’s range as a song 138 writer, including his very first song (‘Angolin dal Biondi Crin’), his only setting of a Russian text (Tolstoy’s ‘Do Not Rebuke Me, My Friend’), his only setting of an English text (Tennyson’s ‘Go Not, Happy Day’), one song in Hungarian (‘Aldon Eg!’); songs in German, French, and Italian; and the duet ‘O Meer im Abendstrahl’ (with Kulman recording both vocal lines). These are first recordings of the Russian song and the duet, and this is one of the best available recordings of Liszt songs by a female singer, despite the silly packaging with photos of Kulman and Kutrowatz in a carriage harnessed to a piano on its side and the glamorous singer by herself in various swooning postures. Kulman is a highly expressive singer with gleaming top notes and rich chocolate low tones. With her supple voice and excellent enunciation she imparts beautiful phrasing and nuancing to each song. Kutrowatz offers just as fine collaboration; his managing of both the delicacy and challenging drama of ‘Die Drei Zigeuner’ along with Kulman’s sensuous reading is a high point of the program. If you don’t know Liszt’s songs, here is an excellent introduction to them; if you know them you will find this a good sampling. Brief notes by the performers about each song are printed adjacent to the texts with translations in English, French, and German. R MOORE LOPES-GRACA: Symphony; Rustic Suite 1; Festival March; December Poem Royal Scottish Orchestra/ Alvaro Cassuto Naxos 572892—66 minutes Three composers dominate Portugal’s contribution to national-romantic concert music in the 20th Century: Luis De Freitas Branco (1890-1955), Joly Braga Santos (1924-88), and Fernando Lopes-Gra135a (1908-93). There are a fair number of recordings of all three (the older ones on obscure LPs but the newer on recent Naxos CDs). See our cumulative index for reviews under BRAGA and FREITAS. Family resemblances among these three are hard to describe but easily perceptible. I’m tempted to use to the kind of phrases beloved of wine tasters: “sun-drenched”, “warm and genial but with an undercurrent of reserved melancholy”, “at once aristocratic and earthy”. Resorting to negatives, one might add that their music—like the indigenous folk-tunes that often inspire it—seems Mediterranean without sounding Spanish, much as the Portuguese language does. Hearing it unidentified I’d have guessed the music was Italian but not quite. At any rate this new Naxos offers a fresh and tangy personality to listeners unfamiliar September/October 2012 with Lopes-Gra135a. The 35-minute, threemovement symphony—the composer’s only one—is from 1944. Full of color and movement yet tightly and cunningly constructed with neo-classical precision, it radiates vigor, confidence, and purpose but never veers into excess or whim. The overall mood is celebratory and life-affirming—and patriotic: the music evokes and pays homage to a proud and ancient country without resorting to anything rhetorical or pompous. I is a lively, dancing allegro with a touch of Stravinskian bite, II a steadily pacing intermezzo with some fado-like stomping interludes, III a big (14-minute) passacaglia that, though it follows the form strictly, does so much less overtly, and with far more variety in tempo, texture, and character, than (for instance) the marmoreal and relentless finale of the Brahms Fourth. Rustic Suite 1 comes from 1950. Its five short movements lasting 15 minutes are extrovert and picturesque, calling forth scenes that range from somnolent countryside to village festivals to moonlit mountains, all of them tinted with regional accents. Portugal’s answer to Ferde Grofé’s Grand Canyon Suite, perhaps? Festival March, from 1954, is seven minutes of brassy fanfares and brilliant scurryings on (as is typical of Lopes-Gra135a) straightforward tunes harmonized with spicy clashes and set out in inventive timbral combinations. December Poem, from 1961, is a melancholy but lush ten-minute andante that reminds me of Rachmaninoff’s quieter Etudes Tableaux. No folk tunes here, but instead a deeply-felt exploration of emotions all the more touching for being submerged and restrained, except for one brief but intense outburst at 7 minutes in. Alvaro Cassuto has done much to bring the music of his homeland to wide notice and conducts with skill and sensitivity. Naxos’s sonics are serviceable—good enough to do the job if not as transparent and detailed as one might wish. LEHMAN LORCA: Cantares Populares; BIZET: Carmen Suite Torroba Guitar Quartet; Francesca Scaini, s; Carlo Scalco, narr Newton 8802122—48 minutes Yes, Federico Garcia Lorca. The great poet and playwright, who could work miracles of deep expression with language, was also a composer. Actually, he was more of a folklorist, a collector of Andalusian melodies. He supplied a piano accompaniment, but that was based on the guitar that would have been used in the songs’ native settings. The settings are related to Falla’s Siete Canciones Populares Espanolas—indeed, the melody for ‘Los Pele- American Record Guide grenitos’ is the same as Falla’s ‘Cancion’, though with different lyrics. Recordings from Lorca’s time generally use piano, but most for the last 40 years have been on guitar. The arranger is not noted on my score (Lorca himself?). This performance, a reissue from 1999, is for guitar quartet and soprano. The Federico Moreno Torroba Quartet includes Alfonso Baschiera, Dino Doni, Vittorino Nalato, and Marco Nicole. They play well—good ensemble and a nice range of sonority and timbre. Having a quartet makes it easier to play with an operatic soprano—no balance problems here. Ms Scaini has a lovely tone, but sings with too much sameness. Most of these songs are strophic, but I hear no attempt to differentiate among the verses. And her sound is frankly too pretty—these songs need a bit more of the cante jondo intentional coarseness that reflects the hard life that produced this music. No texts, and there are two songs that include a male narrator, Carlo Scalco. I’m not familiar with what he is saying, and there is no such part in my solo score, nor in any other performance I’ve heard. It’s artistically affecting, but I’d like to know what’s being said. The quartet arranged the Carmen Suite, and it’s not the same one recorded by Los Romeros and the LAGQ. It’s not as good a performance as either of those, but it’s fun. Their suite includes the Prelude, Habanera, Entr’actes from Acts III, II, and IV, and the Chanson Boheme. But get this for the Lorca. It’s fascinating and moving music, and should be heard more often. KEATON LUDFORD: Regnum Mundi Mass Blue Heron/ Scott Metcalfe Blue Heron 1003—79:40 This recording is the second made by Scott Metcalfe and Blue Heron from a set of English partbooks containing music performed at Canterbury Cathedral in the early 16th Century. Unfortunately, parts of the manuscripts are now missing (including the full Tenor book), but Nick Sandon has reconstructed the missing material with great sensitivity. The first recording by Blue Heron, including music by Hugh Aston, Robert Jones, and John Mason, was characterized by Ardella Crawford as “sung with perfection” (Sept/Oct 2010, see Aston). This second release includes two further works found only in these partbooks, an extensive setting of the votive antiphon ‘Salve Regina’ by Richard Pygott and the Regnum Mundi Mass by Nicholas Ludford, and I can only second her evaluation. Pygott’s antiphon is a 20-minute work filled with the rich and varied textures of late 139 Tudor polyphony, found also in the earlier votive antiphons from the Eton Choirbook. Ludford’s mass, based on the ninth responsory for the Matins of Virgin Martyrs in the Sarum usage, is placed in the context of the chant propers of a reconstructed mass for St Margaret, resulting in a marvelous sonic variety. As compared to the earlier recordings of Ludford masses (a series by The Cardinall’s Musick, Nov/Dec 1993, Mar/Apr & Sept/Oct 1994, Mar/Apr 1995, and the Benedicta Mass by the Choir of New College, Oxford, Sept/Oct 2008), this release sets a new and higher standard. Metcalfe allows his voices to shape the constantly shifting textures of this intricate polyphony with subtle dynamic shadings and the crystal-clear balancing of the five voice parts. My one unfilled wish was for a recording of the source chant for the mass, since few choirs sing Matins for virgin martyrs anymore. Since most of the earlier Ludford recordings have been deleted, and works by Pygott have only rarely been recorded (May/June 1999), this recording gains even greater significance and should be considered an essential acquisition for any renaissance collection. BREWER LULLY: Ouvertures avec Tous les Airs Capriccio/ Dominik Kieger Tudor 7185—63 minutes The basis for this collection is not the original tragedies lyriques of Jean-Baptiste Lully, but a collection of arrangements published in Amsterdam by Estienne Roger between 1697 and 1712, all beginning with the phrase “Ouverture avec tous les Airs... “ The basic change from Lully to the Amsterdam versions is that the original five-part French orchestra has been reduced to the more common four-part Italian scoring. This performance by Capriccio also approaches each suite differently to underscore the adaptability of these arrangements: the airs from Phaëton use a full baroque orchestra with multiple winds, the ones from Armide use a reduced orchestra, and Atys is performed with just single performers on each part. The interpretations do sometimes go beyond the original parts by reallocating instruments among the parts for sonic variety, but this has apparently become a commonplace of modern baroque performance. As argued in the booklet, it was especially through these arrangements that Lully’s music and reputation was disseminated beyond France around 1700, and the stylish performances by these musicians demonstrate how infectious this French dance music could be on its own. BREWER 140 LUTOSLAWSKI: Concerto for Orchestra; see Collections MARCELLO: 12 Flute Sonatas, op 2 Trio Legrenzi Newton 8802123 [2CD] 97 minutes Benedetto Marcello (1686-1739) was a Venetian nobleman who came to be widely known as a composer. His older brother, Alessandro, was also active in Venetian government and composed on the side. Benedetto’s Op. 1, a set of 12 concertos for orchestra, was published in 1708; and this is his Op. 2, published in 1712. In between the two sets, Marcello’s contrapuntal Clementina Mass got him admitted to the Philharmonic Academy of Bologna. These sonatas were originally written for recorder, but are played here on flute, with cello and harpsichord. The flutist and cellist are heard on modern instruments and do not take a period performance approach. Last issue, we had a similar release from the Newton label of Albinoni that I gave tempered praise. The music on this one is more elementary, and it bores me. The style is not so good, either. Imagine movements that end with a deliberate mordent; if you’re salivating, you might like this trio’s tendencies. The flute playing is consistently legato; this means that even repeated notes or, more generally, dancelike movements fall flat. The great French flutist Jean-Pierre Rampal had a term—”living staccato”—for notes that were to be played short but, he insisted, should still have some life to them. There are some staccato notes occasionally; they just sit there. The playing has little variety of any kind, and the slow movements are plodding. The recorded sound is clear and direct, which means that there’s nothing that adds to the sound coming from the instruments. The flutist’s tone is clear, but not always pretty, and sometimes borders on forced when playing above the staff (cf. Sonata 4, the opening Adagio). He uses vibrato everywhere. The cellist, for better or worse, tends to match the flutist’s approach; and the harpsichord playing is fine, but placed in the background. These sonatas come in four or five short movements, and each has one track. This release amounts to 100 minutes of baroque boredom. GORMAN MARCHAND: Harpsichord Suites; see RAMEAU The simple want everyone else to be simple. The wise know that even the simple are complex. Yet there is a wise simplicity. September/October 2012 MAREK: Piano Pieces Marie-Catherine Girod Guild 7364 [2CD] 152 minutes Chamber Pieces; Piano Pieces Ingold Turban, v; Marie-Catherine Girod, p; others Guild 7362 [2CD] 95 minutes Songs & Choral Pieces Elzbieta Szmytka, s; Jean Rigby, mz; Iain Burnside, p; Philharmonia Chorus & Orchestra/ Gary Brain Guild 7366 [2CD] 131 minutes These are reissues of Koch-Schwann recordings that came out about a dozen years ago as single discs, now repackaged by Guild as twodisc sets. These recordings introduced an international audience to the little-known music of Czeslaw Marek (1891-1985), a Polishborn pianist and composer who spent most of his very long adult life in Switzerland. Readers wanting detailed descriptions of Marek and his music should see our original reviews (May/June 1999, May/June 2000, Nov/Dec 2000, Mar/Apr 2001, July/Aug 2001). They concur in praising his refinement, warmth, and skill in the late-romantic-shading-into-early-modern styles that he worked in. The earlier pieces show his debt to Brahms and Dvorak as well as his teachers Hans Pfitzner and Karl Weigl, along with a French tinge that sometimes makes him sound like a sort of Central European Fauré. The later music shows the composer’s growing knowledge of Strauss, Mahler, Busoni, Ravel, Szymanowski, Janacek, the folk-music settings of Bartok and Kodaly, and the latest-craze import from across the Atlantic, jazz. But for all his absorption of wide-ranging influences and his chameleonic stylistic wanderings, Marek maintains a consistent artistic temperament: sensuous but elegant, ardent but decorous, imaginative in harmonic nuances and instrumental color but fastidious in craft and propriety, always respectful of the traditions of both art music and of the indigenous songs of his homeland. There are many marvelous pieces on these discs (and also in the orchestral works originally on Koch that Guild hasn’t so far reissued) along with, it must added, a fair number of minor items that might be fairly described as superior salon music. The fine 1914 Violin Sonata, like everything here, is beautifully performed and recorded. But if I had to choose the epitome of Marek’s achievement, I’d single out his vocal settings. Again and again he wrote for the voice—and instrumental accompaniments for the voice—with divine inspiration. This is apparent all through the two marvelous discs of vocal works, many of them American Record Guide sung by soprano Elzbieta Szmytka, who has a pure, almost childlike voice of angelic sweetness and sadness, ideal for Marek’s settings of Polish folk poetry. Of these there are two enchanting 20-minute cycles, both in versions with piano and with orchestral accompaniment: Rural Scenes from 1929, and Village Songs from 1934. ‘Pastorale’, the second song in Rural Scenes, and ‘Na Wojence Dalekiej’ (The Far-Away War), the third song in Village Songs, are ravishing in their haunting loveliness: quite simply among the most beautiful vocal works in creation. Guild doesn’t print the texts and English translations (included in the original Koch releases) though they’re available on the company’s web site. But this does include both the voice-and-piano and the voice-and-orchestra versions. As you’d expect, with piano the cycles are more intimate and agile; the orchestral renderings are more voluptuous and expansive. Both are gorgeous—somewhere between Canteloube’s Songs of the Auvergne and Bartok’s Hungarian Folk Songs. A magical place to be. LEHMAN MASSENET: Songs Sabine Revault d’Allonnes, s; Samuel Jean, p; Matthieu Fontana, vc Timpani 1191—60:27 Was there ever a nation so in love with its own language as France? In the late 19th and early 20th centuries many composers experimented with the musical qualities of the spoken word, but surely the most effective and attractive of these were in the French language. In his cycle Expressions Lyriques Massenet combines sung and spoken poetry to astonishing effect. Today many singers treat the use of spoken words in a song as slightly embarrassing, but Soprano Sabine Revault d’Allonnes is blessed with an appealing and expressive voice whether speaking or singing; and she brings to these pieces, which might seem superficial or over the top in other hands, a heartbreaking restraint as well as convincingly genuine passion. The song cycles Le Printemps Visite la Terre and Poeme d’Octobre approach the expression of text from a different direction. Here Massenet treats the accompanying instruments like a voice without words. In three of the songs a cello is added to the texture in dialog with the soprano, questioning, exclaiming, and completing her thoughts. Elsewhere the piano is the duet partner, reduced to a single melody in delicate counterpoint with the voice. ‘Automne’ and ‘Les Maronnier’ are notable for the way they create a mood, nostalgic or regretful, with a remarkable economy of means. The autumnal mood of the later cycle 141 balances the youthful exuberance of the earlier set, but both cycles include both melancholy and joyful texts. ‘Amours Benis’, which closes the first cycle, brims with lush, satisfying harmonies, and ‘Pareils a des Oiseaux’ completes the later cycle with defiant passion and insistent repeated chords. Most modern audiences know Massenet only for his three or four popular operas. His songs, especially the ones with spoken text, have been largely dismissed as salon confections; but the excellent performances on this impressive record will certainly repay serious attention. MARCUSE MAYER: Prabhanda; see PFITZNER MEDTNER: Piano Sonata; see MOUSSORGSKY M ENDELSSOHN: Cello Sonatas; Varia- tiones Concertantes; Song Without Words, op 109; Album Leaf Keith Robinson; Donna Lee, p Blue Griffin 237—64 minutes Keith Robinson is Sharon Robinson’s brother, she of the Kalichstein-Laredo-Robinson trio. He is cellist in the Miami Quartet. He and Donna Lee have taught at Kent State University and have worked together for some time. Their musical relationship is evident in this demanding program. Their interpretations are rich in rubato and energy. My only real objection is that the balance between cello and piano favors the piano, making some of the cello lines hard to pick out of the sound. There seems to be less of the high frequencies than usual. That might have made the difference. Lovely as these readings are musically, I can’t really enjoy them while straining to hear the cello. D MOORE MENDELSSOHN: Piano Pieces Prelude & Fugue; Variations Serieuses; 3 Etudes; Last Rose of Summer Fantasy; HENSEL: Songs Without Words, opp 6+8; Piano Sonata in C minor Sylviane Deferne Doron 5034—73 minutes By alternating Felix and Fanny Mendelssohn pieces, Deferne allows us to compare and contrast music by brother and sister. The elder sibling (Fanny) gives us the better melodies, and Felix gives us more dramatic music. Both had excellent piano technique, and a lot of this music is brimming with brilliant passage-work. Deferne seems to toss this off effortlessly. Only Felix’s Variations Serieuses is heard with any regularity these days, but his early Prelude and Fugue and Fanny’s Piano Sonata are also serious music that deserves to be 142 heard on a more regular basis. This is a wellbalanced recital with a good selection of some of the best piano music by the Mendelssohn family. Good booklet notes and excellent piano sound complete a memorable release. HARRINGTON MENDELSSOHN: Psalms 2, 22, 43, 100 KREEK: Psalms 22, 104, 137, 141; 5 Sacred Folk Songs Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir/ Daniel Reuss Ondine 1201—64 minutes Until now, the best recorded traversals of Mendelssohn’s psalms, motets, and associated a cappella works have been all-Mendelssohn affairs. I’m thinking of Philippe Herreweghe and Marcus Creed, both on Harmonia Mundi; Helmuth Rilling (with the two big orchestral Psalms) on Hänssler, and Richard Marlow on Chandos. This time around, though, Felix has a disc mate and an unlikely one at that. Cyrillus Kreek (1889-1962) was an Estonian product of the St Petersburg Conservatory. He went on to teach at the Talinn Conservatory and other Estonian schools, while he conducted many choirs and became a staple of his country’s musical life. Indeed, most of his choral pieces—including his many hymns— have a strong folk component. There are orchestral works as well, but it was choral music that dominated his art. Kreek’s writing isn’t flashy; and Mendelssohn’s, despite formidable bouts of 19th Century counterpoint, isn’t either. Kreek’s spirit of moderation is buoyed by elegant craftsmanship and a sincerity of faith you can cut with a knife. Ditto Mendelssohn. At the center of Jauchzet dem Herrn, for example, Mendelssohn lets us know that praising God can be a profound experience. In Kreek’s 22nd Psalm (My God, Why Has Thou Forsaken Me?), the believer’s sad words are expressed with a knowing introspection not far removed from the inner peace of Mendelssohn’s grateful spirit. They dovetail beautifully, there and elsewhere. All in all, this is less of an “odd couple” pairing than you might think. The singing is extraordinary, with the choir’s warm, gracious tone animated by supple phrasing from all quarters. What gorgeous soprano and alto sections this choir has! One traditional way to achieve a seamless legato is to ease up on consonants to take the bumps out of the melody line. Maestro Reuss and his singers are way too good for that. Diction is remarkably clear, even as melodies flow richly and smoothly by. Such a luminous effect is achieved at “Sende dein licht” in Mendelssohn’s Richte Mich, you’d be tempted to own this for that interlude alone. Ondine’s September/October 2012 engineers enhance the beauty of the choir, while their annotators and translators enhance the value of an estimable production. Here’s hoping Mendelssohn’s orchestral Psalms are also on Ondine’s Estonian agenda. GREENFIELD MENDELSSOHN: Quartets 1+2 Minetti Quartet Hänssler 98645—51 minutes I know these Mendelssohn quartets very well. I have played them many times, and I have heard dozens and dozens of recordings; but I still get a thrill out of listening to this one. I love everything this quartet does: the phrasing is both logical and compelling, the counterpoint is both transparent and supple, and every tempo they take is ideal for what they want to do with the music. The recording is extremely satisfying, and I really couldn’t ask for more (except the chance to hear them play this music in a concert). It is hard to believe that people so young can play this music so well, but then again, since it is music from the young Mendelssohn, and music that exudes the optimism and brilliance of youth, perhaps it is best when played by brilliant and musically optimistic young people. This quartet is based Austria and began playing together in 2003. They studied with members of the Alban Berg Quartet and the Artis Quartet, and have prizes from many international European competitions. They play lovely instruments that come across in a perfect natural balance. FINE MENDELSSOHN: Trios Leibniz Trio Genuin 12241—55 minutes Having recently reviewed a rather wooden and perfunctory recording of these trios (Wu Han, Setzer, Finckel; ArtistLed 11102) I am pleased to encounter this fresh and perceptive performance by these young musicians. Hwa-Won Pyun, Lena Wignjosaputro, and Nicholas Rimmer formed the Leibniz Trio in Hanover in 2005 and have since performed widely with much acclaim from audiences and guidance and support from the Alban Berg Quartet and the Florestan Trio. So far their recordings include trios by Haydn and Reger and by Dvorak, Joseph Finlay, and Frank Martin (Genuin 11208, Nov/Dec 2011). The playing here is understated, subtle, and refined without sacrificing any of Mendelssohn’s range and depth of expression. What some readings of these trios attempt to accomplish through strong dynamic contrasts and manipulation of tempo the Leibniz group American Record Guide manages with strict adherence to tempo and attention to expressing the long, overarching phrase. The result is a sense of the music’s seamless forward motion in the outer movements as well as in the mercurial scherzos and the lyrical andantes. Apart from the slow movements, the tempos here are very much on the impressively fast side but always elegantly controlled, never frantic. The andantes of the two trios flow with an expressive placidity, again characterized by the group’s talent for expressive understatement. The ensemble here is impeccable; this trio plays not as three distinct musicians but as a single musical organism. After a fair number of indifferent Mendelssohn recordings, the Leibniz Trio clearly brings a fresh and engaging conception to these works. JD MOORE MENDELSSOHN: Variations Serieuses; Songs without Words Michael Korstick, p CPO 777 519 [2CD] 125 minutes The CPO label is noted for exploring less familiar, unknown, and often previously unrecorded works. Performances by Michael Korstick of more standard repertoire (the award-winning recordings of Liszt’s complete Années de Pelerinage) are worthy exceptions. Korstick’s reading of the aptly titled Variations Serieuses convincingly demonstrates the work’s place in the ranks with Beethoven’s C-minor Variations. Korstick captures the relentless forward momentum of the music, maintaining a compelling tension even in the slower, more contemplative sections. His presentation of the Songs without Words, complete except for ones without opus number, about whose quality Mendelssohn was apparently doubtful, does much to further dismantle the music’s one-time reputation as sentimental Biedermeier salon pieces for the amateur intermediate pianist. The continuing presence of Constantine von Sternberg’s Schirmer edition with its horrid unauthentic titles for each piece (language-leery Mendelssohn only titled a few of them) and his insufferable introductory “Appreciation” of the music’s “wholesome sentiment” and “chastity of concept”, has done serious understanding of this music no favors. The well-researched discussion in this release’s notes reveals how much importance Mendelssohn placed on these pieces, carefully revising them and assembling them into their various collections. Korstick plays them with the refinement they deserve; the cantilena phrasing is impeccable and the quick, more virtuosic pieces never lose the sense of a singing line. Although I remain attached to the first recording I ever heard of 143 these works—Guiomar Novaes on a Vox LP— Kostick’s readings are the best I’ve encountered from recent decades. JD MOORE MENDELSSOHN: Violin Concerto; see BRUCH M ESSIAEN: Visions de l’Amen; DEBUSSY: En Blanc et Noir Ralph van Raat & Hakon Austbo, p Naxos 572472—63 minutes Written in wartime Paris (1943), Messiaen’s Visions de l’Amen pairs just about perfectly with Debussy’s En Blanc et Noir, also written in wartime Paris (1915). This is the second release I have with the same pair of works (Lowenthal and Oppens, Cedille 119, Jan/Feb 2011), the fifth of the Messiaen and the sixth of the Debussy. In Messiaen the times average 47:41, and the current recording is typical. Similar consistency is shown in the Debussy timings. Do not be deceived into thinking Van Raat and Austbo give simply an average performance though. Their precision is as good as it gets in Visions, possibly one of the most difficult works from the aspect of rhythm in the two-piano repertoire. Ensemble in the Debussy is also demanding, and these two men are fully equal to the task. Messiaen wrote this for himself and his student (later his wife), Yvonne Loriod. He kept the big, slow, chordal, melodic, and expressive writing for his own part and entrusted all of the percussive, brilliant, and technically demanding parts to Loriod. They recorded it in 1962 (Ades 13233, July/Aug 1989), but that recording can be a little hard to find. Messiaen’s work is a musical metaphor that is quite emotionally demanding. It has the largest dynamic range of any work I know for two pianos. Make no mistake, this is not easy music to listen to, and you have to pay close attention to everything that is going on for it to make sense. Austbo, who has recorded a number of volumes of Messiaen’s solo piano music for Naxos, offers enlightening booklet notes that will guide you through the maze of sounds quite well. The Debussy is another work to have come my way for review many times in the past few years. I was taken with Van Raat and Austbo’s battle imagery, especially in II. This is music that creates many impressions, but it is not the kind of music that practically defines the term impressionist and is found in Debussy’s earlier works. The opening waltz has many clashing harmonies and is interrupted by military-like fanfares (single unison notes played by each pianist with dead-on accuracy). II is dedicated 144 to a friend killed in battle, and the march-like rumblings build to quite a climax with the Germans represented by the Ein Feste Burg chorale and the French by what Debussy calls a “pre-Marseillaise carillon”. The final movement is dedicated to Stravinsky and still has suggestions of military music, but is more sad and ends quietly. Nearly two years ago I wrote that you could not ask for a more sympathetic and knowledgeable performance of this work than Oppens (one of Van Raat’s teachers) and Lowenthal; but this recording is a match, with possibly even more brilliance in the big parts. We are fortunate to have some of the best piano sounds I’ve heard from Naxos here— and they are normally very good. Capturing this kind of dynamic range with clarity and fullness is a rare feat. At the price this is indispensable for anyone with a liking for this kind of music. I will return to it often. HARRINGTON MONTEVERDI: Sacred Music & Madrigals Complesso Vocale Polifonia, Milan Soloists/ Angelo Ephrikian Newtown 8802117 [3CD] 2:12:42 I remember when I first began to learn Polish, and my Polish friends were gently laughing at me. They said I was easy to understand, but I wasn’t speaking Polish, but only English using Polish words. This reissue of recordings first released in the late 1960s provokes in me a similar response. Collected from separate LPs, the set includes the Mass for Four Voices (1650), the ‘Litaniae della Beata Virgine’, madrigals for two and three voices from Book 9, and a selection of solo madrigals from Monteverdi’s second Scherzi Musicale. They antedate Raymond Leppard’s collections of Monteverdi madrigals on Philips (1971) by a few years, but are very similar in style. In both cases, with ears that are now a few decades older and having experienced a few more recordings of Monteverdi’s madrigals and sacred music, I can still hear Monteverdi’s genius, but the dialect of the performers was not yet 17th Century. Ephrikian’s musicians, more than Leppard’s, were still too tied to the performance traditions of the 20th Century, to the point where the rather tinny harpsichord (it sounds exactly like one of the steel-framed Neupert harpsichords popular in the late 50s and 60s) plays only the continuo realizations printed in Malipiero’s editions of Monteverdi from before World War II. Tempos are consistently slower, and even so, the singers (mostly the rather “hooty” sound of early music singers from the same period) still struggle with the intricacies of Monteverdi’s florid style. While I can listen to these recordings with fondness, I September/October 2012 would recommend more recent performances of the sacred music (such as Herreweghe’s recording of the Mass for Four Voices, Nov/Dec 1992, and King’s for the Litaniae della Beata Virgine, Sept/Oct 2004); for the madrigals from Book 9, an excellent performance by La Venexiana (Glossa 920921); and for the solo madrigals, the selection by Concerto Soave (Jan/Feb 2006). BREWER MORAWSKI: Don Quichotte; Ulalume; Nevermore Sinfonia Varsovia/ Monika Wolinska Accord 176—58 minutes Eugeniusz Morawski was born in Warsaw in 1876 and died there in 1948. He graduated from the Warsaw Conservatory, was exiled to Turukhansk for his involvement in an assassination plot against Tsarist police, had that exile changed to exile from Russia when his father bribed the right people, moved to Paris in 1908, became friends with Arthur Rubinstein, wrote a machine-inspired ballet, moved back to Poland in 1930, became dean of the National Conservatory in 1932, helped form a “pedagogical underground” in World War II, and lost about 75% of his manuscripts when his flat was razed in the Warsaw Uprising. Destroyed were about 29 songs, five operas, two ballets, three oratorios, three symphonies, six symphonic poems, six string quartets, eight piano sonatas, and three concertos. He lived mostly with his sister outside the city until he died, commuting by wagon into Warsaw to teach piano lessons. He wrote at least one more string quartet in that time. Morawski’s harmonic style is squarely late romantic. Don Quichotte sounds to these ears like second-rate Strauss. It’s bombastic and large, and very episodic; it does not hang together well at all. Ulalume and Nevermore are based on the Poe works. Ulalume, probably written between 1914 and 1917, has the most depth of the three extant tone poems— and the most length, at over 24 minutes. It wanders elaborately, but it is very affecting and morose. Nevermore resembles at the beginning a slowed-down, quieter version of Tchaikovsky’s chromatic turbulence (as in Francesca da Rimini). It creates a mood of darkness, for sure, but it seems to me to be more episodic than its themes are designed to handle. The orchestra and sound are very good, though. If what I’ve described sounds more interesting to you than not, then by all means give it a chance. Notes in Polish and stunningly badly translated English. ESTEP M OUSSORGSKY: Pictures at an Exhibition with MEDTNER: Reminiscence Sonata; TANEYEV: Prelude & Fugue David Kadouch Mirare 170—53 minutes with PROKOFIEFF: Sonata 7; RACHMANINOFF: 4 Pieces Konstantin Scherbakov TwoPianists 1039114—66:30 There are still schools and stereotypes. Certainly David Kadouch sounds French, and in comparison Konstantin Scherbakov sounds Russian. Nowadays it is hard to find any real biographical information on a pianist or musician. The section of the notes that discusses them simply brags about their prizes and accomplishments. I think David Kadouch is French because he looks French and sounds French. We are not told where he was born. Scherbakov has lived in Switzerland since 1992, but he was born and trained in Russia. He is a professor in Zurich, and he looks more Swiss-German than Russian. He also looks old enough to be Kadouch’s father, but we are not told when he was born—though we are told that Kadouch was born in 1985. (So the many cute boyish pictures of him are probably fairly current—except for two of them that must be ten years ago.) What makes his playing French? Shallow tone above all. It’s pretty and splashy, and it flits around, but it never gets very heavy or serious. You hear that right away when you switch back and forth with Scherbakov. Scherbakov is utterly idiomatic—but not as heavy as Russian pianists can be. Still, you can tell he is not French! He has a lot of deep, full tone, even in the promenades. He is aiming at feeling, while Kadouch is aiming at brilliance. Even in the ‘Great Gate’ Scherbakov is subtle and seems to feel each phrase. He never pounds; it’s the Frenchman who pounds. In the ‘Great Gate’ the piano buzzes and rattles with the pounding. Mr Kadouch follows the Moussorgsky with a nice sonata by Medtner, and he plays it well. It’s more sensitive than his Moussorgsky. The Taneyev is not as striking. Four Rachmaninoff pieces follow Pictures on Scherbakov’s program, then the Prokofieff sonata. It would have been terrible programming to go right from the Moussorgsky to the Prokofieff. The Rachmaninoff sequence allows the ears to relax (an elegy, two preludes, and an etude-tableau). The Prokofieff is quite beautiful—that andante surrounded by furious, war-like movements. This is natural music for Scherbakov—but so is his whole program. For the Moussorgsky there is no question that Scherbakov makes Kadouch sound shallow and immature. I’m not sure I would put Scherbakov ahead of my five or six favorite recordings, but he is the best I have heard lately. If you are wrapped up in the classical equivalent of “boy band”, Kadouch is far prettier and sexier than Lang Lang, let alone Scherbakov! But if you care about real musicianship this middle-aged Russian is ahead of all the boys who have recorded this music (or might even think of it). VROON MOZART: Marriage of Figaro Andreas Schmidt (Count), Leila Cuberli (Countess), John Tomlinson (Figaro), Joan Rodgers (Susanna), Cecilia Bartoli (Cherubino); Berlin Philharmonic/ Daniel Barenboim Warner 66212 [3CD] 174 minutes Barenboim’s Figaro was released by Erato in the Mozart year 1991 (the 200th anniversary of the composer’s death) and reviewed in the November/December issue of ARG, which had 30 pages devoted to Mozart recordings as well as a Mozart opera overview. When our revised overview appeared (Jan/Feb 2002) Barenboim was summarily dismissed. It’s not that he was lost in the shuffle; it’s just that his Figaro was not very good. Our original reviewer (Lee Milazzo) was fairly critical of all the principals except Bartoli, an adorable and vivacious Cherubino. Cuberli’s Countess lacked poise and vocal purity; Rodgers was a bland Susanna, Tomlinson a crude Figaro, and Schmidt a “petulant bore”. What saved the performance was the marvelous playing of the Berlin Philharmonic, and the slow tempos allowed the listener to savor many details. When I’m in a certain frame of mind, I can particularly enjoy hearing the Act 2 finale unfold at such a leisurely pace (all in a single 21-minute track)—but then the sluggishness continues into Acts 3 and 4, and all the life goes out of the drama. In November/December 2011 I pronounced Barenboim’s Cosi the best of his Mozart opera recordings. This Figaro doesn’t come close to that level. It is performed complete and includes the arias for Marcellina and Basilio in Act 4. In Act 3, ‘Dove Sono’ is in its usual place after the sextet. The sound is excellent, but no libretto is supplied. LUCANO When I am traveling in a carriage, or walking after a good meal, or during the night when I cannot sleep; it is on such occasions that ideas flow best and most abundantly. —Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart 146 MOZART: Requiem Jutta Böhnert, Susanne Krumbiegel, Martin Petzold, Gotthold Schwarz; St Thomas Boys Choir, Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra/ Georg Christoph Biller Rondeau 4019—47 minutes Here’s my second go at a recording from the most excellent St Thomas Choir and Gewandhaus Orchestra this issue (see Bach), and—as in that one—I was not disappointed. There are a few other recordings of Mozart’s immortal Requiem out there with boy trebles, but the ones I’ve heard can’t hold a candle to this one. As pointed out in the excellent liner notes, the venerable (eight centuries old) St Thomas Choir was apparently the first to present the work outside of Vienna. We’ll surely never know the complete true story behind the completion of a hallowed masterpiece that remained unfinished at the time of its creator’s death. Endless speculations on that subject have led to several revised (and even re-composed) versions that, in the long run, offer more confusion than closure. The musical establishment has more or less settled on the flawed “completion” by Mozart’s disciple, FX Süssmayr, whom most now agree was the best choice for the job, as there was probably nobody else who was more familiar with the composer’s intentions about the work. But just about everybody (including Brahms and Richard Strauss) agrees that one of the main problems with Sussmayr’s work is the clumsiness and general ineptitude of his orchestrations. In 1972 Franz Beyer published his own edition, leaving Sussmayr’s work chorally intact; Beyer wanted to “cleanse Süssmayr’s (orchestral) part of all the most glaring errors and to inject as much as possible of Mozart’s own idiom”. And it is this edition (which Beyer has revised slightly several times) that is presented here. I can’t comment on the precise nature of his modifications, beyond noticing a certain sense of increased boldness and refinement in some of the orchestral parts. But this is one of the more sensible and least intrusive of the many attempts to reinvent a universally cherished, though flawed masterpiece. I found this performance highly spirited, sincere, and very well executed. The sound of this choir lacks the depth and weight you hear from good adult ensembles. Boy trebles plus adolescent tenors and basses produce a distinctly “immature” sort of choral sound that any knowledgeable listener will pick up on. Yet these lads do a splendid job, delivering an entirely convincing account of the music. The young tenors and basses tear into the ‘Confutatis’ here with a kind of headlong, mini- September/October 2012 macho vehemence that you’d rarely hear from grownups. The trebles match them in several places: no prissy, angelic singing from these boys. Yet they can sound as sweetly ethereal as any bunch of English trebles. Neither need they take a back seat in terms of vocal skill, precision, or refinement. They manage the work’s tricky double-fugue sections as cleanly and powerfully as any adult choir I’ve heard. Director Biller—the latest in the long line of St Thomas Cantors—has maintained the choir’s lofty standards admirably; perhaps he has even raised them a notch or two. The adult soloists are all excellent, and the Gewandhaus Orchestra’s luminous playing could hardly be bettered. Sound quality is very good, and the booklet is useful, revealing, and complete. This may not be my absolute favorite recording of the Requiem (I favor Harnoncourt’s 2003 Super-Audio account on Deutsche Harmonia Mundi), but it certainly ranks near the top of my list. KOOB MOZART: Idomeneo ballet; Piano Sonata 14; Fantasy; see BEETHOVEN Quartet 19; see Collections N EEFE: Piano Sonatas (12); BEETHOVEN: Dressler Variations Susan Kagan Grand Piano 615 [2CD] 127 minutes Susan Kagan has recently been recording sonatas by Beethoven pupil Ferdinand Ries. Now she turns her attention to Christian Gottlob Neefe (1748-1798), Beethoven’s first important teacher in Bonn. The sonatas date from 1773 and stylistically link baroque with early Classic style. Neefe (pronounced NAY-fuh), is far from long-winded in his writing; each of the three-movement works takes around 10 minutes. They are easy enough to assimilate, display reasonable skills, but finally fall far short of any major reward for the listener. Too short for boredom to settle in, there is little here to really engage the mind or to titillate the ears. Making any kind of a minor feast of these little pieces would require a pianist of high interpretive rank such as Hamelin, Horowitz, or Shelley. Kagan is not in that league, though she certainly gives us an idea of what the music sounds like. Her heavy touch and her overall sound is pretty much the same for each sonata. Tempos vary little, whether vivace, allegro, or presto. I found the same to be true of her Ries interpretations and longed for some daring or less staid approach to lift the music from the page. Remember what Horowitz did for Clementi? That’s precisely American Record Guide what’s missing here, though Clementi’s talent was on firmer ground most of the time. Beethoven’s Variations, his first published work, is heard here in a revision made by the composer in 1803. The sound is a little richer than in the sonatas. Unfortunately, the heaviness, lack of differentiation between variations, and under tempo speeds rob the music of much of its spirit. Kagan is wrestling with a technique that will not allow for much beyond caution. The pianist has supplied her own brief notes. BECKER OCKEGHEM: Requiem Ars Nova Copenhagen/ Paul Hillier Dacapo 6220571 [SACD] 61:32 This recording presents Paul Hillier’s re-envisioning of Johannes Ockeghem’s 15th Century Requiem in the context of Beng Sorensen’s Fragments of Requiem, composed from 1985 to 2007—his settings of the proper and ordinary texts for the mass not set by Ockeghem. Part of this process, which juxtaposes the two polyphonic idioms, aptly defined in the excellent notes by Jens Brincker as Ockeghem’s predominantly melodic writing and Sorensen’s emphasis on sonority, is to combine the whole into “an integrated process where each element has its strategic position in a plot with a beginning, middle, and an end”. Hillier has restructured the liturgical order by placing Ockeghem’s Offertorium after the Sanctus and Agnus Dei and before Sorensen’s setting of ‘In Paradisum’. There should be no doubt that Hillier’s direction is both informed and quite effective. In only a few passages is the ensemble ever-soslightly off; balance and tempos are all well considered. For the Ockeghem, this stems from his direction of the recording by The Hilliard Ensemble in 1985 (EMI 49213), and he has made a number of well-received recordings of contemporary choral works from the Baltic region (Mar/Apr 2004: 242, Nov/Dec 2004: 244, Nov/Dec 2007: 258). The performance of the Ockeghem with the larger forces of Ars Nova Copenhagen may not have the clarity of a smaller ensemble such as The Hilliard Ensemble or Ensemble Organum (Nov/Dec 1993). This new release is comparable to other mixed-voices recordings by Musica Ficta (Mar/Apr 1998) or The Clerks’ Group (July/Aug 2007). I would still recommend the Ensemble Organum as a reconstruction of an early renaissance Requiem (and it is not marred by Peres’s idiosyncratic interpretations), but its downward transposition creates a very dark sound. BREWER 147 PABST: Piano Concerto; see JADASSOHN PART: Veni Creator; The Deer’s Cry; Psa- lom; Most Holy Mother of God; Solfeggio; My Heart’s In the Highlands; Peace Upon You, Jerusalem; Ein Wallfahrtslied; Morning Star; Stabat Mater Christopher Bowers-Broadbent, org; NYYD Quartet; Theatre of Voices, Ars Nova Copenhagen/ Paul Hillier Harmonia Mundi 807553 [SACD] 75 minutes Chamber Pärt, you might say, in repertoire that’s mostly of recent vintage. The music is highly interactive, with soloists, small groups of voices, and various combinations of a string quartet collaborating to the glory of God and the salvation of man. You wouldn’t call a program dominated by this 26-minute Stabat Mater a walk on the lighter side. Still, there’s a blitheness of spirit here that makes this one of the more engaging collections of Pärt songs you’ll come across. Try the light, arpeggiated organ accompaniment in ‘Veni Creator’, or the gentle barbershop chords in the Taize-like ‘Deer’s Cry’ and see if you don’t agree. ‘Peace Upon You Jerusalem’, a clever evocation of an English Renaissance motet, is unusually animated, with several enthusiastic specifications in the score spelling out the dramatic effects the composer was after. He didn’t usually do that, which reinforces the notion that the program is out of the ordinary. I’m fascinated by ‘Most Holy Mother of God’, a 5-minute work where a single line of English text is repeated 17 times by different combinations of voices intoning it at varying volumes and densities. Also haunting is ‘My Heart’s In the Highlands’, which turns a search for a deer into a folk ballad sung on repeated single pitches. No surprise, is it, that nature’s quest quickly takes on a spiritual dimension. The 1985 Stabat Mater, the oldest piece on the program, is one of his purest and loveliest works, with ethereal strings and plaintive voices sympathizing with the Virgin’s sadness as she stands at the foot of the cross. Mary may have been gazing upward, but the music looks down, casting a serene glow on the sad, agonizing sacrifice that had to be made below. Finding and magnifying the poignant variances Pärt injects into his repetitive minimalist style is incredibly hard to do, and no one does it better than Paul Hillier. Distinguished engineering and first-rate annotation from HM sweeten the pot further. Pärt will never be for everybody, especially not for listeners in a hurry. But for ones with spiritual inclinations and the time and willingness to act on them, this is something special. GREENFIELD 148 P ERGOLESI: Stabat Mater with Salve Regina; Orfeo Regina Klepper, s; Martina Borst, mz; Bamberg Quartet—Capriccio 5130—65 minutes with Laudate Pueri Valer Barna-Sabadus, Terry Wey, ct; Neumeyer Consort/ Michael Hofstetter Oehms 831—56 minutes These two recordings of works by Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, both centered on his exquisitely crafted Stabat Mater, offer very different performances: the Bamberg Quartet uses modern instruments and female vocalists, while the Neumeyer Consort uses 18th Century instruments and male countertenors. Although I will admit to a clear preference for the Neumeyer Consort recording (full disclosure here: most of my own training and experience has been in pre-19th Century music) both are wonderfully played and sung, both are true to the spirit of this intensely devotional work, and both have moments of breathtaking beauty. The Stabat Mater is one of the last pieces Pergolesi wrote in his tragically short life. (He died in 1736 at the age of 26, probably of tuberculosis.) It may have been commissioned by the Archfraternity of the Seven Sorrows of Mary, or it may have been written for the Duke of Maddaloni, at whose villa in Pozzuoli Pergolesi found refuge in his last illness. Whatever its genesis, it is undoubtedly intended to express intense religious fervor and identification with the sufferings of Christ. Scored for two treble voices, as soloists and in duets, with a small instrumental ensemble, it has long been admired for its elegant melodies, contrasts between major and minor tonalities, and expressive use of dissonance between the two voices. The Bamberg Quartet’s interpretation is gentle and deeply mournful, passionate but muted by sorrow. The Neumeyer Consort aims instead for a depiction of almost unbearable anguish, with extreme contrasts of tempo and mood. The Neumeyer’s slow tempos are noticeably slower than the Bamberg (their performance as a whole is a full two minutes longer), and their fast movements are blinding. Soprano Regina Klepper has a voice of limpid beauty, especially in the high register, but Martina Borst’s dark mezzo-soprano sometimes seems too weighted, ever so slightly behind the beat and below the pitch. The two countertenors are perfectly matched, with the agility of youth (neither singer is older than the composer was when he died) and a piercing purity that makes the suspensions gleam and burn. They also freely ornament the vocal lines (as Klepper and Borst rarely do.) Both September/October 2012 instrumental ensembles play with elegance, sensitivity, and impeccable style; but the Neumeyer has brighter and more varied colors at its disposal, and it deploys them with taste and clarity. The Bamberg recording also includes Pergolesi’s Salve Regina for solo alto (mezzosoprano here) and his cantata Orfeo for solo soprano. Borst sings the Salve Regina with fine clarity of line and text, though the part is obviously low for a mezzo, and her tone suffers a bit below the staff. Klepper is lovely in Orfeo, delicately expressive and graceful. Again there is a reluctance to sustain a truly slow tempo, which results in an oddly chipper lament for Euridice in the first aria. The Neumeyer Consort rounds out its recording with Pergolesi’s setting of Psalm 112, Laudate Pueri Dominum, a work in seven short movements for two treble soloists, choir, and chamber orchestra. The Baroque Vocal Ensemble of Mainz is precise and exuberant in the choral parts, and the addition of winds and brass lends a brilliant luster to the instrumental sound. The ‘Gloria Patri’, for solo soprano, is simply some of the most exquisite singing I have heard from a countertenor. Both booklets include enlightening essays and full texts in German, adequately translated into English. MARCUSE PEROS: Motets Renaissance Singers/ Richard Cunningham Phoenix 878—66 minutes For a start, the packaging seemed a mite bizarre. 