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Breiner: Slovak Dances, Naughty and Sad / Slovak Philharmonic
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REVIEW:
The basis of Breiner’s suite is native folksong and one might easily suppose, therefore, that its themes might be catchy and easily remembered. Slovak listeners, certainly, will be humming happily along as they recognise such traditional ditties as My father is but one big headache, My mother told me not to sit in the dark, I must have been crazy and Oh, mother dear, it itches (Slovakian peasant life was clearly no bed of roses).
Anyone born west of Bratislava or east of Humenné is, however, unlikely to be familiar with the original melodies and, bereft of that anchor, may well find that the dances come and go without making that much of a memorable impression. Moreover, I’d imagine that the composer’s distinctly contemporary musical palette risks disconcerting or even alienating a few tradionally-minded listeners who prefer their music delivered in an orchestration more characteristic of the late 19th century.
In spite of any such potential issues, the suite certainly offers plenty of pleasurable moments. Many of them occur, as already suggested, during the dances featuring the “domestic ethno-traditional” solo instrumentalists whose contributions deliver frequent titillation to ears unfamiliar with the sound of fujaras or jew’s harps. Thus, no. 3, the jaunty You enchanting girl, you…, is marked by effective and attractive contributions from the violinist, the accordionist and Ms Friedl’s whistles, as too is no. 9 My little whistle – ititi, ititi. Meanwhile, no. 11 I must have been crazy exhibits an engaging and sinuously oriental atmosphere that perhaps reflects the influence of intermittent Mongol and Ottoman invasions of Slovakia over the centuries. The final dance You little gate with bars is the shortest of the whole set but brings the suite to a close with an appropriate burst of vitality.
– MusicWeb International
Maliszewski: Symphonic Works / Neumann, Opole Philharmonic Orchestra
Witold Maliszewski was a prolific Polish composer who is remembered not only for his compositional oeuvre, but also his contribution to education- he was a founder of Odessa Conservatory and a professor at Warsaw Conservatory. Students of Maliszewski include Witold Lutoslawski, Mykola Vililnsky, Shimon Shteynberg, and Boleslaw Woytowicz. His style was largely shaped by Russian musical traditions. His symphonies are non-programmatic, and only the Fourth Symphony in D major contains any trace of traditional Polish music. The present release is a showcase of his symphonic works, performed by the Opole Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Przemyslaw Neumann.
Schubert: V1: Piano Trios / Gould Piano Trio
| In their second album for Resonus, the Gould Piano Trio returns with a recording of Schubert’s Piano Trios. Apart from a very early single movement written when he fifteen years of age, Schubert came to the piano trio late in his short career and left only two full-length works in the form, written in 1827–8. By the time Schubert came to write his piano trios, the form had taken on a new stature thanks to work from composers such as Beethoven. Here, Schubert’s Trios in B-flat major and the ‘Notturno’ in E-flat major are joined by the delightful Valses nobles D969, composed for solo piano and heard here in a world premiere recording in this arrangement for trio by Julius Zellner. |
Tchaikovsky: 1812 Overture, Capriccio Italien, Romeo & Julie
My First Christmas Album
Can you imagine Christmas without music? No singing, no jingling. Only Scrooge would be happy with that! It is a time for music to fill the air. Part of the fun is hearing things that are only played at Christmas and at no other time of year - carols that make you think of the end of term, or the holidays or bobble hats - songs that make you think of food, or snow, or stockings. Here are some of the most popular carols, as well as some other surprises...Merry Christmas!
REVIEWS:
I have always been a great believer in the importance of presenting music of the highest possible quality regardless of the potential audience. This is done here — for the adult listener there is real interest and fascination in hearing such a wide range of choral styles.
I loved the predictably fine Lutoslawski/ Antoni Wit Polish National RSO & Choir Hurrying to Bethlehem. Again quite a different choral tone. Otto Kotilainen’s Finnish Kun Joulu on is something of a discovery beautifully performed—a lighter tone than the Polish choir but very expressive by the Finnish choir Chorus Resonus. Another virtuoso vocal group prove to be La Petite Bande de Montreal who contribute a brief but virtuosic Carol of the Bells. Jeremy Summerly’s Oxford Camerata are suitably vigorous in the Medieval Gaudete Christus est natus. As indeed is For Unto us from the Messiah from Edward Higginbottom, the Academy of Ancient Music and Oxford New College Choir. This is a delightfully sprung and sprightly version of an old favourite. Most of the carols are sung with little or no accompaniment other than the expected organ or keyboard. This makes the full orchestral version of Vaughan Williams’ Wassail Song particularly enjoyable.
