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Indiana Collectanea: The Music of Michael G. Cunningham / Various
Navona Live is proud to announce the release of INDIANA COLLECTANEA, which celebrates and preserves composer Michael G. Cunningham’s residency at Indiana University School of Music from 1969-1973. This live recording of Cunningham’s work comes on the heels of his acclaimed album ECUMENICAL SPIRIT from Navona Live earlier this year. This latest release captures a significant moment in time, when Cunningham’s work helped channel the talents of 30 burgeoning musicians. In INDIANA COLLECTANEA, Cunningham expands his palette beyond traditional tonality, painting with chromatic, timbral, and rhythmic nuances. The work opens with Prisms, a four-movement piece in which dense tone clusters shift and refract among the strings like a kaleidoscope. This is followed by Polyphonies, a wild-eyed percussion piece that manipulates instrumental timbres to an exhilarating effect. As the album progresses, each piece is a surprise to the listener’s ears, with its unique assortments of instruments and sounds jolting the audience into new appreciation. The frenetic horns at the start of Concertant are further evidence of this. The penultimate track, Scenario, is particularly inventive, opening with a prelude of ethereal bells. Each musician is assigned to multiple instruments, showcasing both their own skills and that of their composer. Lastly, the album ends with the dramatic Noetical Rounds, which concludes with a soft, descending glissando into oblivion. Despite the decades that have passed since the performances on INDIANA COLLECTANEA, each piece is as startlingly fresh as it was the day of its performance. Listen to hear this collection of talented musicians pushed to their utmost by the challenging and thoughtful compositions of Michael G. Cunningham.
Cantate da camera Il lamento d'Olimpia
Alessandro Scarlatti’s cantata Bella madre de’ fiori, opens with a slow-tempo Sinfonia followed by a series of arias and recitatives, the last of which is perhaps the most intensely poetic and stylistically original section of the whole cantata. Giovanni Bononcini’s Il lamento di Olimpia opens with a two-movement delicately pastoral prelude; the most important dramatic moments of the text are in the two recitatives rather than in the cantata’s da capo arias. For the cantata Care luci del mio bene, Bononcini has given us a composition of exquisite elegance in superb cantabile style.
Vivaldi: The Four Seasons; Violin Concertos Rv 375, Rv 277 Il Favorito, Rv 271 L'amoroso
You’re right, the world probably doesn’t need yet another Four Seasons, but if it did, this new production from the newly launched house label from the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra would definitely justify its existence by the effervescent, crisp, technically assured playing of violinist Elizabeth Blumenstock and the equally vibrant, articulate orchestral ensemble. Back in the late 1980s I received a recording from an orchestra’s newly launched label—interestingly the orchestra was another "Philharmonia", the Philharmonia Virtuosi—and the repertoire was, you guessed it, Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. I had the same reaction then: do we need another version of this over-recorded warhorse? But it turned out to be one of the more exciting things I’d heard in months, and the recording propelled the orchestra and its new label to happy success for the next decade or so.
Blumenstock and the Philharmonia Baroque inject these familiar pieces with exceptional dynamism and dramatic force, but without resorting to anything vulgar or cheap. This is honest music-making, allowing us to hear these works as just great, virtuosic violin concertos—and if you doubt their ability to still excite, just listen to the opening Allegro of “L’estate” RV 315, or to the Presto of the same work. Hopefully the fortunes of that earlier Philharmonia Virtuosi release will translate to the same result for this first-rate orchestra, conductor, and soloist. Bravo!
– David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com
Choral Concert: Schola Devotio Moderna (Grant us peace merci
Unia: Piano Works / Genot, Vigna-Taglianti
At last it is possible to present to the public the first monographic recording of works by Giuseppe Unia, who in the eighteen-sixties could boast the title of “court pianist-composer to His Majesty the King of Italy”, like his better-known colleague Hans von Bülow, court pianist to Ludwig ii of Bavaria and his friend Alfred Jaëll, pianist to the King of Hannover. Giuseppe Antonio Unia is one of the many Italian musicians whom history – or, should we say, time – has separated from us with the thin veil of oblivion. Yet his more than two hundred publications for publishers such as Ricordi, Canti and Vismara testify to a considerable degree of success, and the dedications of his works show that his friends were important people, both from a social point of view and from an artistic one. The pianists Massimiliano Génot and Andrea Vigna Taglianti here are proposing a careful selection of the piano works by Unia, fully reflecting the style and musical taste of Europe of his time, of which he was a profound connoisseur thanks to his numerous artistic experiences in Italy, Paris and Vienna.