20 motets from a composer named Nick Peros recorded by the Renaissance Singers, and not a syllable in the booklet about who the guy is, where the Renaissance Singers ply their trade, or anything else that might set the participants in context. What we are told is that this is the first-ever recording of the Peros’s works, and that he aspires to create beautifully handcrafted fare in the manner of Renaissance masters like Lassus and Gesualdo. Several of the motets are in the 2-part style of Lassus. Three of them (‘He That Follows Me’, ‘Blessed Is The Man’, and ‘The Righteous Shall Blossom’) are psalm texts set by Lassus himself. Then I listened and found that, despite the wonderful intentions, the music didn’t hold my interest. I could admire the polyphonic energy of the opening ‘Love and Faithfulness’ or the attractiveness of ‘I Call On You, O God’ from the 17th Psalm. But once the basic ideas established themselves, they seemed to proceed aimlessly with no place to go. Chromatic figures ascended, chromatic figures descended, and—ready or not—chromatic figures cadenced and stopped. The end. The American Record Guide choir struck me as OK, but nothing great; especially the Minnie Mouse soprano section. Then I saw that this had been recorded in Canada back in 1999. I immediately checked through my ARGs and found we hadn’t reviewed it. At that point, I went online and found that Mr Peros (b 1963) is a Canadian composer and guitarist who has been a producer in his country’s music industry. Since the late 80s he has devoted himself to composition in the classical idiom. I also found that reviewers from Fanfare, Classics Today, and elsewhere had turned both thumbs up (with varying levels of enthusiasm) when this came out. None of this news changed my response to the music. I would be interested in hearing Nick Peros’s music today to see how he has progressed since this rather aimless maiden voyage. GREENFIELD PEROS: Poemes 1-3, 6, 8; Eden; Solo Cello Suite 1 Virginia Markson, fl; Simon Fryer, vc; Linda Shumas, p Phoenix 1201—31 minutes Nick Peros writes in a romantic style very pleasant to listen to at first. I was going to complain primarily about the shortness of the disc, but after hearing all three of these pieces, I’m not particularly interested in hearing more of his strained writing. The piano pieces are pleasant and lyrical, but the work for solo flute builds up to an over-repetitive climax that, though memorable for its effort, ends by going nowhere. The same goes for the cello suite, where each of the five movements seems to push on towards a lack of melodic inspiration. It all seems to need a richer harmonic backing to give it more direction. Unfortunately, the cellist needs a more solid set of fingers as well. Put it all together, it doesn’t add up to much to my ears. D MOORE PEROS: Songs Heidi Klann, s; Alayne Hall, p Phoenix 1439—55 minutes A collection of rather slight songs, setting poems by Emily Bronte, Emily Dickinson, AE Housman, and the composer, among others. Some, especially the melancholy ones, are pleasing and effective. Settings of ‘Sleep brings no joy to me’ and ‘I know not how it falls on me’ by Emily Bronte make effective use of repeating bass lines in a strophic form, and a delicate descending piano figure nicely illustrates the text in ‘Fall, leaves, fall’. Houseman’s ‘Eight O’Clock’ is appropriately dramatic with its chromatic rising vocal lines over insistent 149 ostinato bass notes. The collection as a whole relies too much on repetitive whole-tone progressions; and the quicker, more impassioned songs are annoyingly strident. Soprano Heidi Klann sings with impressive accuracy, clear, rounded tone, and admirable commitment to the spirit of the texts, though her exaggerated vowels sometimes obscure the sense. MARCUSE PERUCONA: Motets; see COZZOLANI P FITZNER: Cello Concerto 2; MAYER: Prabhanda; Ragamalas Rohan de Saram; Druvi de Saram, p; John Mayer, tanpura; Netherlands Radio Orchestra/ Bohumil Gregor—First Hand 14—60 minutes These recordings were made back in 1980 and 1983 and give us an unexpected picture of this British-born Sri Lankan cellist playing in the style we expect from him in Hans Pfitzner’s compact 16-minute concerto, and in his own ethnic style with his brother Druvi on piano and composer Mayer on tanpura in that Indian composer’s music in two 20-minute suites. Rohan de Saram was a well-known player in his time and these are powerful readings. Pfitzner (1869-1949) wrote, among many other fine compositions, three cello concertos. This one is a romantic work but alive to the more concise expression of the 20th Century, written in 1935 for Gaspar Cassado, Saram’s teacher. It has seldom been recorded, and this is a fine interpretation. John Mayer (1929-2004) manages to move our consciousness into Indian idioms without any great shock to the senses. Perhaps that is because the first suite, Prabhanda, is played with piano, so by the time we are introduced to the twang of the tanpura we are prepared for it. These pieces were written for Saram in 1982 and 1983 and are all about the Indian ragas. They are quite beautiful concepts and are played with energy and poetic expression. If following this fine cellist into a world most of us were unaware that he was a part of interests you, or if you want a fine recording of a littleknown cello concerto, this is the place to go. D MOORE PFITZNER: Palestrina Peter Bronder (Palestrina), Britta Stahlmeister (Ighino), Wolfgang Koch (Borromeo), Johannes Martin Kränzle (Morone), Frank van Aken (Novagerio); Frankfurt Opera/ Kirill Petrenko Oehms 930 [3CD] 190 minutes This recording of Pfitzner’s magnum opus was made in June 2010 in the Frankfurt Opera at a staged performance. The opera is Pfitzner’s greatest and most admired work. Its premiere in Munich in 1917 was conducted by Bruno 150 Walter and attended by luminaries like Thomas Mann, who hailed it as “bold” and “embraced” it. It’s still in the repertory of German opera houses; and there are recordings from Munich, Berlin, and now Frankfurt. The opera takes place in 1563 at the Council of Trent, which is about to wind up after 18 years of deliberations. Cardinal Borremeo, an influential clergyman and friend of the Pope, has commissioned Palestrina to compose a new mass that he wants to use to counter reactionaries in the Church who want to ban polyphonic music in church services. The elderly composer at first resists, but he is finally inspired by a dream where nine great composers of the past appear and plead with him to accept the task and save polyphonic music. After much urging (and even threats) by Borromeo, Palestrina yields, enabling the Cardinal to persuade the Pope to order a demonstration mass to be composed by Palestrina; it will decide the use of polyphonic music for church services. Palestrina’s mass is a huge success; it’s romantic and polyphonic, but Pfitzner’s opera is also greatly influenced by Wagner’s music dramas. The opera requires a huge cast, but many of the roles are short. In the title role, the English tenor Peter Bronder shows us a voice that’s neither beautiful nor smooth; it’s sometimes wobbly, though his diction is quite good. Better singing and interpretations are available in recordings by Nicolai Gedda (DG), Julius Patzak (Myto) and Peter Schreier (Myto). The other important role is Borromeo, sung here quite well by Wolfgang Koch, a promising baritone (who is scheduled to join the Met in 2014). Also promising is Johannes Kränzle, here cast as Cardinal Morone, the Pope’s representative. Hans Hotter, on the Myto recording from Munich, is the most dramatic Borromeo I know; his interpretation, coupled with Patzak’s Palestrina, make a strong case for the Munich recording. The only female roles in this opera are Palestrina’s son Ighino, taken here by the youthful-sounding German soprano Britta Stallmeister, and his pupil Silla, sung by the mezzo Claudia Mahnke, a Frankfurt regular, whose pleasant voice seems not always to be secure. The Frankfurt Opera orchestra is very good; and the Russian conductor Kirill Petrenko, using fleet tempos, injects some welcome excitement into this wordy work. Texts and translations and very good sound. The DG recording, conducted by Kubelik, is still, overall, the best recorded Palestrina; it has not only Gedda in the title role but also F-D as Borromeo. MOSES September/October 2012 POLOVINKIN: Symphony 7; Heroic Overture; The Sunny Tribe St Petersburg Symphony/ Alexander Titov Northern Flowers 9998—60 minutes I sometimes get the impression that Soviet composers felt about their symphonies as Stalin his battalions: the more the better, never mind the quality. Miaskovsky, Shostakovich, and Vainberg are the best-known offenders, but there are others (Ivanovs, anyone?) Leonid Polovinkin (1894-1949) was comparatively modest in this respect, turning out only nine. The Seventh, in four movements that total 32 minutes, is from 1942. The opening allegro is the longest and also the dullest movement, offering only threadbare ideas, predictable developments, and conventional emotion. It doesn’t make much of an impression on the listener. The shorter movements that follow are less academic and more tuneful. II is an ambling, melodious pastorale; III a bumptious, dancing scherzo with some heavyfooted humor. The finale dramatizes the wartime ethos by displaying a lively populist theme as it overcomes some darker, more threatening undercurrents, though the result is never really in doubt and the music’s optimistic mood dominates. Polovinkin’s 9-minute Heroic Overture from the same year is suitably triumphant. The seven numbers from his film music for The Sunny Tribe (a movie about bees) from two years later is suitably abuzz with genial activity and replete with hymns to Nature’s beauty. This is all respectable and sometimes enjoyable music, but so deficient in individual personality and nuance, and so far beneath Prokofieff and Shostakovich and Vainberg in both imagination and craft, that few music lovers will want to go much out of their way to hear it—especially in these energetic but rather coarse performances and rather coarse sonics. LEHMAN PORPORA: Assumption Vespers Marillia Vargas, Michiko Takahashi, s; Delphine Galou, a; Matrise de Bretagne, Parlement de Musique/ Martin Gester Ambronay 30—59 minutes Nicola Porpora (1686-1768) was famous in his time as a teacher of some of the leading singers (especially castratos) of his day, as well as a composer of operas. But, along the way, he spent several segments of time in Venice, where he composed music for the city’s famous orphanages, including the Pieta served earlier by Vivaldi. Porpora’s music in general is rarely heard today, but his sacred works are even more American Record Guide neglected. This release promises a chance to hear a serious bloc of the latter, but does not quite fulfill that promise. We do not have here a full or substantial array of Vespers music. We know from Porpora’s own testimony that such an assemblage, for the feast of the Assumption in 1744, once existed. It was even the subject of some contract controversy raised by the officials of the commissioning Ospedaletto, who accused the composer of having only reused earlier music that he had written for the Pieta. Tracing the scores of the 1744 pieces is difficult, and we are given here only four items that can be identified in isolated manuscripts. Thus, we have three Psalms, Laudate pueri Dominum, Laetatus sum, and Lauda Jerusalem, plus a Salve Regina. Porpora’s style here remains characteristically operatic. Indeed, the Salve Regina is simply a solo motet in the Neapolitan idiom, for alto and orchestra. The Psalms are multimovement pieces, with most sections scored for one or more soloists, the choir rung in mainly for passing effects. (There is, though, a particularly fine cello obligato part in first of the Psalms.) The writing for solo voices belongs to a Neapolitan style of a generation after Vivaldi, and the choral writing is highly simplistic—but then Vivaldi, a wonderful composer for solo voices, was himself pretty flat in choral work. In all, post-Vivaldian, postbaroque Italian all-girl sound here. The performances are of good quality. All three soloists have attractive voices and sing very ably. The four-part female choral writing, designed for the young-lady singers of the orphanage, is carried by a strong girl’s choir; and the small period orchestra of 12 string and continuo players is quite competent. They are all accorded excellent sound. The booklet is most attractive, with good notes and full texts with translations. This is not a release of major music, but it will appeal to people interested in Italian sacred music that hovers between baroque and classical. BARKER PRAETORIUS: Easter Mass Weser-Renaissance Bremen/ Manfred Cordes CPO 999 953—68 minutes The Easter Mass of Michael Praetorius (15711621) is essentially a series of baroque concertos, most movements calling for varied (and competing) forces of chorus, vocal and instrumental soloists, and orchestra. It is a brilliant performance, representing the best of German baroque performance practice. Weser-Renaissance Bremen also demonstrates the range of style a German audience might have encountered in the performance of an Easter Mass. It is enlightening to hear such variety, with a 151 chanted ‘Credo’, a chordal setting of ‘Christ ist Erstanden’, together with polyphonic movements. Texts and notes are in English. LOEWEN P ROKOFIEFF: Toccata; Piano Sonata 2; 10 Pieces, op 12; Sarcasms; Visions Fugitives Abdel Rahman El Bacha, p—Mirare 165—78 mins El Bacha was born in Beirut and trained in France. By the time he was 19 years old he had won many awards and prizes, including the Queen Elisabeth of Belgium in 1978. He has a repertoire of some 60 piano concertos and has recorded and performed the complete piano music of Chopin and Ravel, the 32 Sonatas of Beethoven, the Prokofieff and Ravel concertos, and many, many more. Why is this the first the time I have run into a recording by him? Bad luck I guess, because he is a spectacular pianist with a leaning towards repertoire that I particularly like. This is another Mirare recording done at La Ferme de Villefavard in Limousin, France, an extraordinary recording venue in a country setting. I have commented on it several times before. Recordings made here seem to bring out the best of interpretations, captured with state-of-the-art sound. El Bacha has selected piano music by Prokofieff composed from 1912 to 1917: Opp. 11, 12, 14, 17, and 22. These were all composed in Russia in the five years after Prokofieff graduated from the St Petersburg Conservatory. He is an exciting performer—precise, clean, and clear—with a strong rhythmic drive, essential for Prokofieff. He has all the power required for this music, but does not ever resort to banging. His phrasing is to be commended, from the innumerable two-note groups in the Toccata to the long melodic phrases in the Andante movement of Sonata 2. I was particularly taken with the 10 Pieces, Op. 12—not as often performed or recorded as the Visions Fugitives or Sarcasms. They are relatively strict dance forms, all with the distinctive Prokofieff touch. The titles—’Marche’, ‘Gavotte’, ‘Rigaudon’, ‘Allemande’, ‘Capriccio’—could all be found in the Partitas or French and English Suites of Bach. The ‘Prelude’ is sub-titled ‘Harp’ and has found its way into the standard repertoire for harpists. It is actually playable on the harp—that is, it has none of the usual Prokofieff chromaticism. It is firmly in C major, with only an occasional Bflat and one odd-ball chord near the end. El Bacha gives us a remarkably fluid performance of this piece. He also captures the humor in the ‘Humorous Scherzo’ perfectly. Here Prokofieff sub-titles the piece “for four bassoons”, which I imagine it has been arranged for, but I have not heard that version. El Bacha delineates the low-pitched four voices quite 152 well, all with a subtle smile. The final ‘Scherzo’ is more in the same sound world as the ‘Toccata’. It is a driving, virtuosic work and a fitting conclusion to the set. I hope that this is only the first installment of a possible complete Prokofieff Piano Music series, though there is no indication that it is. El Bacha seems perfectly suited to tackle such a large project. HARRINGTON PROKOFIEFF: Symphony 5; The Year 1941 Sao Paulo Symphony/ Marin Alsop Naxos 573029—60 minutes The Year 1941 is a symphonic suite (three movements) written in that year, a month after the Germans invaded. It’s typical of the composer in many ways, but it was not well received and has not been played much. The only other current recording is Kuchar on Naxos—with the Fifth Symphony! I guess Naxos is replacing that whole series with this new one from Sao Paulo. The Fifth Symphony is the point here—or maybe the orchestra is. The orchestra is very, very good; and the music makes that abundantly clear. The brass are powerful, and the strings are lush in the Adagio. (That has to be some of the most beautiful music ever written.) The sound is glorious. Will this replace our long-time top choices? I’m thinking of Karajan, Ormandy, Slatkin, and Michael Tilson Thomas (July/Aug 2004). The beauty of the orchestra and sound are on that level, but there is a little something missing in the conducting and phrasing that would have given it more majesty and more ardor—even more “architecture”. Very few living conductors can do that, and Marin Alsop doesn’t, though she does this extremely well otherwise. So it is only fair to say that this is a terrific recording that orchestra, conductor, engineers, and record label should be very proud of. I can’t resist adding some comments about the notes. They refer to “the remarkable The Fiery Angel”. People seem to forget that “the” must be dropped from a title if an article or possessive precedes it. It has to be “the remarkable Fiery Angel”. The notes also use the dreadful word “prestigious” and tell us Marin Alsop is the first woman to head a major US orchestra. That’s not true; JoAnn Falletta is. VROON PROKOFIEFF: Alexander Nevsky; see RACHMANINOFF Clarinet Sonata; see FRANCAIX Piano Sonata 2; see JANACEK Piano Sonata 7; see MOUSSORGSKY Visions Fugitives; see Collections September/October 2012 PURCELL: Harmonia Sacra Rosemary Joshua, s; Les Talens Lyriques/ Christophe Rousset Aparté 27—76 minutes In the 17th Century, sacred vocal music was not just for church. The songs on this recording were not intended for public worship but for private devotion in a domestic setting. As program annotator Bruce Wood points out, Henry Purcell’s devotional songs are, on their modest scale, some of his most brilliant yet least-known compositions. Next to the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer, their texts are among the finest poetry the composer ever set to music, especially when compared with the effusions of the court poetasters for ephemeral birthday odes and welcome songs. If Purcell chose the texts he set, he displayed a discerning literary taste and produced some of the most eloquent text settings ever. Most of the songs alternate lyrical passages with intense declamation in the form of impassioned arioso. The word “recitative” does not even begin to do justice to this idiom. Roughly half of Purcell’s devotional songs survived only in manuscript, but others were published by Henry Playford under the title Harmonia Sacra in two collections of 1688 and 1693. Purcell was not the only composer, but his was the lion’s share of the two books: 12 of the 29 songs in the first volume and five of the 15 in the second. This testifies not only to the outstanding quality of his contributions but the fact that he was easily the most celebrated English composer of that time, and his name would have made the collections more attractive to purchasers. The pieces recorded here are the solo songs for high voice. A few of them conclude with a so-called “chorus”, with a bass voice joining in, but that second voice is omitted in these performances. This recording contains some of the finest and best known of Purcell’s devotional songs, including ‘Tell Me, Some Pitying Angel’, also known as ‘The Blessed Virgin’s Expostulation’, text by Nahum Tate (1652-1715), who also wrote the libretto for Dido and Aeneas. Bishop William Fuller (1608-75) is the author of several of the songs including ‘Now that the Sun’, also known as ‘An Evening Hymn on a Ground’, a song whose peaceful serenity contrasts with the anguished penitence of most of the others. Among the other poets are Jeremy Taylor (1613-67), Sir Thomas Browne (160582), George Herbert (1593-1633), and Francis Quarles (1592-1644). Two of the songs here— ’The Night is Come’ and ‘My Opening Eyes Are Purged’—are probably not by Purcell. They appeared anonymously in the 1693 collection. In addition to those songs, the recording American Record Guide contains some solo harpsichord pieces by Purcell performed by Christophe Rousset. Several of them are Purcell’s arrangements of vocal and orchestral compositions, but the fourmovement Suite in G minor was originally conceived for the harpsichord. Rousset’s performances are stylish and coherent, displaying a keen awareness of how this music moves. Soprano Rosemary Joshua is especially noted as a Handel singer, though she has appeared in some of the lighter soprano roles in the standard operatic repertory. Here she displays the passion intrinsic to Purcell’s intense declamatory writing. Sometimes she sacrifices beauty of tone for dramatic or emotional effect. Listeners will have to decide for themselves whether this is a good trade or whether a more understated but still expressive approach might have been preferable. On his title pages to the two volumes, Playford noted that the continuo is “for the theorbo-lute, bass-viol, harpsichord, or organ”. The continuo ensemble on this recording consists of viola da gamba, lute, harpsichord, and organ. Rousset plays both keyboard instruments. Purists may object to the changing composition of the continuo ensemble in a song, usually to delineate the changing character of the words and music. I found that somewhat jarring sometimes, but the playing itself is always at the highest standard. GATENS PURCELL: Love’s Madness Dorothee Mields; Lautten Compagney Berlin/ Wolfgang Katschner Carus 83371—76 minutes From the title of this release I expected a rather conventional performance of love songs, but instead of love, madness is the theme of this lively program. The Londoners of Purcell’s and Shakespeare’s day were fascinated with madness, and it became a sort of pastime for them to visit Bedlam on public holidays—and they were charged admission. One has only to think of some of Shakespeare’s mad characters to understand that people then were at least as interested as we are in what might constitute the line between sanity and insanity, the causes of mental illness, and the strange ways it manifests itself. A catch included in this program sums up the connection that Elizabethan England perceived between love and madness: “‘Tis women makes us love, ‘tis love that makes us sad, ‘tis sadness makes us drink, and drinking makes us mad’. Given the theme of love and madness, the songs here have a kind of wild quality, and Dorothee Mields sings them brilliantly. The rollicking period-instrument group that accompanies her intersperses the songs with 153 an occasional instrumental piece. Most pieces are by Purcell; a few other composers, such as Robert Johnson and Matthew Locke, appear occasionally. I recommend that you pick up this very attractive presentation, as it is the most creative achievement in terms of Elizabethan songs that I’ve seen in several years. The sound is excellent. One very minor drawback is that the accompaniment sometimes seems too central in relation to the voice. CRAWFORD PYGOTT: Salve Regina; see LUDFORD R ACHMANINOFF: The Bells with PROKOFIEFF: Alexander Nevsky Elena Prokina, s; Daniil Shtoda, t; Sergei Leiferkus, bar; BBC Symphony & Chorus; Alfreda Hodgson, mz; Philharmonia Orchestra & Chorus/ Yevgeny Svetlanov ICA 5069—79 minutes Svetlanov’s interpretations gained depth as he grew older, and the results are often spectacular, as they are here in the Rachmaninoff. I’ve reviewed quite a few fine recordings of The Bells, including the recent BBC Philharmonic/Noseda (Mar/Apr), but I have to say that few are as immediately gratifying and gripping as this one, recorded at the Barbican Hall, London, 19 April 2002. Almost every other recording has at least a few moments that drag a little—not so here. Svetlanov keeps the line taut through the entire performance; and even the quiet passages, though certainly never hurried, are clearly part of the overall arc of the work. No doubt, it helped having a Russian conductor sensitive to both the music and the flow of the language—and the composer’s careful intertwining of the two. If there is urgency and febrile energy in I and III, there’s a remarkable mixture of repose and longing in II and IV. Of course, that’s in Rachmaninoff’s score, but here the otherworldly concentration also comes from the conductor. Svetlanov was a dying man; this performance was the last one he conducted. He passed away at his home in Moscow two weeks later. But there is no ebbing of life-force in this performance. Nevsky dates from 14 years earlier, 30 January 1988, and is vital, earthy, and very Russian sounding. How did Svetlanov get English choir singers to sound so Slavic? Very Russian sound from Ms Hodgson, too. Svetlanov captures both the epic timelessness of the score and the human loss and pain of the dramatic events it depicts. I should wave the caution flag and remind you that the Reiner (RCA) has better sound, Schippers (Sony) more excitement, and Temirkanov (RCA) the advantage of more 154 music from the Alexander Nevsky movie score itself—plus spectacular sonics and an unmistakably Russian sound. There’s a place for Svetlanov’s sturdy, forthright, uninhibited power. Svetlanov was recorded in the notorious difficult space of the Royal Albert Hall. It’s a little Albert-y, but overall I find it very listenable. HANSEN R ACHMANINOFF: Cello Sonata; Vocalise; SHOSTAKOVICH: Sonata Joseph Johnson; Victor Asuncion, p JVBAM 1—73 minutes (CD Baby: 800-BUYMYCD) First the complaint. They omit the exposition repeat in the Rachmaninoff Sonata. Now the reason for the complaint. Everything else they play is outstanding and I want to hear how different the repeat would sound second time around. Yes, I know it was freezing cold in the recording studio in midwinter Minneapolis without heat or lights and Johnson had just smashed his cello before coming to town and was sick because of it. But still, man, if you guys can play that well we want to hear it again! Both the Rachmaninoff and Shostakovich get perceptive, dramatic and lusciously blended performances here. The balance between instruments works beautifully (it often doesn’t in Rachmaninoff recordings) and one hears the lines in both instruments with great clarity, partly because the players love every note of the music and make sure the listener understands why. And they bring out both the madness and the contrasting beauty in the Shostakovich to great effect. This one is well worth whatever they are charging for it. The liner notes tell us only about the relations between the two players and the history of the recording session (also worth the price of admission). A bio of Johnson was sent along as well. But these pieces and composers hardly need explanation for most listeners. D MOORE R ACHMANINOFF: Fantasy Pieces, op 3; Etudes-Tableaux, op 33; Corelli Variations Nareh Arghamanyan, p Pentatone 5186 399 [SACD] 63 minutes The first record I heard by Arghamanyan (Analekta 8762, Jan/Feb 2010) caused me to question how a 20-year-old could possibly play Liszt and Rachmaninoff sonatas so well. Now at the ripe old age of 23, she has a new exclusive recording deal with Pentatone and gives us a superb Rachmaninoff recital. Early, middle, and late piano works are represented. First, the youthful Opus 3, including the famous Prelude in C-sharp minor and the late (1940) revisions of the ‘Melodie’ and ‘Sere- September/October 2012 nade’. Next, the first set of Etudes-Tableaux, written on the heals of Piano Concerto 3 and the completion of the 24 Preludes (with Op. 32). This is the heart of Rachmaninoff’s big, complex virtuoso works. Finally his last work, displaying more clarity; it has been described by Ashkenazy as “perhaps his most perfect work for piano”. The early set is played just to my liking. I especially the composer’s 1940 revisions of the ‘Melodie’ and ‘Serenade’. Rachmaninoff in his late teens had some wonderful musical ideas, but by the time he was in his 60s, his compositional skill had greatly increased and the transformation of these two miniatures is a small example of what he did with his Piano Concerto 1. The first set of Etudes-Tableaux is usually paired with the second, but I like it to stand on its own. Arghamanyan has the musical insight to find melodic lines in places I have never heard them before. She also has great dynamic control, with the ability to switch gears instantaneously where the music calls for it. My only criticism is that the final big C-sharp minor Etude could be a little faster. She gets a little bogged down in the detail; others (notably Richter and Ashkenazy) let it move along more. As for the Corelli Variations, this is one of the top two or three that I have ever heard. It’s lightly pedaled and full of insight. I must have listened to this recording a dozen times over the last month. This is the first disc I can recall to use the composer’s numbering, as can be seen in the manuscripts of these works: 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9. Number 4 does not exist. And Rachmaninoff withdrew 3 and 5 before publication. They were found and restored to the set after he died. Now all we need is a recording of the first version of these as published in the new Rachmaninoff Critical Edition by Barenreiter. It also includes a reconstruction of what the original No. 4 might have been. It’s all right out there, just waiting for an inspired pianist. If you enjoy Rachmaninoff piano music, you must get this. The Bonus DVD allows you to see Arghamanyan play the theme and first seven Corelli Variations and the Prelude in Csharp minor. The sound and presentation are unbeatable. HARRINGTON R ACHMANINOFF: Moments Musicaux; Corelli Variations; Etudes-Tableaux, op 39 Xiayin Wang, p Chandos 10724—69:18 Another beautiful young Asian woman! They are everywhere; they are taking over classical music as it dies in the West. And some of them are very, very good. As usual, there is no biography. Is she Chinese? Taiwanese? American? American Record Guide She has played a lot in New York, and this was recorded there. Readers know, I think, that I consider the Moments Musicaux the most perfect piano pieces. Nothing else lets the instrument do so impressively what a piano can do. They have everything (well, almost); they are not just virtuosic. They are also emotional, majestic, melodic, and warm. Rachmaninoff was 23 when he wrote them, and this pianist looks about that age now. There is a little smoothing out here: the fasts are a little less fast, the slows a little less slow than some of my favorite recordings. But the phrasing and shape of the pieces is wonderful, and Rachmaninoff’s markings come across: sostenuto is sustained, and maestoso is majestic. Sometimes her touch is a little hard; sometimes there is more percussion than tone. Sometimes I hear a “buzz” in the piano, and I hate that—but it is not often. All in all, this is a very satisfying account of music that many pianists murder. The eight Etudes-Tableaux pass by much faster than the six Moments Musicaux, and they leave less of an impression. (Perhaps they are as close as this composer came to Impressionism.) The Corelli Variations are not unpleasant, but I’d rather listen to Corelli. That is not the pianist’s fault; she presents them about as well as I’ve heard them. So the playing here is excellent, and she joins a small handful of pianists whose musical moments move me. VROON RACHMANINOFF: Etudes-Tableaux, op 39; see SCHUMANN RAFF: Piano Sonata, op 14; Suite, op 91 Adrian Ruiz Genesis 118—68 minutes In this recording from 1971, Ruiz explores another peripheral piano personality from the 19th Century. Raff’s early career showed promise, as he earned favorable reviews of compositions from Schumann in the Neue Zeitschrift für Music and toured Europe with Franz Liszt. (Beginning in 1849, he served as his assistant for five years). The works included here reflect his more substantial, serious output. The Sonata in Eflat minor retains its original low opus number but was entirely revised near the end of his life. It is worth hearing as a novelty, but does not hold up well next to the hundreds of other sonatas we commonly listen to from this period. I opens with a Shostakovich-like ramble of parallel octaves; then it is off to the races as the rhythmic values gradually decrease. The body of the movement is built not as a series of easi- 155 ly-identifiable thematic areas but more as a succession of short, disjointed segments marked by contrasting textures. The finale is an uninspired march that encapsulates the composer’s cliches, among them bass pedal points and melodic four-note scalar fragments that serve as filler. The Suite in D minor is a more creative work. In the fantasy portion of the first number, bold rhetorical flourishes lead to a calmer stretch that murmurs nicely. The attached fugue is made awkward by its enigmatic subject, a second subject (double fugue) introduced where none is desirable, and a blowhard conclusion that presents, of all things, a drawn-out repetitive scalar descent exactly in the style of Tchaikovsky’s 1812 Overture! Next comes a reserved gigue in the minor that launches into a rich set of variations. The third movement (‘Cavatina’) is the most musical utterance on the release. It is a simple, choral-style work that favors the lower register. Ruiz does a superb job here, both with the semplice material and in allowing the music to surge forward. He is never afraid of employing a full concert sound even when a piano or mezzo-piano marking is called for. The movement as a whole comes across like a lyric episode right out of the Schumann character piece tradition. After it concludes, there is hardly a reason to listen to the vapid march (yes, another one) that concludes the work. AUERBACH RAMEAU: Dardanus Georges Gautier (Dardanus), Frederica Von Stade (Iphise), Christine Eda-Pierre (Venus), Michael Devlin (Antenor), Jose van Dam (Ismenor), Roger Soyer (Teucer), Paris Opera/ Raymond Leppard Warner 66229 [2CD] 120 minutes The fifth of his operas and the third of Rameau’s “lyric tragedies”, Dardanus is really almost two operas. It was composed and first presented in 1739 and was not a popular success. But in 1744 he and his librettist drastically revised it, completely rewriting Acts III-V to change the plot, balance of characters, and musical content. So there are two distinct versions of the opera for performers to consider. While the work’s rich quantity of dances and orchestral movements has attracted conductors and recording companies, the opera itself has had only two recordings. Their differences illustrate the work’s split personality. For a production at the Paris Opera in 1980, Leppard created his own performing edition. He was at the time, you will recall, in his phase of exploring baroque operas and bringing them vividly to the public in somewhat free adaptations—effective but subject to some critical discomfort. In this case, he chose to 156 follow the idea of Rameau scholar Cuthbert Girdlestone in making a composite of the two scores. He cut the original Prologue and used the revised Acts III-V of 1744. He also cut the final chaconne, replacing it with a chorus of unclarified origin. It is that version of the score, recorded by Erato, that is here reissued. Meanwhile, in 1998, Marc Minkowski recorded the work (DG 463 476, 2CD: N/D 2000), and made a more drastic choice. He chose the original 1739 form of the opera, which he found more inventive and musically fascinating. He did, however, use just a little bit of the 1744 revision—above all the eloquent prison monolog of Dardanus that was added to begin the revised Act IV; but cuts and changes were made in the 1739 Act II. The Prologue was retained, and the entire score was brought in at a total of 156 minutes. The opera’s plot is a grand muddling of Greek mythological characters. Dardanus was the legendary founder of Troy and ancestor of Priam. He either received or was received by Teucer, a local monarch who gave Dardanus his daughter in marriage. (As a result, Trojans were regularly called in Greek literature both Dardanians and Teucrians.) Out of such basics, the libretto creates conflicts of love and combat. Teucer and Dardanus are at war with each other. Teucer’s daughter, Iphise, is secretly in love with Dardanus but is promised to the hero Antenor (mythically a character in the later Trojan War). Antenor and Dardanus become bitter enemies, but are reconciled after Dardanus saves both Antenor’s life and the realm from a raging monster. Venus (the star of the original Prologue) intervenes to unite Iphise and Dardanus. The two recordings are strongly contrasted in more than performing editions. Leppard was still using modern playing style, and leading with a leisurely flow that might now seem dated. Minkowski, with an emphatically period-style band, is more choppy, but also more penetrating emotionally. On some counts, Minkowski has a slightly superior cast. John Mark Ainsley is an admirable title character, with more personality than Leppard’s routinier, Gautier; the same can be said for Minkowski’s Antenor, Naouri, against Devlin here. Minkowski even has the then-novice Magdalena Kozena in a couple of tiny roles. On the other hand, that fine veteran of an older generation, Soyer, is a distinctive Teucer. Eda-Pierre is an impressive Venus here, but she has lost too much of her music, and Minkowski’s Mirelle Delunsch brings off the full role very handsomely. Leppard does have two singers not to be missed. Van Dam in his prime, as the magician Ismenor, who tries to help Dardanus in Act II, September/October 2012 wields a formidable magic wand. And Von Stade, here billed as a soprano, but the pleading plangency of her lower register makes her irresistible, especially for listeners who will justly treasure every scrap of recording she has made—even though Minkowski’s Veronique Gens creates a fully creditable Iphise in her turn. And the booklet? Warner, of course, has followed the usual False Economy rule. In the original Erato set, there were extensive and informative essays, synopsis, and the full libretto. In this reissue we have only the track lists and a very casual plot synopsis. Warner doesn’t want you even to think of a libretto, print-available or otherwise. Who knows? maybe some day there will be new, separate recordings of the distinct 1739 and 1744 versions. BARKER RAMEAU: Suite in A; MARCHAND: Suites in D+G Christophe Rousset, hpsi Ambronay 32—69 minutes Checking the cumulative index I notice with some surprise that no single release of Marchand’s harpsichord music has been reviewed since the late 80s. Nor do I own any recordings, though I see that there are at least two available (one by Ketil Haugsand and the other by Mario Martinoli). Marchand is best known for a famed keyboard duel with Bach; according to the story—which can be found only in German sources, not French ones— Marchand departed in the middle of the night, afraid to face the formidable JSB. Never mind. Here the redoubtable Rousset regales us with two Marchand suites (along with three miscellaneous works) and the early one in A by Rameau (who, like Marchand, was born in Lyon). He performs on a 1716 instrument by Donzelague, another 18th Century Lyonnese, now housed in the Decorative Arts Museum there. The sound is quite harsh, as if it was recorded in a rather tiny room with the microphones bearing down inside the instrument; with the harpsichord fully registered, it’s an excruciating sound at normal listening volume. (Could this be the current taste for recording harpsichord sound? Even at a lower volume it sounds much too dry.) But the playing is magnificent, full of all sorts of rhythmic nuance, all kinds of uncoordinated (staggered) relationships between left and right hands, ideal tempos. In the end, I must forgive the arid acoustic for the musical brilliance. HASKINS American Record Guide RAVEL: Violin Pieces Tzigane; Sonatas; Fauré Lullaby; Piece in the Form of a Habanera Sasha Rozhdestvensky; Michal Kanka, vc; Josiane Marfurt, p Praga 250286 [SACD] 66 minutes Sasha Rozhdestvensky is here a very accomplished young violinist with a solid technique and an attractive tone. (Mr Vroon hated his Tchaikovsky in Jan/Feb.) The best performances are Tzigane and the Posthumous Sonata. While I am impressed with his technique and musicianship, I can’t say that any of the performances here are special or individual. I have heard superior performances of all of the works. Another weakness is Josiane Marfurt, who plays more like an accompanist than a partner, even in the two sonatas. For the Violin Sonata, I never tire of extolling the virtues of Gilles Apap and Eric Ferrand-N’Kaoua (March/April 2000). Kennedy and Lynn Harrell find more colors in the Violin and Cello Sonata (Sept/Oct 2000). Regis Pasquier is very fine for the other pieces and peerless in the Posthumous Sonata (Jan/Feb 2009). As for sound, this release is SACD with 5.1 surround sound, and while it is pleasant and well balanced, I have heard regular CDs with more impressive sonics. MAGIL RAVEL: Daphnis & Chloe excerpts; see BERLIOZ Mother Goose; La Valse; see DEBUSSY Piano Concerto; see Collections Valses Nobles & Sentimentales; see JANACEK REGER: Violin Sonatas 2+3; Albumblatt; Romanze Ulf Wallin; Roland Pöntinen, p CPO 777445—65 minutes It’s difficult to believe that Max Reger was a not-yet-20-year-old student when he gave the first performance of his Second Violin Sonata at the Wiesbaden Conservatory in 1892. He was clearly under the spell of Brahms at the time, and though this early work lacks the economy and clarity of the violin sonatas Brahms wrote when he was twice Reger’s age, his ideas are original, and his technique as a composer is impressive. It is difficult to follow Reger’s “argument” in I of the Second Sonata, but these musicians do everything possible to give expressive life to his very long and sometimes quirky phrases, and ride them to their conclusions. Reger wrote his Third Sonata in 1898. Like the Second, much of the overt complexity lies in the long and winding themes of I (the first theme lasts a little over two minutes); but a 157 second hearing makes the movement far easier to follow, particularly with the score in hand. II is delightfully light and straightforward and looks forward to the 20th Century. III and IV are both rather Brahmsian, but more in texture than in harmonic material. Reger can be daunting. He wrote a large amount of music, much of it filled with vast amounts of mind-boggling counterpoint. The ‘Albumblatt’ and ‘Romanze’, however, express a side of Reger that is warm and comfortable in its sophistication. These two pieces, published in 1905 as Op. 87, are not as well known as Reger’s other violin music (I don’t know of any other recordings of them). They are excellent pieces of great emotional scope, and they are completely removed from the Brahmsian idiom. Wallin and Pöntinen have spent the last ten years recording several volumes of Reger’s violin and piano music for CPO (the seven additional sonatas and three suites—see our index). The quality of the playing here is so high that I imagine the other Reger violin and piano recordings would be well worth hearing. FINE R IMSKY-KORSAKOFF: Scheherazade; SCHREKER: Prelude to a Drama Buffalo Philharmonic/ JoAnn Falletta Beau Fleuve 9491—63 minutes This is a solid, satisfying performance of Scheherazade. The orchestra plays very well, and conductor Falletta keeps a firm hand on the tiller, letting us get close enough to the rocks to enjoy the scenery without ever risking running aground. It’s straightforward and direct but not brusque—a Scheherazade for somebody who doesn’t like interpretive excess but still wants energy and engagement. The Des Moines Symphony is going to play this on their opening concert a couple of weeks after this issue hits the mail. If they give a performance like this one, I won’t complain. But in the rare moments that I have for actually sitting down to listen to a recording, I’m going to reach for one of the more spectacular, brilliant interpretations like the masterly Reiner (RCA), one of the sensuously indulgent ones like London Symphony/Stokowski (Decca) or Goossens (Everest), or a poetic one like Beecham (EMI) or Kondrashin (Philips). And there are the interpretations that concentrate more on sheer beauty of sound (Karajan, DG) or dramatic excitement (Muti, EMI) or the surging flow of the melodic line (Monteux, Decca and RCA, different orchestras). Ms Falletta and her players don’t hit any of those extremes. Over the years I’ve encountered plenty of recordings that reach for more and deliver less. In a concert, the performers are 158 presenting the work mostly on their own terms; in a recording, comparison with any other recording is fair game. Rather than the usual Capriccio Espagnol or Russian Easter Overture, the Schreker prelude makes for an interesting filler—maybe more interesting than the main work. It’s the actual prelude to a one-act opera. It’s also a long (17-minute) work, nicely orchestrated, full of ripe, colorful orchestral effects and lateromantic portent. Like the music, the recorded sound is solid and free from gimmicks. I wouldn’t mind stronger bass, more shimmer to the strings, and more “presence”, but then I’m really asking for Reiner or Stokowski. HANSEN ROENTGEN: Symphonies 5, 6, 19 Concensus Vocalis, Netherlands Symphony/ David Porcelijn CPO 777 310—62 minutes In his last three years, Julius Roentgen (18551932) wrote 19 of his 25 symphonies—a feat to rival the late blooming of Havergal Brian. Like Brian’s, Roentgen’s symphonies are compact in structure and duration, though new listeners will find them far easier to follow. These are products of a master of form, concision, and clarity. Symphony 5, Death the Reaper (1926) is the most Brahmsian in scoring of the three. It begins with a brass summons, fleshed into an impressive orchestral tutti. The movement quotes the hymn ‘Aus Tiefer Not’. II has a beautiful elegiac quality. After World War I Roentgen became a Dutch citizen and renewed his friendship with Kaiser Wilhelm II in his exile at Doorn. He may have intended the work in general, and this movement in particular, as a tribute to the dead. The scoring is superb—every note counts. In its stark simplicity, it’s as moving as a Kaethe Kollwitz drawing. III begins with a mysterious, deliberate tread, continuing under woodwind cries till the chorus enters with the title hymn. The emotional effect is one of complete catharsis. Symphony 6 (1928) quotes a 16th Century song of lost love, ‘Great God, To Whom Shall I Lament?’