So all in all a disc of palpable hits in terms of music and performance, and certainly something for the stocking of a young relative. No texts or translations are included. Well done to Naxos for producing a disc of great entertainment value but without compromising the artistic merit of it either.
-- MusicWeb International
If you’re looking for a Christmas album that the kids will like but won’t drive you up the wall, try this. It’s one of a series of Naxos CDs that try and introduce children to classical music...
Most of your favorite Christmas carols are on here, along with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer and the Sugar Plum Fairy. For a Christmas album, it gets high praise: it’s not annoying, and only Scrooge could really find fault. It also introduces the small ones to classical playing.
-- The Chronicle
R. Strauss & Copland / Stamp, Academy of London, Royal Northern Sinfonia
The four works on this release, all composed in the 1940s, embrace the lingering end of one musical tradition and the vigorous upsurge of another. Mellifluous, retrospective and playful, the Duet Concertino and Prelude to Capriccio were works from Richard Strauss’s final phase – an old man’s refuge from the barbarism of war and its aftermath. What the public thought of them was incidental, even irrelevant. In the same decade, Aaron Copland and other younger American composers were reaching out, via radio, recordings and film, to a new mass audience. The European influence of Appalachian Spring and the Clarinet Concerto, though inescapable, was minimized in a populist, vernacular idiom that absorbed folk music and jazz.
Richard Stamp unites some of the finest instrumentalists from the UK and Europe in these performances – featuring celebrated orchestras the Academy of London and the Royal Northern Sinfonia with renowned Austrian soloists Ernst Ottensamer and Stepan Turnovsky. Stepan Turnovsky joined the Vienna State Opera and Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra in 1978 and has kept the position of Solo Bassoonist there since 1985, performing with conductors such as Herbert von Karajan, Leonard Bernstein, Karl Böhm, Carlos Kleiber amongst many others. The late Ernst Ottensamer was a former principal clarinettist at the Vienna Philharmonic and an avid performer of chamber music – founding numerous ensembles and collaborating with musicians such as Sir Simon Rattle, André Previn, Daniel Barenboim and Rudolf Buchbinder amongst others. In 2005 he found a clarinet trio with his sons Daniel and Andreas Ottensamer – themselves the Principal Clarinettists of the Vienna Philharmonic and Berlin Philharmonic Orchestras. This present performance represents his last concerto recording.
REVIEW:
It is for the two Strauss performances that I can offer an enthusiastic thumbs up. Ernest Ottensamer died suddenly in 2017 at the age of 61, and the Copland was his last concerto recording. That, too, adds to the value of this release. Signum deserves gratitude for saving all four performances from being lost and forgotten.
– Fanfare
Brusa: Orchestral Works, Vol. 1
Geza Anda Plays Beethoven
Guitar Vibes: Music For Guitar And Strings / Elias, Netherlands Chamber Ensemble, Matangi Quartet
Izhar Elias has produced several successful and imaginative albums for Brilliant Classics. None of them have confirmed to a ‘Spanish guitar’ stereotype but all have engaged in various original ways with the developing heritage of the instrument during the 19th century, from ‘Paisiello in Vienna’ (BC95301) to ‘Beethoven and the Guitar’ (BC94631) to Giuliani’s astonishing transcription of Rossini’s grand tragedy Semiramide (BC93902). His latest recording brings the classical guitar up to date with works by composers from four different countries; within them may be heard influences from classical music, avant-garde, Caribbean music, Spanish folklore, flamenco, Arabic music, blues, Argentinean tango and even trip-hop and heavy metal: provocative testament to the world’s most versatile instrument. The Guernica Suite by Pujol (b.1959) focuses on different aspects of Picasso’s painting in six movements, with a tentatively positive conclusion. The Triptych of Roberto Sierra (b.1953) evokes some nocturnal sounds from his native Puerto Rico, including the tropical tree frog as well as a night on the tiles. The three Danzas Concertantes pulse and glide with the rhythms of Leo Brouwer’s native Cuba, offset by some astringent harmonies that place the guitar’s usual role as purveyor of folkloristic colour under threat. Finally there is the Schattenspiel Suite by Florian Magnus Maier (b.1973), who also plays electric Moog guitar on this recording. Maier pursues a diverse career as a composer, guitarist and vocalist with bands including Alkaloid, Dark Fortress and Noneuclid; this tripartite suite inspired by shadows is his best-known work in the classical tradition, and for this recording he has made a new arrangement for two guitars and string quartet. There is something for everyone on this album: it’s essential listening for guitar-music enthusiasts who want to broaden their horizons.