Taylor: String Quartets Nos. 5, 6 And 7
Matthew Taylor's sense of musical architecture – extending the symphonic tradition of Sibelius and Nielsen into the modern age – can be felt in his chamber music no less than in his orchestral output. Though his String Quartets Nos. 5, 6 and 7 were written in close succession, they are fundamentally different in design and feeling.
Diepenbrock: De Vogels, Marsyas, Elektra, Etc / Vonk, Et Al
Recorded in: Dr Anton Philipszaal, The Hague, The Netherlands 24-27 September 1989 (orchestral works); 18-20 April and 3 & 4 July 1990 (symphonic songs) Producer(s) Brian Couzens Sound Engineer(s) Ralph Couzens Ben Connellan (Assistant: orchestral works) Peter Newble (Assistant: symphonic songs)
Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 5 & Works for Solo Piano / Bax
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REVIEW:
His playing is consummately lyrical. His expressive molding and the very forward recording quality make for an overall result that is more immediate. All in all, this is an impressive disc, which repays repeated listening and can stand comparison with many of the biggest names.
– Gramophone
Beethoven: Clarinet Trios
Reger: Complete Music for Clarinet & Piano / Conti, Bambace
Milford, R.: Piano Music / Songs
TWO GUITARS IN PARIS
Bussotti: Works for Flute & Percussion / Faralli, Fabbriciani
In the month of what would have been his ninetieth birthday, this record comes as a tribute to Sylvano Bussotti. One of the most singular and emblematic composers on the international contemporary classical scene, Bussotti passed away in September 2021. This music comes to us thanks to Jonathan Faralli on percussion and Roberto Fabbriciani on flute, an equally emblematic performer and constant point of reference in the musical production of our century, as well as a great friend and close collaborator of Bussotti himself. A must-have for lovers of the genre as well as the curious newcomer, the album offers masterful work by the two performers as they stage Bussotti's famously theatrical scores, full of dramaturgy, poetry and scenography for both eyes and ears.
The Great Violins, Vol. 2: Niccolò Amati
Széchényi: Waltzes and Hungarian Marches / Kassai, Lázár
Count Imre Széchényi of Sárvár-Felsővidék was a highly regarded Austro-Hungarian diplomat and politician who counted Johann strauss as a lifelong friend, and whose dances were popular and much in demand in his day. Széchényi composed waltzes throughout his creative period, but only a few of these have been preserved. His work was of interest to his contemporaries, and among these premiere recordings is Liszt’s own arrangement of the Ungarischer Marsch. These lively and melodious forgotten gems are brought to life on a 1908 Bechstein piano previously owned by Wagner’s grandson, Wolfgang.
Bruckner: Symphony No. 7
The Book of the Courtier (Unabridged)
Frid: Complete Music for Viola and Piano / Artamonova, Guild
The Russian composer Grigori Frid (1915–2012), whose long life encompassed the entire existence of the Soviet Union, is best known for his 1969 chamber opera The Diary of Anne Frank. His sizable output, which has yet to be properly explored, includes three major works for viola and piano, their dignified restraint and emotional honesty taking the late works of Shostakovich as their stylistic starting point. They are followed by In Memoriam Grigori Frid, a touching tribute by Alexander Vustin (b. 1943) to his former teacher.
REVIEW:
Grigori Frid’s long life was marked by political turbulence and unease. His father had been sentenced to a five-year period in a vicious labor-camp in 1927 but the family survived intact. Frid was a teacher and educator, a disseminator of contemporary music and a composer of wide gifts whose portfolio includes three symphonies, numerous chamber works, and choral music as well as a raft of incidental, theater and radio works.
His complete viola music is the subject of this disc. Frid admired the instrument for its qualities of ‘reflection and contemplation’ as he related to the violist in this disc, Elena Artamonova, who gave the British premiere of the Viola Sonata No.1 in 2011. The work dates from 1971. The viola opens solo, and muted, revealing a Fridian fusion of lyricism and austerity with hints of March elements too. The central movement is a fast one, opening attaca, toccata-like and full of verve. The slow finale – the ground plan is vaguely Prokofiev-like – opens with a free cadenza, the piano cushioning or commenting quietly on the viola’s inexorable ascent to its highest register and silence.