. In one movement, running about 16 minutes, it’s more like a short cantata. The choral counterpoint recreates an earlier era. The vocal writing and its orchestral accompaniment are vigorous and clear, unlike so many elaborate choral-orchestral works whose sonorities degenerate into benign-sounding mush. The subtitle of Symphony 19 (1931) is B-AC-H, and it uses those pitches for a unifying motiv. When I first saw this, I was all set to complain that the BACH fragment, for all the September/October 2012 cute head games it affords, is melodically a singularly drab shard. Roentgen’s symphony proves me wrong. In I, the BACH figure develops into a genuinely attractive theme. The movement sounds like an excellently scored organ fantasia. II is a graceful slow waltz, with transparent orchestral coloring. Roentgen’s employment of the BACH motiv as a fill phrase is ingenious—ingenuity here not replacing inspiration, but enhancing it. III is a powerful scherzo, with the orchestral choirs skillfully pitted against one another. In IV, the motiv, at first slowly spelled out, transforms into an arcane fugue, whose answering phrases are adventurously chromatic. The conclusion of the work is totally convincing. This symphony struck me without reservation as a masterpiece. The performances and singing are excellent. CPO’s sound is up to its usual high standard. David Porcelijn more and more impresses me. When he conducts, I believe I’m hearing the music face to face, without an intermediary. This level of conducting demands the highest degree of musicianship. O’CONNOR ROMAN: Suites, all Oskar Ekberg, p Daphne 1041 [2CD] 127 minutes I haven’t reviewed Roman’s suites since 1994 (Nov/Dec), when Joseph Payne made a harpsichord recording on BIS. I pronounced the music galant, ingratiating, and facile, which I think was intended to give the impression that I didn’t think it very memorable. They fare better with a pianist, and Oskar Ekberg gives them more shape and character than Payne did. Alas, his articulation often falls into a default position of Gouldian non-legato (but without the tonal brilliance that Gould managed with it), so I find myself bogged down trying to differentiate one piece from another. I also find myself asking why a pianist of Ekberg’s obvious gifts wouldn’t record a composer from around the same time who’s better known, say JC Bach or CPE Bach (who both lived a generation after but whose music approaches the gentility of Roman’s). Maybe he will; we could use a fine modern-piano recording of CPE, in particular. HASKINS ROSETTI: Horn Concertos Klaus Wallendorf, Sarah Willis; Kurpfälz Chamber Orchestra/ Johannes Moesis CPO 777288—53 minutes Antonio Rosetti (c 1750-92) composed seven concertos for two horns. One has never been found. With this album, Berlin Philharmonic American Record Guide horn players Klaus Wallendorf and Sarah Willis have completed their CPO traversal of the six known ones. Their first recording, made over a decade ago (Jan/Feb 2000), offered one (C 60) along with two clarinet concertos. The next (Jan/Feb 2004) offered three more (C56, C57, C58). This one includes a complete concerto (C61), a slow movement from another (C55), and two solo horn concertos (Wallendorf in C48, Willis in C50). The readings are excellent. Wallendorf has a compact tone quality and impressive high register. Willis has a full tone and is even more impressive in the low. I have never heard such robust yet agile low-horn playing. KILPATRICK ROSSINI: Overtures; see VERDI RUBINSTEIN: Symphony 2; Feramors Ballet Russian Symphony/ Igor Golovchin Delos 2010—66 minutes It would appear the emerging trend among companies that can no longer shoulder the immense cost of recording their own product is to either sell off their stock to some other label or else recycle performances already bought and paid for by another distributor. Delos has become little more than a revolving door, first letting Naxos reissue all its Hanson, Hovhaness, et al and now recycling everything of Igor Golovchin and the RSSO issued back in the 1990s by Russian Disc. In addition to the Anton Rubinstein Ocean Symphony offered here (first covered in July/Aug 1994) the booklet tells us Delos will be opening the Golovchin floodgates this year, including the Rubinstein Ivan the Terrible and Don Quixote (2011), Fourth Symphony (2012; Jan/Feb 1995) and Second and Fourth Piano Concertos with Alexander Paley (2013; July/Aug 1994) along with Gliere’s Ilya Mourometz (2014; Jan/Feb 1995). So you can simply look up our previous reviews now and get it over with, since a quick check over headphones reassured me they sound the same. In the case of the Ocean Symphony, your choice may depend first of all on which version you’re looking for. Originally cast in four movements, the symphony proved quite impressive when it was first performed in St Petersburg. Tchaikovsky praised it effusively. Yet the composer was not satisfied and 11 years later added another two movements, followed by one more nearly 30 years after the St Petersburg premiere. Tchaikovsky felt they destroyed the artistic balance of the original score and made the symphony much too long; and it would appear Russian conductors agree with him, since both Golovchin and Fuat Mansurov on Vista Vera (Mar/Apr 2008) 159 employ the original four-movement version (George Hanson as well: MDG; July/Aug 2004). Only Stephen Gunzenhauser on Naxos gives you all seven movements (Mar/Apr 2002; Jan/Feb 1988), so you can program any version you choose. More to the point, that is by far the most satisfying of the lot anyway, both for performance and sonics. (For a more detailed synopsis of all seven movements, see our 2008 review.) The Delos faithfully reproduces both the pleasures and faults of the Russian Disc. Golovchin paints his seascapes in broad strokes, making the opening movement in particular a pretty turgid affair (and the trumpet in true Melodiya fashion is all too often overpowering). In the Adagio you may hear echoes of Mendelssohn’s Scotch Symphony. Yet I find that more of the earthy good humor of the ensuing sailors’ dance comes across with Golovchin; moreover, he offers vitality to spare in the finale while yet making proper obeisance to the expressive secondary theme that once again suggests Mendelssohn, and he plays that powerful triumphant chorale for all it’s worth. But if it’s the four-movement version you’re after, I’d go with Mansurov; in his hands the opening movement is urgent and compelling where Hanson’s genial approach suggests our intrepid seafarers are dead in the water. The expansive Adagio is as fluid as the very sea itself, the sailors’ dance wonderfully bracing, and he strides forward confidently in the finale—unlike Hanson, who tends to push too hard. The problem is that Mansurov’s USSR Symphony sounds like it was recorded in an Aeroflot hangar, though if you turn it up loud enough and simply let it wash over you it makes quite a splash. (The appended powerhouse Prokofieff PC 3 with Alexander Mndoyants is almost worth the price of admission.) The dances from Feramors remind us Rubinstein wanted to be remembered most of all as a composer of opera; yet out of the dozen or so he wrote, only The Demon has had much success outside Russia, including a rare outing at the Met in 1922. His fifth opera, Feramors, is based on Lalla Rookh by the Irish poet Thomas Moore. It would appear Rubinstein did not share in the affinity for “Eastern” color that came so easily to his colleagues Borodin and Rimsky-Korsakoff; his attempt at oriental imagery is pretty pallid stuff next to Prince Igor or Scheherazade. On Marco Polo Michael Halasz (Jan/Feb 1988) gives you both of these along with Nero, but he either skims the surface—for example the first ‘Bayaderes’ Dance’—or else trudges along dispiritedly as in the ‘Dance of the Kashmiri Brides’ (also beguilingly turned by Richard Bonynge in his Decca box “Fête du Ballet”—468 578). Fortu- 160 nately, Halasz and Golovchin are on the same page in the boisterous ‘Wedding Procession’ (is it mere coincidence that Rubinstein at 3:09 employs the same rhythm as Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’?) but if it’s Feramors you’re after, Golovchin is the clear first choice. You should plan to snap up each of these Delos reissues as soon as they surface. Even with his maddeningly quixotic tempos Igor Golovchin knows and understands this music by one of the great Russian romantics, and we can never have too many recordings of Anton Rubinstein’s wonderful Ocean Symphony. HALLER RUGGLES: Complete Works Judith Blegen, s; Beverly Morgan, mz; Leonard Raver, org; Michael Tilson Thomas, John Kirkpatrick, p; Speculum Musicae; Brass Ensemble/ Gerard Schwarz; Gregg Smith Singers; Buffalo Philharmonic/ Michael Tilson Thomas Other Minds 1020 [2CD] 85 minutes This is a reissue of the Columbia LP set from 1980. It contains the dozen pieces that are considered the gruff American’s complete works, but in reality there is very little music involved (three of the pieces are arrangements, one is a little song, and one—Exaltation—a simple hymn with some “wrong notes” added.) There is also a three-song chamber cycle (Vox Clemans in Deserto) lasting about six minutes. The remaining four pieces are the orchestral pieces the composer is best known for. Except for a couple of CRIs, only Sun-Treader is represented in our index, and that only once (Dohnanyi). There may be good reasons for this. These orchestral works, lasting about 35 minutes in total, are hardly the masterpieces they’re cracked up to be. “Experimental” and tentative, their reputation is based on their prevailing dissonant counterpoint and now rather corny angularity. Their structures are improvisatory and blocky. The style is usually thought of as “craggy” and “individual”, but I find it almost amateurish. Bombast is a recurring theme: the most famous piece, SunTreader, opens with a strong horror movie-ish introduction, then misused as a refrain, with a result akin to constantly repeating a horror film’s initially arresting sequence without variation or change of context. This will likely become distressingly laughable as the film progresses. Men and Mountains, in three movements, has what today seems like hilarious bombast (again) surrounding a small little respite called ‘Lilacs’. Portals is an angst-driven essay for string orchestra lasting about seven minutes. Evocations, originally for piano solo, is a fourmovement suite of mostly sullen little pieces, September/October 2012 the piano version played here by John Kirkpatrick and followed by the orchestral version. Organum interrupts its misery with dejected crashes. I didn’t think much of this music when the Columbia set came out almost 30 years ago, and I think even less of it now. But many luminaries disagree. It’s interesting to note that Ruggles abandoned music altogether toward the end of his life and took up painting. Notes from the original LP are by Thomas and John Kirkpatrick, and there’s an appreciation by Lou Harrison filled with a number of outdated ideas about music history. The Buffalo Philharmonic sounds a lot better today than it did 30 years ago. No texts—an unacceptable omission for a 33-page booklet. GIMBEL SAINSBURY; FOULDS: Cello Concertos Raphael Wallfisch; Scottish National Orchestra, Bournemouth Symphony/ Martin Yates Dutton 7284—70 minutes Lionel Sainsbury (b 1958) and John Foulds (1880-1939) are two of England’s less recorded composers. These are first recordings of both of these cello concertos, both well played and warmly engineered. These are large-scale romantic-sounding works in the customary three movements. Each has its surprises. Sainsbury’s concerto of 1999 is in a lively yet mysterious style, full of variety and verve, including even a touch of jazz employed very effectively towards the end of the last movement. It is a piece with a good deal of personality, and Wallfisch plays it with obvious enjoyment. The Foulds from 1908-1909 is a lovely, outgoing piece with some memorable melodies in it and some powerful orchestral writing. This is a very fine release of music by two composers that we should hear more of. The idioms blend well together, and Wallfisch and his orchestras play with warmth and clarity. D MOORE S AINT-SAENS: Orchestral Works Danse Macabre; Rouet d’Omphale; Phaeton; Jeunesse d’Hercule; Princesse Jaune & Spartacus Overtures; Marche Militaire Française; Coronation March; Bacchanale; Nuit a Lisbon Scottish National Orchestra/ Neeme Jarvi Chandos 5104 [SACD] 78 minutes If you buy your Saint-Saens in bulk, this one’s for you. Not only do you get all four tone poems—why settle for Danse Macabre?—but you also have the delightful overture to La Princesse Jaune and the even rarer Spartacus together with Une Nuit a Lisbon and the march American Record Guide written for the coronation of Edward VII; and these are filled out with the far better known ‘Marche Militaire Française’ from the Suite Algerienne and the ubiquitous ‘Bacchanale’ from Samson and Delilah for a whopping 77:40. But such bounty comes at a price, as Neeme Jarvi once again seems constitutionally incapable of letting the music speak for itself, all too often going off the deep end. For evidence of this we need venture no farther than the opening ‘Bacchanale’, which no ballet troupe could ever dance to. Jarvi lures in the unwary listener with an uncommonly seductive account of the sensual oboe melody— kudos to the Scottish first chair—before tearing off in a shower of gravel. And to make matters worse, the engineers have put the allimportant kettledrums way too far back in the soundstage until Jarvi finally gives them their head in the closing bars. Wasted in the process is a warmly evocative reading of the central odalisque that cannot redeem this performance. There are plenty of other far better recordings out there; and with all due obeisance to Paray I would particularly call your attention to a superlative two-fer from Decca Eloquence that restores to the catalog Anatole Fistoulari’s RCA LP coupled with music from Aida, Khovanshchina and William Tell that used to be a collectors’ item both for sound and performance. Of the four tone poems only Danse Macabre and possibly Rouet d’Omphale are likely to show up on concert programs these days; Phaeton is a sometime filler with the Organ Symphony, but Jeunesse d’Hercule rarely sees the light of day. Liszt could be proud to have stimulated such splendid tonal imagery from Saint-Saens, who wrote all four in the space of only a few years. Danse Macabre is a close cousin to Liszt’s Mephisto Waltz; the harp sounds the 12 strokes of midnight (an inspired touch!) and Death in the guise of the solo violin summons a skeleton crew to dance to his bidding—you may hear their bony rattle in the xylophone—and Saint-Saens even works in the familiar ‘Dies Irae’ plainchant (transformed into a waltz) before the oboe heralds the dawn with a piercing cock crow and the hellish horde must slink back to their graves for another day. The willful Phaeton takes his father the Sun’s fiery chariot out for a spin but finds he can’t handle the mighty steeds; he veers too close to the Earth and is struck down by a thunderbolt from Zeus—with Chandos it sounds more like an atom bomb—and plummets headlong into the sea. Both of the remaining tone poems have to do with Hercules. As punishment for murdering one of his guests, Hercules is remanded to 161 Queen Omphale of Lydia who bids him be seated at her spinning wheel, and according to some accounts even humiliates the great warrior further by making him wear one of her gowns. The whirring of the spinning wheel you can hear easily enough; but the central episode showing Hercules chafing under Omphale’s control will surely have old-time radio fans like me muttering under their breath “Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows (maniacal laughter)”...! Annotator Roger Nichols suggests that Saint-Saens in writing his fourth and last tone poem wished to redeem our hero after his demeaning servitude with Omphale, telling how the young Hercules, faced with the choice between virtue and debauchery (taking his cue from Wagner’s Tannhäuser bacchanale), sees in his triumph over the monstrous foes that await him his own immortality. Although this is the longest of Saint-Saens’s essays, it is also the most rewarding and reveals the 42-year-old composer at the height of his powers, making it all the more unfortunate that this piece is so seldom heard. Vinyl was far kinder to the Saint-Saens tone poems than silver disc. Looking at my LP shelf, I find Mitropoulos on Columbia, Dervaux on French EMI, Fourestier on a dowelspine Angel, and Dutoit on London and the Vox Box from Froment. You may be able to find the Dervaux coupled with Massenet’s Scenes Pittoresques on a Japanese EMI CD (13387); but you’d be more likely to turn up the Dutoit (London 425 021) combined with the Marche Heroique and Kyung Wha Chung doing the Havanaise and Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso. (Accept no substitutes; London also brought out three of the tone poems on 414 460 but jettisoned Jeunesse d’Hercule in favor of Carnival of the Animals.) Yoel Levi had the chance to give us all four along with the three symphonies for Cascavelle but dropped the ball, omitting Jeunesse d’Hercule (Mar/Apr 2010); and a label called Concerto Royale brought out a box containing Froment’s Phaeton and Rouet d’Omphale but not the other two. Dutoit remains your best choice; the Japanese Dervaux is also worth having if you can find it, but Hercules seems pretty weary from spinning all day (and the same on our Editor’s choice, the Beecham). Certainly you can’t accuse him of nodding off at Jarvi’s headstrong tempos, and Jeunesse is even more manic; such a precipitous pace works better in Phaeton—this is the chariot of the Sun after all—but in both Rouet d’Omphale and Danse Macabre he switches tempos on a dime (:53 in Rouet and 2:17 in Danse) for no reason that I could see. Absent the “pseudo-Oriental cartoon music” (vide Mr Parsons) that characterizes 162 The Mikado—written ten years later—La Princesse Jaune is a product of its time, when all things Japanese fascinated Paris as much as the familiar Janissary music of an earlier generation spread like wildfire among German audiences. The “Yellow Princess” of the title is not an actual monarch but a Japanese girl whose portrait captivates a sensitive Dutch artist to the point of obsession—he even rejects the maiden who loves him—until he awakens from a hallucination and finally comes to his senses. This is music that calls for a piquant touch and a deft ear for color, and Jarvi’s hell-for-leather pacing simply won’t do; moreover the engineers once again misfire, all but burying the evocative low gong in the mix. Until Sony brings back the Kostelanetz, you can’t go wrong with Geoffrey Simon, whose pair of CDs for Cala (Jan/Feb 1994) has since been reissued in different groupings (Sept/Oct 2007). Charles Munch’s monaural recording may be found alongside the Beethoven Ninth in EMI’s series “Great Conductors of the 20th Century” (May/June 2003, p 163). Or you can get the whole thing (all 43:39 of it) from Francis Travis on Mr Parsons’s recommended Chandos that also includes the Suite Algerienne (Mar/Apr 2001); Jarvi settles for the closing ‘Marche Militaire Française’, but I’d stick with Paray for that. Anyone familiar with Khachaturian’s opulent Spartacus ballet—let alone Alex North’s trenchant soundtrack for the Kirk Douglas sword-and-sandals epic—would doubtless have no idea the rather rambling essay heard here had anything to do with the doomed slave revolt and its emphatic suppression by the Roman army; Saint-Saens’s narrative often seems closer to Dukas’s Polyeucte, at least until the Romans march past the reviewing stand at the close. Annotator Roger Nichols’s assessment of the march as “rather square” hardly strays far from the mark, and Jarvi’s leaden tempo doesn’t help; still, this will do if you can’t find Jean-Jacques Kantorow’s well-nigh definitive account for BIS (Mar/Apr 2002), in turn far superior to his turgid earlier account for EMI (Jan/Feb 1997). The “little barcarolle” Une Nuit a Lisbon tossed off by Saint-Saens for King Luis of Portugal is an attractive trifle that Jarvi treats in somewhat breezy fashion; on Adda Laurent Petitgirard (Jan/Feb 1992) adopts a more dreamy tempo and also benefits from much better string tone than Kantorow’s wiry band on yet another EMI (Sept/Oct 1994)—and I’d choose his Suite in D over Kantorow’s too. That leaves the Coronation March, written in 1902 for His Majesty Edward VII, yet (we’re told in the notes) incorporating a 16th Century air from his opera Henry VIII that particularly amused Queen Victoria. At Jarvi’s upbeat September/October 2012 tempo there seems more pomp than circumstance. I have it with band on two LPs, from Desiré Dondeyne and the Gardiens de la Paix de Paris and the Carabinieri Band under Fantini, both of whom adopt a more noble tempo. I’d hoped for better from Jarvi, but the expected high quality of both ensemble and sound isn’t enough to recommend this one unless you simply want to fill a gaping hole in your Saint-Saens collection and don’t want to be bothered seeking out more sympathetic performances. Certainly if this is the only way you’re likely to experience Jeunesse d’Hercules or Princesse Jaune it will suffice; but veteran collectors will want more. HALLER S AINT-SAENS: Symphony 1; Cello Concerto 1; La Muse et le Poete Pavel Gomziakov, vc; Augustin Dumay, v; Kansai Philharmonic/ Augustin Dumay & Sachio Fujioka Onyx 4091—64 minutes Among the miraculous first symphonies in the literature, alongside Brahms, Mahler, Shostakovich, and so many others, we also need to include Saint-Saens, even though there’s actually an even earlier unnumbered Symphony in A that turns up now and then. Upon incredulously reading through the score, François Seghers, the conductor of the Societé SainteCecile, quickly realized no one would ever believe a young of man of 18 could write such an accomplished work; and so he listed it in the program as a symphony by an unknown composer, possibly a German. That seems impossible to imagine today: from first note to last it delights us with Gallic elegance, plangent scoring for the woodwinds and harp, and above all that quality the French call joie de vivre. It ends with a glorious march—the composer calls for two cornets, two saxhorns, and three trombones and doubles the harp complement from two to four. In attendance at the premiere was Hector Berlioz, who could scarcely fail to notice the striking resemblance of the insouciant Marche-Scherzo to the ‘March of the Pilgrims’ from his own Harold in Italy—nor for that matter the echoes of his Symphonie Funebre et Triomphale in the tense buildup to the final Allegro maestoso. On finding out to his great astonishment that this was in fact the work of a Frenchman then only 18, he became a life-long friend and supporter of Saint-Saens. Certainly the best way out is to buy the Martinon set of all five Saint-Saens symphonies from EMI (July/Aug 1999), but someone who already has the Organ Symphony and just wants 1 will find this new Onyx an excellent choice on several counts. The Kansai players sound every bit as good as their Tokyo col- American Record Guide leagues under Dumay, who’s currently their music director; tempos are superbly judged, and Osaka’s Izumi Hall offers a gratifying blend of clarity and warmth. Dumay surges ahead in the opening movement, yet always allows Saint-Saens’s ardent phrasing room to breathe; the Kansai winds are captivating and light as a feather in the Marche-Scherzo, and fluid tempos in the Adagio soothe the soul. Dumay is very close to Martinon in the great striding march, yet this sinew soon gives way to a mercurial fugue before the entire expanded brass section fairly explodes in shards of metallic tone. The EMI engineers managed to bring out the harp arpeggios in the final bars more clearly for Martinon, but this new Onyx is still one of the best recordings around if all you’re looking for is the First Symphony. I’d still also recommend the Arte Nova with Ivan Anguelov and his very fine Bratislava ensemble (Nov/Dec 2001); he offers as coupling Bizet’s Roma—also very winningly set forth. That makes a far more compelling discmate than the Cello Concerto heard here, which I’m sure you already have in your collection. That’s nothing against Pavel Gomziakov, though I did find his heavy breathing rather distracting—couldn’t the engineers have pulled back the mike? Why didn’t Dumay go with another of Saint-Saens’s symphonies instead? La Muse et la Poete is a lovely piece that hasn’t been recorded that often, in essence a rarified dialog between violin (the Muse) and cello (the Poet). Dumay is the violinist, and he’s ably replaced on the podium by the principal conductor of the Kansai Philharmonic, Sachio Fujioka. I detected a bit of an edge to Dumay’s violin—indeed, he veers toward piercing in the uppermost octaves—but this is a very good performance, though not on a level with Geoffrey Simon’s “dream team” of Stephanie Chase and Robert Truman for Cala (Jan/Feb 1994; Sept/Oct 2007). Other recordings of Saint-Saens’s First Symphony are out there, and I hope you can still find the Koss with Catherine Comet (koMAY) and the Grand Rapids Symphony (Nov/Dec 1997). She finds a buoyancy and optimism in the finale that make Martinon seem almost pompous; what’s more, the Koss engineers absolutely nail that whimsical touch near the close where the clarinetist goes utterly mad—it’s all but buried both here and on the EMI. It’s coupled with 2, as are Inbal on PentaTone (Jan/Feb 2006) and Prêtre on Erato (Sept/Oct 1992)—neither of which can approach Comet. HALLER 163 SAINT-SAENS: Piano Pieces 2 Geoffrey Burleson Grand Piano 605—54 minutes The complete solo piano works of this composer would ordinarily fill four discs. The Vox Box with Marylene Dosse has five, but that includes the two-piano pieces, along with the Carnival of the Animals. Beyond that, to my knowledge, no other pianist has attempted a complete set, though there are other recordings of the Etudes and miscellaneous piano pieces. I missed the first volume of this series, and it appears to have not been reviewed in this journal. Geoffrey Burleson is very much attuned to the stylistic requirements of this music and has the technique to bring it off. Included are the Allegro d’apres le 3e Concerto, Op. 29; Suite, Op. 90; Allegro appassionato, Op. 70; Theme Varié, Op. 97; and Six Fugues, Op. 161. No one would make any great claims for Saint-Saens’s solo piano music. The French master was a thorough professional, and all of the piano music is skillfully written and falls gratefully on the ear; but, like Tchaikovsky’s solo keyboard music, these pieces remain mostly on the surface without attempting much depth. Still, there should be room in this world for music of this much charm and facile energy. Given the low price for the Vox Box, and Dosse’s poetically beautiful playing, I cannot see anyone preferring this newcomer or wanting to replace their older set. Even in terms of recorded sound, the excellence of the current issue is outclassed by the rich bass and depth of the Vox recording. The pianist’s notes are very good. BECKER S ALMENHAARA: Violin Sonata; Cello Sonatas; 3 Night Scenes Raymond Cox, v; Laura Bucht, vc; Jouni Somero, p FC 9727—67 minutes Erkki Salmenhaara (1941-2002) was a Finnish composer who began writing in a “contemporary” idiom (he studied with Kokkonen and Ligeti) but soon abandoned fragmentation and atonality and began adopting—gradually and uncertainly—more tonal and traditional procedures in his music. Not a lot of his music has been recorded, though his first two piano sonatas came out on LP, and there’s a program of orchestral pieces on Ondine 1031 (Jan/Feb 2005). FC Records issued a disc with his complete piano music (he wrote four piano sonatas) in 2004, and now follows that with this new collection of four violin-piano and 164 cello-piano duos, all most likely first recordings. These date from 1969 to 1982. The First Cello Sonata, though finished in 1969, was begun a decade earlier, when the composer was still a teenager, and clearly shows Kokkonen’s influence. It’s craggy, austere, contrapuntal, and chromatic (but not astringent), with long, sometimes ornamented melodic lines spun out over steady-pulsed ostinatos. The work is tightly unified—audibly derived from a single motive cell—and the mood serious but impersonal in an identifiably “Nordic” manner. Though beholden to his teacher, this is a well made and, if you respond to the idiom, enjoyable work. Three Night Scenes for violin and piano, from 1970, show the composer having renounced all indebtedness to Kokkonen and adopted a much more luxuriant, indeed postimpressionist, harmonic idiom. Counterpoint and motive are no longer in evidence; instead the piano plays lush, slow-moving harmonies in arpeggios or in repeated chords under the violin’s sustained, song-like incantations. The music is (as you’d expect) nocturnal and atmospheric, the tempos of all three movements (‘Night Birds’, ‘Moonlight’, and ‘Chaconne’) stately. By 1982, when Salmenhaara wrote his Violin Sonata and Second Cello Sonata, his language had retrogressed all the way back to the more garish environs of the 19th Century’s fin de siecle. This openly and crudely “neo-romantic” music is pretty taken in short stretches, with singable melodies and pleasant, unthreatening harmonies; but it’s dumbeddown: sentimental, predictable, and repetitive. No good composer of any era or any style should be this complacent and conventional. Real romantics (whether Schubert or Samuel Barber) are also self-critical craftsmen who constantly test the limits of their invention and imagination, and they don’t “write down” to their audience. Salmenhaara’s “romanticism” is cheap, clumsy, and fake; it finally debases the very style it purports to emulate. Uncritical listeners may enjoy the later pieces, but I’ll return to this only for the early First Cello Sonata. Performances and sonics, though neither the last word in refinement, are good enough. LEHMAN SCARLATTI: 2-Harpsichord Sonatas Elena Modena, Ilario Gregoletto Newton 8802116—47 minutes Here are five sonatas of Domenico Scarlatti played on two harpsichords. The pieces are drawn from the nine sonatas in Scarlatti’s output that were intended for treble instrument September/October 2012 and continuo. Harpsichordists Gregoletto and Modena’s arrangement is in the spirit of baroque music-making; transcription was a popular and prevalent practice in the 17th and 18th centuries. Francesco Geminiani’s “harpsichord” pieces, for instance, are actually transcriptions from the composer’s violin and orchestral works. Gregoletto is presented as the “concertante” harpsichordist and Modena as the “basso continuo” player. In reality this arrangement is not as simple as concertante versus continuo. Since the solo and continuo are the same instrument the players risk on the one hand blending incoherently into one another’s sound and, on the other, getting in each other’s way. Gregoletto and Modena strike a fine balance in their performance. Modena imitates melodies without intruding. Gregoletto allows himself to be led by the basso continuo. Modena, the improvising player, implements a variety of devices to support and comment on the soloist’s part. She introduces slow and fast arpeggios in order to sustain or subdue the sound. She plays in thirds with the melody and even in canon sometimes, as in the opening of the Sonata in D minor, K 90. The harmonies and syncopated figures in the Andante Moderato of the Sonata in G minor, K 88, bring to mind K 30, the socalled ‘Cat’s Fugue’. In that movement Modena’s contrapuntal improvisation is subtle and quietly compelling. This release is a notable feat of imagination. For listeners interested in pursuing the rich world of harpsichord-solo-harpsichordcontinuo duos, turn to Skip Sempe’s superb disc of Scarlatti sonatas (Paradizo), where he is joined by the virtuoso harpsichordist Olivier Fortin in four works originally written for solo harpsichord. KATZ SCHMELZER: Sonatas & Balletts Freiburg Baroque Consort Harmonia Mundi 902087—63 minutes This is a lovely recording of some first-rate music by one of the great masters of the early German baroque (c. 1620-80). The sonatas and balletts on this program capture so well the spirit of the stile moderno that one need look no further for better examples of the German Italianate style. If I didn’t know better, I would have identified this as a recording by Savall’s band Hesperion XXI. Freiburg Baroque’s polish, exciting tempos and improvised percussion gives them an edge that reminds me of the Spanish ensemble. The program is laden with virtuosity and deep affection. The 12 sonatas and balletts themselves are essentially dance suites, some- American Record Guide times including variations on well-known songs. Half of the drama in these pieces comes from rhythmic drive, the rest from the melodic and harmonic invention of soloists and continuo through their imitation of bird song, brass, guitars, and the like. English notes. LOEWEN SCHNITTKE: Violin Sonata 1; Stille Musik; Stille Nacht; A Paganini; Moz-Art; Preludium In Memoriam Shostakovich Ordabek Dussien, Vladimir Dyo, Tigran Shiganyan, v; Iskander Zakirov, p; Ildar Khuziakhmetov, vc Blue Griffin 242—60 minutes I always considered “Schnittke” an appropriate name for this composer, because so much of his music involves elements of collage: he likes to take tiny “cuts” from different pieces and put them together. He uses a full range of techniques in his music, and he has compositional technique aplenty. Schnittke demands a lot from string players who play his music, and the violinists and cellist here rise admirably to the huge leaps, fast passages in harmonics, quarter tones, and difficult double-stops that often involve harmonics. The music here ranges from the comical to the impressive. The entertaining music includes Schnittke’s setting of ‘Silent Night’, where the solo violin is “visited” by odd soft dissonances in the piano that sound like impossible double-stops, and the violin ends the piece by bowing while tuning his G string peg all the way down until there is nowhere else to go. It sounds like Schnittke could have written the piece dedicated to Paganini by taking a book of Paganini Caprices, cutting the pages into little pieces, and assembling those fragments into a plausible (though often obtuse) musical narrative. In the process he manages to throw in snippets from other parts of the violin literature (I detected a bit of Ravel’s Tzigane and some bits of Bach). The piece is interesting and very well played, but 15 minutes is a bit long for this kind of thing. Moz-Art for two violins is similar, yet different. The basis for the piece is a surviving single part of a violin duet that Mozart abandoned. Sometimes Schnittke treats the fragment bitonally, sometimes he treats it tonally, and sometimes he brings other bits of Mozart into play. Stille Musik is a violin and cello duet that explores dissonance and texture. The dissonances and textures are not always pretty, but the odd double stops are played as well as they can be played. The Praeludium is a serious violin duet that Schnittke wrote in November of 1975, a 165 few months after Shostakovich died. It was originally written for violin and taped violin (with the taped violin sound coming from back stage), and the theatrical effect is lost on a recording. The liner notes mention that it is filled with all sorts of references to the pitches BACH and DSCH, and takes advantage of the C natural and the B. I hear a lot of play on the interval of a half step, with quarter tones popping in occasionally. The Schnittke piece I like best here is the sonata that he wrote in 1963 for Mark Lubotsky. It’s Russian to the core, with a huge range of colors, from the darkest Prokofieff to the lightest Shostakovich. The movements are short, yet they are very substantial. The piano playing is very impressive here, and Shiganyan’s violin playing is impressive everywhere. It is no easy task to play this music, and it is a pleasure to hear it played so well. dle that the ear is overwhelmed attempting to sort them all out. It’s not cacophony but romantic overload. The recording, from January and February 2010 performances at the Chemnitz Opera, is spectacular. Clarity and immediacy of recorded sound are a huge plus. It aids the ear in sorting through all the orchestral outbursts, effusions, and complexities. It is kind of fun relistening to the recording, because the ear invariably uncovers musical felicities not heard earlier. Zwerg and Dreissig are most vivid in voice and characterization. The rest of the large cast adds to the brilliance. A German-English libretto is included. FINE SCHUMANN: Adagio & Allegro; Fantasy Pieces; 5 Pieces in Folk Style SCHREKER: Der Schmied von Gent Oliver Zwerg (Smee), Undine Dreissig (Frau Smee); Chemnitz/ Frank Beermann CPO 777 647 [2CD] 128 minutes I seem to becoming the resident authority on Franz Schreker (1878-1934). In July/August I reported on two of his operas, Der Ferne Klang and Irrelohe. Both had previously graced my sound system: Klang in November/December 2000 and Irrelohe in May/June 1996. That may seem like a lot of Schreker, but it is not such a bad thing. I would not term Schreker a great composer, but one who is capable of staging some melodramatics in a kind of expressionistic romanticism not meant for the audience to hum along, but to capture the atmosphere of the usually gloomy situation. It is a version of Viennese modernism a la Zemlinsky and Korngold with touches of Berg, Schoenberg, and Webern. And he does it very well. Schmied is the last of Schreker’s nine operas. Composed 1929-32, it was first performed at the German Opera, Berlin October 29, 1932. The opera’s source is one of Charles de Coster’s 1857 “Flemish Legends: Smetse Smee”. Schreker called it a “Grosse Zauberoper”. As such it is lighter in its heavy-duty dramatics than the composer’s earlier operas— lighter in plot if not in musical construction and romantic outpourings. In an attempt to return to his popularity of earlier days Schreker composed a folk opera for gloomy times. It is the straightforward story of a blacksmith who makes a pact with the devil. Schreker introduces music akin to Weinberger’s Schwanda with its polka and fugue, waltzes and marches, and a wealth of folk tunes. But Schreker wraps them up in a huge orchestration and ties them into such an elaborate bun- 166 PARSONS SCHREKER: Prelude to a Drama; see RIMSKY SCHUBERT: Arpeggione Sonata; Suren Bagratuni, vc; Jen-Ru Sun, p Blue Griffin 243—57 minutes This is played by Armenian-born Bagratuni and Taiwanese pianist Sun with commendable warmth at tempos that tend to be lively and intense. These readings seem not particularly poetic in effect initially, but then one finds that both players do feel the music where it counts, phrasing together with beauty and variety. What at first appeared to be matter-of-fact turns out to be only one side of a rather large and varied coin. I have heard performances that sounded more thoroughly idiomatic, but these artists end by convincing me of their love for this beautiful music. The recording is close up and full-toned. D MOORE SCHUBERT: Octet Fibonacci Sequence Deux-Elles 1145—61 minutes Here’s a recording that has it all! Tuning, intonation, and accuracy are perfect. In the opening movement a living pulse quickens the floating, dancing musicality. The melody line is always clear, but subsidiary lines are perfectly placed because of their clipped rhythmic upbeat, tone colors, and character. Even with the repeat of the exposition, which is played even fresher the second time, the movement never seems long. The players have a superb grasp of form—one big arch. In the Adagio (II) both pacing and pulse immediately define a celestial atmosphere. Balances between the clarinet (melody) and first violin made me hold my breath as they arched their way through long heavenly phrases. What an ear for harmony these players have! How they sustain the long line and main- September/October 2012 tain a very slow adagio without acceleration creep! The Scherzo (III) dances and waltzes. Even with all the repeats (they take all the repeats in all the movements), the music is constantly fresh, a joy each time it’s heard. The Andante (IV) theme begins not just with a nice ambling, walking pace but gait. The inter-relationships of tempos between the variations are ideal but not exaggerated. All the instrumental colors keep the music fresh; woodwinds and strings link together seamlessly. Each variation takes on a character or style of its own, yet they’re all linked together into a whole—once again, a solid grasp of form. Variation 6, the treble one, is simply ethereal. Here is consummate music-making and style. After the beautifully played Minuet (V), the introduction to the finale (VI) is positively eerie, with light tremolo played very close to the bridge, followed by an Allegro that is jaunty without rushing, the perfect prelude to the final acceleration with furious 16th triplets played with articulation and style one has to hear to believe. Thanks to mellow, perfectly balanced engineering, it can all be heard, from the round low tones of the string bass to the highest pitches. The Fibonacci Sequence, eight players based in England, are named after Leonardo of Pisa (called Fibonacci), a medieval mathematician “whose sequence of numbers occurs all through the natural world in flower pedals, tree branches, spirals, and many more complex ways. The relationship of the numbers is connected to the Golden Section, held by many to determine the most harmonious proportions of art and music.” I have no idea what that means, but it is a perfect description of how these eight geniuses make music together. Here’s a rare recording where not a measure of music has been misjudged. If only I had heard this performance decades ago, it wouldn’t have taken until now for me to finally fall in love with this work. FRENCH SCHUBERT: Piano Sonatas in E, A, A minor Michelangelo Carbonara Piano Classics 34—72 minutes This pianist has an unexpectedly weighty discography for his age: he’s recorded all of Ravel’s piano music for Brilliant and has a double CD of Scarlatti Sonatas. But I had not heard of him, and ARG had not written about him. On the surface, he has a very attractive studio sound, achieved largely through a light, liquid touch. He shapes the music mostly through volume shifts and a bit of basic rubato. The piano he’s chosen is extremely bright and warm. American Record Guide Though it would seem there is ostensibly little to complain about, I did not at all enjoy this. His straight-ahead, brisk approach to Schubert seems to miss the point of the music. This is very much the case in I of the Sonata in E, a juvenile work that must be played carefully to squeeze out the few tidbits that actually carry meaning. (It is not, by the way, the basic arpeggios and scales that fill the phrases but rather the pregnant pauses that are placed between them.) In II, Carbonara attains a beautiful sound. The tempos are too mechanical, though, both in the melancholy refrain and the first episode, a miniature in G that should soar. It is disappointing to hear him play this inspired music in such a deadpan manner. Similar too-fast tempos plague I of the “little” A-major Sonata and its finale. In the A-minor Sonata, only IV is capable of generating excitement: most of the attacks—with the unfortunate exception of the unison sol-misol-do gestures in the closing area—are meaty and aggressive enough. III is too legato and soft-edged, though; and I is so gentle and under tempo that in many places it becomes downright boring. AUERBACH SCHUBERT: Quartets 13+14 Endellion Quartet—Warner 66423—74 minutes These two quartets are probably Schubert’s most popular, and there are several excellent recordings available of each (Overview, N/D 2003). I’d add these fine performances by the Endellion Quartet to the list; they were recorded in 1996 in London in very good sound. The performances are beautifully balanced so that every instrumental line can easily be heard, their tone is superb and never coarse, and their interpretations are quite dramatic, for instance in Quartet 14 (Death and the Maiden). Tempos are conventional but strictly adhered to, notably in fast movements like the finale of Death and the Maiden. It’s marked Presto and that’s how these young folks play it. Similar comments apply to Quartet 13 (Rosamunde). The Rosamunde theme, while beautifully played, is not emphasized, and its performance is not sentimentalized; there’s a bit of restraint, which I like. The tempos for the minuet and the finale seem slower than in other performances but neither is extreme. The finale, in fact, is marked “allegro moderato” and this performance is, indeed, “moderato”. The performance doesn’t have the great dynamic range of its discmate; it’s more lyrical. It works quite well. There are no notes or bios of the players, and I wondered what “Endellion” means. Still, I’d recommend this. MOSES 167 SCHUBERT: Schwanengesang; Piano Sonata in B-flat Matthias Goerne, bar; Christoph Eschenbach, p Harmonia Mundi 902139 [2CD] 111 minutes Goerne has clearly established himself at the apex of current lieder interpreters, but even his reputation did not prepare me to be astonished by the emotional weight and drama of this account of Schwanengesang. Here is a reading to make you sit up and really pay attention to Schubert’s amazing collection of songs. Right from the start, it is clear that something extraordinary is taking place. ‘Liebesbotschaft’ sets the tone of longing with a gentle and wistfully reflective plea to the brook to carry a message to his beloved. ‘Kriegers Ahnung’ builds on the theme as a soldier sings to his comrades of how he misses his beloved. While Schubert did not intend these songs as a cycle, there is a cumulative tenor of disconsolation in the ordering of the songs; and this theme of restless longing continues through the seven Rellstab songs plus ‘Herbst’, interpolated between ‘Aufenthalt’ and ‘In der Ferne’. The songs express increasing sadness and discontent before ‘Abschied’ presents a traveler putting on a happy face while leaving the town he has loved. The tone of the songs takes a dramatic turn toward bitterness and depression with the next six Heine songs: thunderous rage at carrying sadness as heavy as the weight of the world (‘Der Atlas’), quietly despondent remembrance of love lost (‘Ihr Bild’ and ‘Die Stadt’), longing for someone to take the risk of loving him (‘Das Fischermädchen’), abject sadness and anger (‘Am Meer’), and finally reaching the verge of madness (‘Der Doppelgänger’). Up to this point the songs seem very much like a cycle, and Goerne and Eschenbach in fact ended a performance of Schwanengesang at this point in a recital at Salle Pleyel in Paris on May 11, 2012. The cobbling together of this set by the publisher places the setting of Seidl’s ‘Die Taubenpost’, probably Schubert’s final song, at the conclusion, completely changing the mood with what Graham Johnson calls in his Hyperion essay “a song by someone who accepts the status quo with a smile and a rueful sigh. To be in love with love, to have a guiding star, however distant, is better than to be gloomy and cynical.” Looking at this collection of songs from the point of view of Kübler-Ross’s stages of grief (denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance), it is easy to see those stages here (except bargaining), ending with something resembling acceptance. What is especially striking about this reading is the slow tempos, consistently slower song by song than a half dozen recordings I 168 checked. At 6:26 their approach to ‘Der Doppelgänger’ has got to be the slowest you’ll ever hear, and it is in striking contrast to the 4:23 timing of his earlier Decca recording of a 2003 Wigmore Hall performance with Brendel that Paul Althouse reviewed favorably (S/O 2005). The timing for most singers is in that fourminute range. It is the most absolutely shattering rendition that captures perfectly the haunted stillness of the night. With magnificent soft singing, Goerne reduces his voice to a whisper that still fully supports his vocal richness without becoming breathy and produces an eerie spectral quality, then raising his voice to a fever pitch as he howls at the figure who manifests his wretchedness. This performance has astounding vocal control, coloring, and dynamics. Equal credit here goes to Eschenbach, whose attention to detail in these songs is probing and beautifully articulated—as for example in the moving line in the last verse of ‘Kriegers Ahnung’ that comes across better than any recording on a modern concert grand. A bonus CD is included of Eschenbach playing Schubert’s final Piano Sonata in B-flat. Again the performance is strikingly slow. The first movement at 21:13 is not as slow as Richter (24:34) but much slower than Brendel (15:05). The second movement at 13:24 is even more controversial; hardly anyone takes longer than 10 minutes. The good news is that the tempos sound right, and Eschenbach explores the sonata with illuminating attention to detail. Spatially the sound is just about perfect: it is intimate but not uncomfortably close, a full-bodied and rich-textured tapestry of sound. If you want readings of Schwanengesang and the sonata that offer distinct interpretations, you will find that here. No lover of Schubert will want to miss this. A fine essay by Christoph Ghristi connects the valedictory song ‘Die Taubenpost’ with the final sonata. Full texts and translations side by side. R MOORE SCHUBERT: Quartet 14; see KERNIS SCHULHOFF: Piano Pieces Adrian Ruiz—Genesis 119—73 minutes The Genesis label was known, back in the last days of vinyl, for its unusual late romantic repertory. Many of us had at least a few recordings from this company and treasured them— even replaced them, when they were reissued on CD. I don’t recall having seen this one before, though parts of it were issued back in 1982. Jules Schulhoff (1825-98) was born in Prague, studied with several of the greats from September/October 2012 that area, and eventually ventured forth to Paris where he met Chopin among others. The booklet quotes from Chopin’s praise for the young pianist as well as praise from composercritic Henri Blanchard. It is not too surprising to find that the music reflects heavily the influence of both Chopin and late Hummel. Do not confuse him with 20th Century composer Erwin Schulhoff, his great-nephew. With the Sonata in F minor, Op.37 we are transported immediately to a world of imagination and total mastery. Yes, many of the passages and figurations speak clearly of Chopin, but they are none the worse for that. The clarity of the writing and beauty of the Andante put us immediately at ease and assure that we are in the hands of a master— if not always of the first rank, certainly not far behind. The Caprice sur des Airs Bohemiens, Op.10 is pure virtuosity, designed to impress, and most certainly accomplishes that with flying colors, especially in the hands of Ruiz. Six Etudes from Op.13 could almost come from another set of Chopins. They transcend the realm of mere studies and have both harmonic and melodic interest. They are also devilish to play, and would certainly enhance the recital programs of any pianist up to the task. All of the remaining pieces are shorter salon works. If they remind one of early Chopin, Liszt, and Gottschalk they have endless charm and require a pianist who is willing to take the challenges in stride. Titles such as Polonaise, Mazurka, Elegie, Impromptu, and Berceuse give an idea as to their content. Several photographs of Schulhoff plus two of Ruiz contribute much to our appreciation of both composer and interpreter. The sound is very good, and the notes are both interesting and thorough. BECKER SCHULHOFF: Sextet; see STRAUSS S CHUMANN: Fairy Tale Pictures; Fairy Tales; Fantasy Pieces; 3 Romances; Adagio & Allegro; Violin Sonata 1 Nash Ensemble Hyperion 67923—79 minutes The music here covers an especially fruitful period for Schumann beginning in 1849 when he began to extend the world of the miniature character piece and cycles of such pieces explored so creatively in his piano music into chamber music. Apart from the A-minor Violin Sonata, the music effectively explores instrumental combinations beyond the traditional strings or strings and piano Schumann had so written for in 1842. The appeal and also marketability of these miniatures was improved by Schumann issuing versions substituting violin American Record Guide or clarinet for oboe, violin or cello for horn or clarinet, and violin for viola. The Nash Ensemble presents these pieces with the composer’s first choice of instrumentation, and the results are truly gratifying. These much-acclaimed musicians, the resident chamber group at London’s Wigmore Hall, reveal a wealth of subtle beauties in these pieces with their moments of free counterpoint, their transparent textures, character contrasts, and interwoven themes. Richard Watkins’s horn playing is lyricism itself in the Adagio and Allegro. Violist Lawrence Power and pianist Ian Brown maintain a wonderfully expressive pianissimo and decrescendo in the melancholy fourth Märchenbilder. The clarity of the polyphonic interplay between Richard Hosford’s clarinet and the piano in Op. 73 beautifully reveals the delights of Schumann’s craft. I’ve never been particularly moved by the three oboe Romances until now, hearing them in the whole context of the composer’s chamber miniatures. Unlike the other sets of pieces here, they have a consistent intimacy and unity of mood that only subtly but effectively varies in each piece. For any listeners with doubts about the quality of late Schumann compositions, the Nash players’ reading of the 1853 Fairy Tales makes a strong case for his continued ability to create whole musical worlds on an intimate and miniature scale. It is splendid to have all these works assembled on a single release and performed with a uniformly perceptive and engaging spirit. The inclusion of the First Violin Sonata here is a bonus. Here we return to Schumann’s work in more traditional chamber music formats. The smoldering sweep of I is evocative of the opening movement of the composer’s First Trio, though II and III could easily fit among his character pieces. These are all truly brilliant and intelligent performances and will hold a prominent place in my Schumann collection. JD MOORE S CHUMANN: Fantasy, op 17; RACHMANINOFF: Etudes-Tableaux, op 39 Alexander Drozdov, p Quintone 10008 70 minutes Drozdov combines two major works from the early and late romantic period quite effectively. I can’t recall ever seeing this combination, but the two masterpieces work well together. Schumann called his Fantasy (dedicated to Liszt) the most passionate music he had ever written. Liszt was impressed, and in thanks he dedicated his Piano Sonata to Schumann. I find the opening of the Schumann one of the most recognizable of all the composer’s major works. Drozdov’s performance of the entire 169 work has given me many hours of enjoyable listening over the past month. He captures all the turbulence