Homage to Schubert
Gísladóttir: Caeli / Bára Gísladóttir, Skúli Sverrisson
Caeli is spun out of the idea of skies and dimensions merging into a boarderless being boasting of a rich and vivid texture, at times carrying numerous worlds inside at once. During the recording of Caeli, Bára and Skúli would have long discussions about how the world is opening up and how this would and could affect music as well. They like to look at Caeli as a product of this openness - a crystallisation of freedom, exposure and transparency in sound. Bára Gísladóttir (born 1989) is an Icelandic composer and double bassist based in Copenhagen. She studied composition at the Iceland Academy of the Arts in Reykjavík, Conservatorio di Musica "Giuseppe Verdi" in Milan and at the Royal Danish Academy of Music in Copenhagen. Bára´s pieces have been selected for festivals such as Dark Music Days, Darmstädter Ferienkurse, International Rostrum of Composers, KLANG Festival, Nordic Music Days and Ung Nordisk Musik. She has received the Carl Nielsen and Anne Marie Carl-Nielsen Foundation’s Talent Awards, Léonie Sonning Talent Prize, The Reykjavík Grapevine's Music Awards, and has been nominated to the Carl Prize as 'Composer of the year', the Kraumur Music Awards three times for 'Album of the year' and The Icelandic Music Awards twice for 'Piece of the year'. Bára is an active performer and regularly plays her own music, mostly solo or with her long time collaborator, Skúli Sverrisson. In addition to this, she is the double bassist of Elja Ensemble. She has also performed with Ensemble Adapter, the Iceland Symphony Orchestra and S.L.Á.T.U.R.. Skúli Sverrisson (born 23 October 1966) is an Icelandic composer and bass guitarist. He has worked with musicians Wadada Leo Smith, Derek Bailey, Lou Reed, Jon Hassel, David Sylvian, Arto Lindsay, and composers Ryuichi Sakamoto, Jóhann Jóhannsson, and Hildur Guðnadóttir.
REVIEW:
While each of the 19 ‘movements’ seem sufficiently distinct from each other their individual arcs seem to follow a course of gradual bending and fragmentation. By that I mean that if each of the movements seems to begin and end in the same place, the excursion one experiences en route is abundant in microscopic timbral variety and largely imperceptible flux.
There can be little doubt that Bára Gísladóttir and Skúli Sverrisson are outstanding musicians in every sense; if their virtuosity as players per se takes ones breath away that’s not even the half of it. What is effectively a 130 minute dual improvisation involving a double bass and an electric bass is, in the end, an experience of profundity, wonder, and indescribable beauty. Caeli is all-encompassing and astonishing in a literal sense; at once it can be monolithic and elastic, dark and luminous, purposeful and daydreaming, bold and terrified, triumphant and sad. It’s all on these discs.