and passion of the first movement. The middle movement with its noble theme and all of the dotted march rhythms so characteristic of Schumann never loses sight of the musical gestures, even in the notorious final pages, where the leaps cause many a pianist to miss bunches of notes (even Horowitz). His pacing of the slow final movement builds to a gorgeous climax and then fades away into peace and tranquillity. Is one of the best modern recordings of one of Schumann’s greatest piano works. Rachmaninoff’s second set of EtudesTableaux is generally considered one of the greatest of his piano works. With a difficulty level rivaling Liszt’s Transcendental Etudes, it is no easy feat to give as convincing a performance of the entire set as Drozdov does. As in the Schumann, there is a strong emphasis on the bass line that is quite welcome. Sometimes it becomes a little overbearing, as in the first Etude. All of the right hand figuration is subordinated to what’s going on in the left. It does give a new perspective that seems to work well. The second Etude is one I have played, and I always wished I could do it like this. Here and there I might wish a voice was brought out more or a tempo a little faster, but overall, these are very satisfying performances. The notes by Drozdov are brief, but perceptive, and the piano sound is quite good. HARRINGTON S CHUMANN: Papillons; Intermezzos, op 4; Romances, op 28; Incidental Pieces Florian Uhlig, p—Hänssler 646—75 minutes My initial impression of Uhlig’s playing registered his technical strength and emotional coolness (Nov/Dec 2010). The quality of this release has caused me to warm incrementally towards him: I am now more impressed with his precision and control and am better able to discern emotion in the subtle shadings of his dynamics and attacks. There are only three medium-sized works included on this program. The first, Papillons, opens with an easy charm. Uhlig has agile hands that deploy strength when needed and nicely pointed staccatos that never chop off the sound. As I noted last time, his smooth touch often ventures into the territory of glassiness, which means listeners will never swoon at his playing. But it remains smart, intelligent, and sincere in its own way. For example, the harmless winks that follow the fevered opening phrases in Number 9 are mawkish and witty at the same time. The lines in the final movement, a paragon of suavity, are so blended and mild as to transform the 170 whole into a monumental anti-climax. I never appreciated it in that way until spending time with this release. The 6 Intermezzos are nearly as good. The first announces itself with more flair and arm strength than anything that has come before. The second, which opens big enough, is uncorked further when both hands unleash their arpeggios. A somber, tinkling middle section counterbalances the primary idea. The only number that fails to deliver is the last, which emerges as a torrent of uninteresting black notes. Uhlig’s only method of punching up the material is by raising the volume and occasional accents. The smooth veneer never breaks, though, and we listeners are never directly challenged to have a reaction. The Romances from Op. 28 are less impressive. The first is well executed, but repetitive both in construction and interpretation. Though he builds some thick climaxes, the music fails to break out of its initial state (the tempo hardly shifts at all). The second has a beautiful alto melody and a gorgeous overall sound, but feels underplayed because of the thin bass, which is more of a background presence than a proper contributing voice. There are as I said some moments of genuine brilliance here. In the end they are probably too few and far between to merit a purchase, though. As wonderful as Papillons is, it is short. The other works are not masterpieces. The 15 miniatures—intermezzos, marches, and waltzes—may be necessary to realize this project’s goal of “recording it all”, but for the common listener they amount to so much chaff. (There is perhaps only one exception in this respect: the burlap fragment in G minor from 1833 is a whirring, dark beauty). To combat this problem, the label should compress more major works together on later releases and assemble all the fragments on appendix discs. AUERBACH S CHUMANN: Piano Concerto; Introduc- tion & Allegro Appassionato; Introduction & Allegro Angela Hewitt, German Symphony Berlin/ Hannu Lintu—Hyperion 67885—62 minutes with Konzertstück in F Gerhard Oppitz, Bamberg Symphony/ Marc Andreae—Tudor 7181 [SACD] 77 minutes Angela Hewitt’s reading of the concerto is carefully structured and thought out. Too much so. There is little elan or spontaneity in her businesslike approach (III is particularly prosaic), rather like Oleg Marshev (Sept/Oct 2011). She sounds more engaged in the other two works (especially the Introduction and Allegro). But Gerhard Oppitz shapes Schuman- September/October 2012 n’s music like a true romantic; in the concerto his I and III are more passionate than Hewitt’s, his II more alluring. Also the Bamberg orchestra sounds larger and richer than Lintu’s Berlin ensemble. I’d rate Oppitz above Hewitt, Marshev, and Jando (July/Aug 2005) in these three works (we don’t have Serkin’s performances all on one record). Mr Oppitz includes a bonus: an arrangement of Schumann’s Konzertstück (the one starring four French horns) for piano and orchestra. It’s not clear who made the transcription, but it’s not as awkward as I expected. Still I prefer an expert performance of the real thing (Karl Ristenpart comes to mind). The acoustics mirror the interpretations: Hewitt’s audio is detailed and a bit dry, while Oppitz has lush, reverberant sound made even more enveloping via the SACD surround layer. KOLDYS SCHUMANN: Piano Quintet; Piano Quartet Jerusalem Quartet; Alexander Melnikov, p Harmonia Mundi 902122—55 minutes In the days of the LP, I remember having to hunt far and wide for recordings of the Piano Quartet, long overshadowed by the popularity of the structurally more unified and straightforward quintet. That may finally be changing; there are now numerous recordings of this inspired product of Schumann’s so-called “chamber music year” (1842). There is even a resurrected and reconstructed 1829 C-minor Piano Quartet, though I’ve not heard it, recorded by the Trio Parnassus (MDG 3031414). The Op. 47 Quartet affords glimpses of the string quartets Schumann had been studying at the time—by Schubert, Mendelssohn, and especially Beethoven. The opening sostenuto of I is straight from the world of Beethoven’s late quartets, as is its occasional reiteration later in the movement. II is a seriously frenetic response to Mendelssohn’s trademark scherzos. Such allusions and influences abound in both quartet and quintet, and the Jerusalem musicians manage to draw attention to them without overstatement. This is accomplished, mature, and exciting playing by a group that is still relatively young. They have a very clear sense of the contrasting and often blended worlds of expression in these works—Schumann’s dual musical personae, the daring and extroverted Florestan and the intimate and lyrical Eusebius. They play with admirable balance, though sometimes Melnikov’s sound in the upper registers is a bit bright and percussive for my taste. Kyril Zlotnikov’s cello sound is wonderful when it comes to the fore, and he has an exquisite instrument—Jacqueline du Pre’s “Sergio Perresson” cello. JD MOORE American Record Guide SCHUMANN: Piano Sonata 1; Symphonic Etudes; Toccata Nikolai Lugansky Piano Classics 29—68 minutes Lugansky is one of the world-class pianists that has it all in terms of technique, sound, and expression. It’s always possible to quibble with an interpretation here or there, but it is difficult on the whole to do anything but marvel at the artistry of the man who Tatiana Nikolaeva declared would be “The Next One” in the line of great Russian pianists. Here he makes short work of all these lesser masterworks from Schumann. The Symphonic Etudes are delivered as persuasively as the material permits. The first etude begins with taut, explosive energy. The seventh one tops it. The opening percussive chords are doled out with an intensity that few could match, then grow in volume and power from there (the piano sounds as if it had been set aflame). This number leads directly to Variation 4 (track 9), which contains some of the most poignant, beautiful playing on the program. Inside the softly radiant texture—notes appear and vanish across space but always connect—a shy, reluctant melody resists the pull of the lower voices moving in time. Later on in track 13, Variation 2 is pretty enough when it begins, but then the texture begins to rustle. The magical transformation, which renders the mood light and expectant, lifts the soul. All of the remaining numbers in the piece are strong, ranging from a rousing Etude IX played as a true “Presto possibile” to the penultimate Etude XI, a marvelous mix of intelligence and pathos. Lugansky does first-rate work with the Fsharp minor Sonata as well. The melodies in the brief ‘Aria’ (II) tug at the heart. They are understated yet powerful by virtue of effective leans on appoggiatura tones. The gentlest possible chordal attacks pump the blood through the living work. He takes an aggressive approach to III, which robs the A section of a piece of the weightiness I prefer. The first trio section flies, though, and the second one offers a nice contrast of a sturdy polonaise. But the real gem of this performance is IV. This is the most dramatic rendition of the finale you can imagine. In one instant it is legato and fluid, then in the next it crescendos and climbs (and dries out) to an ecstatic local climax. And then, the music crackles further, imparting a climax to the climax. Lugansky’s talent for making the most of every texture is the essential ingredient for unlocking the oft-overlooked spontaneity and exhilaration embedded in the score; in almost everyone else’s hands, the work sounds dull and dead. 171 I have covered most of the high points of the release. None of the other selections are played badly, though there are occasional duds. In Op. 13, Etude VI has massive, intense tones that render it impersonal, and VIII meanders. The real problem is I of the sonata, which not even this pianist can redeem. The introductory fantasy is an unimaginative work, reminiscent of Chopin but lacking the necessary contrapuntal complexity. In the later allegro, the primary theme sounds like a bad rhythm exercise, and the secondary one feels like a product of forced lyricism. I am still waiting to hear a convincing performance of this movement. But what I have heard up to this point inclines me to pose a question: if a pianist of this caliber is unable to redeem this movement, is it really worth saving? AUERBACH S CHUMANN: Symphonies 3+4; WAGNER: Flying Dutchman Overture London Symphony/ Yondani Butt Nimbus 6163—79 minutes “Brilliant imagination and dramatic command”...”verve and accurate color”—just two of the effusive complements paid to Yondani Butt in the booklet. What were these guys smoking? Butt’s hyper tempos ruined many of the recordings he made for ASV, including the Rimsky-Korsakoff Third Symphony, Liszt’s Ce Qu’on Entend sur la Montagne and Tchaikovsky’s Tempest; even worse, here he goes to the opposite extreme, trudging through these works of Schumann and Wagner so dispiritedly I wished I could ask the man on the podium “Who are you, and what have you done with Yondani Butt?” The Flying Dutchman’s vessel must have struck a sand bar; Senta’s strain is painfully stiff and the rest of it no better, dreary and dismal from first note to last. Even by Klemperer’s standards this is too slow. And either Paray or Bernstein would be a much better choice in the Schumann symphonies. Yondani Butt’s turgid Rhenish rather suggests something dredged up from the bottom of the Rhine, but that’s nothing compared to 4: my jaw hit the floor on hearing his impossibly leaden account of the finale—so slow that apparently there wasn’t any room for the repeat. Paray doesn’t take the repeat either, but I’d rather listen to his fiery monaural recording than anything the Nimbus engineers can muster. I took a lot of notes during each movement, but I’ve already wasted enough time on this dog and so have you. I’m not looking forward to 1 and 2 from Butt, nor any more of his Wagner either. HALLER 172 SCHUMANN: Cello Pieces; see SCHUBERT Quartet 1; see Collections S CHWARZ-SCHILLING: Polonaise; Partita; Violin Concerto Kirill Troussov, v; Weimar Staatskapelle/ Jose Serebrier Naxos 572801—64 minutes Like many another conservative German composer from the first half of the 20th Century, Reinhard Schwarz-Schilling (1904-85) was once reasonably well known in his native land, but pretty much forgotten after World War II when adherence to tonality and tradition were part of a past that most forward-looking German artists wished to repudiate. But as always, fashion and fad have neither judgement nor taste; good and bad art is made in many styles, no matter how trendy or passé at the time. Schwarz-Schilling, as it happens, was a highly gifted and skillful composer who, rather like Pfitzner or Gerhard Frommel (reviewed last issue), wrote superbly crafted and imaginative music, deeply individual in its own way, but not the least au courant. So it’s good to see that Naxos has continued its releases devoted to him. Naxos 570435 came out a few years back, with his Introduction and Fugue for Strings, Sinfonia Diatonica, and Symphony in C, played by the Staatskapelle Weimar under Jose Serebrier. That was excellent. Now the same forces, plus violinist Kirill Troussov, have made another outstanding disc of his 1935 Partita, 1936 Polonaise, and 1953 Violin Concerto. It’s a great pleasure to hear this wonderful music— most of it known to me for many years from earlier—and often inferior—LPs and CDs, here at last beautifully played and vividly recorded. Partita is a half-hour, four-movement assemblage that, as its title suggests, pays homage to 18th Century forms and procedures. As such it sometimes suggests Stravinsky’s re-creations of earlier music, as in the opening, a neo-Bachian ‘Entrata’, though Schwarz-Schilling’s temperament is (as you’d expect) more German and more romantic than Stravinsky’s. Stately it is, yes, but also passionate—in the composer’s always decorous, never hysterical way. The following allegros—a dance and an extended and elaborate rondo finale—are more quicksilvery and make one ponder what a Mozartean divertimento written by Mahler might have sounded like. Between them comes a solemn and broadly sonorous ‘Canzona’. The whole work is scored with notable sensitivity and resourcefulness, with many delicate concertante passages for various groups of solo instruments and much use of brilliant polyphonic interplay (one of the characteristic glories of Schwarz- September/October 2012 Schilling’s music heard consistently in this program). From 1936, the Polonaise is a 6-minute dance on two catchy tunes, one fleet and lithe, the other melodious and lilting. These are presented with contrapuntal interweavings almost kaleidoscopic in their complexity— though the effect isn’t the least bit academic, but rather restless and spooky, lightly tiptoeing twixt mockery and menace. An astonishing piece in its way, and although the composer wrote on the score “unrevised” and “not to be published”, I’m glad his executors ignored his instructions and rescued this charmer from oblivion. (This is its first-ever recording and second-ever performance.) The three-movement Violin Concerto presents elements apparent in the earlier music with the same readily identifiable personality but more subtlety and depth of emotion. The central aria is especially songful and tender, and the final allegro dazzling in its marriage of intricacy and high-spirited virtuosity. An earlier CD of the Concerto, on Thorofon 2018 (May/June 1988, p 18) is also well played, but lacks Naxos’s warmer, airier, more transparent sonics. Given the low price and the other two works on this new release, even collectors with the Thorofon on their shelves might want to get this one too. Another release to consider is Thorofon 2137 (Nov/Dec 1992) with four of Schwarz-Schilling’s chamber pieces, including his 1932 String Quartet in F minor, a work, despite its anachronistic tonal language, of Beethovenian nobility and even profundity. improvised solo material played by Shankar’s sitarist daughter, Anoushka. Much of the music comes across as fully notated orchestral ragas. Phrasings are generated by rhythmic cycles and are usually disposed in hypnotic two-bar units. Melodic material is modal, based on Indian scales, at least one of them invented by the composer. Harmony is static, essentially drones played by the string section. There is no counterpoint in the Western sense—the active voice is purely melodic. It is somewhat unclear whether or not the finished score (orchestration, notation, etc.) is entirely by Shankar: it seems that conductor Murphy had substantial involvement in the project. Whether or not the fusion may be considered effective depends on your expectations and perspective. The music does more than merely take its place among the orchestral exotica so popular in Western music history. “Guilty pleasure” or not, I enjoyed it a lot, but I doubt it can ever attain international repertoire status owing to its requirement of specialized solo instrument, though there is plenty of ethnomusicology today, and it’s entirely possible that talented young practitioners might be able to cut it. Applause included (hysterically enthusiastic after the finale, and I don’t blame them). This should be a hit. LEHMAN Ittai Shapira, v Liverpool Philharmonic/ Neil Thomason; London Serenate/ Krzysztof Chorzelski Champs Hill 32—53 minutes SHANKAR: Symphony Anoushka Shankar, sitar; London Philharmonic/ David Murphy LPO 60—42 minutes People growing up in the 60s remember the name of Ravi Shankar well. George Harrison of the Beatles became associated with him toward the end of the decade, and the combination ignited a memorable fusion between the two cultures, which then became an international fad. The fusion is updated and expanded to the realm of classical orchestral music with this striking release, a concert performance of his 2010 Symphony. Shankar was no stranger to Western classical music, having lived in Paris in the 30s becoming acquainted with many of the luminaries of the time. There is nothing naive or inconsequential here. The work is in the traditional four movements and is set up with the standard movement scheme: Sonata-form-like first movement, songful three-part slow movement, sizzling scherzo, exciting finale. Each movement has a middle section containing American Record Guide GIMBEL SHAPERO: 2-Piano Sonata; see STRAVINSKY SHAPIRA: Violin Concertos I reviewed Mr Shapira’s Concierto Latino (Sept/Oct 2011); while I could praise his virtuosity, I was unmoved by his music. This release (which includes that concerto) offers more of the same, with the exception that the new concerto, The Old Man and the Sea, has slightly better orchestration. I find the music episodic and incoherent, though there are many pleasant melodies. HASKINS SHERWOOD: Piano Concerto 2; see CATOIRE SHOSTAKOVICH: Symphonies 1-3 Netherlands Radio Philharmonic/ Mark Wigglesworth BIS 1603 [SACD] 81 minutes Wigglesworth’s Shostakovich cycle has had its worthy moments, but none of ARG’s reviewers has declared any of the releases stellar, though Brian Buerkle liked 11 (BIS 1583, J/A 2010). I 173 covered the Fourth (BIS 1553, N/D 2009) and found the playing too clean and crisp. I thought the same thing when I first put this record on. The First doesn’t have the emotional appeal (or hilarity) of the Lopez-Cobos (Telarc 80572, S/O 2001) or the Gergiev (Mariinsky 502, N/D 2009). III has as much happening as a ship in the doldrums. Lawrence Hansen noted (N/D 1999) the extremes of tempo and dynamics, and those problems persist—the softs are too soft. I do hear some details for the first time, though, like the violin’s repeated notes over top of the Moussorgsky-like minor theme in II—what Wigglesworth does with that passage is fascinating. Symphony No. 2 is, as the Editor said once, hopeless. Petrenko did such an astounding job with No. 3 (Naxos 572396, J/A 2011) that it’s hard to beat. He convinced me that it could be a serious piece. The Wigglesworth is again too crisp and detached, and it doesn’t overwhelm me the way Petrenko did. Notes in English, German, and French, with lyrics in Russian and English. ESTEP SHOSTAKOVICH: Symphony 15 with Symphony 9 Stuttgart Radio Symphony/ Andrei Boreyko Hänssler 93.284—72 minutes with Symphony 2 Liverpool Philharmonic/ Vasily Petrenko Naxos 572708—67 minutes Wow! Not one but TWO new recordings of Shostakovich’s enigmatic final symphony from two young(ish) Russian conductors. I’d like to go to town with some hardcore compare-andcontrast that would’ve made my English Comp 101 instructor proud, but I can’t manage it. Perhaps I need to live with these recordings a bit longer, but right now I find them very similar. Both conductors whip up some irreverent, mischievous energy in I without really letting go. Neither has particular trouble with the long slow movement, but neither seems to dig very deeply into the music. Both deliver a crisp, snippy III, and they both avoid getting bogged down in IV, though neither seems to find much resolution there. Petrenko is slower in every movement, and by the end of the symphony he’s running more than 4 minutes longer than Boreyko; but the difference is hardly noticeable until you look at the timings. Neither has a decisive advantage over the other in sonics, either. Hänssler offers slightly closer miking with a more “in the orchestra” sound, while Naxos gives a bit more hall ambience, probably closer to what you hear sitting about mid-way back in the theater. Both are well engineered, so no deal-breakers there. Boreyko offers a lively, somewhat mechan- 174 ical run-through of Symphony 9—a decent enough interpretation, unless you’re a picky aficionado (I am, kind of). Petrenko gives a solid, if somewhat bland account of the much less often recorded Symphony 2. 30 years ago, we’d have given quite a bit for this recording of No. 2, but now there are quite a few. So for both releases, the main work is the thing. Solti was flush with the excitement of discovering Shostakovich’s music in the Indian Summer of his career, and gets to the heart of this piece far better in his recording (Sept/Oct 1999). The Cincinnati Symphony and LopezCobos (Sept/Oct 2001) get all of the wit with less of the spikiness; Jansons (May/June 1999) gets more of the spikiness and less of the wit. Jarvi (DG) goes for raw energy, but his orchestra isn’t as refined as Cincinnati or as powerful as Chicago, though his performance has a drive and coherence that Boreyko and Petrenko don’t quite achieve. HANSEN SHOSTAKOVICH: Viola Sonata with GLAZOUNOV: Elegy; TCHAIKOVSKY: Nocturne; Melody; Valse Sentimentale; RACHMANINOFF: Vocalise Gerard Causse, va; Brigitte Engerer, p Mirare 172—58 minutes This recital has a split personality. The first half comprises music by the great Russian romantics Glazounov, Tchaikovsky, and Rachmaninoff, all written in the czarist era. The second half holds the final work by Soviet composer Shostakovich. The pieces by the first three composers are not just from a different era, but they are the products of a different sensibility. The music of the earlier composers sounds freely expressive, the sentiments natural and unforced, the products of men who found at least some satisfaction and beauty in life. The music of the Soviet composer is nervous and filled with dread. It is the work of a man staring in the face of death (Shostakovich died the month after he completed it) who fears death and yet looks back on his life with regret and resentment. Gerard Causse is a very fine violist, with a full, flexible tone and a well-controlled vibrato. He is a relaxed interpreter, and he does a fine job playing the music of the romantics. While I cannot say that I object to anything in his and Brigitte Engerer’s interpretation of Shostakovich, they seem to miss the essential qualities of bitterness, terror, and resignation (not the resignation of one who has come to terms with impending death, but the resignation of a man who feels defeated and powerless) that are the essence of the work. I compared this with my favorite recording of the September/October 2012 piece by Yuri Bashmet and Sviatoslav Richter (July/Aug 1998). If I had never heard Bashmet and Richter, I would say that this is an excellent interpretation. Beginning with the opening bar, however, you feel as though the Russian duo is playing a completely different composition. Bashmet and Richter take you into a different world, a world that no one would really wish to visit. There is nothing wholesome about their interpretation, nothing that could even be termed cathartic. This is the final statement of a man whose life had been a nightmare, a man who had witnessed institutionalized Orwellian doublethink and routine, capricious injustice. Phrases that seemed to mean one thing when played by the French duo reveal a different, much more compelling meaning when played by the Russians. Richter knew Shostakovich, and Bashmet studied with the man Shostakovich wrote the Viola Sonata for: Fyodor Druzhinen, from 1964 to 1988 the violist of the Beethoven Quartet, the quartet that gave the premiere performances of all but two of Shostakovich’s string quartets. Their pedigrees are unimpeachable, but listening to their gripping performance again and again over the years is what has convinced me that they know exactly what the composer wanted to express in this work. I can heartily recommend this for the performances of the Russian romantics, but if you dare to hear the plaint of a condemned yet innocent soul that exists in hopeless dread, Bashmet and Richter are the men, like Dante’s Virgil, who can lead you to him, all the way down this spiral of Hell crafted in sound. MAGIL SHOSTAKOVICH: Violin Concertos Sayaka Shoji; Ural Philharmonic/ Dmitri Liss Mirare 166—68 minutes Shoji is a wisp of a violinist with a studied way of performing. In 1:I she is less emotional than Vengerov (Teldec 92256, M/J 1995); the music sounds like it’s lurking in the background, waiting to do its damage with a bone-chilling sense of calm. The whole movement is a couple shades softer than Vengerov (the volume level itself is a little lower, too). Her tone gets thinner as she gets louder, though. Her sound doesn’t stand out in front of the orchestra the way Vengerov’s does; she has to work a little harder, and some passages start to sound scrappy. The orchestra in the Passacaglia is blunt, and the sound is so dark it’s almost murky; it makes her entrance even more poignant. She really sings in this movement, as far as phrasing and tone, but her intonation gets shaky. In 2, she has a strength (or better placement ahead of the orchestra) that she didn’t in American Record Guide 1. Either way, I is more intense, coming close to searing. Her soliloquy toward the end of the movement is didactic, and the flute solo is world-weary but not ugly. She has a solid grasp on this difficult piece, and it’s a top-notch performance. The orchestra isn’t as polished as many, but it serves the music very well; in the finale of 2, it’s a big, rattling machine. In spite of the drawbacks in the First Concerto, it’s a recording worth having. The sonics are quite good. Notes in English, French, and Japanese. ESTEP SHOSTAKOVICH: Cello Sonata; see RACHMANINOFF SIBELIUS: Symphonies; Finlandia; Karelia; Pohjola’s Daughter; Tapiola; The Bard Birmingham Symphony/ Sakari Orama Warner 66279 [4CD] 286 minutes This is a comprehensive survey of Sibelius’s orchestral compositions. It is a reissue of a set first recorded about 10 years ago. Though I’m closely attentive to the Sibelius discography, I must admit that this item got in under my radar—this is my first encounter with it. Likewise, I had never heard of conductor Sakari Orama, whose name suggests Finnish origins. The Birmingham orchestra is a fine one, though a little behind the LSO, Philharmonia, and BBCSO in the UK pecking order. Research indicates that Orama was chief conductor of the CBSO in the first decade of the century, and has recently been chosen to conduct the BBCSO beginning in 2013. This edition, like most others, has its plusses and minusses. First of all, its four discs go for a relatively low $25. Also, the quality of recorded sound is high. The orchestra is registered with high definition as well as good blend. Symphony 1 is quite good, generally wellconstructed, with good orchestral playing and effective and frequent use of silence—a necessary and meaningful employment not only here but all through the Sibelius repertoire. Gunther Herbig several years ago conducted the Florida Orchestra in the flat-out worst performance of Sibelius 1 I’ve ever heard. Why? Well, it was too loud, flailing and banging its way through the music relentlessly with no hint of the silence of the frozen lakes and forests of the composer’s homeland! This performance (and most of the ones that follow) are fortunately at the other end of this spectrum, contributing seriously—and effectively—to their final resolution. If No. 1 was effective, No. 2 is colossal, with slow tempos and silences that picture the frozen landscapes of the northern latitudes about as well or better than I could imagine, 175 the pregnant pauses as effective as the music itself. At 44 minutes this isn’t the slowest performance around (Barbirolli’s recordings are slower) but they render faithfully the composer’s vision. The finale emerges from the icy episodes of I and II tentatively at first, then— gradually and slowly, ever more strongly— toward a titanic final climax. Barbirolli exposes the repeated calls of the horns more effectively in the final moments; but this performance, all in all, is pretty much in the same class—near the top of the heap. No. 3 is in the rarefied heights of a few performances that adopt the very slow tempo in II pioneered by Kajanus, who introduced the work to the public with the composer’s imprimatur. It changes the whole character of the work to one more serious, thoughtful, and meaningful than it would otherwise have been. Barbirolli employs it to advantage also, as do a few other Scandinavian conductors; it illuminates the entire work with a palpable internal glow. No. 4 is good also, with some unusually slow, though effective, tempos notably for the woodwind passages in II. Symphony 5 is another unusual though most interesting treatment. It begins at a funereal tempo and, very gradually gains velocity and momentum over the course of the three movements—all of which are thus tied together—until a final climax where the concluding half-dozen chords are played as slowly and powerfully as possible. 6 and 7 are more conventional, possibly in view of their more mundane subject matter. In any event they are beautifully formed and flawlessly played. In addition to the symphonies there are the five smaller-scale works, Karelia, Finlandia, Pohjola’s Daughter, Tapiola, and The Bard. The last is a minor work, pleasant but unassuming. The others are played and recorded most effectively—close to the top of the heap musically. If I may be permitted a final remark I would observe that in the past century Sir Thomas Beecham was the most influential exponent of Sibelius’s music. His recordings were all reviewed favorably but have not aged well. In retrospect they appear to be hasty, ill-formed, and impetuous. His mantle as a Sibelius conductor seems now to have landed on the shoulders of his slightly younger, more thoughtful and more fastidious rival, Sir John Barbirolli. MCKELVEY SIEWINSKI: Mass Requiem; Old Polish Funeral Camerata Silesia Parnassos/ Anna Szostak Dux 859—51 minutes According to Marcin Konik, the purpose of this recording is to reconstruct the music for an 176 Old Polish funeral mass from around the early 18th Century. The ‘Kyrie’, ‘Dies Irae’, ‘Domine Jesu’, ‘Sanctus’, and ‘Agnus Dei’ by Andrzej Siewinski were composed before 1726, though on stylistic grounds they could hardly have been much before. Their harmonic language and orchestration reflect a preponderance of classical rather than baroque aesthetics. The polyphonic movements come across as solo motets—works for vocal soloists, choir, and orchestra. On the other hand, the ‘Gradual’, ‘Tract’, and ‘Communion’ are sung as chant. It is a polished performance. The notes are excellent, and in English, but there are no texts. It would be easy enough to find translations of the Latin Mass, but the Polish text would reach a larger audience if translated. LOEWEN SIVORI: 12 Etudes-Caprices; La Genoise; Folies Espagnoles Fulvio Luciani, v; Massimiliano Motterle, p Naxos 572484—79 minutes Camillo Sivori (1815-94) was the only pupil Niccolo Paganini acknowledged. The sevenyear-old Sivori studied with Paganini from October 1822 to May 1823. He also studied with Paganini’s teacher Giacomo Costa and his friend Agostino Dellepiane. Sivori had a virtuoso technique like Paganini’s and won the acclaim of Berlioz, Rossini, and Mendelssohn, who entrusted him with the English premiere of his Violin Concerto. While Sivori made much of his connection to Paganini, he was cut from different cloth than the Master was. Paganini was an oldfashioned virtuoso who performed his own music almost exclusively and was often criticized when he played other composers, but Sivori was a tasteful interpreter of others’ music. He wasn’t the circus showman Paganini was either. Sivori’s own compositions don’t have the pompous vulgarity of Paganini’s, and in the Folies Espagnoles he even allows the pianist to play a variation all by himself. (Paganini invariably hogged the spotlight.) There are still certain strong similarities between these two Genoese composers. The strongest can be heard in Sivori’s 12 EtudesCaprices. Paganini composed 24 Caprices, and each had one or a few technical problems that dominated the music. It is the same with Sivori. Sivori’s music has a charmingly Italianate quality like Paganini’s; and while Sivori’s virtuosity is not as spectacular and over the top as Paganini’s, it is very interesting. He does something in Caprice 12 that I had never heard before. He introduces the theme in alternating unison and chordal passages. It’s a simple idea, but very effective. La Genoise is a set of variations, and right September/October 2012 away the difference between Sivori and Paganini is evident because of the amount of attention given to the piano. The violin even often accompanies the piano. I cannot think of another violin virtuoso composer of the 19th Century who was so generous to the piano. Sivori must have really respected his accompanists! The Folies Espagnoles was written in Madrid in June 1854 and originally had the title Carnevale di Madrid. It contains several Spanish folk tunes and is a very effective showpiece with more musical value than one usually finds in the genre. It seems, though, to have a more Italian feel than Spanish. I suppose I am judging it in comparison with the Spanish music by later composers like Granados and Albeniz and the honorary Spaniard Debussy (Iberia, Evening in Granada, La Puerta del Vino). Fulvio Luciani is a sensitive, intelligent interpreter of this music. He has the technique to handle all of the music’s demands. He plays a Lorenzo Storioni violin (1810-1815). Excellent booklet notes by Flavio Menardi Noguera. MAGIL SMETANA: Dalibor Vilem Pribyl (Dalibor), Eva Depoltova (Milada), Vaclav Zitek (Vladislav), Jitka (Nada Sormova), Jaroslav Horacek (Benes); Brno Philharmonic/ Vaclav Smetacek Supraphon 4091 [2CD] 145 minutes Dalibor is a gorgeous work, with grateful writing for the voices and lush, romantic orchestral passages. Its plot has Fidelio overtones, in that the heroine Milada disguises herself as a boy and attempts to save the (justly, in this case) imprisoned Dalibor, but she fails and both die. We’ve reviewed several performances of this, but not this one, which was made in 1979 and doesn’t really deserve reissue. Pribyl, now nasal, squealy, and unheroic, was in better voice when he recorded the title role under Krombholc about 10 years earlier. Horacek, as the jailer Benes (a bass, like Beethoven’s Rocco) sang on the same recording, and though he aged better, his role is small. Depoltava’s Milada is at least steady, but her big, cutting voice is very hard on the ears. She softens a bit for the final scene, but by then she’s worn out her welcome. The sound is good, and Smetacek and his orchestra know what they’re doing. No libretto is supplied, and for this opera, you really need it. Pass this up and go instead with Krombholc on Supraphon 2185, if you can find it, or Kosler (also Supraphon, J/A 1996). SMETANA: Ma Vlast Vienna Radio/ Lovro von Matacic Orfeo 836 112—1:27 Matacic was from Croatia, so this is one of the few recordings by a non-Czech. This is not a studio recording, but rather a very decentsounding broadcast tape from a performance in the Musikverein in Vienna on 15 January 1982. Given the acoustical quality of the place and (probably) the need to tape the performance for later broadcast, the spacious sound has good stereo separation and depth. Even though the orchestra isn’t the Czech Philharmonic, the conductor gets a lot out of them, though the tone is rather plain—none of the inner glow you hear in a Talich or Kubelik performance—and the phrasing sometimes rather square and stiff. Matacic fans will still want this. For the rest of us there are so many outstanding, musthear-before-you-die recordings, I can’t really say you must have this one, too. He opens ‘Vysehrad’ with the requisite hushed reverence, though the livelier passages later in the movement are kind of clumsy, and the dancelike episodes are a bit lead-footed. ‘Vltava’ is atmospheric, with a particularly glowing tone to the central nocturnal interlude before crashing down to the rapids. In ‘Sarka’, again, the lyrical interlude is particularly atmospheric; but the opening pages are rather slow and the massacre music at the end is sluggish, which blunts its effect. ‘Bohemia’s Meadows and Forests’ swirls with energy, and Matacic draws a good bit of gusto from his players in the big stentorian hymn of ‘Tabor’ and ‘Blanik’. An interesting performance—worth hearing if you, like me, never miss a chance to hear Ma Vlast—but not an “essential” one. I can’t think of another work I’m ready to say this about, but Kubelik pretty much “owns” Ma Vlast, and he left a trail of recordings that almost all drive straight to the heart of this music, right up to his very last one, a 1990 concert performance with the Czech Philharmonic (Supraphon) that he gave on returning to his homeland after a 40-plus year absence. Then there’s his best studio recording, with the Boston Symphony (DG), and his most exciting, fiery studio recording, with the Chicago Symphony (Mercury, monophonic). It’s not surprising that Matacic isn’t in the same league as any of those, or the 1954 Talich. Or Neumann, Smetacek, or Belohlavek. HANSEN LUCANO American Record Guide 177 SOMMER: Orchestral Songs Elisabeth Kulman, mz; Bo Skovhus, bar; Bamberg Symphony/ Sebastian Weigle Tudor 7178 [SACD] 68 minutes Hans Sommer (1837-1922) had first attempted composing at age 10, but it was not until he retired as professor of mathematics at age 47 that he turned to composing for a living, traveling to Weimar to study with Liszt. Of Sommer’s then recently completed Songs of Sappho, Liszt wrote: “While the songs are certainly very dramatic, they are done with ability and taste. Carry on like that!” Richard Strauss became a friend and championed Sommer’s operas. This program begins with the Songs of Sappho, settings of six texts by “Carmen Sylva” (the pseudonym of Romanian Queen Elizabeth zur Wied) that tell of Sapho’s unrequited love on the island of Lesbos, and ends with 13 Goethe settings from 1919-21. Between these early and late songs is a striking 1901 setting of Felix Dahn’s ‘Odysseus’ for harp, winds, and timpani. As far as I can tell, this is the only recording dedicated exclusively to Sommer’s orchestral songs, and it is of such good quality that it makes me wonder why has it taken so long for this music to be recorded. Listening to the Goethe songs, you hear the tonality of Wagner and in some cases you’d think you were listening to Wolf. The performances are terrific. Kulman and Skovhus each sing 10 songs, and both are in excellent voice. Kulman in particular has an intoxicatingly lovely voice that she uses with great suppleness. The scoring is modest and does not make great demands on the players but calls mostly for quiet subtlety, which the Bamberg Symphony offers perfectly well. Here is an opportunity to discover some unjustly neglected music performed exquisitely. Notes, texts, and translations. R MOORE SOR: 20 Studies Cristiano Porqueddu, g Brilliant 9205—52 minutes Almost all guitarists play these 20 studies as part of their intermediate training. They were collected by Andres Segovia from the large body of Sor’s pedagogical works; as was his habit, he made several changes in the text that he thought would be musical improvements. The publication has always seemed a bit strange. Segovia’s name is a the top, in huge print, with his picture below, and only the bottom line, in much smaller type, recognizes the actual composer. In 2008, composer and musicologist Ange- 178 lo Gilardino prepared a new edition for Curci that consulted Sor’s original music, the works as edited by his student (and son-in-law,) Napoleon Coste, and Segovia’s edition. I haven’t seen that edition, but Gilardino is one of the finest scholars in the guitar world, and his work is painstakingly thorough. Cristiano Porqueddu is best known to me as the performer of Gilardino’s magnificent Transcendental Etudes (N/D 2009). He wrote 5 sets of 12 each, and it’s among the greatest music in the guitar repertory. His playing for that massive project was unforgettable, one of my Critic’s Choices for that year. Here his playing is somewhat less impressive; did he, perhaps, not find this music challenging enough? Minor complaints: he doesn’t play the rests in 6 and 16, and that’s part of the important pedagogy for those two. Generally, he avoids indulgent rubato, but that does disfigure 8 and 13. And that brings up another complaint— shouldn’t these works have a consistent style? There’s really no sense of development in these works; Sor doesn’t have clear Early, Middle, and Late periods. Why are just these two treated like turn of the century salon music? Still, if you want the set, this is the best current option. Williams recorded the set when he was a teenager, and that’s long deleted (I did see a few astronomically expensive vinyl discs on the internet). David Tanenbaum recorded these, Carcassi’s Op. 60, and the first two sets of Brouwer’s Estudios Sencillos on GSP back in the early 90s (N/D 1991). Those performances are rather dry, intentionally. He produced a model (and a book) with few interpretive extensions that students and teachers could use in these standard works. This set is superior musically, even if one disagrees with some of his decisions. KEATON SORENSEN: Fragments of Requiem; see OCKEGHEM SPERGER: Sinfonia; see GEMMINGEN S TAMP: 3 Places in England; In This Hid Clearing; Percussion Concertino; 3 Brass Quintet Turns; 5 Hill Songs; Moltres Dance; 2 Chorale Preludes; Tarheel Sketches Keystone Wind Ensemble/ Jack Stamp; Michael Kingan, perc; Mary L Hastings, s; Joseph Baunoch, b; Hoodlebug Brass Klavier 11189—75 minutes Jack Stamp (b 1954) is music chair and head of bands at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. He founded the Keystone Wind Ensemble in 1992, stocking it with alumni and others with IUP affiliation. This is its third recording of Stamp’s own works. Stamp writes excellent September/October 2012 fanfares, so it is fitting that the program opens with ‘Fanfare for the Rock’ in Three Places in England (2001). IUP faculty soloists are heard in the middle portion of the program. Michael Kingan is energetic and skillful in the Percussion Concertino (2009). HoodleBug Brass (named for a local trolley) does its best with Three Turns (1975), a work from Stamp’s student days. Soprano Mary L Hastings and bass Joseph Baunoch sing Appalachian folk songs in Five Songs from the Hills (2010). In ‘Moltres Dance’ (2009), a quirky tribute to a deceased high school baritone saxophonist, Stamp skillfully incorporates references that the poor fellow’s friends and family would recognize. Two Chorale Preludes (2010) are based on church tunes, and Tarheel Sketches (2008) depicts North Carolina places and characters: Kitty Hawk, the Raleigh-Durham research triangle, Buies Creek, and the ‘Two Sisters’ ballad. Good music played by proficient musicians. KILPATRICK STEINER: Adventures of Don Juan; Arsenic & Old Lace Moscow Symphony/ William Stromberg Tribute 1009 [2CD] 1:52 Max Steiner composed hundreds of film scores, but counted Adventures of Don Juan among his personal favorites. The film recast Don Juan as a Robin Hood-style hero, with the evil Duke de Lorca assuming the role of villain. It’s a rollicking mix of swashbuckling action, romance, royal pomp, tongue-in-cheek dialog, and Steiner’s near-perfect music. The boisterous Don Juan theme (which reminds me a little of Smetana’s Bartered Bride Overture) sets the tone, but there’s lots more to enjoy: a delicate Spanish-flavored ‘Serenade’, exhilarating action music that rivals Korngold, and a spectacular processional resplendent with brass, percussion, and bells. This is the first recording of the full score; Charles Gerhardt’s suite is expertly played and has excellent sonics (July/Aug 2011, p 262) but it’s only about 10 minutes. Tribute offers nearly 80 minutes of music, and while a few sequences are not so inspired, the bulk of this work is Max Steiner and Golden Age film scoring at their peak. Arsenic and Old Lace is a different kettle of fish. A whimsical murder comedy with surrealist overtones, it gets the kind of light scoring typical of its time. Using a traditional hymn (‘There Is a Happy Land, Far, Far Away’) as the main theme was a good idea, but the score is festooned with musical allusions to everything from Mendelssohn’s ‘Wedding March’ and American Record Guide Chopin’s funeral march to ‘Take Me Out to the Ball Game’! There are some charming moments, but this will appeal mainly to devotees of the film and Steiner. Extras include the trailer music for both titles, plus the trailer scoring for Steiner’s House of Wax. William Stromberg recreates this music as if Max himself were at the podium. The Moscow players reproduce the Warner Brothers sound with uncanny skill, though I detected a few imperfect moments along the way. John Morgan’s reconstruction of Steiner’s manuscripts is faultless. The sonics are up close and personal, revealing every detail of the colorful orchestrations, though a bit more ambience would have been nice. A superb 68page booklet completes a most welcome release. Tribute Film Classics are distributed by screenarchives.com (888-345-6335). KOLDYS STRAUSS, J: Die Fledermaus Adrianne Pieczonka (Rosalinde), Edita Gruberova (Adele), Thomas Moser (Eisenstein), Jorg Schneider (Alfred), Carmen Oprisanu (Orlofsky), Georg Tichy (Falke), Gottfried Hornik (Frank); Hungarian Opera/ Friedrich Haider Nightingale 58 [2CD] 95 minutes Musically speaking, this is a jolly good show. Haider, Gruberova’s husband, leads the proceedings with true Viennese flair. The music sparkles and dances; and the warmth, with a judicious use of rubato and luftpausen added for good measure, is OK in my book. But I do wish that Haider had recorded the original ballet rather than the ‘Thunder and Lightning Polka’. The 50-something Gruberova, despite some loss of vocal bloom, gives a masterly performance. She’s still a pleasure to hear. Her technique is still formidable, the voice attractive, her joy contagious. Canadian soprano Pieczonka is best known for Verdi, Wagner, and that other Strauss; but Rosalinde suits her just fine, with lots of fire, lyricism, and nice sound (even though it’s less fetching than Gruberova’s). Oprisanu has a good-enough voice, though she sounds too bored as the bored Prince. The men, delightful as they are, lack the glamour of the two leading ladies. Moser suggests a likable lighter Wagnerian on holiday. and Tichy is a truly self-centered Alfred. The Falke and Frank are also well in the picture. But Vienna, we have a problem. Dialog has been replaced by brief, unwitty commentary in all three acts by a sober Frosch on Viennese society and the operetta’s plot and characters. Either leave in dialog or add musical bonus tracks. When I play this Fledermaus again, I’ll skip this nonsense. Most ARG readers might 179 do best to check out the Karajan, C Kleiber, Boskovsky, and Krauss sets. Booklet with German-English libretto—the set’s non-musical plus. MARK STRAUSS: Metamorphosen; SCHULHOFF: Sextet Hyperion Ensemble Paladino 10—50 minutes Erwin Schulhoff began his Sextet (two each of violins, violas, and cellos) a few years after returning from serving in the Austrian army in the First World War. Dedicated to Francis Poulenc, the Sextet was first played with Paul Hindemith on second viola. It was well received but rarely heard afterwards, partly because of its difficulty for players and audience and certainly because the Nazis did everything to silence the Jewish Schulhoff, including murdering him in 1942. The work reflects the composer’s feelings about his experiences at the front, easily earning Robert Matthew-Walker’s description of “a rough-hewn work of deep brooding fearfulness”. A study in dark sonorities, it is tough in personality and tough to take in, though its short length makes it easier. Schulhoff wrote the opening Allegro Risoluto in 1920 while immersed in the music of Arnold Schoenberg. The movement mimics Schoenberg’s extreme chromaticism and sounds atonal. It is not, though it is as far as Schulhoff pushed tonality. Three notes, C, D-flat, and G, are announced in the opening measures and are treated as motifs and tonal centers. The harmony is harsh in the outer sections and hardly ameliorated by motor rhythms and sharp leaps. The midsection is quietly musing, almost lyrical, spiked with weird pizzicato, ponticello, and glissandos. For all its severity, Allegro Risoluto ends quietly like a huge machine coming slowly to a stop—as did Schulhoff’s work on the piece. He did not pick it up again until 1924. By then, “Schoenberg” was behind him, and he was looking to Dadaism and Eastern European folk music. The despairing mood of the work did not change, though, and C, D-flat, and G remained in place as a unifier. II, marked Tranquillo (Andante), is dominated by a calm but bleak, emotionless, and repetitious cantilena marked “without expression”. This opens up to a relatively romantic interval, then returns to the opening material. After a lone viola is left repeating the opening pattern, the beginning reappears with melodies in the strings played without vibrato over ponticello, accentuating the bleakness. This is not eerie so much as despairing. The ‘Burlesca’ is the Sextet’s main foray 180 into the folk idiom, but there is no letup in the roughness and the grotesque. Its rhythm sounds a little like metered Morse code. Molto Adagio is the most clearly tonal movement. It anticipates Bartok’s late quartets. The way Ravel comes to mind is harder to believe, but the cello harkens to the contrabassoon writing in ‘Beauty and the Beast’ from Mother Goose, though Schulhoff is far darker and spookier. The piece ends with ghostly ponticello and a number of groans as the main theme wastes away, leaving the final C, D-flat, and G standing. The Finale does not suggest Schoenberg the way I does, but it does recall that thorny sound. The Hyperion Ensemble’s performance is stunning. Every bit of the despair and fear that gripped Schulhoff’s throat seems on display here. This is a very difficult work, and their playing sounds impeccable. I’ve not heard any other recording of the Sextet, but I can’t imagine one more stark, dark, and eerie than this one. Richard Strauss’s Metamorphosen is played in the septet arrangement by Rudolf Leopold. Of the several other performances of this arrangement, I know only the one with the Nash Ensemble. That is fine but soft in tone and not all that intense compared to the Hyperion, which is more sharply defined, richer, and more gripping and dramatic. Paladino gives Hyperion more powerful and effective sound, as well. There are two major shortcomings with this issue. The most obvious is the playing time. Surely Paladino could have included Martinu’s Sextet or the one by Korngold. Then there are the notes, which tell little about the composers and almost nothing about the music. We learn that Strauss wrote Metamorphosen out of despair over the destruction of his country but not that the catalyst was the blowing up of the Munich Opera House. We get a couple of basic facts about Schulhoff but almost nothing about his essentially unknown Sextet—not that it was dedicated to Poulenc nor that Hindemith played the premiere, and no description or analysis. We do get a psychobabble quote by Luigi Nono about how one listens to music depends on one’s “individual circumstances of life”, etc. These performances deserve much better. HECHT STRAUSS: Oboe Concerto; see WAGNER Never look at the trombones. You'll only encourage them. —Richard Strauss September/October 2012 STRAVINSKY: The Firebird; arrangements Bergen Philharmonic/ Andrew Litton BIS 1874 [SACD] 72 minutes Rite of Spring; Firebird Suite; Scherzo a la Russe; Tango Budapest Festival Orchestra/ Ivan Fischer Channel 32112 [SACD] 63 minutes Complementary releases here, rather than an either-or choice. The high point is Fischer’s fierce, earthy, uninhibited Rite of Spring, brilliantly played by the orchestra and also well captured by Channel’s engineers. Some conductors filter the Rite through a lens of later 20th Century music, including Stravinsky’s later efforts, and try to make the music sound avant-garde. I wonder if the original audience in 1913 was more offended by the music’s rhythmic ferocity than its modernity. From the first growl of the introduction, Fischer and his players give us the music straight, full of energy and often just a bit out of control. The resolution of the SACD sound is particularly welcome here, giving the orchestra a rich, warm sound that matches the vigorous but unforced interpretation. As I write this, there are only a few more weeks left before I go up to Minneapolis to hear Mr Litton conduct the Minnesota Orchestra in their “Somerfest” concerts. He is by far one of the most brilliant of American conductors, and he has done more than a few spectacular concerts in the Twin Cities. But if you want to hear him on a new recording, it’ll be with his Norwegian orchestra. Fortunately, the Bergen Philharmonic is a fine ensemble and they collaborate with the conductor—and BIS’s engineering team—to give us a marvelous recording of the complete Firebird. The SACD sound is as spacious as Channel’s, but the orchestra is a little farther away from the mikes. The sound is more blended, but details are less prominent (all there, though). The ‘Infernal Dance’ and the finale will rattle the pictures on your walls, but the sound has none of the harshness we often associate with digital recordings. More than once I found that I had cranked the volume on my receiver to pretty high levels, yet my ears felt no pain—a hallmark of really well engineered sonics (still backed it off a bit). The only complaint I have is the usual one: I’d rather not sit through the entire Firebird score, when I can get the high points from the suite. Fischer offers only the suite, but the performance is not on the same inspired level as his Rite of Spring. The introduction isn’t very atmospheric or mysterious, and the Firebird dances her dance prosaically. Fischer’s ‘Infernal Dance’ is exciting enough (lotsa oomph for the bass drum), but the ‘Berceuse’ and finale American Record Guide are painfully matter-of-fact. A chipper Scherzo a la Russe and the composer’s orchestration of his 1940 solo-piano ‘Tango’ don’t quite make up for it. Litton’s filler pieces are interesting: Stravinsky’s orchestrations of works by other composers—and not the usual suspects. In the 1940s, he wanted to conduct the ‘Blue Bird’ Pas de Deux from Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty, but he couldn’t find a copy of the full score in the US; so he made his own orchestration—hardly a difficult task for the composer of The Fairy’s Kiss. It certainly sounds like Tchaikovsky, not Stravinsky. Next up is a 1963 arrangement of Sibelius’s string orchestra ‘Canzonetta’ for 8 instruments (4 horns, clarinet, bass clarinet, harp, and bass) and the two Chopin pieces he orchestrated for Diaghilev’s 1909 production of Les Sylphides, the Nocturne in A-flat, Op. 32:1, and the Op. 18 Waltz. If the Rite of Spring and Firebird show Stravinsky the innovative creator, these short arrangements show him as the craftsman who adapts readily to other composers’ styles. Last comes the short (less than 1 minute) ‘Greeting Prelude’ for Pierre Monteux’s 80th birthday, written in 1955. HANSEN S TRAVINSKY: Rite of Spring with Petrouchka; 3 Easy Pieces; 5 Easy Pieces Lidija & Sanja Bizjak, p Mirare 171—78 minutes with DEBUSSY: Epigraphes Antiques; SHAPERO: Sonata; Hands; BERNSTEIN: Candide Overture ZOFO Duet Sono Luminus 92151—67 minutes In the summer of 1912, at the home of musicologist Louis Laloy, the first performance of Le Sacre du Printemps was given. Before the orchestration was completed and the legendary first orchestral performance at the Theatre des Champs-Elysees took place on May 29, 1913, this ground-breaking work was already published in a Piano 4-Hands version. The orchestral score was not published until 1921, so it is safe to assume that most public knowledge and analysis was gained initially from the piano score. While I will never believe that the 4-hand version is preferable to Stravinsky’s masterly orchestration, it has a legitimacy of its own. It will also perk up the ears of people who only know the orchestral version with a clarity that only the piano can achieve. The pianists in that 1912 performance were Igor Stravinsky and Claude Debussy. Both recalled the event with positive memories. Stravinsky remarked about Debussy’s brilliant piano playing and Debussy wrote of their performance “It haunts me like a beautiful night- 181 mare and I try, in vain, to reinvoke the terrific impression.” I must admit to having more recordings of this amazing work by two pianists than by a full orchestra. Dover Publications has a great edition that reprints the original Edition Russe de Musique Sacre and Firebird with the indication “for Piano Four Hands or Two Pianos”. There are a number of passages that are impossible to play as written on a single piano. There are a number of two-piano recordings of these, usually with the performers noting that they were able to include additional voices when playing on two pianos. Stravinsky himself found it necessary to add additional staves to his score to include lines that could not be accommodated. What the two pianists face is not the straightforward piano duet notation of two staves per part, but up to three per part, two or more often occupying the same physical space on the piano keyboard. My favorite recording is on two pianos, with two world-class virtuosos inspiring each other to produce an exceptional performance: Ashkenazy and Gavrilov (London 433829). Recently, a new version was created for two pianos and two percussionists by Duo d’Accord (Genuin 11195, Sept/Oct 2011). The two at hand perform this at one piano and both are quite good. ZOFO (their capitalization, with no indication of meaning or origin of the name) plays the first part a little faster than the Bizjaks and the second part a little slower. Both are very clear in their textures and pay close attention to Stravinsky’s score. The ZOFO recording has a bit more emphasis on the bass parts (undoubtedly the pianist) and the recorded level is a bit louder as well. The Bizjak sisters have an ensemble that is good enough to be compared with the Labeques—and technique to burn. I am happy to have both recordings. The comparisons have been enjoyable, but I realize that part of my job here is to arm the reader with enough information to make a choice. The works that accompany The Rite of Spring will probably be your reason to choose one over the other. ZOFO gives us a varied program beginning with 1993 arrangement by Charlie Harman of Bernstein’s ever-popular Candide Overture. If you know and enjoy this work, you will certainly enjoy its performance here. The Sonata for Piano Four Hands by Harold Shapero is dedicated to Bernstein, and the two premiered the work while undergraduates at Harvard in 1941. The stylistic links to the music of Bernstein and Copland make this piece immediately accessible. I can recall only hearing this work performed once before. Debussy’s Six Epigraphes Antiques fill out the ZOZO program with a nice contrast in style 182 and content, still related to the time period. It was originally scored for the unusual combination of two flutes, two harps, and celeste to accompany a recitation of poems by Pierre Louys. Debussy used about half of the original music to make the six duets and later reworked them as solo piano pieces. ZOFO shows off their ability to beautifully phrase melodic music of a simpler texture in these wonderful works. The Bizjak sisters give us a compelling performance of Petrouchka in Stravinsky’s fourhand arrangement. Unlike the well-known virtuosic movements from Petrouchka that Stravinsky arranged for solo piano (on a commission from Rubinstein), the piano four hands version is of the complete ballet. Again, the sisters’ ensemble and clear voicing make for an enlightening performance. Filling out their program are two sets of easy pieces for piano four hands. The set of three (1915) has a very easy lower part, while the top is much more difficult; and the set of five (1917) reverses the difficult and easy parts. While there are a number of significant other works for two pianos and for solo piano, this disc, to the best of my knowledge, is a complete recording of the four hands at one piano music by Stravinsky. I will listen to both recordings many more times, but if I could have only one, I suppose I’d get the Bizjak sisters—and then save up for the ZOFO disc. HARRINGTON STRAVINSKY: Suite Italienne; Divertimento; Duo Concertant Carolyn Huebl, v; Mark Wait, p Naxos 570985—58 minutes There’s a lot to learn about Stravinsky’s relationship with Samuel Dushkin from this recording. Dushkin and Stravinsky made their 1932 Suite Italienne arrangement of music from Pulcinella easier to play than Paul Kochanski’s extremely difficult 1925 arrangement with the title Suite d’apres des themes, fragments, et morceaux de Giambattista Pergolesi (recorded by Szymon Krzeszowiec and Niklas Sivelöv and reviewed in this issue). The “stand up” solo quality of the StravinskyDushkin 1934 transcription of the Divertimento, with the subtitle Le Baiser de la Feé brings out the direct connection between ballets by Stravinsky and ones by Tchaikovsky and Glazounov. After hearing Stravinsky’s orchestral music reinterpreted in the language of the violin and piano, it is quite eye opening (or perhaps ear opening) to hear his 1932 Duo Concertant, a piece he wrote explicitly for violin and piano. September/October 2012 These musicians play exquisitely. Carol Huebl, the concertmaster of the IRIS Chamber Orchestra, teaches at Vanderbilt University and plays in the Blakemore Trio; and Mark Wait is the dean of the music school at Vanderbilt and has won all sorts of awards for his recordings. Everything is clean, clear, and brilliant, as recordings of Stravinsky’s music should be. FINE SWEELINCK: Psalms, all Glossa 922407 [12CD] 12:34 Cantiones Sacrae Gesualdo Consort Amsterdam/ Harry van der Kamp Glossa 922406 [2CD] 2:27 Jan Pieterszoon Sweelinck (1562-1621) was something of a Janus-faced figure. He is bestremembered today for his music for organ and harpsichord, which set important new standards in the style and pedagogy of keyboard writing for the Baroque German era ahead. Less familiar now is his huge output of vocal music, secular and particularly sacred, where he produced a kind of final testament to the great Franco-Flemish or Netherlandish tradition he was part of. Of Sweelinck’s keyboard music there has been at least one complete recording, with another one or two in progress, besides many single-disc samplings. Likewise, there have been sampler programs of Sweelinck’s sacred works, but only his Latin motets have been treated comprehensively. Harry van der Kamp has decided to undertake a truly total compendium of Sweelinck’s vocal music. This venture is envisioned as “The Sweelinck Monument”—to make up for the failure of the composer’s lifelong home, Amsterdam, to erect a physical monument to its great musician. This “Monument” has three parts. The first, containing all of Sweelinck’s secular vocal writing, was issued three years ago by Glossa (922401, 3CD: S/O 2009). The present two releases cover all the rest. And a true monument it is, a landmark in the composer’s discography not likely to be matched. The most massive component, of course, is Sweelinck’s Psalms—all of them, all 150, plus duplicate settings of three. The composer was organist in a Calvinist church that forbade instrumental playing in the services themselves. But the Psalms were the essential bread and butter of Calvinist music, sung in unison for community worship and welcomed in composed elaborations for private devotion. American Record Guide That meant a constituency beyond simply Amsterdam and the Netherlands. There is no evidence that Sweelinck ever set any texts in his native Dutch. Rather, he recognized that he had a much wider audience and market in the international spread of Calvinism. He could reach them by using the original French texts (translations by Calvin’s associates Clement Marot and Theodore de Beze) of the Genevan Psalter (1542, 1543, 1551, 1562). For what we can recognize as his magnum opus—and was so considered in his time— Sweelinck clearly intended from the start to cover the entire run of Psalms. He chose to present them in four printed volumes. Book I (1604) contained 50 Psalms, plus a setting of the Canticle of Simeon; Book II (1613) and Book III (1614) contained 30 Psalms each, the latter adding a Sunday Prayer; Book IV (1621), the crown on the venture (appearing a week after he died, at age 59), contained 43 Psalm settings plus the Decalogue (Die 10 Gebot Gottes). Yes, the number of discs (12) indicated above is correct. As in any publication of this sort, the composer intended them to be resources, to be drawn on selectively, rather than to be sung or heard as entities. So this set is a reference source. Record listeners now may understandably blanch at the idea of going through all 12 discs in succession, but the reviewer knows his duty. I did, indeed, listen straight through—scout’s honor!—if with occasional breaks for meals and naps. The point of this boast is that it represented by no means a boring or monotonous experience. Partly that was to the credit of Sweelinck himself. He scored his settings for anywhere from four to eight voices, sometimes varying the number of voices in multi-sectional Psalms. His style of setting likewise varies. Drawing on elements of traditional Netherlandish imitative polyphony, he used in some cases the original Psalm melody as a cantus around which the other voices spin elaboration. In other cases he broke up the Psalm melody among the parts, taking its pieces as points of departure for the voices to create a rich texture. Directly or indirectly used, the original melody is always present somehow. To these techniques, Sweelinck adds the rhythmic flexibility of the Italian madrigal and the suppleness of the Paris polyphonic chanson. (To judge his imagination, listen to the deliciously rowdy imitation of instruments in Psalm 150.) Beyond providing musical variety, Sweelinck devoted careful attention to bringing out the meanings and rhythms of the words, guaranteeing a continuing vitality. These Psalm settings might, in fact, be consid- 183 ered a triumphant final distillation of the compositional idioms of the earlier (16th) century. But Van der Kamp and Glossa have further avoided deadening routine. Each of the Psalm settings is preceded by the original Genevan melody, so that the “source” for Sweelinck’s music is clearly set out. Further, in five cases, the vocal setting is followed by a surviving organ variation composed on the melody— representing the Psalm elaborations the composer was allowed to play as preludes and postludes to services of worship. (There are also three Psalm-fantasias contributed by Bernard Winsemius, the organist here, playing at Sweelinck’s own Oude Kirk in Amsterdam.) Even more, there are three intabulations Sweelinck made for lute. The performances are outstanding. Van der Kamp draws on a pool of 13 singers. He has them sing the Psalm melodies in small mixed groups in unison, with great strength. For Sweelinck’s settings, only one singer per part is used. Their voices are individually lovely, but they also blend in superbly polished ensembles. There have been fine recordings of Sweelinck’s Psalms by choral groups, but, after all, Psalm-singing was an important practice of domestic devotion for Calvinists so that an elegant intimacy of household scale is altogether appropriate. Every aspect of this magnificent release has been carried out carefully. The sound is warm but handsomely clear and, in the larger scorings, effectively directional. In the booklet the detailed track lists run 28 pages, followed by an admirable essay (in English, French, German) and complete texts with (English only) translations. There is even an index tracing the individual Psalm settings by their numbers. Glossa makes this sequence of 12 discs available, at least in the Netherlands, in four separate three-disc sets, one for each Book: 922402, 922403, 922404, and 922405. I should add that this set not only gives us Sweelinck’s magnum opus complete for the first time; but it also, in effect, gives us the complete melodies of the Genevan Psalter for the first time—a potentially valuable tool for students of early Protestant music. Not content with dominating the market for Calvinist Psalm settings, Sweelinck interrupted his output in that category, between Books II and IV, to assemble a collection of his treatments of traditional Latin texts, usable not only for Roman Catholics but also for some Protestant purposes. (There is some suggestion, too, that Sweelinck may privately have retained Roman Catholic allegiance; he dedicated the collection to a devoutly Catholic student and patron.) This publication of Cantiones Sacrae or Sacred Songs (1619) consists 184 of 37 motets, including a modest Magnificat and ending with an ambitious Te Deum. There is no liturgical framework, and the motets are organized in a random order. In presenting them in this recording, Van der Kamp has ignored the publication sequence and reassembled them by liturgical function. Thus there are nine motets on Latin Psalm texts, nine “Nativity motets”, nine motets on Gospel texts, and nine “Passion motets”. To these, Van der Kamp has added celebratory motets for two weddings (published 1617, 1638), plus three brief canons composed for students. The vocal resources here consist of 14 singers. He rotates them, one to a part, for the consistently five-voice writing of the 1619 motets, as well as for the eight-voice writing of one of the wedding motets and the three-voice writing of the canons. Organist Winsemius does not retain the basso seguente parts that publisher Phalese insisted on adding to the 1619 publication. Once more the singing by Van der Kamp’s vocalists is beautiful, and is captured in handsome sound. One per part, again, they bring lovely transparency to the writing, and they add unusual zest and meaning to the Latin words, beyond what choral groups could usually manage. Yet, whereas the minimalist intimacy works so well for the Psalms, here I have reservations. Some of these motets (notably ‘Hodie Christus natus est’) have been recorded by choirs, and there are actually two complete recordings of the full 37-item Cantiones Sacrae—both, as it happens, by mixed-voice British church choirs, both of Cambridge, and both the same year (1998). Richard Marlow leads the Trinity College Chapel Choir (Hyperion 67103, 67104): Marlow has 29 singers, and uses the organ basso seguente. Timothy Brown leads the Choir of Clair College (Etcetera 2025), with 26 singers, in varying combinations from full numbers to one per part, the organ bass part used selectively, in 19 of the 37 motets. For Hyperion, the publication’s order is strictly followed, while the Etcetera set scrambles the order into an informal liturgical sequence. Those two recordings were reviewed together by Mr Gatens (Sept/Oct 1999) who found that Marlow’s performances had an overall “churchly” sound, with interpretational emphases ranging from eloquent to exaggerated, while Brown brought to the collection more of an “early-music” or madrigalian quality, with greater clarity and lucidity. I would not disagree, and there are lovely moments in each recording, though on balance I find the Brown set more consistently appealing. As for other recordings of Sweelinck’s sacred music, a series of three CDs from Radio September/October 2012 Nederland broadcasts had the Netherlands Chamber Choir was led by five different conductors (William Christie, Philippe Herreweghe, Ton Koopman, Peter Phillips, Paul van Nevel) in a total of 39 selections, including 18 Psalms and 16 motets, among other things. That was reissued by Etcetera in three separate discs (1318, 1319, 1320). Marlow, meanwhile, recorded with his Trinity College Choir a total of 15 Psalms for the old Conifer label (205: J/F 1993) where the “churchly” sound is captured with bold sonority in very satisfying performances. But notice should be taken of a release from Harmonia Mundi (902033) where Daniel Reuss leads the Cappella Amsterdam in six of the Psalms and, with continuo players, four of the motets (including the Magnificat and the Te Deum). The 18-mixed-voices choir sings splendidly, in forthright sound. Mr Gatens (M/A 2010) had some reservations, but I find this an admirable and most enjoyable single-disc introduction to Sweelinck’s splendid sacred output. But this Glossa “Monument” is a unique achievement. No serious institutional music library should be without all three sets, while individual collectors who care about great sacred music should give them thought, for all the substantial investment involved. BARKER T ANSMAN: Piano Concertino; Piece Concertante; Elegie; Stele Christian Siebert, p; Brandenburg Orchestra/ Howard Griffiths CPO 777449—53 minutes Alexandre Tansman (1897-1986) wrote his Concertino in 1931 for Jose Iturbi. It’s very French-influenced, with a little Prokofieff thrown in. I is five minutes of chromatic piano chords scampering everywhere, a la the ‘Precipitato’ from the Russian’s Piano Sonata No. 7 but in common time. III is one of those wonderful pieces where the orchestra and piano chase each other and their own tails. It would be a great showpiece for a pops concert or for an impetuous undergraduate pianist. I mean no disrespect whatsoever referring to it that way, but few concert pianists are going to program this 15-minute work when there are so many warhorses that concertgoers and stringpullers want to hear. Stele, written in 1972 in memory of Stravinsky, is completely different. It’s mysterious in tonality, orchestration, and structure—dissonant, then pastoral, then aggressive. Piece Concertante is for piano (left hand only) and orchestra; it’s similar in tone to the Concertino, but a little calmer. II is a pleasant, lullabylike slow movement. If Tansman’s themes and development, though good, were as brilliant as American Record Guide his orchestration, we’d have an exceptional piece. Elegy, written in 1975 “in memory of my friend Darius Milhaud”, is more dignified fondness than sadness. Halfway through, there’s a little Paris jazziness that somehow turns into an orchestra-wide tone cluster. Playing and sound are superb; extensive notes in English and German. ESTEP TCHAIKOVSKY: Piano Pieces, opp 5, 7, 8, 40 Mikhail Pletnev Regis 1354—64 minutes Sonata in G; Children’s Album; Aveau Passionne; Impromptu; Valse-Scherzo Jouni Somero, p FC 9728—77 minutes The Pletnev is a reissue from Melodiya (from 1986 and 1988). This may be its first appearance in this country. Had I heard it back then, I would have praised it for its elegance, style, and spirit. Listening to it now gives me great pleasure and joy at having discovered the many beauties of performances totally in sympathy with the music. Were I required to recommend a single disc of the composer’s piano music, this would be the one. While all of the selections belong to the realm of salon music, they are melodic and charming. The slower pieces also have a wistful sadness and bleed a bit from the heart of old Russia. The remaining three opus numbers are additional gems to remind us what we are missing since Pletnev has not recorded the composer’s complete piano works. Although we have a nicely performed complete set with Victoria Postnikova and the start of a set with Oxana Yablonskaya, neither is quite in the same league as Pletnev. Even if you have the Postnikova, you may want to consider this as a supplement. The uncredited notes are good, and the recording is excellent. With Somero we have the start of yet another set of the complete piano music. Although this is marked as Volume 2, I have not seen Volume 1; and if you look carefully enough, the present volume is also marked Volume 3, apparently of a series called “Russian Project”. Forget this, and forget the strange spellings on this Finnish label’s website. Somero is one heck of a pianist and I am pleased to make his acquaintance twice this month (see Blumenfeld review). The Grand Sonata in G is a monumental work lasting over half an hour. It has many recordings—even one by Pletnev on Melodiya with pretty nearly this same coupling. A check of the Regis website shows that it is available once again. It could be worth some serious consideration. Somero meanwhile, aided by 185 some fabulous sound, offers a powerfully penetrating performance, as gutsy as one could wish in this super-charged music. Some might quibble with his demonic, driven approach, though the music is designed to take no captors and to live constantly on the brink. Postnikova, on the other hand, takes several minutes longer and makes a heavier, more weighty experience of the music. Her lyrical contrasts are more deeply felt, but we have less of an exciting ride, particularly in the Finale. She is no lightweight in the technical department, though anyone playing this music must be able to toss off difficulties with ease. Sviatoslav Richter polishes off the Sonata in slightly over 30 minutes, yet there is never any feeling of undue haste. I am inclined to give him the nod for overall excellence; very few pianists could duplicate his achievement. With everything perfectly in place, and his expressiveness reaching the heart and soul of this music, all one can do is sit back and marvel. Yablonskaya takes an altogether different view of this music. Her performance is all delicacy and avoidance of fire and brimstone. If I find it at odds with the nature of the music, she certainly tries to make a valid case for it. Don’t expect it to set you afire. The pleasant little pieces that make up the Children’s Album find strong advocacy in the hands of both Somero and Postnikova. Tchaikovsky’s answer to Kinderszenen was even dedicated to Schumann. The remaining three pieces in Somero’s selection are without opus numbers and date from 1889. They are most pleasant to listen to. Somero’s notes are extremely brief, but to the point. BECKER TCHAIKOVSKY: Symphony 2 Russian National Orchestra/ Mikhail Pletnev Pentatone 5186382 [SACD] 48 minutes This symphony takes 32 minutes at these tempos. The extra 16 minutes are taken up with the original first movement. (And why should we want to hear a movement Tchaikovsky rejected and replaced? Once, maybe, out of curiosity, but every time we play the disc?) So you are buying an expensive SACD with one 32-minute work on it. And, what’s more, it takes only 32 minutes because it’s fast. It’s not a long piece, no matter how you slice it; and it’s not atmospheric in any performance. The music seems to invite a rather brisk, martial approach. The best performance of it is by Markevitch, and that takes 36 minutes—not a huge difference. I have not liked anything by this orchestra and conductor. Everything they do sounds impatient and “cosmopolitan”—that is, very 186 sophisticated and NOT Russian. There’s no soul in any of it. The playing is technically very good, the engineering crystal-clear, but again without warmth or “space”. It’s studio sound, not hall sound. Last issue we had the Poppen recording of this. His Saarbrucken orchestra sounds more “real”; it has more depth, the soloists have more soul, and it seems less slick all around— as if the conductor was enjoying the music. It is not a great recording, but it sounds great next to this one. It has a humanity this one doesn’t have. And Poppen gave us Symphony 3 on the same disc! VROON TCHAIKOVSKY: The Seasons; see ARENSKY T CHEREPNIN: Piano Sonatas 1+2; Bagatelles, op 5; Etudes, op 18; Inventions Giorgio Koukl—Grand Piano 608—63 minutes Tcherepnin’s name is bandied about often, but few pianists concentrate on his repertoire. Enter Koukl, a Martinu specialist who has now turned his attention to recording all of this composer’s piano output. The results here in Volume 1 are promising but not overwhelming. Most of the blame for the lackluster outcome can be assigned to the compositions, which vary tremendously in quality. The First Sonata dating from 1918 is highly accessible, but perhaps so much so that it moves perilously close to being too obvious. I is modular, built of regularly repeating fragments. Not one of them, though, stands out as intellectually or emotionally significant. II feels like a concept work, opening with a harmony that is sustained for more than 20 seconds before Lydian fragments intrude on it. III is a brusque Russian two-step whose quick tempo is undercut by massive scoring. IV begins by exploring a low-register ostinato figure for about 45 seconds, then shifts to concentrate on a wandering melody over generic triplet arpeggios. The whole thing, in a nutshell, is mundane. To a lesser extent, the same can be said about the Bagatelle set written the same year. These short pieces, which bought the composer his first bit of fame, are modestly built but at least possess some charm. The first bristles with energy. It is a clever study that mixes Russian sounding tonal progressions with Bartokian clusters. There are pointed, resonant staccatos and warm legatos; and a real purpose seems to animate the tiny figures rushing into the downbeats. The seventh is another great work. It is built of an incessant triplet figure that refuses to stop. They buzz dissonantly here and there and run rampant through all registers of the keyboard. It is only at the end September/October 2012 that a tonal context for the work is revealed as conventional cadential formulas are juxtaposed against it. The liner notes are almost apologetic about the Inventions, implying that their didactic nature (they were written in part so the composer could explore the potential of his nine-step scales) will alienate listeners. On the contrary, I found them some of the most direct, satisfying works on the release. Only the fourth sounds dry at all; many of the others seem to revel in the transparency between the voices. In addition to their contrapuntal complexity, Number 2 is delightful for its boundless energy and Number 7 stands out for its lyricism. The etudes are even better. Written in close proximity to the bagatelles, these display a certain kind of simplicity in the form of rhythmic squareness; I found myself tapping my foot to most of them. But the melodies are catchier and the harmonies are richer than before. On top of this there is a stronger sense of unbridled creativity is at play. Any texture seems capable of immediate and permanent transformation, as in Etude 2 where a slowmoving turn-based main idea turns on a dime to become the basis of a quirky march. The most powerful music here is the autobiographical Second Sonata. It was written in ten days in 1961 and depicts the composer’s frightening experience with a (temporary) aural disorder that caused him to imagine two high pitches at the interval of a major second. I begins as a sorrowful lento, where low tones stack up in register and volume. There are many false starts and lots of play with sustained tones initially hidden inside chords. The music launches into what first appears to be a joyful, buoyant allegro of bouncy, running eighth notes. But once the major seconds begin to infiltrate the texture there is no deterring them. By the end, the ear is bullied by screeches of the main motive in high register in quadruple octaves. In contrast, II is a plodding, nondescript work; but III balances the seriousness of I nicely. It is a stark piece chiseled out of rock, built of recurring gestures that are all presented loud and at top speed; it coasts on its own power like an infernal machine. AUERBACH TELEMANN: The Autograph Scores Collegium Musicum 90/ Simon Standage Chandos 787—79:18 The title grows out of the initial information we are given that, for all Telemann’s vast productivity, there are only 18 known autograph scores of his instrumental pieces. Nine of those survive in a collection of music Telemann was moved to compose to help celebrate the name-day of a patron, Landgraf Lud- American Record Guide wig VIII of Darmstadt in 1766, in Telemann’s final year of life. This collection survived as a possession of the composer’s grandson. From that starting-point, we might assume that this program will draw specifically on that late manuscript collection. But, no, of the six items presented here only four come from that late round of composition. Two others—a brief Concerto in D for strings and continuo, and a unconventional Concert en Ouverture for violin, strings, and continuo—date from about 1715 and the late 1730s. Only the latter of those survives in what might be an autograph, but cannot be proven. The rationale for including it is weak, while offering the other is puzzling—unless the intention is to contrast Telemann’s early writing with his last years. Of the later works, two are OuvertureSuites in standard French ouverture-withdances format. There is also a very brief Fanfare in D, perhaps meant for some function in the Landgraf’s celebration. A Divertimento in E-flat is a somewhat experimental miniature suite in six short sections, mixing dances with hunting evocation. The four pieces variously mix in flutes, horns, and bassoon with the strings and continuo. Taken as a package, this program does allow us to concentrate our attention on Telemann’s late orchestral style, still cosmopolitan, still following familiar paths, but yet with the mind always open to new possibilities. Standage is in his element here, and he plays expertly as both soloist and leader. His ensemble consists of 13 string players, with six more on winds plus harpsichord. The performances are altogether lively and lovely, and Telemann yet again reminds you of his infinite resourcefulness. BARKER TEN HOLT: Canto Ostinato Irene Russo, Fred Oldenburg, Sandra van Veen, Jeroen van Veen, p Brilliant 9261 [2CD] 145 minutes Simeon ten Holt is a new name to me; he was born in The Netherlands in 1923 and began studying with Jacob van Domsalaer at age 12. He later became a pupil of Honegger and Milhaud, immersed himself in serialism in the 1960s, then walked off into the minimalist sunset in the late 1970s, when Canto Ostinato was written. This is almost nothing like Glass: I counted two, maybe three, harmonic turns that sounded more like a wink than an influence. Nor is it like Reich: for a mere few seconds on Disc 1, the rhythm started to disintegrate like a phase shift, but was immediately pulled back. It was rather exciting. If anything, it’s the most like Adams’s Grand Pianola Music, though not as 187 bombastic. There’s a similar climax toward the end of Disc 1—which abruptly drops you off a cliff before bringing you back up. The entire piece is in 5/8, built around a bass line that ends up sounding like the ‘Passepied’ from Debussy’s Suite Bergamasque, and the punchy quintuple feel will be stuck in your head for several hours. It’s not unpleasant, mind you, but I should give you fair warning. Need I say it’s insistent? Well, things that go without saying often go better when they are said. It’s very tonal; the underlying chords are generally familiar, but what’s going on above is where most of the interest lies. The pianists have a lot of tonal variety; in fact, some notes sound so free of an attack that I’m not entirely convinced it wasn’t modified electronically. I’m 99% sure they use their hands to dampen the strings in other spots for a pizzicato sound. They’ll vary the pedaling and touch to delightful effect. This is played on four grands, by the way (it was first scored for three pianos and electronic organ). The energy never flags, which is impressive in itself. When the rhythm and harmonies are being set up at the beginning, the first interruption comes in the form of a very soft wrong note. I had just pulled out of my driveway, and my first thought was, “I’ve never heard my car make this noise.” It took a few times to convince me that the sound was on the record, because it was so unusual for minimalism, but also for the texture it was poking through. And it sounded so spookily non-pianistic! The more I listen to this, the more I like it. It was recorded in a church, and you can hear the vastness; but the engineers kept the pianos right in the foreground. The sound is really superb. Notes in English, more about Ten Holt and the pianists than the piece. ESTEP TOVEY: Trio; Quartet; Sonata Eroica London Trio; Ornesby Ensemble; Robert Atchison, v—Guild—7352—74:34 In his highly regarded seven-volume Essays in Musical Analysis, Sir Donald Francis Tovey ventured back in time through the realms of Palestrina and Wilbye and as far forward as Vaughan Williams and Hindemith. But his primary attention was given to that rich body of music that came out of Vienna, Salzburg, and Berlin between the mid-1700s and the beginning of the 1900s—Haydn and Mozart to Wagner and Elgar, so to speak. This was not entirely a matter of personal taste on Tovey’s part. That was the comparatively limited range musicians were playing and audiences demanding. Tovey after all was writing in support of the concerts and recitals of his own time, including many given by himself. 188 This is the second CD of Tovey’s music released by Guild. Like the first (J/A 2011) it reflects the orthodox musical life led by the composer at a time when one compositional revolution followed another and in seeming pandemonium. Tovey belonged to the conservative wing of Britain’s already institutionalized cultural life. From 1924 until he died in 1940 he was a Professor of Music at Edinburgh University, where tradition ran deep. Tovey did not belong to the avant-garde, and thus missed most of Schoenberg and Bartok. Opera was not his beat, so he had to pass up involvement in the big works of Richard Strauss, though the Essays contain a superlative report on Don Juan and other of that composer’s tone poems. Ballet does not appear to have played a major role in his life—the best of it was taking place on the continent—and so he didn’t get to know the early Stravinsky. Thus it isn’t at all surprising that when it came to writing his own music, Tovey paddled in familiar waters. If he had a personal model, it was Brahms; both the Trio and the Piano Quartet have overtly Brahmsian beginnings and are warmly tonal. Tovey’s writing is free of excess and self-indulgence. When he finished what he wanted to say, he stopped. How nice. Tovey was a pianist, and it shows in all those cascading arpeggios. But he knew what the strings could do, and he gives each a welcome life to live. The only flop here is the Sonata Eroica for solo violin, which runs 24 minutes and is bedecked with a full array of contrapuntal challenges and a requisite number of doublestops and the like. It is dedicated to Tovey’s friend Adolph Busch, though how often Busch played it is unknown. It is a somewhat tedious affair, suggesting that though the date of composition is the composer’s late 30s, the work may have earlier roots and go back to an undergraduate thesis. BENDER T URINA: Piano Quartet; Violin Sonata 2; Escena Andaluza; Trio 1; Oracion del Torero Nash Ensemble—Hyperion 67889—72 minutes When the 23-year old Turina went to Paris in 1905 to study, he fell under the influence of the impressionists but was also taken firmly in hand by Albeniz and Falla, who told him not to neglect his heritage. Turina’s music is often a curious hybrid of earthy Spanish tunes and Ravel-like vagueness. When he sets his native language in his vocal music, the Spanish influence tends to predominate; but in these chamber works, he speaks with a less distinctive voice. The second movement of the Piano Trio is dance-like, but the first is a classic prelude and September/October 2012 fugue. In the Escena Andaluza (for viola and piano quintet), the extra viola sings a warm melody, but I don’t hear anything particularly Iberian about it. Spanish rhythms are more prominent in the Piano Quartet; you’ll almost think you’re hearing a guitar in II. The Violin Sonata (Sonata Espagnola) has the piano imitating a guitar, but the violin dominates and never quite sings. The Oracion del Torero (for string quartet) is probably the most folk-like piece here. It makes pleasant listening, and the players of the Nash Ensemble (two violins, two violas, cello, and piano) are expert at what they do; but nothing really stuck in my head even after several hearings. Hyperion’s sound and packaging are deluxe, as usual. LUCANO T YE: Masses, Euge Bone & Western Wind; Quaesumus Omnipotens et Misericors Deus; Give Almes of thy Goods; Christ Rising Again from the Dead; Peccavimus cum Patribus Nostris; Nunc Dimittis Westminster Abbey Choir/ James O’Donnell Hyperion 67928—74 minutes Euge Bone Mass; In Pace in Idipsum; Gloria Laus et Honor; Kyrie Orbis Factor; Quaesumus Omnipotens et Misericors Deus; Omnes Gentes Plaudite Manibus; Christ Rising Again from the Dead; I Lift My Heart to Thee; To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; From the Depth I Called on Thee; Deliver Us, Good Lord; Give Almes of thy Goods; Nunc Dimittis (English) Cambridge University Chamber Choir/ Timothy Brown—Heritage 238—73 minutes There is considerable overlap in the contents of these two recordings of music by Christopher Tye (c1505-1573?). The principal work on each is the six-part Mass Euge Bone, widely regarded as his supreme masterpiece. The title suggests that it is a parody mass, but if so, the model is no longer extant. Meanwhile there is some common musical material between the mass and Tye’s six-part motet ‘Quaesumus Omnipotens et Misericors Deus’, also included on both of these recordings. The motet text is adapted from a prayer for King Henry VII with some modification to make it more generally usable. It is possible but far from certain that the mass was Tye’s doctoral submission to Cambridge University in 1545. The greater part of Tye’s career was spent in Cambridge and Ely, where he enjoyed the professional support of Richard Cox, a leading Protestant reformer who served as personal tutor to the future King Edward VI and eventually became Archdeacon and later Bishop of Ely. He was certainly responsible for Tye’s appointment to Ely Cathedral and most likely American Record Guide introduced the composer to the royal family. For a time Tye served as a Gentleman of the Chapel Royal. Much of Tye’s Latin church music displays the continuing influence of the earlier generation of English composers associated with the Eton Choirbook. His music would not be mistaken for theirs, but one sometimes finds comparably florid melodic writing and many instances of what I have called vocal orchestration: extended passages for fewer voice parts than the full choral texture and often with distinct colors. Tye was also a pioneer in the development of the English anthem. His English church music dates from the reign of Edward VI. While his anthems display considerable technical sophistication with imitative counterpoint and some text repetition, they are very different in personality from his earlier Latin works. His own Protestant inclinations as well as the expectation of his employers prompted a musical style much more closely molded to the prosody of the words with the intention that they should be clearly heard and understood. There is not a hint of florid or melismatic writing in the anthems. In addition to the pieces already named, the works common to both recordings are the anthems ‘Give Almes of thy Goods’, ‘Christ Rising Again from the Dead’, and an English Nunc Dimittis with a text different from the familiar one found in the Book of Common Prayer. ‘Give Almes’ is a miniature gem, while the six-part ‘Christ Rising’ demonstrates that even under Reformation constraints it was quite possible to produce music of festive exuberance and pungent harmonies. These two recordings are very different in character. The Choir of Westminster Abbey under James O’Donnell gives us the classic English cathedral sound, with boys who are very good though not quite flawless. Their program includes Tye’s four-part Western Wynde Mass, one of three surviving masses based on the secular monophonic song of that name. (The others are by Taverner and Sheppard.) O’Donnell also includes the extended penitential votive antiphon ‘Peccavimus cum Patribus Nostris’, probably written during the reign of Queen Mary. As we have come to expect from Hyperion, the recorded sound is warm and ingratiating. The recording by the Cambridge University Chamber Choir under Timothy Brown dates from 1990. I reviewed a previous release of it, though I am not certain it was the first (Guild 7121; Nov/Dec 1996). The ensemble has a smooth mixed choir sound of young adult voices with straight-toned sopranos, though as I mentioned in my earlier review, it is more the sound of an early-music concert choir than a 189 church choir. Their program opens with Latin liturgical works: the responsory ‘In Pace in Idipsum’, the Palm Sunday processional hymn ‘Gloria Laus et Honor’, and ‘Kyrie Orbis Factor’. Brown does not include a second mass setting, but gives us four additional English anthems, some of them quite substantial, and the motet ‘Omnes Gentes Plaudite Manibus’, a setting of Vulgate Psalm 46. This stands out from the other Latin works in its almost Protestant (or Tridentine) approach to text setting with melodic and rhythmic ideas that are more incisive than flowing and more in the service of the text. In the Latin works on both recordings, extended passages are sung by solo voices, especially ones of fewer parts. The contrast is more conspicuous on Brown’s recording than O’Donnell’s. Perhaps the acoustic of the church of All Hallows, Gospel Oak, London, where the Westminster Abbey choir was recorded, so carries and blends the vocal tone that the difference is less marked. The Cambridge University Chamber Choir recording was made in the chapel of Jesus College. The physical production of the Heritage recording is skimpy. Instead of a booklet there is a two-panel folder with an informative essay by Gavin Dixon. There are no texts or translations or even a list of the singers. Guild in 1996 furnished a booklet with a more ample program note by Roger Bowers and texts with translations but no information about the choir itself. Hyperion as usual includes a generous booklet with detailed program notes by Jeremy Summerly. GATENS UNDERHILL: Quartets 3+4; Still Image; Trombone Quintet Jeremy Berkman, trb; Francois Houle, cl; Bozzini Quartet—Centredisques 17412—70 minutes Canadian composer Owen Underhill (b 1954) speaks a musical language that is often stark, spare, and bleak, with dissonance that sometimes reminds me of Arvo Pärt. His music would be quite forbidding were it not for a couple of warm passages in each of his works. This program is string quartets, including ones with added clarinet and trombone. While composing Quartet 3 (The Alynne, 1998) after a daughter was born with serious medical difficulties, Underhill found solace and inspiration in a passage from Yeats (included in the notes). Lively dance passages offer relief from despair in the single-movement, 16-minute work. In the 14-minute Quartet 4 (The Night, 2011), barren dissonance (darkness) gives way to warm consonance (light). Clarinetist Francois Houle commissioned Still Image (2007, 2011) and is heard in this 190 arresting reading. In the three-movement, 18minute work, I is mysterious and includes disquieting quarter-tones in the clarinet part. II takes advantage of clarinet multiphonics, especially in a remarkable cadenza where Houle creates an otherworldly atmosphere. III is the most active and thickly textured movement, and the ending is breathtaking. The Trombone Quintet (1999) has string chorales with quiet, lyrical trombone in I and III; trombone multiphonics and muting with lively strings in II; and a mostly quiet, contrapuntal IV. With his trombone tone compact and pure, his dynamic level held down, Jeremy Berkman manages to play in balance with the strings in this unusual work. Excellent readings by the Montreal-based Bozzini Quartet (violinists Clemens Merkel and Mira Benjamin, violist Stephanie Bozzini, and cellist Isabelle Bozzini), whose devotion to new music—particularly in their annual Composers Kitchen—is laudable. KILPATRICK VACCAI: La Sposa di Messina Jessica Pratt (Isabella), Wakako Ono (Beatrice), Filippo Adami (Emanuele), Armando Ariostini (Don Cesare), Maurizio Lo Piccolo (Diego); Wildbad Rossini Festival/ Antonino Fogliani Naxos 660295 [2CD] 104 minutes Naxos spells this composer’s name Vaccaj instead of the more usual Vaccai. The J ending is more common in Europe than in the US. Actually Vaccai’s name, whatever the spelling is not that well known. He was popular in his day (1790-1848). He was a noted voice teacher. In 1832 he published his “Practical Method of Italian Singing”. It is still in use today. He composed 18 operas. The most popular one was Giulietta e Romeo (1825). So popular was this opera that the final scene of Vaccai’s Giulietta was frequently substituted for the final scene of Bellini’s Capulets