– MusicWeb International
Beethoven: Symphonies Nos. 4 & 7 / Mcgegan, Philharmonia Baroque
BEETHOVEN Symphonies Nos. 4 1 and 7 2 • Nicholas McGegan, cond; Philharmonia Baroque O (period instruments) • PHILHARMONIA BAROQUE PRODUCTIONS 06 (75:10) Live: Berkeley 1 11/10-11/2012, 2 9/12-13/2009
Unlike a number of other conductors in the early music movement, Nicholas McGegan has waited a long time to commit any of the Beethoven symphonies to disc. The wait has been well worthwhile. These are now my favorite period performance versions of the Fourth and Seventh symphonies on CD. I previously had preferred the Fourth of John Eliot Gardiner. It is faster than McGegan’s in every movement, sometimes significantly so. I feel that McGegan’s tempos allow the music to breathe more and to build up more natural climaxes. Gardiner uses a larger string section, which produces a wider dynamic range than McGegan’s. But McGegan’s orchestra sounds better balanced to me, with the strings allowing for richer textures from the inner voices. Interestingly, both conductors employ the same principal flute, the excellent Janet See, whose album of Vivaldi concertos with McGegan and the PBO is well worth seeking out. In the opening movement of the Fourth, McGegan’s Adagio is like a journey through the Greek underworld, leading to an Allegro vivace that feels like the whole world springing to life. Its development section sounds very Viennese in its congeniality. The second movement resembles chamber music, similar to a Buddhist scroll painting in its play of light and shade. It is significant that McGegan’s violin section includes such period chamber music luminaries as Katherine Kyme, Elizabeth Blumenstock, and Jolianne von Einem. The third movement displays Olympian humor, while the last is very danceable, sort of Beethoven’s version of a hoedown. In both symphonies, McGegan is very generous with repeats.
One of the principal attractions of McGegan’s Seventh is timpanist Kent Reed. Over 20 years ago, I heard a splendid Seventh by the New Jersey Symphony conducted by my friend Jens Nygaard, in which the timpanist, Randall Hicks, really whaled away. The critic assigned to the concert complained that it sounded like a timpani concerto. By now, we are so accustomed to the thwack of period timpani that Reed’s performance doesn’t seem unusual. Before hearing McGegan, my favorite period Seventh was Roger Norrington’s Stuttgart account. He is more fastidious in the middle movements about Beethoven’s metronome markings, though McGegan’s tempos there feel less rushed. Norrington’s strings, modern instruments played without vibrato, make a thicker, less appealing sound than McGegan’s more gossamer section. What’s more, McGegan conducts the entire symphony with a Beechamesque twinkle in his eye that Norrington lacks. The introduction to McGegan’s first movement is fleet-footed, with beautiful wind playing. The main section features wonderful waves of sound that ebb and flow, while the coda offers splendidly braying horns. McGegan’s slow movement is measured, with a careful delineation of dynamics. Its sensation is that of a haunted, misty reverie. The third movement feels as if the different sections of the orchestra are engaged in a conversation. Its trio sounds like an ecstatic shepherd’s song. The concluding movement is a jolly, mercurial romp. McGegan’s Seventh, congenial as it is, is one you can live with very easily.
The sound engineering in both symphonies is excellent. If you are looking for these works on modern instruments, I would recommend George Szell in Cleveland for the Fourth and Karl Böhm with the Vienna Philharmonic for the Seventh, although his Berlin account is nearly as good. McGegan’s album is a marvelous blend of the wisdom of the old master conductors with the finesse of period instruments. His Beethoven is an extremely likable fellow of vast ingenuity, an artist with whose work you never are sated. There is not one unconsidered bar of music in the whole album.
FANFARE: Dave Saemann
D'Albert: Symphony in F / Markl, MDR SO
D’ALBERT Tiefland: Symphonic Prologue. Symphony in F, Op. 4 • Jun Märkl, cond; MDR Leipzig RSO • NAXOS 8.572805 (62:40)
A recording of Eugen d’Albert’s early Symphony in F Major appeared on CPO three years ago and was reviewed by James A. Altena in 33:6. That version was conducted by Herman Bäumer leading the Osnabrücker Symphony Orchestra. D’Albert’s life story is reasonably well known, so it needn’t be recapped at length. In short, he was born in Glasgow, studied in London, and at 17 won a scholarship to study in Austria. There he was so taken with Austro-German music and culture that he repudiated his English training as worthless and from that day forward considered himself a right and proper German. He studied with Liszt, met Brahms, and built a career as one of the foremost piano virtuosos of his day. Between 1904 and 1905, d’Albert toured the U.S., and in 1907 succeeded Joseph Joachim as director of Berlin’s Hochschulefür Musik. D’Albert counted among his circle of associates and friends, Richard Strauss, who dedicated his Burleske to him, Hans Pfitzner, Engelbert Humperdinck, and Ignatz Waghalter (see the interview with Irmina Trynkos in 36:3). D’Albert’s personal life was a bit of a mess. Like Henry VIII, he married and divorced six times, though as far as we know, all of d’Albert’s wives kept their heads. When connubial contentment eluded him, he comforted himself in the arms of a mistress. His love of Germany and all things German must have soured when the First World War broke out, for in 1914, he moved to Zurich and became a Swiss citizen. He died, however, in Riga, Latvia, where he’d traveled to secure a divorce from his sixth wife.