and Montagues! It was the first of his operas to be recorded (March/April 1998). We scarcely think of opera subjects as controversial until modern times. But Vaccai came up with one in 1839. The source material looks innocent enough: Friedrich von Schiller’s 1801 play Die Braut von Messina. But here in all it Italian opera glory is a story of sibling incest. Before Wagner! Two brothers, the dreamily romantic Emanuele and the evil Cesare, are feuding over Emanuele’s mistress, Beatrice. What they do not know is that Beatrice is their long-lost sister. Three-way incest! But the real tragic protagonist is Isabella, the trio’s mother. She abandoned Beatrice at birth in fear of a prophecy that the girl would destroy the family. Now decades later the prophecy is coming true. Woe all around. There was such outrage at September/October 2012 the March 1839 premiere at La Fenice in Venice that the opera was withdrawn after the second performance. It was not heard again until the performances at the 21st Rossini in Wildbad Festival (Kursaal Bad Wildbad) 15-18 July 2009. It has been a lost to listeners for a long time and the more’s the pity. Sposa really is a lovely work—not a great one, but close enough with its generous supply of melody. It has a feeling of implacable fate to it which builds inexorably to the tragic denouement. A Rossini festival at a German spa may seem like an unlikely venue for the revival of forgotten Italian operas, but Wildbad has been doing it for 21 years and this is just the latest in their discoveries. Fogliani gets fine playing from his forces, actually the Classica Chamber Choir of Brno and the Virtuosi Brunensis, imported for the festival. The singing is split equally into the good (the ladies) and the not so good (the gentlemen). The most worthy star of the opera is soprano Jessica Pratt. Isabella is a big bel canto role with lots of fireworks and drama, and Pratt fearlessly plows her way through with spectacular effect. Wakako Ono casts an alluring spell as the much coveted Beatrice. Filippo Adami (Emanuel) is bright and chipper in his romantic effusions, but Armando Ariostini’s watery, ineffectual baritone (Cesare) was also an affliction in the 1996 Giulietta recording. Maurizio Lo Piccolo does well by the basso outburst of Diego. Italian-English libretto online. PARSONS VAINBERG: Cello Concerto; Symphony 20 Claes Gunnarsson; Gothenburg Symphony/ Thord Svedlund—Chandos 5107 [SACD] 71 mins Even with the outpouring of recent CDs of music by the great Polish-born composer Moishei Vainberg (Mieczyslaw Weinberg) who fled to the USSR as a young man, he was so prolific (dozens of symphonies, concertos, quartets, sonatas, etc.) that there are still many works yet to be commercially recorded. Happily for music lovers, long-running Vainberg series by CPO and Chandos (see our cumulative index) have been whittling down the list, and Chandos now offers yet another recorded premiere: the 20th Symphony from 1988, superbly played by the Gothenburg Symphony under Thord Svedlund and captured in clear, airy, powerful sonics. The much-earlier Cello Concerto (1948) offers an interesting contrast: recognizably by the same composer but always staying in the confines of traditional expectations and conventions. There are several previous recordings of the concerto—Rostropovich and Mark Dobrinsky (July/Aug 2002) among the soloists on them—but this new one offers a competitive performance and better sonics. American Record Guide Vainberg is often compared to his close friend and colleague Shostakovich, but though there are definite kinships (and mutual influence going both ways) he doesn’t have the older man’s caustic cynicism or neurotic anxieties. He has his own anxieties, of course, but his essential personality is more optimistic or at least more resigned, with an inner sweetness and a sort of smiling-through-his-tears composure that, without ever denying them, shrugs off much of the sufferings he had seen and endured as a Jew and as a political liberal escaping the Nazis only to be persecuted and threatened for much of his later life by the Stalinist regime. Vainberg was also an inventive, resourceful, ever-experimenting-and-exploring artist. Though never abandoning classical harmonic and form, he absorbed newer ideas and techniques not only from his fellow Soviet contemporaries but also from figures as varied as Mahler, Nielsen, Bartok, and Hindemith, until by his later years his musical language had become thoroughly cosmopolitan—much like such figures of comparable stature as, say, Kenneth Leighton or Walter Piston. Vainberg’s Cello Concerto reveals its Slavic parentage immediately in the slow first movement’s melancholy theme, sung by the solo cello at the very beginning. The work’s inheritance from Rachmaninoff and Shostakovich clearly established, a wistful moderato follows, with elements of gentle tango rhythms played off against Hebraically inflected figures. III is fast and virtuosic, not far in manner from Khachaturian’s bravura finales. The concerto finishes with a lively rondo that eventually returns to I’s slow tempo, reprising its opening melody and soulful melancholy. With a plenitude of inviting tunes, appealing solo part, admirable craftsmanship, engaging but unpretentious warmth, and easy-to-grasp formal and emotional patterns, this wonderful concerto is sure to please most music lovers on first hearing and would make a good introduction to the composer for anyone who hasn’t yet discovered him. Symphony 20 comes from the other end of Vainberg’s career and shows how far he traveled from his earlier manner without ever repudiating it. Indeed, he gave up nothing, but instead continually added to his musical resources and emotional range. The symphony is a full-scale work in five movements lasting 40 minutes. Two long, slow, arch-like outer movements enclose two shorter scherzos that themselves surround a central short intermezzo. David Fanning’s annotations point out that the dancier and earthier inner movements— the scherzos Mahlerian, the intermezzo bumping along in wandering Hindemithian chromaticism—are the most approachable; and 191 the outer movements, with their long-spun laments, chill chorales, muted trumpet calls, and harmonic ambiguity, confirm the symphony’s overall impression of bleak austerity and enigmatic remoteness. This sorrow-heavy stoicism is unexpectedly renounced in the symphony’s final moments, as it builds toward an exultant affirmation, in plangent, fullorchestra concords, of a grand and courageous statement of faith, as if to say: It is only darkness that allows us to see the light. LEHMAN VAINBERG: Symphony 6; Moldavian Rhapsody Glinka College Boys Choir; St Petersburg Symphony/ Vladimir Lande Naxos 572779—61 minutes This is the third recording of Moisei Vainberg’s Sixth Symphony that I’m aware of. The others are led by Korsten Fedoseyev (Neos) and Kiril Kondrashin (Melodiya). The Rhapsody was also recorded by Gabriel Chmura (Chandos). Vainberg’s Sixth Symphony (1963) was his first to use voices, in this case a boy choir. The first movement is a powerfully somber Adagio Sostenuto that would do Vainberg’s friend and mentor, Dmitri Shostakovich, proud. Melancholy and pain are depicted with elements like long, searching string melody, scoring cellos in their high register, reinforcing violas with horns, and rolling bass lines. This all reaches a massive climax by gradually adding instruments. The searching resumes with a quasiimprovisational flute solo over strings and timpani. A declamatory motif of an open fifth and drop of a minor second begins solos that pass to the horn, clarinet, strings, back to the flute, and finally to the clarinet over contrabassoon. Annotator Richard Whitehouse calls what follows “eloquent [string] polyphony”, sometimes bolstered by the meat of the horn section, before dying quietly with flute and strings. The Allegretto sets a Lev Kvitko poem about a “boy making a violin from scraps on which he plays to an audience of animals and birds” (all quotes are from Whitehouse). The boys’ entrance turns things whimsical and sardonically playful, if also a little bizarre. Outright weirdness follows, with a violin solo over tuba and the boys becoming part of the instrumental ensemble, intoning brittle motifs accompanied by high instruments pitted against low. The whole thing sounds like a combination of Shostakovich and a sparse and spiky Russian Mahler’s Fourth Symphony (first movement). Allegro Molto is mainly a wild dance. Shostakovich has done this kind of thing but not as violently or for so long. (The first movement of DSCH’s Seventh is more militaristic 192 than mad.) A bizarre interval with shrieking clarinets over angry horn drones takes Berlioz’s ‘Witches Sabbath’ a few steps further in grotesquerie. Is this a dance or violent madness? There ensues a bizarre fugue over a dancing pizzicato rhythm and a few snide and biting shots from the orchestra, before the wild dance returns and tears to a pounding percussive conclusion that ends with a single chime. What can follow such madness? Vainberg reaches back (1944) to one of his Jewish Songs for a Largo, though one would never know that was coming from the stern fanfares of brass and percussion that open proceedings. He then changes course entirely for a setting of a Samuil Galkin poem about “where the home once stood is now a graveyard for the murdered children, and will one day serve as a memorial to future generations”. The choir might well be the murdered children singing a Russian chant. The music seems to drift heavenward with celeste and woodwind accompaniment before the plaintive mood returns. Searing brass take over with the trumpets and low horns raw and raging. Only at the very end do the winds give us peace—perhaps at the graveyard. The gentle Andantino begins without a break. Opening slow trills in low woodwind registers sound like Mahler, who dominates this movement. That leads to a Mikhail Lukonin poem “as a lullaby where the children of the present and the future, from the Mississippi to the Mekong, are bid sleep in the confidence of a bright and productive tomorrow”. The choir sounds more childlike than before and is accompanied by sparse orchestral motifs. A long violin solo on what sounds like a Jewish theme wends its way over tuba. Horn and strings enter with material from the opening of the symphony. The work seems about to end as uncertainly as it began, when a chord in the high flute over the low bassoon, like a bird over the earth, brings it to a peaceful end. After Vainberg came under fire in 1948 for “formalism”, he turned away from symphonies to nationalist and programmatic works. Rhapsody on Moldavian Themes (1949) is Russian and Eastern (but not Asian) in its romanticism, color, modality, and orchestration—the voice of Rimsky-Korsakoff, Borodin, Ivanov-Ippolitov as opposed to Soviets like Khrennikov. The first half is introspective, melancholy, and dark until a furious dance breaks out—think of a wild Gypsy dance or Khachaturian’s Saber Dance, only more feral. From there, the work barrels from one stirring invention to another. I do not know the other recordings of these works, but these are first rate. The sound and Whitehouse’s notes are worthy partners. HECHT September/October 2012 VAN GILSE: Symphony 3 Aile Asszonyi, s; Netherlands Symphony/ David Porcelijn CPO 777 518—64 minutes In reviewing his Symphonies 1 and 2 (Jan/Feb 2009) I outlined the details of Jan van Gilse’s unhappy life. Those symphonies derive from Schumann, though in 2 his freer handling of the orchestra, especially the horns, shows Mahler’s influence. Symphony 3 (1907) is more ambitious and effective, marking real progress in his artistic growth. The work won the Michael Beer Prize (named in memory of Giacomo Meyerbeer’s younger brother) in 1909. Worth about $12,500 in today’s money, it gave Van Gilse some breathing space to create. The symphony is in five sections, with the subtitle Erhebung or Exaltation. I is an introduction to the entire work. The music is meditative, as if hesitant to progress, but eventually builds to an emotional statement, with particularly good writing for the lower double-reeds. II is an allegro resembling Richard Strauss in his more turbulent moods, and just as impressive. It’s mostly in the minor mode, but the effect is bracing rather than depressing. It has a songful dying close. In III, after an extended cello rhapsody, the soprano enters, her text from the Song of Songs. The vocal line as music is quite beautiful, but most of it lies in the top register. Asszonyi sings the part handsomely, but let’s be realistic—when a soprano part soars over the staff, forget about understanding any words. (There are notes and texts in English and German.) The scherzo, IV, is a boisterous symphonic waltz, richly scored. A gentler interlude adds a Mahlerian touch. In V, an eloquent string paragraph builds step by step till thwarted by a diminuendo, no doubt influenced by the finale of the Mahler Symphony 3, a work Van Gilse greatly admired. A more upbeat segment brings back the soprano, the symphony concluding in impressive peaks with the soloist interjecting between noble brass progressions. As heard in the release, CPO has recorded many fine Dutch symphonies (see Roentgen in this issue) and this one is near the top of the list in value. Maybe CPO will give us a modern recording of Holland’s greatest symphony— Pijper’s No. 3. The playing and singing are fine, and what I said about Porcelijn’s conducting of the Roentgen symphonies applies as much here. I’m now at the stage where I’m interested to hear anything he conducts. O’CONNOR American Record Guide VASKS: Organ Pieces Te Deum; Viatore; Canto di Forza; Musica Seria; Cantus ad Pacem Tuomas Pyrhönen—Alba 325 [SACD] 76 minutes Latvian composer Peteris Vasks (b 1946) is probably best known for his chamber music, though several of his orchestral and choral works have been recorded. The five organ works here constitute his entire solo output for the instrument thus far, though he has included the organ in some of his orchestral and choral works. Two of the pieces were not originally for the organ: Viatore was for string orchestra and Canto di Forza for the 12 cellos of the Berlin Philharmonic. According to the program notes by organist Tuomas Pyrhönen, the solo organ versions of these works were written very soon after the originals. Vasks’s father was a Baptist minister whose fiery preaching he greatly admired, citing it as an important influence on the intensity he brings to his work as a composer. Brooding melancholy is a prevailing characteristic; Pyrhönen describes it as “an indivisible part both of Vasks’s personality and of his output as a composer”. He is particularly concerned about the harm that has been done to the divine beauty of nature by destructive human behavior. The hardships and oppression of life in Latvia under Soviet rule have also left their mark on him. Among the composers mentioned as influences on Vasks, it is not surprising to find the names of Sibelius, Lutoslawski, Gorecki, and Pärt. An unexpected name on the list is George Crumb. In general, the musical idiom here is tonal (or modal) with straightforward harmony and melody. Each of these organ pieces is a substantial and broadly conceived work that unfolds slowly and deliberately. In the later works—Te Deum (1991), Viatore (2001), and Canto di Forza (2006)—melodic and harmonic figures are repeated many times, producing an effect of time almost standing still, as in much of the music of Pärt and Gorecki. In the earlier works the harmonic diction is more complex. Pyrhönen describes Musica Seria (1988, revised 2008) as Vasks “at his most experimental” with intense chromatic dissonances and clusters. The tonal and triadic foundation is not abandoned, but it is stretched almost to the breaking point. Cantus ad Pacem (1984) is also triadic but with far more added-note color and dissonance than in the later works. The great four-manual 1884 Walcker organ at Riga Cathedral is possibly the ideal medium for the organ works of Vasks, who has expressed his belief that any composer living in Riga is duty-bound to write for that instrument. As one would expect, it has a broad palette of romantic colors. The sound is pow- 193 erful but not as aggressive or overwhelming as many other large organs of its time, yet even the quieter registers have an eloquent intensity. These qualities are abundantly apparent in this recording, made in the composer’s presence and with his consultation. GATENS V ERDI: Requiem; ROSSINI: Overtures Barber, Scala di Seta, William Tell, Gazza Ladra, Italiana in Algeri, Cenerentola Galina Vishnevskaya, Nina Isakova, Vladimir Ivanovsky, Ivan Petrov; Moscow Philharmonic, ORTF/ Igor Markevitch ICA 5068 [2CD] 136 minutes Markevitch recorded Verdi’s Requiem for Philips in 1960. This concert performance, with the same soloists, was taped in Moscow earlier that year. It’s a fast, powerful reading, often sloppy (the choral “Salva me fons pietatis”, for example) but always exciting and moving. The raspy, inelegant tenor soloist is difficult to listen to, but the other three are fine. Mezzo Isakova is rock-solid, and Petrov’s light bass is quite agreeable. Vishnevskaya, though fiery when necessary, is sometimes graceful (“sed signifer sanctus Michael”) and nails all her top notes, whether loud or soft. What compromises any enjoyment is the shrill, steely sound, which will remind you of those terrible Melodiya recordings made in the 50s and 60s. The six Rossini overtures recorded in Paris in 1957 don’t sound any better. Markevitch’s Rossini is very much in the speedy, nononsense Toscanini-Reiner mold, but his wind soloists are too reticent and his orchestra often sounds flustered. There are many better recordings of the Requiem (including Markevitch on Philips) and many better collections of Rossini overtures, so this is for Markevitch archivists only. LUCANO VIERNE: Organ Pieces 2 Pieces de Jeunesse; 3 Improvisations; Pieces in Free Style; Triptyque; Low Mass; Low Mass for the Dead Pierre Labric—Solstice 286 [3CD] 3:09 This second volume of Vierne’s organ music contains 43 pieces ranging from just over one minute to over 11 minutes (Volume 1—Solstice 277, J/F 2012, includes the six symphonies). All selections were recorded in 1973 and 1974 in Saint-Ouen, Rouen; the instrument is a 4-82 Cavaillé-Coll (1890), characterized by Widor as worthy of Michelangelo, with a marvelous 26-rank Recit Division. It is unfortunate that four of the Pieces in Free Style—Carillon, Elegie, Epithalame, and Postlude—are not here, owing to the inexplica- 194 ble reluctance of the engineer at Teleson—who has the original tapes—to make them available to Solstice. This gap amounts to about 18 minutes of music. The remaining pieces are performed with sensible tempos, appropriate registration, and an assured touch. The music in this three-disc collection takes us from about 1892 (Allegretto, Op.1) to 1934 (Low Mass for the Dead, Op.62). The great bulk of Op.31 is made up of pieces two to four minutes long. Many seem to be improvisations Vierne remembered from the past and then put into notation. Listening to all of them without a break may be tedious to many, and I imagine more attention will be paid to Labric’s performance of the Triptyque, those three haunting pieces concluding with Stele pour un Enfant Defunt. It is well known that Vierne had finished playing this piece—dedicated to little Jean de Brancion—in a Notre-Dame recital on June 2, 1937 and was about to begin the traditional post-recital improvisation when he had a heart attack while his foot was on the low E pedal. The audience figured it was the start of Vierne’s improvisation when it was actually the last note in his life. Music lovers who seek a preferred performance of these short pieces will find Labric’s interpretations among the best. Everything about this collection reflects sensitive musicianship coupled to a superb instrument, one with a smoother sonority than the one Van Oosten plays at Saint-Antoine (MDG 3161011, J/A 2001). Kaunzinger offers an acceptable interpretation (J/F 1990), far better than Walsh (N/D 1991). METZ VIEUXTEMPS: Violin Concertos 1+2; Greeting to America Chloe Hanslip, Flemish Philharmonic/ Martyn Brabbins—Hyperion 67878—75 minutes It appears we never got the Fuga Libera set of all seven Vieuxtemps violin concertos issued a couple of years ago where each concerto has a different soloist. My immediate impression on hearing it was that there’s a good reason we never hear any of Vieuxtemps’s concertos outside of 4 and 5: these are simply the cream of the crop, like 1 and 2 of Paganini. Hearing the first two concertos from several hands while comparing them to this new Hyperion suggested I might have been too hard on them before, even though there’s no question many of Vieuxtemps’s melodies sound just like Paganini’s. Hyperion has already released 4 and 5 with Viviane Hagner, whose playing I found beautiful but emotionally bland (Sept/Oct 2010); and now they offer 1 and 2 with Chloe Hanslip, whose Warner recording of the Bruch 1 and 3 (also with Brabbins) I September/October 2012 praised quite highly though later entries by Godard and Hubay displayed a bit of an edge in the highest register. All three movements of 2 could be played in the space of the opening Allegro of 1. The Concerto in E here takes 40:41—same as the Brahms and Beethoven—with I alone lasting 24:49. The compelling introduction sets forth a suavely melodic melody in the Beethoven manner—or possibly Spohr—with a brazen statement by the horns heralding a more martial stance. We hear briefly a lyrical turn from the woodwinds, with one standout rum-ti-tum tune that recurs often as the music progresses. But Vieuxtemps relies on these melodic elements for maybe half the movement, until at 12:27 the soloist launches into a new theme redolent of Gypsy music—indeed you may think of Liszt’s Second Hungarian Rhapsody. More busywork follows until the dramatic orchestral lead-in to the cadenza, where Vieuxtemps finally decides to add cymbals to his orchestra (which Paganini of course would have had up front right from the start). The brief Adagio (here 3:33) little more than sets up the final Rondo, where Vieuxtemps adds the triangle to his arsenal while giving the high-stepping soloist much to do, and he also brings back the Adagio theme before launching into a perpetuum mobile coda. In the F-sharp minor score published as No. 2 a stern mincing step that threatens to turn into the familiar “villain” motif from those old silent film melodramas leads to a fustian tutti, followed by a more fluid second subject; this the soloist embraces together with other material, but Vieuxtemps avoids the prolonged discourse of the E-major score. Most of the movement revolves around the tender opening strain and another melody that sounds a lot like everyone’s favorite fondly remembered lullaby. The buoyant closing rondo is once again calculated to show off the skills of the soloist, spelled by another theme the composer marks as lusingbiero (pleading). Both are subjected to all manner of embellishment by the soloist, but as with 1:III this is above all music for the dance and requires great agility, not just showmanship. In both concertos Ms Hanslip’s playing reminded me a lot of the Godard and Hubay— lots of pure tone but also a shrill edge on top. I had to turn down the sound when she entered because she seemed to be right under the mike. Nor did I ever really get the impression she was fully inside this music; she churns out endless pages of busywork but seems too cautious, even calculated. I wanted to hear more of the sheer joy of playing this music and less of the labored nuts and bolts of simply getting from point A to point B, though I admit that’s American Record Guide not easy in a work as discursive as the E major score; in the slighter F-sharp minor matters improved. I especially felt she was no more than picking her way along in the Rondo of 1; thus I was dismayed to pull down the Naxos with Misha Keylin (May/June 2000) and find him pretty much the same, but the Naxos is a lot more resonant. And Paul Rosenthal on Biddulph is even more sodden. Here I was happy to have the Fuga Libera set with Vineta Sareika, who moves things forward admirably in the opening movement and has more of a spring to her step in the Rondo—though I wouldn’t mind hearing it played even faster. In 2 the Fuga Libera set failed me with a tentative, listless account from Hrachya Avanesyan, dragged down even further by a lumpish accompaniment. I still enjoy the Westminster LP with Robert Gerle (17123). Keylin (Sept/Oct 1997) finds in this music a throbbing intensity unmatched by Gerle, but he’s tepid in the finale and so is Carlo Van Neste (Pavane). Overall I’m happiest with Alexander Markov (July/Aug 1998), who blows the cobwebs off this music; but his excesses in 4 5 effectively rule him out unless you have those already. He’s matched pretty closely by Avanesyan in the finale, but the orchestra really whales on the opening tutti. If your primary concern is having all seven Vieuxtemps concertos, you could do worse than look for the Fuga Libera set and supplement it with Markov for 2; but if Hyperion now plans on having Ms Hanslip complete the cycle, I hope for better in the remaining works. Even the Fuga Libera set won’t get you the Greeting to America, pound for pound the most entertaining piece on this disc. Written for Vieuxtemps’s American tour (1843-4), this incandescent display works up ‘Yankee Doodle’ left, right, and sideways before everyone stands proud in ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’. Misha Keylin’s rousing display (Sept/Oct 2010) simply can’t be beat; Ms Hanslip doesn’t even come close to Keylin’s fiddling, and the trombones in the ringing close-out stand out a lot better than they do on Hyperion. Gerard Poulet on Auvidis is simply dreary, but you may need that for 6 and 7 unless you end up getting the Fuga Libera set. HALLER VINCI: Cantatas (4), Recorder Sonata; SCARLATTI,A: Cantata Emanuela Galli, Francesca Cassinari, s; Stile Galante/ Stefano Aresi—Pan 10266—66:49 Leonardo Vinci (1690-1730) was one of the most important and influential among the constellation of composers active in Naples in the early 18th Century. Despite the brevity of his life and career, 195 Vinci was a markedly prolific composer. He composed more than 30 operas, and over 20 solo cantatas add another dimension to his vocal writing. Recordings have been terribly sparing in attention to his music. This release gives us a good sampling of his rarely heard cantatas. They set texts generally on themes of love (happy and otherwise) in mythic Arcadia. But at least one of them is a personalized address to his favorite soprano, the young Faustina Bordoni, who was leaving Naples for a wider international career. Another was explicitly composed for another soprano with whom Vinci worked in Naples, Vittoria Tessi. The master of this cantata form at the time was, of course, old Alessandro Scarlatti (16601725). One of the cantatas here was once attributed to Vinci but is now recognized as by Scarlatti. Why it was included here, instead of another of Vinci’s own and authentic cantatas, is not clear—perhaps just to illustrate that his reputation was sufficient to attract a faulty attribution. (The rather pointless title of the album, by the way, “Fileno”, refers to an Arcadian character in one of the cantatas.) The performances here are fully committed and generally persuasive. They are divided between the two sopranos, both fine singers, quite equal to the virtuosic demands. Cassinari has a tendency to become hooty on sustained notes, but is otherwise pleasing. Galli particularly impresses me for her ability to dig into the emotions underlying these highly stylized texts. To fill out the program, there is a recently discovered Sonata in A minor for recorder and continuo that adds to the composer’s meager instrumental output and is quite a lively piece. The six instrumentalists give vigorous support, and the sound is ideal. Adequate notes, texts with translations. BARKER VIVALDI: Violin Concertos IV Riccardo Minasi, Il Pomo d’Oro Naive 30533—77:15 New Discoveries II Ann Hallenberg, s; Anton Steck, v; Alexis Kossenko, fl; Modo Antiquo/ Federico Maria Sardelli—Naive 30534—58:18 Trio Sonatas, op 1 L’Estravagante—Naive 30535—74 minutes Three new additions to Naive’s Vivaldi Edition series. In proposing to record for this series all the violin concertos beyond the ones in the published opus collections, Naive has its work cut out for it. But it has made the interesting decision to entrust each program in this sub-series to different Italian soloists and ensembles, 196 rather than using the same personnel each time. There are also separate “themes” that each grouping of concertos can explore. In this release, titled “L’imperatore” (The Emperor), there are seven concertos, mostly from the 1720s and many of them explicitly or putatively involved in Vivaldi’s cordial relationship with the Hapsburg prince who became Austrian Emperor Charles VI. These concertos were among a dozen put together as a gift to Charles, at a time when the composer’s Op. 9 publication was just going into print. There are actually some overlappings between this royal manuscript collection and the Op. 9. One concerto is shared in full between them—an interesting but rare instance of scordatura retuning of the strings. The other overlap is in movements here that were organized differently for the first concerto of Op. 9. Minasi is an intense performer, and his ensemble (12 string players, plus one on harp and two on harpsichord) backs him up with robust period-style conviction. The sound is close and full. Listeners familiar with Vivaldi’s violin concertos only through the ones published in the numbered collections will find these “stray” concertos important territory to explore. In this material one can hear Vivaldi the virtuoso turning his talents to a more matured sensitivity than is heard in the earlier numbered publications. That no rocks are left unturned in the quest for missing scraps of Vivaldi’s music is attested by the second program from Naive of “New Discoveries”. How far afield such questing must go is demonstrated here by yields from archives in Enghien (Belgium), London, Edinburgh, Berlin, Dresden, and (!) Berkeley CA. Some of the items offered this time are gratuitous additions, while others fill in some known gaps in what we have had. Thus, we are now given four arias (two each found in Enghien and Berlin) recognized as from an otherwise lost opera, L’ingano Trionfante in Amore. Added to those is an aria fragment from the lost opera Ipermestra found at UC Berkeley. From Edinburgh comes a Flute Concerto in D minor, Il Gran Mogul, that seems to belong to a till-now incomplete cycle of such concertos. There is a violin concerto from Dresden, and two sonatas for violin and continuo from London. No great revelations in any of these items, but a lot of characteristically Vivaldian pleasantry, along with some small new insights. Hallenberg predictably does full-throated justice to the vocal selections. Alexis Kossenko is the fine flute soloist, and Anton Steck is an expert violinist. The period orchestra is 13 string players strong, with harpsichord and two players who rotate theorbo, lute, and gui- September/October 2012 tar for some pepper in the continuo. Whether as conductor or traffic cop, Sardelli maintains a lively pace. Sturdy sound. The booklet’s notes are extensive but sometimes a little blurred on details. Full texts and translations. Vivaldi’s earliest publications were of chamber music, and in his Op. 1 of 1705 (or perhaps 1703) we see him hewing consciously to the models supplied by his great elder contemporary, Corelli. The latter published four collections of trio sonatas, 12 sonatas per set, as his Opp. 1-4, and then a dozen violin sonatas as Op. 5. Vivaldi respects the format of the trio sonatas Corelli had stabilized, while giving as the set’s No. 12 his imaginative treatment of the La Follia figure, just as Corelli did in his own Op. 5. Vivaldi’s Op. 1 has long been the most popular of his chamber-music publications, certainly on recordings. I can pull from my shelves seven earlier recordings of the compete publication, and I know I have missed at least one other. An old standby, in reliable “modern instrument” playing led by Salvatore Accardo, was a staple through several releases by Philips. As period playing took over, Monica Huggett led her Trio Sonnerie in a spirited set for CPO (999 511; not reviewed), and London Baroque recorded the set in more straight-forward terms for BIS (1025, J/F 2001). Both of those releases added a number of other pieces as generous fillers. Huggett spiced the continuo by throwing in a player on lute, theorbo, and guitar: there is even a guitar improvisation on the Follia figure preceding Vivaldi’s sonata. More recently, Ms Crawford (J/A 2008) liked a recording led by Enrico Gatti for Glossa (921203, 2CD). That set offers no fillers, and an archlute is used with vigor as part of the continuo. This new recording of the set follows the Glossa one on some counts. The sound for both is very close and up-front (as against the sense of distance in Huggett’s set); and both use a lute or whatever that gives the continuo, along with one or another keyboard instrument, a particularly twangy quality. Both recordings, too, oppose the two violins for maximum dialog effect. On the other hand, whereas Ms Crawford found Gatti and his colleagues making a sound of nearly orchestral fullness, it seems to me that Montanari—clearly the leading spirit of his ensemble—seeks a “chamber” leanness. He is among the most adventurous of our performers in pushing tempos to extremes of slow and fast, and he adds phrasing or agogic touches that can boarder on the eccentric. I would also bet that it was his idea not only to scramble the order of these sonatas but to put No. 12 as the very first, for a particularly sensational opening. American Record Guide In all, I would recommend London Baroque or Glossa as the most satisfying choices. But there is no doubt that Naive offers excitement and sharp detail. And it alone has managed to fit the entire set on just one disc. I had thought that Naive’s gallery of ugly bimbo photographs for its Vivaldi series had pretty much reached it depths, but the horrible cover for the Op. 1 recording actually plunges to a new pit of bad taste. I do hope that the company official responsible for these vulgar irrelevancies (so insulting to women) will be forced to mount the whole series on his office walls, so that he must contemplate his sins to the end of his days, or at least until he retires. BARKER WAGNER: Siegfried Idyll; Faust Overture; arr: Iphigenia in Aulis Overture; Traume; STRAUSS: Oboe Concerto Louise Pellerin, ob; Bienne Symphony/ Thomas Rosner—ATMA 2580 Bienne is the city I have always known as Biel, half an hour from Berne. It is pretty small, but is the headquarters of both Omega and Rolex—watchmaking country. It is also utterly bilingual. All street names are in both German and French. The orchestra is a pitiful-sounding little band. What is this Canadian label doing there? This is called “Wagner in Switzerland”. Wagner had two Swiss exiles, and naturally he didn’t stop writing music. Here are pieces he wrote there. The Siegfried Idyll had its “premiere” in the house he and Cosima were living in near Zurich (Tribschen) with 18 instruments. It sounds much better with plenty of strings, but this orchestra doesn’t have plenty of strings, so they make a virtue of necessity. Nor does this orchestra have any vibrato in the strings. Apparently they excuse that in the case of the Gluck because some idiot told them Gluck wouldn’t have had it (not true!). But note: this is Wagner’s arrangement of Gluck! Wagner without vibrato is so stupid I can’t imagine anyone defending it. Stick to the Klemperer recording. The Faust Overture is so boring here that you can’t imagine that anyone would bother with it. The Strauss (he went to Switzerland after World War II for the superior health care) is pretty nice. It’s a hard piece to bring off, because Strauss had forsworn his ecstatic romanticism; but this is one of the better recordings. Too bad you have to put up with some dreadful Wagner to have the 23 minutes of Strauss. Well, actually, you don’t, because there are a few other good Strauss recordings. VROON 197 WAGNER: Flying Dutchman Overture; see SCHUMANN WEBER: Symphonies (2); Horn Concertino; Oboe Concertino Stefan Dohr, hn; Munich Radio Orchestra/ Hansjörg Schellenberger, ob Camerata 28215—68 minutes This very fine pairing of the Weber symphonies was my introduction to Camerata, a Japanese label distributed by Albany. Don Vroon informs me the recordings are made for the Japanese market, quite possibly by expatriate Japanese now living in Europe; and this release comes complete with the familiar “obi” though unlike the numerous Japanese Deccas and Westminsters I’ve obtained you get notes in English as well as Japanese. The jewel box also bears the BR logo, and these performances were taken down by Bavarian Radio in Munich by a conductor and orchestra who clearly know and love Weber’s music. Even though I already had nine couplings of the Weber symphonies on my shelf, I’m always willing to add one more when they’re set forth as winningly as they are here; for just like the two piano concertos and Konzertstück Weber’s youthful exuberance quite disarms criticism; and like the overtures you surely already know, the effortless flow of cheerful melody and most of all the adept writing for the woodwinds—not least the oboe so beloved of Weber’s patron, Duke Eugen of Karlsruhe— handily repay repeated hearings. Lacking scores for the symphonies, I’d guess that Weber didn’t call for the usual repeat in the opening movement of 1 (both are in the key of C, incidentally), or at least none of my recordings include it; most conductors do take the repeat in the finale, I’m pleased to say, as it gives the horns a splendid fusillade. More curious, most conductors take the repeat in 2:1 even though this symphony is a good deal longer, but not in the impish finale, which is over almost before it begins. This is music of great humor and delightful tune-spinning that rivals the early symphonies of Schubert, and Schellenberger is blessed with an ensemble that can do no wrong, rising to the challenge of some pretty whirlwind tempos from the podium. I marvel that the oboist can scoot along so flawlessly in the scherzo of 1, and a lesser orchestra might falter in the Presto finale of 2. Schellenberger also doubles as soloist in Weber’s enchanting Oboe Concertino. Stefan Dohr—principal horn of the Berlin Philharmonic—makes a meal of the better known Horn Concertino, with every maneuver in the horn player’s arsenal, at one point calling to mind the ancient serpent Bernard Herrmann used so tellingly in Journey to the Center of the Earth. If only they had filled 198 out with Weber’s Adagio and Hungarian Rondo for bassoon—it would have thrived in such jovial company! By now you will no doubt have guessed I love these symphonies, which I learned from the Westminster LP with Victor Desarzens and the Lausanne Chamber Orchestra. Perhaps because of limited space, Desarzens omits all of the standard repeats, and he doesn’t goad his men on like Schellenberger; still, his healthy vigor is hard to resist, and the familiar Westminster sonics are even more pellucid than the Camerata. I’ve covered the Weber symphonies in these pages more times than I can count; major contenders for your dollar include Hans-Hubert Schönzeler on Guild (Jan/Feb 1998), Roger Norrington for EMI (Sept/Oct 1995), Roy Goodman’s Hanover Band on Nimbus (Nov/Dec 1989), and now this Camerata. Only the stuffiest pedant could fail to be entertained by these delightful symphonies written in the shadow of the great Beethoven, yet filled to overflowing with the sheer joy of writing music for a talented group of players. HALLER WEELKES: Anthems Hosanna to the Son of David; What Joy so True; All People Clap Your Hands; Lord to Thee I Make My Moan; When David Heard; Gloria in Excelsis Deo; Give Ear, O Lord; Most Mighty and All-Knowing Lord; O How Amiable; Alleluia, I Heard a Voice; O Mortal Man; Give the King Thy Judgements; If King Manasses; O Lord, Grant the King a Long Life; consort pavans (3); Consort Fantasy; organ voluntaries (2) Benjamin Atkinson & Daniel Smith, organ; Fretwork; Sussex College Choir, Cambridge/ David Skinner—Obsidian 708—63 minutes Thomas Weelkes (1576?-1623) had a promising early career. He probably sang as a boy chorister at Winchester Cathedral, and in 1598 was appointed organist there. This was his most fruitful time as a composer of madrigals. In either 1601 or 1602 he was appointed organist and choirmaster at Chichester Cathedral, where he served for 20 years. He earned a music degree from Oxford University and seemed to be on a comfortable career path. He was possibly known at the court of James I, but his self-description as a Gentleman of the Chapel Royal in his Fourth Book of Madrigals (1608) may have been more wishful thinking than fact. It was around this time that his personal life went into steep decline. Beginning in 1611 he was often charged with drunkenness, foul language, and neglect of his duties at the cathedral. There seems little doubt that today he would be diagnosed with chronic alcoholism. In 1617 he was dismissed from his post September/October 2012 as organist and choirmaster but continued as a singer in the cathedral choir. He spent his last years in London at the home of a friend. Here we have a selection of Weelkes’s anthems as well as some instrumental pieces. Most of his church music dates from his years at Chichester. The surviving works include 16 full anthems and 23 verse anthems, though only 5 of the 23 survive intact. His only surviving consort song is ‘Most Mighty and AllKnowing Lord’. For this recording two of his full anthems—’Lord, to Thee I Make My Moan’ and ‘O Mortal Man’—are adapted as consort songs with the top part sung by a solo soprano and the lower parts played by viols. Weelkes was a brilliantly gifted composer. He consistently displays an extraordinary fertility of invention and an aptitude for effective and expressive text setting. The choir of Sidney Sussex College, Cambridge is a mixed ensemble with straighttoned sopranos and female altos. It is typical of many fine English mixed choirs of young adult singers active today. It is a sound that is very good for the clear and refined presentation of music of Weelkes’s time. Still, it is not the sound the composer would have expected. It is for individual listeners to determine the importance of the authentic English cathedral sound of men and boys for the convincing presentation of this repertory. That sound at its best is available on a reissued Weelkes recording by Winchester Cathedral Choir under David Hill (Helios 55259; May/June 2008). On its first appearance (Hyperion 66477; March/April 1993), John Barker gave it a brief review and mentioned as a worthy companion the 1988 recording of Weelkes services and anthems sung by the choir of Christ Church Cathedral, Oxford, under Stephen Darlington (Nimbus 5125). On the present recording David Skinner directs performances that are eloquently expressive yet somewhat understated. The consort pavans and fantasy as well as the accompaniments of the consort songs are performed by Fretwork, one of the outstanding ensembles of its kind. This release comes on the heels of the choir’s recording of music by Thomas Tomkins (Obsidian 702). I have not yet heard that recording, but if the standard is comparable with the present one, it will be well worth getting to know. GATENS WEILL: Surabaya Johnny; see Collections WEINIAWSKI: Violin Concerto 2; see Collections American Record Guide WIKLUND: Piano Concertos 1+2; Concert Pieces Martin Sturfält, Helsingborg Symphony/ Andrew Manze—Hyperion 67828—75 minutes I checked out sound bites from this new Hyperion online, and none of the brief excerpts they offered held my interest; so I prevailed on our Editor to send me a freebie as I’ve been collecting each installment in Hyperion’s “Romantic Piano Concerto” series, but I didn’t want to waste my hard-earned money on this one. Only later did I find his review of Caprice 21363 (Mar/Apr 1989) wherein he greets this music most enthusiastically, writing “(1:I) has motion, melody, and a pleasant blend of sounds; it’s late-romantic, sometimes hyperromantic...(but 2:II) is the more ecstatic, passionate, and rhapsodic of the two, with an absolutely gorgeous Andante” and finding echoes of works as divergent as Rachmaninoff’s PC 4 and Fauré’s Ballade—two pieces I’m not all that familiar with—and even Addinsell’s Warsaw Concerto. One hearing of these marvelous performances by Martin Sturfält—who also wrote the notes—made me hang my head in shame. Mr Vroon was right on the money: this is glorious Nordic lyricism that not only continues on nobly in the tradition of the great Grieg Concerto but can stand alongside the concertos by Wilhelm Stenhammar, who not only served as revered mentor to Wiklund but also introduced him to the music of Sibelius and Bruckner. So the moral of this tale is, never put your faith in online sound bites. Adolf Wiklund was another composer who liked to play his own concertos, at least the premieres—both conducted by Armas Järnefelt whose Berceuse you no doubt know—and he wasn’t all that satisfied apparently, later revising both scores. Unfortunately, as Sturfält relates, the only available scores and parts are the revisions; the piano scores are Wiklund’s originals, and the piano-and-orchestra scores are a mixture of both. Here Sturfält borrowed from all three versions and that already makes this recording unique. That Wiklund himself was a highly accomplished pianist you can certainly hear in both of these grand concertos written ten years apart. The First Concerto, the longer of the two, opens confidently with the soloist setting forth a ringing chordal melody over a rolling bass; soon we hear an expansive passage that sounds very much like the Grieg Concerto, followed by a chorale-like strain before closing out puckishly—again quite like the opening section of Grieg’s Concerto. The soloist strums the lyrical second subject in bardic fashion, aided by the smoothly blended Helsingborg 199 strings. The development begins with everyone’s fur standing up, severe tremolandos met by muttering basses—one of many effective touches by the 18-year-old Wiklund—and there’s more drama that might have come from an old-time radio show before the soloist finally quells the disturbance and muses thoughtfully, then strides ahead quite unbowed before the quarrel resumes. Now the horns resound (8:19) to herald the triumphant return of the main theme, and the soloist mulls this over before the melody ebbs in the cellos and finally the solo violin colored by hushed strokes on the cymbals reminiscent of the ‘Sanctus’ from the Berlioz Requiem. Mr Vroon heard the Fauré Ballade in the Andante; it certainly does sound French, possibly Massenet. After the orchestra quietly sets the mood, the soloist enters discreetly and joins with them for the opening melody; but it’s the second theme that sounds distinctly Nordic. A drumroll once again calling to mind the Grieg Concerto (if more subdued) leads into an ebullient Scherzo-like romp that suggests Strauss’s Burleske had it been written by Rachmaninoff. Sturfält, who had the opportunity to talk with the composer’s grandson, tells us the four-note primary motif—an ascending major second followed by a descending fourth starting from the main note—has for generations been a way for one Wiklund family member to pick another out of a large crowd: one whistles the first notes and waits for the other to respond with the other two! There is a hymnic trio, and in the coda Wiklund brings back both themes from the opening movement. In the Second Concerto, an opening “sting” from the brass sets up a rather brawny exercise by the soloist that certainly sounds Scandinavian, close to Stenhammar actually. The unassuming second subject does little to halt the progress of the main theme, and we soon find ourselves in the development, where the musing of the bassoons must be counted as another of Wiklund’s highly individual touches. In the Andante the clarinet slowly wends its way upward against descending chords in the strings; once again the soloist holds back until the orchestra has had their say, but around five minutes in I could hear why our Editor thought of the Warsaw Rhapsody—written 23 years later! Martin Sturfält finds the bassoon’s introduction to the finale “Mephistophelian” but I wonder if Sweden has its share of trolls too. There’s one more treasurable moment in the strings at 5:00 that Vaughan Williams would be proud to claim as his own. I don’t own the Caprice discussed by Mr Vroon, which offers 1 from Ingemar Edgren and 2 with Greta Eriksen, both with Swedish orchestras; but I simply cannot imagine it improving on what Sturfält and the Helsing- 200 borg Symphony give us here. The Caprice is filled out with Wiklund’s Summer Night and Sunrise; here we have a third piece for piano and orchestra, the Konsertstycke, which we reviewed just last issue from a new Sterling with Maria Verbaite at the keyboard. This is Wiklund’s Opus 1 and garnered enthusiastic reviews from the critics, who praised its inventive ideas, admirable realization, and commendable orchestration. The Elgarian theme is warmly set forth by the orchestra, and already we can hear how well Wiklund brings out the tuba. A series of fanciful or sustained ideas follows, including one at 7:11 that might have come from Korngold’s film score for The Adventures of Robin Hood—36 years later! Needless to say, there’s also much brilliant passagework for the soloist that Sturfält surmounts with ease. Mr O’Connor thought the “meandering” impression of the music attributable to the conductor, B Tommy Andersson; but one need listen no further than 2:07 to hear that the fault lies with Ms Verbaite, whose shapeless noodling distends the piece to 18:39 compared to 16:06 for Sturfält. That makes it a clean sweep for Hyperion, and this well-filled release is enthusiastically recommended to anyone interested in the Scandinavian piano literature. WOLF: Serenade Quartet; Intermezzo; Italian HALLER Quartetto Prometeo Brilliant 94166—61 minutes These three works are all that Wolf wrote for the string quartet. The D-minor Quartet is the major work; he began its composition, the notes tell us, when he lived for a while in a house in Vienna that was once Beethoven’s. Whether that accounts for its obvious debt to Beethoven’s late quartets, I cannot say; but it does have much of their intensity and vigor as well as their musical structure. Add to that its length of 43 minutes, many dramatic passages, and vigorous and concise treatment of its themes, and Wolf’s debt is quite apparent. Still, Wolf was also an ardent Wagnerian (he met the composer), as is indicated by the beginning of the quartet’s slow movement, which calls to mind the Prelude to Lohengrin with its silvery violins playing in their high register. The work opens with a grave introduction. A citation from Goethe’s Faust, “You must renounce, renounce” is written in the score. It’s spoken by Faust when he is renouncing human life and love as he seals his pact with the Devil. III, “langsam” (slow), may remind you (as it reminded me) of Beethoven’s Heiliger Dankgesang, the slow movement of his 15th Quartet. Of the three works on this disc, only the Italian Serenade is familiar; it’s often played as September/October 2012 an encore in chamber music concerts. It has no literary source nor a program; it’s structured as an expressive rondo. The Italian group plays it with a light touch that seems just right. The Intermezzo, a rondo that is also known as Humoristiches Intermezzo, is also a short work whose main theme returns several times; it’s used in a dialog between the violins, then between second violin and viola, and finally is assigned to the viola. I don’t find this work rewarding listening, unlike the others. Still, it is played with enthusiasm and appealing tone. The players of the Quartetto Prometeo seem to be young, judging by their photographs, but they have already won much acclaim and many prizes in Europe, where many of their concerts have been broadcast. MOSES ZADOR: 5 Contrasts; Children’s Symphony; Aria & Allegro; Hungarian Caprice Budapest Radio Symphony/ Mariusz Smolij Naxos 572548—67 minutes Eugene Zador (1894-1977) was born in Bataszek, Hungary. In 1910 he went to Vienna to study composition with Richard Heuberger. A year later he moved to Leipzig, where he studied with Max Reger. He took a doctorate at the University of Munster, then taught at the New Vienna Conservatory and composed two operas and a symphony. He moved to New York in 1938, where he wrote his opera-oratorio Christopher Columbus (1939). He later moved to Los Angeles to make his living orchestrating film scores, mainly for Miklos Rozsa. He wrote a few of his own, too, as well as four symphonies, several operas, chamber music, piano works, pieces for chorus, songs, and concertos. Though Zador’s music never left Hungary far behind, he was more Westernized than Bartok and from the evidence here, influenced a great deal by Rozsa. There is also a bit of the Americana of Henry Cowell and Virgil Thomson. Groves hears some Strauss and Reger, but that escapes me. Zador called himself as “a middle of the road extremist”, referring to his desire to write modern music that would appeal to everyday audiences. He often goes for the jugular with bold themes; overt, sometimes raw scoring; and harmony that, while hardly subtle, has a touch of color. One thing that is clear is that the man spent a lot of time around movie studios. As an orchestrator, his music tends to slight the woodwinds in favor of the strings and even the brass. The neoclassical Aria and Allegro for Strings and Brass (1967) was commissioned by Hans Schmidt-Isserstedt. It opens simply with a little tune that recalls Pachelbel’s Canon but soon takes on a muscular character with the American Record Guide dissonance of two trumpets. Strings and brass then compete until the end. The Allegro adds Thomson, some of the motivic Peter Mennin, and a good deal of vigorous counterpoint. Five Contrasts for Orchestra (1963) was first played by the Philadelphia Orchestra under Eugene Ormandy. Rozsa’s influence is obvious here, especially in the Introduction, which, as annotator Frank DeWald writes, “evokes the sound of a brutal, dissonant 1940s film”—the bold horn writing especially. The piccolo stars in ‘Autumn Pastorale’ with its Hungarian, Gypsy, or possibly Asian tune with harp. Nice orchestral touches include the celeste and piccolo playing over a dark bed of strings. ‘Phantasy’ plays like a pastiche of raw, combative movie scenes and offers an interesting mix of piano, trumpet, and skittering strings. ‘Scherzo Rustico’ begins like a village march, then yields to incidents for clarinet, accordion (!), and a great one for bassoons. There is also a triple fugue that is blunt and brassy for the form. Zador simplified his idiom for A Children’s Symphony (1941), but the work is not “childlike”. I is in sonata form with its heavy march and a lyrical second subject. ‘Fairy Tale’ opens and closes with a sweet clarinet tune in a quiet, rural style that could be background music for romantic movie dialog. The midsection contrasts with a menacing brass fanfare and heavy drums. ‘Scherzo Militaire’ is a march with a strutting trumpet, dark string writing that sounds like heavy puppets, and a bassoon trio. ‘The Farm’ centers around the children’s tune, ‘It’s Raining, It’s Pouring’. Zador portrays a cow (a brilliant little thing for tuba), rooster (trumpet), and goose (horn) jawing (beaking?) at each other. A barn dance takes us back to the first theme of I. Hungarian Capriccio (1935) and Czardas Rhapsody (1940) are the most popular works on this program, but I find them the least interesting. Both mine the lode of Hungarian folk music, but Zador strings out ideas rather than using them for development or interesting harmonizations. The more lyrical Rhapsody begins with a clarinet solo that sounds a little like Scheherazade and proceeds to touch on Hungarian rhapsodies by Liszt and Brahms, though one melody sounds like Verdi. Both are exciting works, but they are repetitious and tend to be go on. I recommend this to anyone interested in American music with a foreign touch. The sound has fine clarity, but there is a boxy quality, too, like those old CRI recordings. The trumpets are especially affected. In a way, it fits the music. The notes are informative and detailed. HECHT 201 ZAIMONT: Piano Sonata; Calendar Collection; Calendar Set; Jupiter’s Moons; Wizards; Cortege for Jack; American City; Hitchin’; In my Lunchbox; Jazz Waltz; Hesitation Rag; Reflective Rag; Judy’s Rag; Serenade Elizabeth Moak, p—MSR 1366 [2CD] 156 minutes Art Fire Soul is the title of this collection of most of the piano music of Judith Lang Zaimont (b. 1945). She is a well-known American composer who has won many awards and teaches at the University of Minnesota. Her musical style is light but imaginative, not precisely tonal but related to that idiom, as well as to jazz and other human rather than abstract expressive languages. She is not to be characterized easily, as she is fluent in all forms and idioms and tends to sound improvisatory but never boring. This is an impressively well-filled pair of discs and is performed with taste and clarity in warm sound. The question is, if you already have some of the previous collections of Zaimont’s attractive music, is there enough new or better played music here to make you want it? Let us explore the situation as succinctly as possible. First, what is here that hasn’t appeared before? Three works are listed as first recordings. The earliest piece is the six-movement suite American City: Portrait of New York. This was originally conceived back in 1957, when the composer was a precocious 12 years old. She has revised it recently, but her 20th Century-Mozartean approach to composition has not changed tremendously in the interim. It is an attractive, catchy set describing Rush hour, Harbor Fog, a Coffee House, Central Park, ‘Scrapers, and a Garment Factory, all done with verve and a light touch. From more recent times we have her 2003 suite In my Lunchbox where this healthy lady has brought with her a Swimming Tuna, Celery Stalks, the Banana Song, Mandarin Orange, and Dessert-Sugar Rush. Now that’s healthy enough to attract both my wife and me to the table, and it is again handled with good taste and creates an appetite for more. Unfortunately, the other new piece is the Cortege for Jack that commemorates the untimely death of her teacher and friend Jack Beeson in 2010. All of this adds up to 23 minutes of attractive if not earthshaking music. Don’t get me wrong. I am glad to have all of this music in one collection, and perhaps you will be, too. As you may have noticed, half the fun of Zaimont’s inspiration is in the amusing titles of her pieces. There are both a Calendar Set from 1974-5 where all but two months are introduced by a quotation, and a Calendar Collection from 1976 with individual descriptive titles. Both these works are or were available elsewhere, the Set played by Gary Steiger- 202 walt on Leonarda LP 101 in a concise performance a bit more matter-of-fact sometimes than Moak’s more poetic approach. More recently it was played by Joanne Polk (Arabesque 6683, May/June 1997) on a program containing Zaimont’s two piano trios. Mark Lehman liked that. The Collection is broken up into seasons on Moak’s disc; and January, February, and June are omitted. The complete Collection may be heard on Leonarda CD 334, (Jan/Feb 1995, Lehman) played by Nanette Kaplan Solomon, adding a big 3-1/2 minutes of music. This would actually have just fit on Moak’s set. The Steigerwalt LP was an all-Zaimont program including a performance of Nocturne: La Fin de Siecle played by the composer, who also accompanied the song cycle Chansons Nobles et Sentimentales sung by Charles Bressler. Zaimont’s performance of the Nocturne is somewhat more questioning than Moak’s, but Moak’s is a little clearer in bringing out the voices—a little easier to follow. Solomon’s Calendar Collection was part of a program of piano music by seven American women composers. Solomon plays it complete. This makes more sense than Moak’s interspersing it with other works and leaving out January, February, and June—though there is little to choose between with respect to interpretation or sound quality. There are also two Zaimont discs on Albany that cover more of the piano territory. On Albany 617 (May/June 2004, Becker) we have the only really extended work, the sonata, along with the suite on Jupiter’s Moons, the Nocturne, and a ‘Hesitation Rag’. Joanne Polk has an approach and is recorded in sound quite similar to Moak, yet Moak has a certain follow-through to her phrasing that makes her interpretations more satisfying. Young-Ah Tak on Albany 785 (March/April 2006, Gimbel) plays Wizards, a short three-movements-inone suite, the rest of the program made up of other solo and chamber pieces by Zaimont. That is a disc worth having, by the way. There is also a program of her rags, including the piano ones played by Moak as well as a number of others for different scorings on MSR 1238 (Nov/Dec 2007, Haskins). That is highly entertaining, containing, among several other items, three different scorings of the ‘Reflective Rag’ as well as performances of ‘Judy’s Rag’ and the Serenade, all played by Zaimont herself. Most amusing and lovely. So this new collection is well worth having, even if you have the other discs. Moak is a fine player with a personality that clarifies while it warms the heart. She is a bit clearer than Polk, who is the only real competition for the piano works since the other discs mentioned all contain works for other instruments (otherwise September/October 2012 unrecorded). So if you want to hear some tasteful and imaginative piano music played in a particularly effective manner, I would go for Moak’s set. Zaimont’s music is full of character and personality and I am very glad to have more of it. How about a cello sonata, Ms Zaimont? D MOORE ZELENKA: Holy Week Responsories Collegium 1704/ Vaclav Luks Accent 24259 [2CD] 158 minutes In service at the Catholic court in Dresden, Jan Dismas Zelenka was called on to supply music for Holy Week. (In a local eccentricity, by the way, the latter-day observances of the week were advanced by one day: thus, Maundy Thursday services were held on Wednesday, and so forth.) Beginning in 1722, Zelenka set the sequences of two Lamentations of Jeremiah for each Tenebrae service of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday, six in all, for solo voices and instrumental ensemble. By the following year, 1723, he had composed settings of the 27 Responsoria or Responses to the Lectiones or Readings, three each for the three “Nocturns” for the office of Matins of those three days, for four voices with continuo plus presumed colla parte accompaniment by strings and trombones. The Lamentations and the Responsories thus constitute separate sets of music, and recordings have treated them independently. At least four recordings have been made of the Lamentations. The nine Responsories for Good Friday alone have appeared on the small Ades label, excellently sung by a vocal quartet with instruments (led by Paul Colleaux) and including the two Lamentations as well. The Good Friday Responsories are very poorly presented in a Supraphon release (3806: M/A 2006). There have been only two earlier recordings of the full cycle of 27, both in 2CD sets. One, on the Alba label (14) aimed at maximum austerity, with a vocal octet plus cello and organ, smooth and elegant but aloof. Capella Montana under Ludwig Gossner (MDG 605 0964) is a 23-voice choir with gambas, trombones, and continuo. Neither the weightier presentations nor the music itself particularly impressed Mr Gatens (S/O 2000), though I am better disposed to them. But this newest recording quite wins me over. This is the first one to include the three solo-monodic Lectiones for each of the nine Nocturns, save for the very first of them, which is no less than the first of Zelenka’s Lamentations set. The listener is thus given a much better sense of the Responsories’ liturgical rationale. The vocal forces involve 17 singers, dou- American Record Guide bled by 10 string players with 3 others on continuo. They bring shifting textures but overall warmth plus clarity to the choral ensemble. Lots of sacred music by Zelenka has made it to discs before, but only this time did I appreciate what a master he was of supple and carefully crafted post-Renaissance polyphony. The sound has fine presence. The packaging gets mixed marks. Someone repeatedly bungled the spelling of the Greek-derived word for Good Friday, which is Parasceve, not “Paravesce”. The booklet contains detailed track listings, excellent notes, and full texts with translations. But it is irremediably bound into the middle of a clumsy three-panel album, perfect for maximum inconvenience. Do the designers of these fancy albums ever actually ever use them themselves, to see what absurdities they create? Otherwise, a lovely release, and a very important contribution to the swelling Zelenka discography. BARKER ZELENSKI: Songs Urszula Kryger, mz; Warsaw Soloists/ Andrzej Mysinski—Dux 690—66 minutes During his lifetime Wladyslaw Zelenski (18371921) was renowned as composer, educator, and concert pianist. Having helped found the Cracow Conservatory, he served as its director for 33 years. He composed in many genres, including four operas, chamber music, occasional works for patriotic celebrations, piano pieces, and songs. Many of his works are lost and only a few are now in the general repertoire. This appears to be the only available recording dedicated to his songs (19 of them). Written for piano accompaniment, they have been orchestrated by Andrej Mysinski. Zelenski’s music is lyrical and gentle, but borders on unrelentingly mild. It is hard to give this a fair review since texts are in Polish only and one must search through the chauvinistic notes praising the composer to find no more than the translations of the titles. Kryger’s rich, Slavic-toned voice sounds just right for this music, and she sings with sweetness; but the music is so innocuously pretty that you don’t get much sense of her interpretive range other than a demonstration of good use of dynamics and warm tone. The Warsaw Soloists, a string orchestra of about 14, play with gentleness and are only occasionally challenged by the music to go beyond placidity. Overall this is a competently performed display of blandness; it’s like listening to airbrushed music. R MOORE 203 Collections Sounds of the 30s RAVEL: Piano Concerto in G; STRAVINSKY: Tango; WEILL: Surabaya Johnny; Tango Ballad; DE SABATA: 1001 Nights Stefano Bollani, p; Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra/ Riccardo Chailly Decca 4764832—66 minutes This recording confirms the impressions I had from hearing Chailly and the Gewandhaus Orchestra perform in Berlin last May (see “On the Way to Dresden” in this issue): this once distinguished orchestra, now filled with second-rate principals and drawing some of its players from the Leipzig Academy of Music (and its dismal orchestra), has lost its luster. Here’s a concept album, trying to illustrate different composers’ takes on jazz in the 1930s, and Chailly makes the Gewandhaus sound like an overweight pops orchestra that just can’t attain buoyancy. They and their music director have got rhythm—that I can’t deny—but what they lack in this repertoire is style. Nor do the engineers help. They keep spotlighting different sections of the orchestra, making one sound close, another distant, one electronically phony, another muffled, and the bass instruments tubby and muddy. Worst of all, the piano sounds like a light blanket has been thrown over it—it’s about one-third softer than the orchestra. In Berlin, frenetic Helene Grimaud was soloist in the Ravel. As in that performance, here in first movement, when the solo harp begins, the tempo of that entire section is completely removed from what surrounds it; the engineering only amplifies the feeling that it’s been dropped in from another world. Bollani projects very little—does he just play to himself? He sounds like he doesn’t have an ounce of rhythm in his body. His pacing is foursquare enough in the outer movements, but how anyone can make the glorious Adagio movement sound so plodding and dull is beyond me! The pianist does the same thing to his three solos—’Surabaya Johnny’ from Happy End, the ‘Tango Ballad’ from The Threepenny Opera, and the original piano version of Stravinsky’s ‘Tango’—though he does exhibit some heat in the last third of the Stravinsky. Chailly elicits some nice syncopation and sliding inflections in his recording of the ‘Tango’, but this version, orchestrated by Felix Guenther, doesn’t have the snap of Stravinsky’s own. The liner notes say that the last work on the album, Victor de Sabata’s ballet Mille e 204 Una Notte, pulls together all the historical threads that this album illustrates. Hardly! It might work well as ballet, but here it feels like an aimless mash from the Nino Rota-George Gershwin-cinematic-pops world of harmony. Until its final five minutes, which is basically a play on Gershwin’s ‘Fascinatin’ Rhythm’, there isn’t a note of it that sticks in my head. And hearing Chailly trying to make this earthbound orchestra capture the work’s foxtrot, tango, and waltzes is like watching Joan Crawford try to dance with what seems like hiking boots in clips from That’s Entertainment (one thing this album is not). Even the concertmaster in his tiny solo at 4:08 sounds sour. FRENCH Polish Masterworks LUTOSLAWSKI: Concerto for Orchestra; SZYMANOWSKI: Concert Overture; WIENIAWSKI: Violin Concerto 2; KARLOWICZ: Sad Tale Michael Ludwig, v; Buffalo Philharmonic/ JoAnn Falletta Beau Fleuve 9490 My benchmark for Lutoslowski’s Concerto for Orchestra remains the 1962 recording by Witold Rowicki and the Warsaw Philharmonic (Philips). But the closest to it is this recording by JoAnn Falletta and the Buffalo Philharmonic. It remains as incisive, intense, moody, slyly evolving, and even electrifying on CD as when I heard this performance in concert. The muted scurrying Scherzo in II is absolutely on edge; and the final Passacaglia, Toccata, and Chorale proceeds from a dark largo with jolting brass screams to a compelling, quickened finale. All four works were recorded in concert, Lutoslawski and Szymanowski in October 2010, the other two in November 2011. All have the slightly muffled quality of most radio broadcasts where the microphones were kept close to the stage to eliminate audience noise (there is none in any of the four works), but that also dampens the resonance and compresses the sound into too confined a space, making especially the 2010 recordings lacking in transparency in loud passages (the 2011 ones are somewhat more spacious). The engineering also makes the violin sections sound especially small. If you can put up with that, the Lutoslawski shows Falletta at her very best. I wish I could say the same for the Szymanowski, an early bright work where Rowicki and the Warsaw Philharmonic (1980, no longer available) are again my benchmark. Here Fall- September/October 2012 etta begins with uplifted exuberance, but with the second theme the tempo and pulse wallow and lose direction. In the Wieniawski Concertmaster Michael Ludwig is really hot in the finale. That same firm grip is what’s lacking in the first two movements. In I he not only slows down Falletta’s forward drama but actually is a bit behind her beat. His sound is very sweet, but he lacks assertiveness. He has no grip on the movement’s overall arch or form. In II, once more he doesn’t create a long enough arch to carry the seamless emotion—nor does Falletta, who just seems to move right along. This is the album’s only work with applause. In the Karlowicz Falletta moves along beat by beat, when really a long liquid lyrical line over a tense pulse is what’s necessary to convey the drama. For this nine-minute gem, the creation of atmosphere is far more important than mere crescendos with slight acceleration. (This album translates the title as “Sad Tale”; it’s more commonly translated “Sorrowful Tale”, something it helps to know when looking for it on websites). My reservations then have to do with interpretation and engineering, certainly not with the quality of playing. The BPO here is in superb shape, and Ludwig’s technique is flawless. FRENCH British Composers Premiere Collections, Volume 2 BLOWER: Eclogue; Horn Concerto; MILFORD: Suite; KELLY: Serenade; COOPER: Concertino Rebecca Hall, fl; John McDonough, ob; José Garcia Gutierrez, hn; Malta Philharmonic/ Michael Laus Cameo 9032—68 minutes All five works here are straight out of the English romantic-pastoral tradition. They’re very well written and very lovely. With company coming for dinner the day I listened to the album, the Eclogue, Suite, and Serenade would have been perfect for background music (that puts them in the good company of Mozart’s serenades and divertimentos). But the Concerto and Concertino are each in three abstract movements without descriptive titles, demanding more concentration. Maurice Blower (1894-1982) wrote both of his works in the 1950s for French horn and strings. The Eclogue, reminiscent of Vaughan Williams, is a charming seven-minute dialog between soloist and orchestra in ABA form with a lively midsection. The Concerto (14 minutes) is emotional, eloquent, and lovely, especially given José Garcia Gutierrez’s superb solo work. American Record Guide Robin Milford (1903-59) wrote his Suite for oboe and string orchestra in 1924. The four movements are Overture, Gavotte, Minuet and Musette, and Air (12 minutes). Its easy, jaunty, pastoral style, complete with a lovely fugue (no, that isn’t an oxymoron) in the Overture, belies that both Vaughan Williams and especially Holst were his teachers. The rich, warm, transparent engineering (true in all the works) allows the counter-lines in the strings to all have their effect. Soloist John McDonough is steady and even; I just wish he were a little more eloquent. Also, this recording cuts about 14 bars from the Overture and moves on to the Gavotte without a break. Frederick Kelly (1881-1916) was an Australian with an Irish mother. He was sent to England for his studies, and the date 1916 confirms that he indeed did die in the war (at the Sommes, after surviving two injuries at Gallipoli). His 19-minute Serenade for flute with harp, horn, and string orchestra (1911) has five movements called Prelude, Idyll, Menuet, Air with Variations, and Jig, all of which have an Irish folk flavor. The ‘Idyll’ is especially gorgeous with its rocking gait. Flutist Rebecca Hall produces gorgeous tone, but, like McDonough, I wish she had more subtlety. Also, the opening note is almost upcut by the producer, and this work has a higher volume level than the others here. Walter Gaze Cooper (1895-1981) wrote his Concertino for oboe and strings in 1957 for Evelyn Rothwell, the wife of John Barbirolli. This substantial 15-minute work, like the others, is truly lovely. But it’s here, however, and in Blower’s Horn Concerto that the thin, poorly projected first violins—and, for that matter, scrappy second violins and violas—sound the weakest. The lighter, less continuous style of writing in the more programmatic works somewhat masks their deficiencies there. The liner notes are excellent about the composers and the works themselves, but they don’t say a thing about the musicians. Hall is a Newfoundlander now living in Malta. McDonough is the Malta Philharmonic’s principal oboist. Gutierrez has been principal and coprincipal of several Spanish orchestras. Laus is music director of the Malta Philharmonic. Also, the notes don’t clarify if the album’s “Premiere Collections” title means that these are world premiere recordings or not. In fact, the notes list four volumes in this series already on the market, all with composers whose names are unfamiliar to me. Despite my criticisms of the performances, it’s likely the world will end before other recordings of these lovely works come along. FRENCH 205 Waltz Revolution Mozart, Strauss Sr, Lanner Concentus Musicus/ Nikolaus Harnoncourt Sony 91411 [2CD] 101 minutes Period instruments—that’s the revolution. Strings with no vibrato, no Viennese warmth, ugly, clunky sound. A shame. How often does one get to hear some of the rarities on these tracks? I hope a future performance of Lanner’s Pas de Neuf after Saverio Mercadante has more charm than the one heard here. Harnoncourt’s recordings with the RCO and VPO of light Viennese music have a good feel for such repertory. Stick with Boskovsky and Marriner for Mozart dances and the obvious choces for the 19th Century Viennese masters. MARK Bridgehampton Chamber Music Festival MORAVEC: Wind Quintet; ROREM: The Unquestioned Answer; BUNCH: Changes of Phase; MACCOMBIE: Light Upon the Turning Leaf Marya Martin, fl; John Snow, ob; Jose FranchBallester, Anthony McGill, cl; Peter Kolkay, Seth Baer, bn; Stewart Rose, hn; Jesse Milles, Yura Lee, Stefan Jackiw, v; Beth Guterman, va; Fred Sherry, Edward Arron, vc; Shai Wosner, Orion Weiss, p BCMF—51 minutes The Bridgehampton Chamber Music Festival has taken place at the eastern end of Long Island each August since 1984. The artists are world-class, so this album offers superb music-making in four fine works. Flutist Marya Martin, artistic director of the BCMF, is heard in all four. The only piece not composed for the BCMF is Paul Moravec’s seven-movement, 14minute Wind Quintet (2010). I begins and ends quietly, with very busy minimalism in the middle. II scampers, III ruminates, IV is richly harmonized, V impish, VI dreamy, and VII a witty finale. The excellent reading is by flutist Martin, oboist John Snow, clarinetist Jose FranchBallester, bassoonist Peter Kolkay, and horn player Stewart Rose. The same group also plays Kenji Bunch’s four-movement, 14minute Changes of Phase, commissioned by the BCMF in 1999. As Bunch says in the notes, “change of phase” can mean various things in music. In I, minimalist patterns have instruments slightly out of phase with each other, and there are moments when harmonies change subtly. Pitches are passed from instrument to instrument in II, with resulting changes of timbre. Chorale phrases are repeated with harmonic changes in the wistful III. I’m not sure of the phase changes in IV, but its intricate, pop-influenced passages are fascinating. This is a superb woodwind quintet. Although Ned Rorem called his piece The 206 Unquestioned Answer (2002), I was asking questions in the opening moments, when the piano (Orion Weiss) was playing percussively while the ensemble (flutist Martin with violinists Jesse Milles and Yura Lee and cellist Fred Sherry) was playing very quietly. I still don’t understand why Rorem wants that, but the pianist eventually calms down and joins the thoughtful discussion. The sonorities are gorgeous. Later, after an emphatic group passage and a very quiet piano solo, everyone takes off in a merry chase. The ending returns to the mystery of the beginning: ensemble softly sustaining, piano playing petulantly. Bruce MacCombie scored his 12-minute Light Upon the Turning Leaf (2010) for trios of winds (flutist Martin, clarinetist Anthony McGill, bassoonist Seth Baer) and strings (violinist Stefan Jackiw, violist Beth Guterman, cellist Edward Arron) with piano (Shai Wosner). Once again, the percussive nature of the piano—even when played gently—is contrasted at the outset with the sustaining sounds of winds and strings. After more than three minutes of contemplation, the body of the piece begins with lyrical melodies, consonant harmonies, a steady pulse, and gradually increasing intensity. The climax is at 8:38, followed by piano sounds with audible overtones, and then string sounds with harmonics. The work, and the album, ends somberly. KILPATRICK Elias Quartet HAYDN: Quartet, op 64:6; SCHUMANN: Quartet 1; GRANT: Lament for Mulroy Wigmore Hall 51—52 minutes This is a concert that the Elias Quartet played in London’s Wigmore Hall on September 12, 2010. The young British ensemble has been winning awards since 2005 and seems to be making a career by playing the chestnuts of the string quartet literature. They are all excellent players, and, thanks to excellent teaching and coaching, they have the mechanics of string quartet playing down. Both the fast movements of the Schumann are filled with crunchy excitement, and I am very impressed with the acrobatic leap-andscale exchanges between the first violin and the viola in IV. The slower movements are languid and expressive, and I find myself listening more to the playing than to the music itself. There are certain interpretational affectations that bother me, like the relationships of certain upbeats to downbeats, the occasional false accent, and the way that accented notes are resolved. Then again, this is a concert recording, and not the carefully controlled environment of a recording studio, where sections can be recorded, scrutinized, and then re-recorded and spliced in wherever they might be needed. September/October 2012 To their credit, this quartet always tries to make the phrases of the Haydn long (usually four-measure phrases), but the landings at the ends of their four-measure phrases in I tend to release with a very slight accent. I hear this tendency in IV as well, but in that case the first beat of the fourth measure of the phrase gets accented. In the process of making long phrases, a bit of forward motion creeps in, and that occasionally comes across as rhythmic instability, which compromises the kind of rhythmic definition that is necessary in Haydn. This doesn’t seem to happen in periods of active counterpoint. Perhaps my response has to do with how much I love the “old school” stately way that Kodaly Quartet plays this Haydn Quartet (Naxos). I remember having a discussion with a group of young actors some 30 years ago about which was more important: the actor or the word. The consensus among those actors was that the actor was more important, but my vote went to the word. Taking this argument into the dangerous arena of music, these musicians make a good case for the musician being more important than the notes. After a period of enthusiastic applause, Donald Grant, one of the violinists in the quartet, speaks to the audience about the encore piece that he wrote. It is a piece about the ruins of Mulroy in Scotland. There is little in spoken language quite as delicious as the sound of a Scotsman saying the word “ruins” (and in this case the voice of the speaker is more important than the word itself). The piece is a celtic-style lament that is effective and poignant, and Grant plays the solo violin part evocatively. FINE Saltarello Garth Knox, va, fiddle; Agnes Vesterman, vc; Sylvain Lemetre, perc ECM 16623—59 minutes This is a program primarily of arrangements by Knox of music from Hildegard von Bingen and Guillaume de Machaut through Dowland’s ‘Flow my Tears’ and Purcell’s ‘Music for a While’ up to a viola d’amore concerto of Vivaldi, with a couple of folk tunes on the way, all played by Knox with cello accompaniment and sometimes with percussion. It is a curious interpretation where everything is made to sound like folk music, tastefully played but definitely folk-influenced. We also have along the way a ‘Fuga libre’ by Knox played on solo viola, a demanding work in a similar style lasting eight minutes. There are also two pieces by Kaija Saariaho, written for Knox, both for solo viola and electronics. These two ‘Vent Nocturnes’ both American Record Guide involve a good deal of heavy electronic breathing—well, they are about the wind. Altogether, this is a pleasant release in a curious idiom. Knox manages to make it work. If you find the style up your alley—and he is sensitive enough to make your walk a pleasure—you are ready to go up his particular street with him. D MOORE Diamonds in a Haystack Piano Trios by Babadjanyan, Francaix, Schoenfield Trio Solis—MSR 1418—56 minutes This is an exceptional recording. For starters, the release title comes closer to clever than to cliched—a rare thing. All the players are a pleasure to listen to, even with the violinist’s intonation troubles; the ensemble and expression are top-notch. The sound is full and polished, warmly engineered. Arno Babadjanyan was born in 1921 in Yerevan and died in 1983 in Moscow; he taught at the Yerevan Conservatory from 1950 to 1956, and this Trio in F-sharp minor was written two years into that stint. It is quite tonal and romantic, with much less of a folk influence than in Khachaturian’s music. I is impetuous and turbulent, with some Rachmaninoff-like melodies. II is dusky and beautifully chromatic, a real treasure. III, a vigorous dance in five, uses folk material to good effect. The label spells his name “Babajanian”; if you go looking for more music of his, the most common spelling is “Babadjanian”. In these pages, it’s been spelled “Babadschanjan” (N/D 1998), but the Index has it as “Babadjanyan”. I give up. Just enjoy the music. There’s a nice connection between the Babadjanyan and the Francaix: much of the Francaix’s first movement is in five as well. If you had looked at the name Francaix and put money down that the piece would probably be sunny and witty, you’d be walking home richer. Pieces like this are exactly what I love about 20th Century French music. Now, let’s face it— better melodies exist in several places; but the themes here are so well displayed that you can’t help delighting in them anyway. I wish the sound were a touch brighter to show off the violin’s shimmers, but I can live with the warmth. The trio pays a lot of attention to unity of phrasing and has an obvious affection for the music. IV begins with the pizzicato violin and cello alternating notes to make the phrase as a team; the result is captivating. Paul Schoenfield’s trio, Cafe Music, from 1987, is more backwards-looking than the Babadjanyan. It’s “high-class dinner music— music that could be played at a restaurant, but might also (just barely) find its way into a con- 207 cert hall” (Schoenfield). It’s got a great feel to I, and the performance is perfectly idiomatic. In II, the players are somehow simultaneously steamy and relaxed. Even if the music weren’t so stunning (including an ear-catching common-tone modulation halfway through), they would certainly make it so. III, Presto, has both a hot jazz and a ragtime feel, with lots of crunchy piano chords. This release was a breath of fresh air for me, one of the most enjoyable things I’ve reviewed lately. Really, if the violin’s intonation were cleaned up in II of the Babadjanyan, it would be about perfect. I’d travel quite a distance to hear this program in recital. (I am curious why the trio is posing with scores by Brahms and Beethoven on the cover photo.) Notes in English. ESTEP Windermere Quartet MOZART: Quartet 19; HAYDN: Quartet, op 33: 2; BEETHOVEN: Quartet 4 Pipistrelle 112—73 minutes This recording, called The Golden Age of String Quartets comes from a series of programs made from one quartet from Haydn’s Opus 33, Mozart’s Haydn Quartets, and Beethoven’s first set of six. The musicians use 18th Century (or early 19th Century) instruments and bows and play at what sounds like classical pitch (A=430). They only use vibrato rarely, and they play cleanly, with excellent intonation and clear articulation. These musicians take very reasonable tempos, and always for reasons of musical clarity. These are all what I would call “music first” readings, and the Windermere Quartet goes out of its way to make sure that the details that they bring out in the music are tastefully in balance. I am particularly impressed by the way these musicians handle the slides written into the Scherzo movement of the Haydn Joke Quartet. The first violinist plays them elegantly, giving the sort of slide-whistle effect that is sometimes used to accompany a winsome character in a silent movie. The recording is beautifully balanced. The cello volume is well matched to the viola’s, and all the instruments sound natural. These readings are intimate, but they are not “precious”. They are well thought out, but they never come off as contrived or intellectualized. The playing is expressive, and the expression always seems to be divided equally by four. I certainly hope that they make more of these Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven Op. 18 recordings. FINE 208 American Voices JOPLIN: 3 Works; COPLAND: Old American Songs; GERSHWIN: Porgy & Bess Suite; ANDERSON: CBQ Suite; STAMPS: When the Saints; WILLIS: Swing Low; NEWTON: Amazing Grace Chicago Brass Quintet; Brown Singers Centaur 3159—61 minutes It has been a long time since I last heard Chicago Brass Quintet (Jan/Feb 1996: 207), an amazingly long-lived ensemble that was formed in 1964. That is very nearly 50 years, and several of the group’s members have been with it the entire time. This program consists mainly of arrangements—Joplin rags, Copland songs, Gershwin tunes—most by trombonist James Mattern, some by tuba player Daniel Anderson. Prominent at the end are the collaborations with the Brown Singers, a venerable family group from Columbus, Ohio—in ‘When the Saints’ and ‘Amazing Grace’. The lone original work is tubist Anderson’s CBQ Suite (1991), where each movement is named and tailored for a group member. ‘Running Ross’ is a madcap chromatic ditty for trumpeter Ross Beacraft, ‘Jumpin Jim’ a slippery thing for trombonist Mattern, ‘Gorgeous Greg’ a ballad for horn player Gregory Flint, ‘Magnificent Matt’ a piccolo trumpet showpiece for Matthew Lee, and ‘Dangerous Dan’ a funky perpetual-motion tune for tubist-composer Anderson. CBQ Suite is quite skillfully written, entertaining, and doubtless a valuable part of the group’s concert programs. KILPATRICK Bassoon & Piano SAINT-SAENS: Sonata; BOZZA: NocturneDanse; Recitative, Siciliene, & Rondo, BOUTRY: Interferences I; FRANCAIX: 2 Pieces; BERNAUD: Halucinations; BITSCH: Concertino; TANSMAN: Sonatine; DUBOIS: Sonatine-Tango Rodion Tolmachev & Midori Kitagawa MDG 6031728—73 minutes This is a wonderful selection of music for the CD debut of Uzbekistan-born bassoonist Rodion Tolmachev. He joins a long line of bassoonists putting their marks on these beloved pieces. For some listeners, a full concert of bassoon may be a bit much; and for others, a program saturated with French competition works may leave one a bit nerve-racked, but there is a lot of entertainment and dazzle in his selection of show-stoppers. When pressed to select a genre of solo repertoire that demonstrates the best qualities of the instrument, I must say it is French late romantic and 20th Century. Not only were the French the only community of composers who gave the bassoon this much attention, but they September/October 2012 really had an intuition for how wind solo and chamber music needed to evolve into the 20th Century. He has won several international competitions and now plays in St Petersburg at the Mariinsky Theater. While it is apparent he is brimming with talent and on track to developing his own style, one hears the indelible mark of his teacher Dag Jensen—not a bad thing. SCHWARTZ Memory LEVITIN: Sonata; KLEBE: 6 Pieces; FRYBA: Suite im Alten Stil; 3 Arabesques; GAJDOS: Capriccio 2; LIM: Memory Michinori Bunya, db Bayer 100 376—63 minutes This is mid-20th to 21st Century music for solo contrabass played by a deeply involved player whose only drawback is that he is not very precise about certain pitches. I found that this bothered me only sometimes. He plays with variety and has chosen an interesting program. Jurij Levitin (1912-93) was a student of Shostakovich. His three-movement sonata is tonal in the Soviet manner, but imaginative. Giselher Klebe (1925-2009) was a German composer who hid a Jewish painter during WW2. His six pieces, Op. 68, are written in the 12-tone system but no less expressive for that. The only piece not a first recording is Hans Fryba’s Suite, modeled so closely on Bach as to contain the usual six movements. IV is called a sarante. I would have sworn it was a sarabande. It certainly sounds like one. Anyway, I like Bach’s suites better. Then we have three little Arabesques in a somewhat more modern idiom. Miloslav Gajdos’s Capriccio 2 in E minor is another mod but basically tonal work. The program ends with a piece written for Bunya, Jiesun Lim’s Memory from Hwaum Project, Op. 89. Written in 2009, this is a threemovement description of three pictures included with the liner notes. There were enough percussive sounds here to scare one of our cats off the couch, but the music itself is moving, warts and all. The sound is unusually clear and shows Bunya as a player with a strong feeling for dynamic range. It scared my wife off the couch, too, initially, but, unlike the cat, she came back for more. Yes, I still wish the pitch were more accurate in places, particularly since most of the program is tonal, but Bunya has virtues enough to keep most of us listening. And it is an unusual collection of solo bass music. The liner notes are in German, English, and could it be Korean? D MOORE American Record Guide Reminiscences of the 20th Century Artem Chirkov, db; Mavzhida Gimaletdinova, p; Lev Klichkov, v; Michael Lestov, Dmitriy Nilov, perc Bradetich Foundation—72 minutes (1155 union Circle Ste 210143, Denton TX 76201) This is double bass music played by the first winner of the Bradetich Foundation international double bass solo competition held at the University of North Texas in 2010. It is one of those odd releases that contain in their notes only a bio of the player, nothing on the music he is playing. For that we are told to contact www.Bradetichfoundation.org. I don’t claim to be a computer expert, but I tried this and have gotten nowhere so far. As for the disc, it is smoothly played and some of it is sure to please everyone. It begins with a transcription of Glazounov’s lovely ‘Chant du Menestrel’, originally for cello, written in 1900. This is followed by a solo bass piece of a fairly abstract but not unpleasant nature, Invocation by Miloslav Gadjos, written in 2002. Oh, I neglected to tell you, Chirkov is from Russia and sounds it, with a rich, assertive tone and a fondness for trying anything. Next, we have another transcription, this time of a Prelude, Rachmaninoff’s Opus 23:10. Then a curious number by one Andrei Petrov called ‘Walking Broadway’ that Chirkov played as an encore on several occasions. It is a little jazz piece and he and his wife play it well, perhaps a little more seriously than an American might do it, but it swings. The main piece on the program is Frank Proto’s 1963 Sonata, a four-movement work that is also jazz-influenced. This has been recorded before, by the composer (Red Mark 9228, Sept/Oct 2005) and by John Ebinger and Roy Hakes (Soundset 1003). It is an attractively relaxed piece that the composer plays with more natural jazz inflections than Chirkov. To make up for this, Chirkov plays the second and third movements over again with a reinstrumentation of the keyboard part for vibraphone and percussion added. Whether this was sanctioned by the composer we are not told. The rest of the program has a transcription of Rachmaninoff’s famous Vocalise and the Adagio from Shostakovich’s ballet The Limpid Stream, also originally a piece for cello with orchestra. There are also two pieces by Astor Piazzolla, ‘Contrabajeando’ and ‘Oblivion’, both played well. There is also a piece by Francois Rabbath, Poucha Dass, a curious piece that sounds like an Indian raga, accompanied by a djembe, whatever piece of percussion that is. As you have no doubt gathered, this is a program of considerable variety, played with panache. It is a record of a fine young Russian 209 bass player testing various waters with both hands. I hope we hear more from him. He has a particularly lovely tone. D MOORE Zvezdochka in Orbit NESS: Zvezdochka in Orbit; GULDA: Cello & Winds Concerto; IBERT: Cello & Winds Concerto; THOMMESSEN: Phantom of Light Ernst Simon Glaser, vc; Norwegian Navy Band, Bergen/ Peter Szilvay Aurora 5063—79 minutes This is a curiously arranged program beginning and ending in outer space; the middle is very much on the ground. Jon Oivind Ness and Olav Anton Thommessen are Norwegian composers. Ness’s single-movement cello concerto refers to the seventh dog sent into orbit by the Russians in 1961 and the fourth that survived (shades of Romney). It means “little star” in Russian, and the title also refers to Stravinsky’s cantata Zvezdoliki (The Star King). Zvezdochka in Orbit is a 19-minute piece that itself begins in the stratosphere of sound, eventually barking and whining by turns and finally fading away. The idiom is not overtly tonal, using quarter-tones and various strange effects, yet it is not unpleasant, just slowly progressing, sometimes nodding toward the minimal camp, though not there, either. Thommessen’s three-movement “miniature concerto for cello and two woodwind quintets” is similar in progression and idiom, though the minimal elements are less in evidence. Friedrich Gulda and Jacques Ibert supply another end of the spectrum. Gulda was a famous pianist from Austria. His compositions are less well known. We have here a 31-minute cello concerto in five movements with winds, percussion, and guitar that shows him as quite a personality. The opening Overture begins as a kind of rocking jazz piece that moves into folksong and ends with a marching band. The following ‘Idylle’ gives us something simple and lyrical that the liner notes relate to Mozart, moving into a landler. III is a seven-minute cello cadenza full of entertaining ideas. From this we move back to 3/4 time with a Minuet. The Finale alla Marcia recalls the first movement’s mood, jazz elements and all. The notes tell us that the cello, guitar, and jazz bass (there’s a classical bass part as well) are electronically amplified, but I hear no sign of it, and that is just as well. This is a most entertaining concerto. The shortest piece is Ibert’s Concerto. It sounds positively classical after the Gulda. This is a relatively well known work in three movements from 1925, full of contrast and bright colors. Glaser is a fine player with precise fingers 210 and bow-arm and a feeling for all of the varied styles here. The Navy Band is fine as well, coming to life particularly in the martial sections of the music but with a fine bunch of soloists for the more demanding passages as well. This is a highly unusual program handled with great aplomb by all. D MOORE Liebesfreud & Liebesleid Cello Encores Michael Hell; Micaela Gelius, p Profil 11071—75 minutes This is an unusually high-class program of short pieces with a surprising number of lovely tunes. The emphasis is more on them than on virtuosity. That is just as well, since Hell is more of a lyricist than an acrobat. Besides the Kreisler numbers we have Sarasate’s Zigeunerweisen, the Rachmaninoff Vocalise, Dvorak’s Rondo, Saint-Saens’s Swan and Allegro Appassionato, the Meditation from Massenet’s Thais, four Fauré pieces, though not the Elegie, four Brahms song transcriptions, two Elgar pieces, and a Shostakovich waltz, finishing up with two Bach pieces, including the famous Arioso. It is a highly listenable program played with musicality. By the way, this is the second disc this issue to list the pianist first, if in smaller print than the cellist. D MOORE The French album FRANCK; DEBUSSY: Cello Sonatas; FAURE: Sicilienne; Elegie; Apres un Reve; OFFENBACH: Les Larmes de Jacqueline Harriet Krigh; Kamilla Isanbaeva, p Capriccio 5131—61 minutes Here is a pleasant program of French music (if you count Franck as French) played with affection and technical flair by a 21-year-old cellist from the Netherlands who studied in Austria and a Uzbekistani pianist who studied in the Netherlands. In the Franck sonata they sound quite beautiful, playing with a wide dynamic range and warmth of tone that fits the rich emotions of this great romantic work (originally a violin sonata). When it comes to Debussy, however, the cellist’s personal phrasing and rubato tend to get in the way of the music in certain phrases, creating a lack of clarity and occasionally losing touch with the piano. One begins to notice here and elsewhere a rubato that carries over from piece to piece, making the interpretations sound a bit generalized rather than presenting each of these varied composers as individuals. On the up side, the playing is excellent and emotional, particularly in the Franck; and the seven-minute piece by Jacques Offenbach is September/October 2012 beautiful—originally for cello and orchestra. All in all, it is a lovely program played with warmth and polish. D MOORE Feilmair & Feilmair Weber, Poulenc, Francaix, Szalowski Benjamin Feilmair, cl; Florian Feilmair, p Paladino 24—51 minutes Young Viennese musician brothers Benjamin and Florian Feilmair (ages 21 and 23) proudly present their debut album, a recital of three clarinet favorites plus a little-known work. The program consists of the famous and operatic Weber Grand Duo Concertante (1816); the popular yet wistful Poulenc Sonata (1962); the virtuosic yet cheeky Francaix Tema con Variazioni (1974), written as a Solo de Concours for the annual Paris Conservatory clarinet exam; and Polish composer Antoni Szalowski’s Sonatina (1936), written in Paris soon after his studies with Nadia Boulanger on a grant from the Polish government. Like the Poulenc and the Francaix, the Szalowski Sonatina fuses accessible modernism with traditional form. The Feilmair brothers certainly have the tools to become international soloists. They are gifted, knowledgeable, and confident, and their performances are energetic and sincere. Further growth and refinement, though, is required. Benjamin has a nice sound, but his clarity, intonation, and legato are not always consistent; and while Florian draws an impressive array of volume out of the piano, his touch sometimes has a percussive quality. Both brothers have boundless technique and color palettes, but they do not yet possess the kind of large-scale thinking and artistic profundity that only comes with time and maturity. HANUDEL English Clarinet Sonatas Arnold, Bax, Horowitz, Howells, Ireland Dawid Jarzynski; Anna Czaicka, p Dux 798—73 minutes In their second release together, the young Polish clarinetist-composer Dawid Jarzynski and the young Polish pianist Anna Czaicka present 20th Century clarinet works by British composers. Since their first collaboration (contemporary music on Dux 622, May/June 2009), Jarzynski has moved to Switzerland, where he plays in the Zurich Opera Orchestra; and Cziacka remains in Katowice, Poland, where she works at her alma mater, the Szymanowski Academy of Music. The program here consists of the angular yet humorous Malcolm Arnold