Little by little d’Albert’s interest in composing began to overtake his career as a pianist. His output is not insignificant. It includes 21 operas, of which the seventh, Tiefland , first staged in 1903, was a major success, playing in houses around the world. It still holds the boards today, though mainly in Austria and Germany. Other works include a Cello Concerto, two piano concertos (available on Volume 9 of Hyperion’s “Romantic Piano Concerto” series), a couple of string quartets, an overture to Grillparzer’s Esther , a Piano Sonata, a handful of solo piano pieces, and lots and lots of songs.
Note: d’Albert composed the overture to Gilbert and Sullivan’s Patience in 1881, just prior to his departure for Austria. Except for the cello concerto, the two piano concertos, the symphony on this disc, and his opera, Tiefland , plus several recordings of excerpts therefrom, not a lot else by d’Albert has found its way onto disc.
Another note: if you’re searching ArkivMusic for d’Albert, you’ll find him listed under the letter “A,” as Albert, Eugène d’—odd, since the site lists D’Indy as D’Indy, Vincent. Maybe it has something to do with the lowercase “d” vs. the uppercase “D.” Amazon and the Fanfare Archive put d’Albert under “D,” but the Archive purges the apostrophe, giving his name as dAlbert. How many ways can you spell “dog?” How about “dawg?”
I concur in the opinion of others that d’Albert’s compositional strength lies mainly in his mastery of the craft; his thematic ideas lend themselves well to development and he knows his way around the orchestra. I find it a bit more difficult, however, to concur with colleague Altena that Brahms and Schumann are ever-present in d’Albert’s 1886 symphony. If you’ve not heard the piece before, my guess is you would find its soundscape rather generic, as if fashioned from some factory-made, synthetic, wash-and-wear fabric. The garment fits the style of the day, but the pants are somehow baggy and nondescript. Granted, d’Albert was only 22 when he composed his one and only symphony, but attractive as it is in the moment, it’s not the sort of work whose melodies or other features linger.
If the opening strains of the Symphonic Prologue to Tiefland recall the opening of the Scène aux champs movement from Berlioz’s Symphonie fantastique , it’s with good reason. D’Albert is painting a similar pastoral scene in which two shepherds are heard calling to each other on their pipes. Following that, the music seems to meander along a path on which it first meets, greets, and passes Wagner, only to encounter Debussy around the next bend walking his poodles, Pelléas et Mélisande . I confess to never having heard d’Albert’s opera, Tiefland , but if the rest of it is anything like the Prologue, I can understand the work’s success; it’s actually quite alluring, more so I would say than the symphony. But then the symphony is one of the composer’s earliest orchestral efforts—only the Piano Concerto No. 1 of 1884 predates it—whereas Tiefland came after d’Albert’s self-styled conversion to German-hood, and is a mature work by a composer already seasoned in writing for the stage by six previous operas.
I’m unfortunately not familiar with the CPO recording Altena reviewed, but this current release by Jun Märkl and the MDR Leipzig Radio Symphony Orchestra strikes me as eminently satisfactory. Playing and recording are both topnotch, and if you’re not acquainted with d’Albert’s music, this disc, at Naxos’s budget price, is an excellent way to gain some familiarity with it—enough, at least, to know whether you might care to explore further. On those grounds, recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Bach/Liszt, Schumann & Scriabin: Piano Works
Best Of Verdi - Arias
BEST OF VERDI ARIAS
Giuseppe Verdi:
La traviata: E strano! … Ah, fors e lui … Sempre libera / De’ miei bollenti spiriti / Di Provenza il mar, il suol
Rigoletto: Questa o quella / Caro nome che il mio cor / La donna e mobile
Don Carlo: Io la vidi e al suo sorriso / O don fatale
Aida: Celeste Aida / Numi, pietà del mio soffrir!
Il trovatore: Stride la vampa! / Ah! sì, ben mio … Di quella pira I vespri siciliani: Mercé, dilette amiche
Un ballo in maschera: Ma se m’è forza perderti
La forza del destino: Pace, pace mio Dio! / O tu che in seno agli angeli
Otello: Piangea cantando nell’erma landa / Ave Maria, piena di grazia / Niun mi tema
featuring
Nino Machaidze, soprano
Daniela Dessì, soprano
Dimitra Theodossiou, soprano
Marcelo Álvarez, tenor
Francesco Meli, tenor
Leo Nucci, baritone
Picture format: NTSC 16:9
Sound format: PCM Stereo / DTS 5.1
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Subtitles: Italian, English
Running time: 110 mins
No. of DVDs: 1 (DVD 9)
Zeller: Der Vogelhändler (Live)
Living Music - New Chamber Music for Flute / Dade
BEETHOVEN: SYMPHONIES NOS. 5 &
Schubert: String Quartets Nos. 11-15
Two X Four / Jennifer Koh, Laredo
Jennifer Koh and Jamie Laredo feature in this recital of works written for two violins. Includes two world-premiere recordings in addition to works by J.S. Bach and Philip Glass. Vinay Parameswaran leads the Curtis 20/21 Ensemble, to which composer David Ludwig (b. 1974) serves as Director. Anna Clyne's (b. 1980) dramatic and inventive works have been championed by musicians from around the world.
REVIEW:
Jennifer Koh’s collaboration with her erstwhile mentor at the Curtis Institute, Jaime Laredo, has resulted in a program of works for two violins played by both of them: Bach’s Double Violin Concerto and three new pieces, all accompanied by Vinay Parameswaran conducting the Curtis 20/21 Ensemble. In Bach’s and David Ludwig’s works, Laredo plays first violin, while in Anna Clyne’s and Philip Glass’s, Koh does. The recordings of Clyne’s and Ludwig’s works purport to be the first.
The duo adopts quick but not precipitous tempos in the first movement of Bach’s Concerto. Both soloists produce a modern sound that blends well their soloistic counterpart and with the ensemble. They engage in no mannerisms, presenting the music straightforwardly, as they do in the slow movement, though their beauty of tone there provides a focus of interest, rendering their interweaving tonally ingratiating, quite aside from the musical compatibility it evinces. Should their individualities be expressed more obviously? Would the soloists in Bach’s time be clearly distinguishable in such a chamber setting? Quite aside from these more philosophical quibbles, their playing sounds equally homogeneous, as well as highly energetic, in the finale.
Clyne’s 2012 piece, Prince of Clouds, shimmeringly atmospheric and harmonically accessible in its opening, grows texturally chunkier as it progresses, recalling stylistically Benjamin Britten’s keen ear for string textures and resonances—and not only between the soloists but within the ensemble, too. Glass’s Echorus, perhaps even more atmospheric and just as firmly tonal in its harmonic underpinnings, trades on shifting melodic patterns, as do so many of his other works (recalling clouds subtly shifting shapes as they roll, although the two soloists emerge only tentatively from the textures), and rivets listeners’ attention to its hypnotic musical argument. The four movements of Ludwig’s 2012 Seasons Lost represent the four seasons in order but beginning (rather than ending) with “Winter.” The composer suggests that these recall a time before climate change merged the seasons. As do the other two recent works on the program, this one creates atmospheres; and, as does Clyne’s work, it also shows how sharply the composer’s ear discriminates among string sonorities. The composer likens the interweaving violin parts of “Spring” with that of the season’s luxuriantly sprouting greenery, while Summer suggests to him warm nights and bonfires: dark and mysterious and allusive, like the performances. “Fall” brings blowing winds in perhaps the most graphic of the movements, with shriller, almost Stravinskian sonorities and harmonies.
The program evinces a sort of continuity more integral even than the close interaction of the two soloists and the unifying string sonorities: A sort of downy blanket covers all of it, generating lots of warmth without inducing somnolence. Can this, rather than deterministic or aleatory blips and bangs, be the future of music? Has the tonal system really been played out, and did the experiments now almost a century old really come about as a result of historic inevitability? Many listeners could perhaps accept this program as a sort of gentle answer. In any case, the recital should appeal broadly for its performances and for its program (to say nothing of its clear recorded sound). It doesn’t jettison the past so much as it establishes a sort of healing continuity. Strongly recommended.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