Sonatina (1951), the highly romantic Arnold Bax Sonata (1934), the nostalgic and modernist Herbert Howells Sonata (1946), the congenial Joseph Horowitz Sonati- American Record Guide na (1981), and the impressionist John Ireland Fantasy-Sonata (1943). Jarzynski and Czaicka play with effortless technique and remarkable artistic awareness and maturity, but their sonic concepts need more refinement. Jarzynski, in particular, is rarely in full control of his timbre, juxtaposing beautiful phrasing with an unpleasantly spread low tessitura, a pinched high register, and wildly uneven intonation. Czaicka plays with wonderful intuition and poise, but she often uses too much pedal, creating unnecessarily murky textures. HANUDEL After You, Mr Gershwin! Kovacs, D’Rivera, Mercure, Horowitz, Muczynksi, Mower Andre Moisan, cl; Jean Saulnier, p ATMA 2517—76 minutes University of Montreal faculty members Andre Moisan and Jean Saulnier play works for clarinet and piano that fuse classical and jazz: Hungarian clarinetist Bela Kovacs’s After You, Mr Gershwin! (2004), Cuban cross-over instrumentalist Paquito D’Rivera’s Cape Cod Files (2009), written for clarinetist Jon Manasse and pianist Jon Nakamatsu; Montreal pianist Daniel Mercure’s For My Friend Leon (2011), a fond remembrance of the late Montreal musician Leon Bernier; the charming Joseph Horowitz Sonatina (1981); the Robert Muczynski Time Pieces (1984), written for the late Mitchell Lurie; and British composer Mike Mower’s Sonata (2006), recorded here for the first time. The performance is highly professional, sizzling with energy, color, superb technique, exquisite phrasing, and an intimate knowledge of style and genre. Moisan boasts a resonant and flexible sound, blazing fingers, thrilling glissandos, and an excellent command of special effects such as growling, slap-tongue, and multiphonics. He offers authoritative interpretations of the Kovacs, the D’Rivera, and the Mower; and he gives the Horowitz a jazzy spin that is both suitable and refreshing. His reed comes across as a little soft, notably in the Muczysnki, where the classical framework requires proper control, but for the most part, he handles it well. Saulnier is just as impressive, tackling each score with artistic intent, and he takes the listener to lonely beaches, bookish coffee houses, and smoky Prohibitionera bars with ease and delight. HANUDEL Geniuses so often seem melancholy because they have come to an early realization of how well busy fools do in the world. —Sidney Harris 211 Polish Wind Pieces Dobrzynski, Kilar, Lessel Roman Widaszek, cl; Tadeusz Tomaszewski, hn; Joanna Domanska, p Dux 857—59 minutes The city of Katowice, a metropolitan area just 30 miles north of the Carpathian Mountains, is the business, industrial, and cultural hub of southern Poland. Roman Widaszek serves as professor of clarinet at the Music Academy of Katowice, his alma mater; city native Tadeusz Tomaszewski serves as principal horn of the Polish Radio Symphony in Katowice; and Joanna Domanska serves on the keyboard faculty at the Music Academy, also her alma mater. Together, they present a recital of classically inspired chamber music by Polish composers: Ignacy Feliks Dobrzynski (1807-67) and his Duo for Clarinet and Piano, Op. 47, a cross between Weber’s Grand Duo Concertante and the classical vein of early Beethoven; Wojciech Kilar (b. 1932) and his youthful Horn Sonata (1954), a highly virtuosic neo-classical work influenced by Stravinsky and Bartok; and Franciszek Lessel (1780-1838) and his Trio for Piano, Clarinet, and Horn, Op. 4, an early contribution to the style brillant in keyboard playing, yet full of the careful craftsmanship and increasingly expressive harmony of his teacher, Franz Joseph Haydn. The performances are sincere, well done, and enjoyable, but not always even across the board. Tomaszewski pairs his fearless soloistic personality with excellent control, range, and technique; and Domanska matches her collaborators with superb clarity, color, and presence. Widaszek has good fingers and nice phrasing, but his soft reed thins the clarion register, spreads somewhat in the lower tessitura, and makes his tongue more percussive than necessary. HANUDEL British Flute Concertos Alwyn, Berkeley, Dove, Poulenc Emily Benyon; BBC Wales/ Bramwell Tovey Chandos 10718—77 minutes William Alwyn (1905-85) wrote his Concerto for Flute and Eight Wind Instruments for William Bennett in 1980. The composer was an accomplished flutist himself, having played in the London Symphony under Elgar, Holst, Vaughan Williams, and Sir Henry Wood. The first recording of the Alwyn was on Chandos 9152 (Jan/Feb 1994) with Kate Hill and the Haffner Wind Ensemble of London. Kate Hill takes 18:10 to play the piece, while Benyon takes 19:29. Nearly all of the additional time comes in the third (slow) movement. This is the first recording of the relatively new orchestration of the work by John McCabe (b 1939) 212 from 2006. The sounds in both versions of the piece remind me of Florent Schmitt’s Dionysiaques. Jonathan Dove (b 1959) wrote The Magic Flute Dances in 1999 for Benyon. It answers the question, “What happens to the magic flute at the end of Mozart’s opera?” Fragments of Mozart are used in a very tonal and accessible manner. This is a five-movement work that runs about 19 minutes. Lennox Berkeley’s Concerto, Opus 36 (1951-2) is a nearly 25-minute piece cast in four movements; the outer movements actually have several changes of tempo. It sounds like standard mid-century compositions and does not excite me. Berkeley orchestrated Francis Poulenc’s sonata in 1976 at the request of James Galway. He had studied under Boulanger and was quite fond of French music, but he had a difficult time with the project. I like the orchestration and find that it presents a familiar work freshly. Emily Benyon is principal flutist of the Concertgebouw Orchestra of Amsterdam, but grew up in Wales. She plays this music smoothly with excellent backup from her countrymen. Chandos offers superb sound. GORMAN Czech Flute Sonatas by Dvorak, Feld, Martinu, Schulhoff Jeffrey Khaner; Charles Abramovic, p Avie 2219—65 minutes Jeffrey Khaner has been principal flutist of the Philadelphia Orchestra since 1990, and this is his seventh solo album for Avie. This all-Czech program comes with strong and weak American ties plus French ones as well. Dvorak and Martinu wrote their pieces while living here, and Schulhoff was very interested in jazz, though this isn’t really expressed in the flute sonata. Jindrich Feld (1925-2007) was, like Husa, a fairly cosmopolitan Czech figure who spent time in the United States, Australia, and France. It is the French influence that one hears in the Feld, Martinu, and Schulhoff sonatas more than anything else. Many flutists have recorded these, and the Schulhoff can no longer be described as littleknown, which it was 25 years ago. It is far less common to get these pieces together, and you could do very well with this program, but I have a reservation. Khaner’s playing rarely has much intensity. A review quoted in the notes says Khaner has a “large, muscular tone” on an earlier American program that I have had for years. I would not so describe it. Some may consider his gentle and refined approach very suitable to the flute, but I can’t help but think back to the range September/October 2012 Leonard Garrison demonstrated in an American program last issue (p. 232) or recall Eugenia Moliner’s unforgettable, life-changing playing—just to name two examples—proving that the flute’s expressive range is not limited as it is here. It’s not that I’m looking for aggression; there’s no aggression in the Bach that I praise to the skies earlier in this issue; that playing is in many ways similar to Khaner’s, but it’s not so flat and lifeless. What it does have more of is color and nuance. After a while, this flute playing ends up sounding generic. I had the same critique of the last Avie release from the New York Philharmonic’s principal flutist Robert Langevin (Mar/Apr 2011: 261). Perhaps these orchestral players need to sound more conventional than I prefer. I even get that sense from the Chicago Symphony’s principal, Mathieu Dufour. I hope the same hasn’t happened to Demarre McGill. It is the Feld Sonata that suffers the most from the emphasis on the froth and playfulness, for the piece has considerable heft (which one should uncover) despite all the fizz. To his credit, Khaner digs in some to the legato line that comes up in the opening movement, but other points of culmination are lost. As a result, the piece actually grows tiresome—something I never thought possible. Nicole Riner brings far more weight to the Feld on Centaur 3066 (Mar/Apr 2011: 262). Tempos are on the fast side in the outer movements of the Schulhoff and Feld, so I was relieved that the opening movement of the Martinu was truly Allegro moderato. Even better was the way they pulled back at the movement’s end. The very brisk pacing in the Feld does bring out some slow-moving lines in the piano part that are more difficult to connect at a slower tempo. The opening movement of the Dvorak Sonatine strikes me as a little slushy for Allegro risoluto. The piece is placid enough without any additional smoothing out. It is particularly the dotted figures that I disagree with, but they turn crisper in the development. This sonatine is actually several mintues longer than the Schulhoff sonata (and many other sonatas). Charles Abramovic appeared in these pages recently with flutist Mimi Stillman (Innova 814; Mar/Apr 2012: 196). His playing was spectacular, and several of the pieces were outstanding, too. Abramovic is just as good here, with apt phrasing, judicious interplay, excellent balance, and fluent, crystalline technique. The stretches when he plays by himself are the most interesting ones. This is too often the case in flute sonatas generally, but he might have to tone things down less with a bolder player. Malcolm MacDonald has supplied vivid American Record Guide notes, and the sound leaves nothing to be desired. GORMAN Flute & Cello in Dialogue Atsuko Koga & Ithay Khen Genuin 12537—64 minutes The program opens with an arrangement of Mozart’s Duet K 423 for violin and viola, which I did not even know existed. The notes mention praise for the work by Albert Einstein, which probably should be changed to Alfred. There are solo pieces by Takemitsu and Ferroud for flute and the engaging Cassado Suite for solo cello. Villa-Lobos is represented by his work for flute and bassoon, Bachianas Brasileiras 6, and an original work for flute and cello, the Jet Whistle. Both pieces are difficult for the flutist. These are two very assured performers who play well together and imaginatively on their own. Khen uses a fairly intense and fast vibrato sometimes in the Cassado Suite, and he meets its challenges well. There are a number of classical period works for flute and cello, including six sonatas by Francois Devienne, that I hope they might record next. GORMAN Flute Miniatures Chopin, Debussy, Fauré, Gluck, Moniuszko, Penderecki, Ravel, Roussel, Villa-Lobos Grzegorz Olkiewicz; Waldemar Malicki, p Dux 829—57 minutes The resonant atmosphere is beautiful, but I don’t always care for Olkiewicz’s vibrato. He does produce a rich sound. Aside from the three Polish pieces, these can be easily heard elsewhere. The Penderecki ‘Misterioso’ is enchanting and lasts two minutes. The booklet has text in English and Polish, including biographies of the artists. GORMAN Wroclaw Composers Gasieniec, Gorlich, Pstrokonska-Nawratil, Rogala, Szajna-Lewandowska, Wislocki Grzegorz Olkiewicz, fl; Teresa Woronko, Maria Szwajger-Kulakowska, Miroslaw Gasieniec, Andrzej Jungiewicz, p Dux 826—59 minutes This comes in the jewel box most SACDs are in, but nothing says that it is one. The recordings were made in 1992 and 1993 for Polish Radio. The program is an assortment of flute pieces written by 20th Century composers with connections to the Polish city of Wroclaw; no dates for the pieces are given, but there are three pages of notes in English. Litoral by Jacek Rogala (b 1966), uses a 213 variety of sound effects, including strummed piano, tone clusters, simultaneous singing and playing for the flutist, and air sounds with the instrument. The four-movement Sonatina by Jadwiga Szajna-Lewandowska (1912-94) involves more traditional playing, including a lot of trills. There is a 12-tone piece by Joachim Gorlich (1931-2009), a Polish-born composer who later moved to Germany. PstrokonskaNawratil’s dreamy solo Eco per Flauto uses electronic effects to create overlapping sounds. Two pieces by Miroslaw Gasieniec (b 1954) are accompanied by the composer; the program ends with his Spanish Dance, which is a character piece true to its name. Grzegorz Olkiewicz has a fine command of contemporary techniques and plays these pieces with conviction and accuracy. There is quite a bit of demanding high-register playing. The pianists and the balances are consistently good. GORMAN Spaces & Places Bruun, Holmen, Oleson, Olsen, Snekkestad Eva Ostergaard, fl; Peter Bruun, v; Peter Langberg, bells Da Capo 8226573—61 minutes All these pieces were written by contemporary Danish composers for the performer—with the acoustics of a particular church in mind. Ostergaard plays members of the flute family from piccolo to bass, sometimes in combination; the two works by Jexper Holmen are for nine bass flutes! The recordings were not made in any particular space or setup, either, but all over—in the vaulted nave, in passageways and adjacent rooms, and outdoors—over a period of four years. The composer Peter Bruun is absolutely rhapsodic about the church: “There is a quite special atmosphere around the old abbey church in Logumkloster. History is alive and present, and it’s as if you can feel the life that was once there: the beautiful, impressive building speaks! The surroundings too have spiritual vibrations.” If you are open to imaginative and different projects such as this, you will probably enjoy it. The opening track has a very significant background of nature sounds, primarily bird song. The nine bass flutes function like a gentle pipe organ. There are vocals from the flutist and the composer in Peter Bruun’s pieces. In addition, or perhaps instead, you simply must hear Bruun’s brief 2 Pieces with Skylark for recorder and choir on OUR 6220605 (Mar/Apr 2012: 195). The writing is lush and the performance is stunningly beautiful. GORMAN 214 English Recorder Concertos Harvey, Arnold, Jacob Michala Petri; Hong Kong Chamber Orchestra/ Jean Thorel OUR 6220606 [SACD] 59 minutes Michala Petri’s recording of Chinese recorder concertos with Shui Lan blew me away (OUR 6220603, Jan/Feb 2011: 225). Here she is again, with a different orchestra and conductor. The Concerto Incantato by Richard Harvey (b 1953) is new to records. It is a long, colorful work in five movements commissioned in 2009 for this orchestra and soloist. Harvey plays the recorder himself and has worked extensively scoring for television and film. The notes call this “A dazzling concerto for the Harry Potter generation with, of course, a liberal sprinkling of faery dust!” Malcolm Arnold’s Concerto, Opus 133, was also written for Petri, back in 1988. This threemovement work recalls Nielsen in a nod to Petri’s Danish nationality. It is written in Arnold’s usual breezy style, but II is actually a passacaglia (don’t tell!). Gordon Jacob was Malcolm Arnold’s teacher and wrote the Suite for Recorder and Strings for another famous figure, Carl Dolmetsch, in 1957. It was only recorded in its original form recently, on an all-Jacob program on Naxos (Mar/Apr 2011). That program gives a large sampling of Jacob’s music for recorder and makes a great complement to this one. The sound and the playing here are excellent. If you want to hear the recorder at its best, you now have three discs to purchase. GORMAN Flute Sonatas Dvorak, Franck, Prokofieff Junko Ukigaya; Valentina Igoshina, p Antes 319278—76 minutes The Dvorak Sonatine becomes an honorary sonata for simplicity’s sake in the heading. It also gets a good performance, probably also owing to simplicity. The first movement of the Prokofieff gets a hesitant and literal performance. The difficult sextuplets are labored, and in other ways it doesn’t sound as if Ukigaya fully owns this music. She arrives in the Andante, but excessive slowing down in the Finale takes her back to where she was. The recordings by Tadeu Coelho (Tempo Primo), Hans-Udo Heinzmann (Genuin), and Manuela Wiesler (BIS) come to mind. The Franck needs culmination and flow, but the guiding hand and intelligence behind the music are not there. Instead sometimes we get note after note, and it can be trying. There are some beautiful moments between the flute September/October 2012 and piano, but they are not redeemed by the whole. The lower half of the piano sounds tubby, but all the important parts in the treble are clear. Valentina Igoshina plays well given what she has to work with. Junko Ukigaya has a great tone and a big low register, but she doesn’t always use either well. It often sounds like she is playing for someone else’s approval. When she can find her own way, she may be unstoppable. GORMAN Rafael Aguirre GIMENEZ: Intermedio from La Boda de Luis Alonzo; DEBUSSY: Soiree dans Grenade; La Puerta del Vino; LUCIA: Guajiras de Lucia; ASSAD: Spanish Impressions; LOPEZQUIROGA: Francisco Alegre; ALBENIZ: Triana; RODRIGO: Toccata; TARREGA: Gran Jota; MALATS: Serenata Espanola Rafael Aguirre, g Naxos 572916—62 minutes This is another of the Naxos Laureate series, recordings of international competition winners. It is Mr Aguirre’s second such recording—this is for the 2010 Alhambra International. He also won the Tarrega International back in 2007. He has a huge technique, intense and dramatic, and he has chosen an ambitious program of several transcriptions that aim to push the limits of the guitar. But I am not completely convinced. An effective transcription should sound complete, never causing the audience to miss the original. Some such works have been surprising, like the LAGQ’s classic performance of Falla’s ballet El Amor Brujo. That one, like the Assad brother’s Rhapsody in Blue, seems to work because of the absolute virtuosity and musicianship of the performers. I can’t imagine anyone but the Assads bringing off the Gershwin. Then there are others, like Kazuhito Yamashita’s arrangement of the Dvorak New World Symphony that leave one scratching one’s head—what was he thinking? None of the performances here is in that category, and all are exciting and exhilarating. The best are the works written for guitar: Paco de Lucia’s Guajiras, and Sergio Assad’s Spanish Impressions, written for Aguirre. The Rodrigo Toccata is a real discovery. It was unpublished until 2005, and it’s a remarkable work. It could benefit from more of a sense of the work’s architecture—the performance didn’t seem to have a real idea of where it was going, despite Aguirre’s impressive virtuosic command. Even Tarrega’s tacky Gran Jota gets a serious treatment. Beautiful command, though Pepe Romero had more fun with it. Then there are the arrangements. Two are American Record Guide from zarzuelas, originally for orchestra. Gimeniz’s ‘Intermedio’ from La Boda de Luis Alonzo is well known to guitarists in an arrangement for guitar quartet. Aguirre’s solo reading almost makes it, but I kept wanting more sonority. His climax, however, is overwhelming! The other, from Lopez-Quiroga’s Francisco Alegra, also needs a bigger sound. Aguirre’s transcription of ‘Triana’ from Albeniz’s Iberia doesn’t quite produce the sonority it needs. The Brazilian Quartet has done a remarkable arrangement of the entire cycle; and with four guitars, two with extended ranges, there is nothing missed from the original. And the Debussy transcriptions, despite their Spanish inspiration, don’t sound right when removed from the piano. You may not have any of these reservations, and I have no reservations with Aguirre’s playing. I don’t think anyone else could make these work better. I can’t fault him for flying too close to the sun, and I applaud his effort to expand our conception of what is possible on guitar. Check this out and make up your own mind. KEATON Dreams PEDEIRA: Y Llamo Manuel!; Zamba para Belen; Pixula; Chamego; Micuim; Sarara; ROUGIER: Pels Pichons; SOUZA: Manu; ASSAD: Dreams; DOMENICONI: Sogno Furioso II; BELLINATI: Jogos de Rua; LAURO: El Nino; CERRO: El Coyita; KADOSCH: Papa Chocho; SAVIO: La Cajita de Musica; AZUMA: Roda Vida Cristina Azuma, g, viola caipira GSP 1033—54 minutes The young-looking Ms Azuma has been recording for two decades. Her specialty is Brazilian works that occupy that gap between the cultivated and the vernacular. I first encountered her in a recording of Santiago de Murcia on Baroque guitar (J/A 2008). I was impressed with her invention and spontaneity, preferring her performance to Paul O’Dette’s. This recording finds her in her home territory. I’m not generally a fan of this repertory—it can be cloying and superficial from the wrong player—but she is nothing short of spectacular. The key element here is rhythm, and by that I mean something more than keeping time. Rhythm in all its complexity and subtlety is hard to truly master. And there is another element: accent. Not stressed notes, but knowing the culture, the language the music arises from. Spanish music can’t sound like French (and, for that matter, peninsular Spanish can’t sound like Latin American, nor can Andalusian sound like Mardileno, or either like Catalan). 215 Azuma has this music in her blood, and she has the finest time I’ve encountered in this music. The entire recording is solo, but she plays with such energy, precision, and flexibility that she sounds like she’s supported by a rhythm section with a battery of percussion. It’s irresistible. This is another recording based on children (see Canciones de Cuna in this section), though it’s not a collection of lullabies. Each piece is a response to becoming a parent, responses to infancy and young childhood. Her own work, ‘Roda Vida’, was inspired by a Brazilian proverb, “being a mother is to suffer in paradise”. Others are more wistful, like Thierry Rougier’s three works based on Occitan songs from the south of France, or Isaias Savio’s imitation of a music box. The two works by Paulo Bellinati were written for the viola caipira, a plucked-stringed instrument with ten steel strings and a sound rather like a harpsichord. Azuma’s playing is superb, no matter what the technical demand of the percussive effects, virtuosic passages, or complex polyrhythms. Yet these are scenes of childhood, and there is a pervasive tenderness here. able with his playing, it was like finding a brother. Brother, not twin. One can always take some exception with a few details. The Mudarra fantasia doesn’t use the cross-string effect to imitate the harp, as the subtitle states, “in the manner of Lodovico”. I am familiar with John Duarte’s claim that this was not the composer’s intent, but I don’t find it convincing. The long-term crescendo in ‘Asturias’s’ outer sections could be steadier. And Falk treats Turina’s ‘Fandanguillo’ more like a fantasia than a fandanguillo. But the felicities outweigh any carping by a considerable degree. I actually found myself dancing to Sanz’s ‘Canarios’, so infectious was his rhythmic momentum. And the Sor Mozart Variations is one of the finest I’ve ever heard. It’s far more convincing than David Russell’s performance on The Art of the Guitar (M/J 2007). This is the stuff that made me, and many others, fall in love with the guitar. It would be a magnificent introductory recording for a neophyte, and it brings sophisticated enjoyment to connoisseurs. One rarely finds both qualities on the same recording. KEATON KEATON Espanoletas NARVAEZ: Cancion del Emperador; Guardame las Vacas Variations; MUDARRA: Fantasia X; Gallarda; SANZ: Espanoletas; Canarios; SOR: Mozart Variations; Etude; TARREGA: Marieta; Gran Vals; Recuerdos de la Alhambra; Prelude; ALBENIZ: Cadiz; Asturias; GRANADOS: Spanish Dance 5; LLOBET: Canco del Lladre; La Nit de Nadal; El Mestre; TURINA: Fandanguillo Marten Falk, g—DB 146—60 minutes Marten Falk is a Swedish guitarist. He has a particular interest in contemporary music, and has performed 80 world premieres. He has worked with electronics, video, performance art, poetry and dance. He also plays the Russian seven-string guitar, which not only has an extra string, but a different tuning. He recently released a program of vihuela music (here he plays the vihuela works and Baroque guitar works on a modern guitar). Further, he is a well-published scholar and wrote the excellent and thorough notes for this recording (English only on my copy). So, how will he do on a program of meat and potatoes Segovia repertory? Beautifully, it turns out. All these works are familiar to guitar lovers—I’ve played almost all of them—so there is a great deal of competition. But his performances compare well with nearly any other, and it’s great to have them all in one collection. I found myself so comfort- 216 Invocacion TARREGA: Recuerdos de la Alhambra; Capricho Arabe; Preludes, Mazurkas; CHOPIN: Nocturne; Preludes; Mazurkas; PUJOL: 3 Spanish Pieces; LLOBET: Catalan Songs Mattias Jacobson, g—Avie 2254—62 minutes This is a fascinating program. Tarrega is the heart, and we see his influence in works by his two most famous students, Emilio Pujol and Miguel Llobet. We also hear his transcriptions of the music of his most important influence, Frederic Chopin. It was an inspiration to put, side by side, Tarrega’s preludes, mazurkas, and nocturnes with Chopin’s. This did not, however, make me a believer. Chopin’s music generally resists transcription—I cringe when I hear Les Sylphides, that ballet based on Glazounov orchestral arrangements of Chopin’s piano music. And, though most of these transcriptions are judiciously chosen so they come fairly close to the original—Chopin’s most delicate and transparent works—there are a few “what was he thinking” moments. The D-flat Prelude, with its contrasting middle section in C-sharp minor, needs to thunder, to threaten with annihilation. The guitar just sounds silly. Still, other works, like the Nocturne Op. 9:2, or the 22nd and 25th mazurkas work well. Jacobsson did not include the Waltz, Op. 34:2, my favorite Chopin on guitar—perhaps because there September/October 2012 were no Tarrega waltzes that were so clearly inspired by Chopin. Still, the performances are fine—Jacobsson is delicate, nuanced, and tasteful, just what this repertory needs. You’ll find better performances of some of the greatest hits, like Recuerdos or Capricho Arabe, but his are perfectly stylish and satisfying. This is musicianly playing, never trying to show off or draw the attention away from the music itself. There are some textual changes here and there. I doubt these are just errors; this is a careful presentation. Perhaps these are alternate sources—he does mention the original title for Recuerdos, which was to be ‘A la Alhambra (Invocacion)’. Llobet is represented by the three most popular of the Catalan folk songs, along with comments on what the text means. I’d never encountered this before, and I’m grateful. Pujol’s Three Spanish Pieces are given an interesting interpretation, tracing the development of a couple’s relationship (Jacobsson’s idea, not Pujol’s, but it works). And it led to the idea of two distinct levels of pizzicato in the final ‘Guajira’, representing a dialog between the two characters. This is not notated— indeed, there’s only one way to indicate that effect in guitar notation, though there are several ways to realize it. I was delighted. This is Mr Jacobsson’s debut disc. He is from Sweden, a Juilliard graduate and a student of Goran Sollscher and Sharon Isbin. This is highly artistic playing, in an imaginative program. KEATON Pasion PIAZZOLLA: Libertango; Oblivion; BARRIOS: Un Sueno en la Floresta; Una Limosna por el Amor de Dios; BROUWER: Un Dia de Noviembre; VILLA-LOBOS: Prelude 1; Mazurka-Choro; PONCE: Scherzino Mexicano; Chanson; MOREL: Danza Brasileira; DYENS: Tango en Skai; GARDEL: Por una Cabeza; CARDOSO: Milonga; SAVIO: Batucada; FARRES: Quizas, Quizas, Quizas; RODRIGUEZ: La Cumparsita Milos Karadaglic, g DG 17000—60 minutes Sometime back, The Economist published an article on Mr Karadaglic. The uncredited author said, “After years in the doldrums, classical guitar has a bright new voice.” Never one to miss a chance to send off an angry letter to the editor, I heaped contumely on this comment—the guitar has not been in the doldrums. We have never had more excellent artists and composers, and anyone who thinks we’ve been in the doldrums hasn’t been paying attention. Now, The Economist isn’t an arts publica- American Record Guide tion, so I wasn’t expecting any attention to my rant (and didn’t get any), but the publicity for this release quotes that Economist rave. I am interested to hear Mr Karadaglic. Any bright new voice is welcome. There are any number of promising young artists in guitar (see Thanos Mitsalis below), but this recording doesn’t come close to their level. The repertory is mostly intermediate, and the performances are marred by indulgent, haphazard interpretations. Some, like the Villa-Lobos prelude, are almost unlistenable. His rubato on the repeated chords is exactly the same on nearly all of them. That’s not rubato, that’s rewriting the rhythm. He seems incapable of maintaining a long line, a sweeping phrase. He interrupts Brouwer’s simple little tune, ‘Un Dia de Noviembre’ with little tenutos every measure or so. That, for me, is not expressiveness—it’s indulgence, and it spoils the work like too much makeup on a naturally beautiful girl. And, scattered through the program are four pieces with a string orchestra, two by Piazzolla, plus two more popular melodies. The guitar has an unnatural balance, louder than the strings; and the arrangements have the soloist playing mostly a single line melody over sustained strings. Very Mantovani. I kept wondering what floor the elevator would be stopping at. Mr Karadaglic (known simply as “Milos”) may well be capable of a deeper artistry than is evident here. His technique is quite good, and he has a lovely sound, without any overplaying. A few pieces are quite good, including Dyens’s ‘Tango en Skai’, probably the most demanding work here. But this release is obviously designed for a mass market, and it takes neither the music nor the artist seriously. KEATON In the Italian Tradition TARREGA: Carneval of Venice Variations; LEGNANI: Fantasia; CASTELNUOVOTEDESCO: Capriccio Diabolico; REGONDI: Reverie; Introduction & Caprice; DOMENICONI: Koyunbaba Thanos Mitsalas, g Clear Note 74575—63 minutes One can argue with the designation of this program as a representation of the “Italian Tradition”; the first work is by a Catalonian, the last more Turkish than Italian. But that is of small consequence when the program is so well played. I liked Mr Mitsalis in a program of Sergio Assad’s early works (M/J 2012). This is even better. He has a finely developed technique— this is a challenging program, and he never struggles. He has a wide range of timbre and dynamics, though he never overplays. He has a 217 free yet convincing use of rubato. Overindulgent rubato can really ruin a piece—it should always have a purpose, either to clarify the architecture or to enhance the expression of a phrase. Most important, it should always seem natural and convincing. Some players leave me scratching my head; but with Mitsalis I always feel that this is right, there is no other way to do this passage. He can even make silk purses out of proverbial sow’s ears. Tarrega’s ‘Carnival of Venice’, based on Paganini’s, is not great music. It’s stuff to have fun with. Mitsalis give it a royal treatment, without any sense of how tacky this can be. Giulio Regondi often overstays his welcome. He had lovely melodic talent, but his massive technical ability causes him simply to keep going until the point of absurdity has been crossed. It takes a great musician to make these pieces work, and I’ve never heard them played better. Luigi Legnani was Paganini’s friend, the guitarist in his many works for guitar and violin. I didn’t know this Fantasia, but it recalls Giuliani (or, more accurately, Rossini) in its sheer joyousness. The Castelnuovo-Tedesco Capriccio Diabolico is one of his most beautiful and most difficult works. In the last issue (J/A 2012) I had good things to say about Renato Samuelli’s performance, but this is stronger on all counts (I’d kill to hear Xeifei Yang play this!). The Domeniconi is ubiquitous—the “It” piece for guitarists. There are many strong performances of this hauntingly beautiful work, but this is as fine as any. Giuliani, is best when working with melodies by others. Frederic Hand is a New York guitarist and composer. ‘Waltz for Maurice’ is pleasantly jazzy, as is much of his music, and Muller plays it well. The ‘Maurice’ of the title is Ravel, and it was inspired by the slow movement of the piano concerto. The two pieces by Kevin Callahan are influenced by popular music— the gentle ‘River Bed’ by the American fingerpicking style, and ‘Undercurrents’ by rock and blues. Muller seems comfortable in these. Perhaps he had his start as a popular guitarist. Roland Dyens’s Libra Sonatine is more sophisticated stuff and is the best played on the recording. His performance compares favorably to Stephen Robinson’s recent recording (M/A 2012). Notes are quite inadequate for a recording of such little-known music—not a word on the pieces, and only a fairly generic bio for Mr Muller. But there had to be room for pictures of the artist carrying his guitar through a field next to a lake. KEATON Federico Garcia Lorca, La Mirada Contemporanea FALLA: Homenaje; MARCO: Tarots (sel); CALANDIN: Simbolismos; SANZ-BURGUETE: Acusmatica; ARTERO: Teoria del Jarnero Inmovil; MASEDA: Alquitara; CRUZ DE CASTRO: Preludios Lorquianos; RONCERO: Elegia y Danza Jose Luis Ruiz del Puerto, g Ars Harmonica 222—60 minutes KEATON A Waltz for Maurice BARRIOS: Waltzes; Julia Florida; Choro de Saudade; REGONDI: Capulets & Montagues Variation; HAND: Waltz for Maurice; CALLAHAN: The River Bed; Undercurrents; DYENS: Libra Sonatine Daniel Muller, g—Preiser 91191—56 minutes Mr Muller is an Austrian guitarist, and this appears to be his debut recording. He’s a fine player, and if I’d encountered this in a recital, I’m sure it would be satisfying. But he’s up against some serious competition internationally, and doesn’t show enough distinct personality on this recording to make a mark. His Barrios, for instance, suffers from a wayward rubato that wrecks the flow, particularly in ‘Julia Florida’. It is, after all, a barcarolle, and the base pulse needs to move steadily. Here he lurches like he’s in bad weather. The Regondi is much better. I wasn’t familiar with this work, but it’s better controlled than most of his music. Perhaps he, like 218 In 1998, Ruiz del Puerto commissioned four new works for guitar, celebrating the 100th anniversary of the birth of Federico Garcia Lorca. Best known as poet and playwright, Lorca was also devoted to music—and what is poetry but the music of language? His command of imagery is astonishing and profound in translation. I can only imagine its power in Spanish. He was deeply enamored with canta jondo, the deep song of flamenco. He began, at the end of his life, to learn to play guitar and made arrangements of 13 Andalucian songs (see the review under Lorca in this issue). With Manuel de Falla and Andres Segovia, he organized a competition to honor the greatest practitioners of the art of flamenco. So this tribute—the title translates “a contemporary look”—is particularly appropriate. And the release is timed for the 75th anniversary of Lorca’s death. He was executed by right-wing Falangist troupes (perhaps because of his liberal political views, perhaps because he was gay). The four commissioned works only run for half an hour, so several other September/October 2012 works of complementary style are included to full the disc. Except for the Falla, these are all modern works—or what we used to call modern. They are not tonal, heavy on gestures and effects, such as Bartok pizzicato, bent notes, percussive sounds, and elaborate rasgueado passages, slide effects, even shouts from the player. Modern, but not academic. These are emotional pieces, often tortured, sometimes whimsical, humorous, or mystical. Lorca’s poetry was not experimental—it was grounded in spirit of the earth, in the souls of the outcasts of society. Yet I think he would be moved by these works. Each is deeply connected to the voice of the guitar, the instrument at the heart of his homeland. The effects all arise naturally from the instrument, and I can’t imagine them transcribed for any other medium. The back page of the notes has pictures of the writer and the performer, with the caption in Spanish “Federico Garcia Lorca (1898-1936) 75 years later. The guitar...it is impossible to silence it.” We hear four pieces from Emilio Calandin’s set of miniatures, Symbolisms: Six Nocturnal Poems. Each was inspired by one of Lorca’s poems (a pity they weren’t included). Their compressed intensity recalls Webern. Then we have Juan Manuel Artero’s Theory of the Unmoving Garden. It is a delicate work—his notes say the piece should be performed “in the open air, by fountains, by doves—using a metal bar to supply sliding pitches on the strings. Carlos Cruz de Castro’s two Preludios Lorquianos are perhaps the closest to a tonal language. Both are undulating arpeggios, the first wild, the second calm. His notes are almost incomprehensible, referring to three strings in the air, versus three others stepped on (?). But the pieces are quite lovely. Finally, Vicente Romero’s Elegia y Danza depicts the ominous hours before Lorca’s death, followed by a horrifying dance of death, not only of the poet, but also the spirit of the age. Of the other works, only Falla’s Homenaje is known. Del Puerto’s performance is less free than many, but I find it quite effective. In July/August I reviewed Marcello Fantoni’s performance of Tomas Marco’s Tarots, images of the 22 Major Arcana of the Tarot deck. I still have the same misgivings about the composition, but Del Puerto’s excerpt of four of them is effective—and even better played than Fantoni’s. Of the remaining works, Enrique SanzBurguete’s Acusmatica is a wild ride, full of inventive effects. Eduardo Perez Maseda’s Alquitara is, for me, the least convincing of the recital. The title is from an Arabic term referring to the breaking apart of an idea to consider various parts and viewpoints. I was quite lost in all the deconstruction. American Record Guide These are challenging works, for listener and performer alike, and Del Puerto’s mastery is superb. He not only has the technical command for all the new languages required in these works, but he has the intellect to hold them together and make them intelligible. More important, he has the emotional commitment to make them truly sing, to evoke Garcia Lorca’s genius and heart. Unless you’re opposed to non-tonal music as a matter of course, you’ll find this fascinating and moving. KEATON Canciones de Cuna Lullabies by Schumann, Schubert, Fauré, Falla, Llobet, Lorca, Pujol, CastelnuovoTedesco, Harjidakis, Fleischmann, Mendelssohn, Barrios, Gustavino, Yupanqui, Brouwer, Piana, Brahms, Bodorova, Fontanelli Maria Isabel Siewers, g; Amiram Ganz, v; Nicolas Pazur, va; Erica Pazur, narr; Silvia Cambiano, Christoph Rosel, vocals Acqua 322—72 minutes Ms Siewers trained in her native Argentina with Maria Luisa Anido. She has held several teaching positions in Argentina, and since 1989 has headed the guitar department at the Mozarteum in Salzburg. She is also a grandmother. And it is in this last capacity that the inspiration for this collection was found. I reviewed another all-lullaby collection back in 2011 (Jan/Feb), Aaron Larget-Caplan’s New Lullaby Project. That collection included newly-composed works by mostly unfamiliar composers. It was an interesting performance, though I recommended hearing it in short segments— nearly an hour of music designed to put the baby to sleep is not a good programming idea. Ms Siewers’s recording is nearly 20 minutes longer than that one, and also should be heard in shorter excerpts. But it should be heard. She performs lullabies, many familiar (Brahms, Brouwer, Falla, and others) and a few not so familiar. She achieves variety by including other musicians—singers, a violinist, and a violist—in half of the works. Her partners are all quite effective, except for Cambiasso, who sings just under pitch and makes the Lorca and the Gustavino pieces difficult to enjoy. The only other complaint I have in these works is in ‘La Arrulladora’ from CastelnuovoTedesco’s Platero and I cycle for narrator and guitar. I love these works and have performed many of them. Segovia did a dozen without the narrator, but I find that’s like doing a lied without the singer. But singers that I’ve worked with all try to make their narration something like sprechstimme, which doesn’t work. Ms Pazur does this, elongating vowels that make 219 no sense in ordinary speech. I found it unpleasant. Minor quibbles aside, this recital is very well done. Siewers plays with utmost taste and balance—she’s a superb musician and knows just how these lovely works should go. And I don’t think I’m projecting (no kids in my life), but I can really feel her love and affection for her grandchildren. May they treasure this, now and as they grow. KEATON Best of Yolanda Kondonassis PIERNE: Impromptu-Caprice; GRANDJANY: Rhapsody; BACH: Prelude; Presto; SALZEDO: Chanson dans la Nuit; Scintillation; Rumba; Bolero; SAINT-SAENS: Fantasy; SATIE: Gnossienne 3; GERSHWIN: Prelude 2; HASSELMANS: La Source Azica 71273—55 minutes With the demise of productions by Telarc, Yolanda Kondonassis has to find another label, judging from her liner notes. This album contains her favorites from 6 of her 15 Telarc recordings: Scintillation (Nov/Dec 1993—her first), A New Baroque (May/June 1995), Pictures of the Floating World (Nov/Dec 1998), Quietude (July/Aug 2001), The Romantic Harp (May/June 2003), and Salzedo’s Harp (not reviewed—her last). This album simply confirms what I’ve believed over the years: she is the best harpist alive, and also was the best-recorded, thanks to Telarc. The titles alone of both the works and the albums prove her versatility; the performances prove she is a master of many styles, from Bach to Gershwin, from romantic classics to rumbas and boleros South American-style. Her work is mellow, bright-eyed, terraced, and incredibly subtle. Textures are clear, lucid, and transparent. She is the queen of both musical flow and of use of the pedal— no other harpist has mastered both sustaining resonance and clearing the palate like Kondonassis. She ends this album with ‘La Source’ by Alphonse Hasselmans (1845-1912), which has rapid triplet arpeggios against an easy-going lyrical melody infused with rhythmic pulse and forward motion. From “Pictures of a Floating World” indeed! As she says in the liner notes, playing it gives her “an adrenaline rush that feels like flying high and fast with the wind at your back”. Then, on this marvelously laidout album whose variety makes sure it never gets tiring, she tacks on what feels like two encores: the Rumba and Bolero, one dancyfast, the other sultry-slow. Here’s hoping she finds a way of recording new repertoire. FRENCH 220 La Pleiade: French Harpsichordists Claudine Gomez-Vuistaz Urtext 2024—72 minutes The French harpsichord school begins with Jacques Champion de Chambonnieres (160072). Louis Couperin (1626-61) and Nicolas Lebegue (1631-1702) come out of this tradition. The music of the early French harpsichord school emphasized lute-like textures and poetic eloquence. Claudine Gomez-Vuistaz picks up the story of French harpsichord music from the end of the Chambonnieres tradition with the music of Gaspard le Roux (1660-1707). His Chaconne opens her program. The climactic closing of the Chaconne with its sparkling scales and lush, thick chords points to later trends in harpsichord music. The other composers represented here are Jean Philippe Rameau (1683-1764), Pancrace Royer (1705-55), and Jacques Duphly (171589). In their music the harpsichord gains a measure of independence from the lute. Cantabile melody and sounds drawn from theatrical music are a central attraction. GomezVuistaz offers generous sets of character pieces by Rameau, Royer, and Duphly. The pieces evoke many moods and images: mythology (Duphly’s ‘Medee’) the sounds of nature (Rameau’s ‘Rappel des Oiseaux’) and abstract emotional states, as in ‘La Sensible’ by Royer. She plays with admirable energy and a strong sense of that elusive quality that Baroque musicians liked to talk about but never quite define: good taste. I enjoyed her decision to apply rhythmic inequality to the arpeggiated figures in ‘L’Aimable’ (Royer). Most often inequality (“notes inegales”) is applied to scalar material but there are exceptions. Her way of playing ‘L’Aimable’ reminded me of other French pieces with dotted or unequal arpeggios, like Francois Couperin’s ‘Audacieuse’ or ‘La De Vatre’ by Duphly. KATZ Zuzana Ruzickova Homage Supraphon 4117 [2CD] 156 minutes This homage is dedicated to Zuzana Ruzickova’s solo playing. The eminent Czech harpsichordist is also a highly accomplished chamber musician, and her ensemble work could be the subject of a separate homage. The first disc is devoted to two composers whose music forms the bread and butter of many a harpsichordist’s daily life: Bach and Scarlatti. It also includes a Vivaldi concerto in an arrangement by Bach. Ruzickova interprets Baroque music with great emotional depth and imagination. Her reading of Chromatic Fantasy seized my attention fully by its arresting contrasts. I found myself deeply moved in hearing her play September/October 2012 Scarlatti’s Sonata in G minor, K 8 (the piece, full of pathos, is one of his most heartfelt.) The second disc is devoted to 20th Century music: three concertos and two sets of solo pieces. The concertos, by Falla, Poulenc, and Martinu, represent the composers’ encounters with an instrument that was still “new” in the first half of the 20th Century. All three composers managed to breathe new life into the instrument. Falla’s concerto is scored for harpsichord, flute, oboe, clarinet, violin, and cello. This varied group of timbres mixes with and supports the chameleonic sounds of the harpsichord. The ecstatic strummed arpeggios at the end of II are a thrill. Poulenc, in his Concert Champetre, exalts the harpsichord’s motive quality and the conciseness of tone that drives a powerful music engine. Poulenc’s quotation of Handel’s Harmonious Blacksmith in III is like a humorous joust with the ghost of the older composer. The Martinu concerto is notable for its whimsical mix of syncopated ragtime-like rhythms with baroque-inspired textures. The solo pieces are more intimate. Sei Invenzioni Canonici per Cembalo by the harpsichordist’s late husband Victor Kalabis (19232006) reveals in its carefully wrought counterpoint fantastic musical universes that the listener may only perceive for a moment at a time. The composer Jan Rychlik dedicated each movement of his Hommaggi Gravicembalistici to composers who were nearly unknown to the musical public at the time (1963): Bernardo Pasquini, Carlos Seixas, Antonio Cabezon, and Francois Couperin. Rychlik’s affection for each composer shines through in these poignant pieces. This is a pleasure. Ruzickova is an artist of the first order—truly worthy of this fine homage. KATZ A Due Cembali Aline Zylberajch, Martin Gester, hpsi & org K617 233—66 minutes Recordings of music for two keyboard instruments are not very common. This program is thus a welcome contribution to the discography. They play on two harpsichords and harpsichord with positive organ. Baroque composers (Vivaldi, Telemann, Soler) are represented as well as classical composers: Schobert, Haydn, and Mozart. They also include four pieces by contemporary composer Peter Planyavsky. Planyavsky writes marvelously for two harpsichords. In his ‘Berceuse’ he mingles gentle arpeggios with bittersweet harmonic interjections. His prelude starts with a “mist” of chords and gives way to a poetic melody that is stated by each harpsichord then American Record Guide by the two in unison. The unison sound is haunting; it imbues the music with a mystical quality. This delightful disc, full of whimsy and deeply felt emotion, is a tribute to the art of the keyboard duo. The third track, not listed on the back of the CD case, is a surprise. KATZ Oboe Concertos Skalkotas, Aho, Strauss Yeon-Hee Kwak; David Pia, vc; Munich Radio Orchestra/ Johannes Goritzki MDG 9031598—52 minutes One might have called this album “1949”. Greek composer Nikos Skalkottas was born at the beginning of the century and died in 1949, the same year that Richard Strauss died, and the same year that Finnish composer Kalevi Aho was born. Other descriptions of the music that come to mind (except perhaps for Strauss’s Concerto) are manic, volatile, agitating, and mildly depressing. While this may seem a harsh assessment, there is a serious question below the surface. I often wonder how historians 100 years from now will characterize the 20th Century—a series of overlapping and disparate musical periods? So much in these pieces speak of an inner turmoil, a searching and not finding, the sounding of an alarm that no one is hearing. Perhaps I can speculate why Yeon-Hee Kwak chose these pieces. In the context of her other albums, she seems to be displaying an evolution of musical language from basic to advanced technical and stylistic demands. Her first recording (MDG 6031432, May/June 2007) had works of JS Bach, CPE Bach, Piazzolla, and Silvestrini. It was generally a delight and did not place too great a demand on the ear. A few years later she programmed Martinu’s concerto, Dorati’s Divertimento, and one by Heinz Holliger on her second album (MDG 9031586, Sept/Oct 2010). There, while perhaps Martinu’s concerto reached slightly outside the realm of the wholly accessible, Holliger’s technically demanding and brainy unaccompanied work required nothing less than a full commitment to find enjoyment outside of any conventional expectation for melody, harmony, or a recognizable idiom. On this new album, though, only one of the works will strike the average listener as comprehensible, intuitive, and maybe immediately beautiful. The other two challenge what all that might mean. Skalkottas was sent to conservatory at 10, graduated at 17, and was sent to Germany to study with Kurt Weill, among others. Not until he began to study with Arnold Schoenberg (a blessing and a curse) did he apparently find his voice. He struggled to make a living, lived 221 at home until he was 42, married in 1946, and died a few years later. This Concertino was not performed until 10 years after he died. Unfortunately, history will probably not make room for more than one composer of atonalism. These days, the genre is compelling mainly to performers or composers engaged in an academic exercise. Perhaps the only time in history that some audiences tried to understand atonalism was somewhere toward the middle of the 1900s. For most of us today it is academic and inaccessible. Aho’s Seven Inventions strike a balance between Skalkottas’s Concertino and the eloquent romanticism of Strauss’s post-depression World War II composition. Sometimes dreamy and melodic, this piece for oboe and cello also portrays the real a