The Sonata No.2 followed in 1985. Its subject matter is the Greek myth of Phaedra and it’s cast in four movements. There is appropriately somber tolling embedded in the work, and a heavily oppressive atmosphere, though Frid also embraces polystylism, introducing a stylized Baroque dance into the second movement, Music in a Palace, which is then subjected to much development and fragmentation. The Catharis movement takes the viola very high and introduces an element of equilibrium before the tolling finale of the Epilogue leads the viola to meander amidst the lament and reiteration of the opening movement. Some elements here suggest Shostakovich’s influence but this stoically aloof piece need not be seen as part of that lineage; it stands on its own feet. The Six Pieces (1975) are little character sketches, strong on sul ponticello, off-kilter dancing, interrupted dialogues, some tart dissonance and a highly developed sense of introversion, perfectly exemplified by the concluding Lento.
Talking of conclusions, that marks the end of Frid’s viola music. The disc is rounded out with his pupil Alexander Vustin’s In Memoriam Grigori Frid, composed in 2014. In two movements it builds strongly, through a quietly complex structure, to produce a work of weighted gravity whose lyricism formulates into a kind of somber refraction. It’s a fine salute from student to teacher.
Both Artamonova and Christopher Guild have recorded before for Toccata. She recorded Grechaninov and Vasilenko, whilst Guild has recorded Ronald Center and Ronald Stevenson. Together they make a fine team, though the violist has in the past more usually been paired with Nicholas Walker, who accompanied her in the two discs just mentioned. The recording is well-balanced and the notes – by the violist – are full of important biographical and musical information.
– MusicWeb International (Jonathan Woolf)
The Music Lover's Grainger / The President's Own U.S. Marine Band
Nyman: The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat / Trevino, Williamson, Nashville Opera
It is difficult to pin down just what makes this opera so appealing; let’s just say that it is an opera, like Nixon, in which everything works. This performance is a fine one; in particular, the two men speak and sing so clearly that an English speaker needs no libretto.
– Fanfare
This performance is a fine one; in particular, the two men speak and sing so clearly that an English speaker needs no libretto. “Neurology’s favourite term is deficit. The word denotes impairment, or incapacity of neurological function. Loss of language, memory, vision, dexterity, identity and a myriad of other lacks and losses of specific function.” One could not find many opera libretti that begin with words that would seem more at home in The Lancet; but, then again, Michael Nyman’s The Man who Mistook his Wife for a Hat is no ordinary opera. It is based on an essay of the same name published in 1985 by the distinguished neurologist Dr Oliver Sacks (1933?2015), who, alongside Christopher Rawlence and Michael Morris, was also responsible for Nyman’s libretto. Largely dependent as it is on notes made by Sacks about an actual case, the opera has no real plot as such. It simply depicts two meetings between a neurologist (called Dr S.), a patient, and his wife. The first meeting takes place in the neurologist’s surgery, the second, longer one in the patient’s home. During these encounters it gradually becomes clear that the patient, a distinguished singer and teacher called Dr P., is suffering from a condition called visual agnosia, which in essence prevents him from recognizing or understanding what he sees. Both his hearing and, bizarrely, his actual eyesight are fine, his voice and musicality are undimmed, and he can play a mean game of imaginary chess; but his “mental blindness” results, for example, in him asking directions of a parking meter, trying to shake hands with a music stand and, heartbreakingly, thinking his wife is actually his hat. At one point in the opera the neurologist asserts that there is “no trace of dementia” in Dr P.’s behaviour; but Oliver Sacks subsequently stated that the symptoms suffered by the real-life patient on whose case the work is based were related to the early onset of Alzheimer’s disease – an insight which, for many listeners, will lend this twenty-year-old opera an eerily contemporary feel.
Knowledge of this clinical background might lead the prospective listener to expect an unrelievedly grim work. But that is not really the case. Not only are there moments of black, indeed Kafka-esque humour, but there is much also about compassion and love. The neurologist, for example, could hardly be more different from, say, the cruel, inhuman sawbones of Berg’s Wozzeck. At the very beginning he expresses dissatisfaction with neurology’s tendency to focus on “everything that patients aren’t, and nothing that they are”, wishing instead to “restore the human subject at the centre”; and he retains a genuine interest in and compassion for Dr P., assuring him, for example, at the end that “I cannot tell you what is wrong… But I know what is right.”
Then there is Mrs P., the singer’s wife. She emerges as a thoroughly sympathetic character, who is forced to undergo an emotional journey into which the listener is drawn and with which he or she can fully identify. Initially Mrs P. seems in denial (or perhaps is simply being over-protective), when she tells the neurologist that her husband is “as fit as a fiddle” and just “makes silly mistakes, more like practical jokes”. Later on, though, we become more clearly aware of her very real love and admiration for her husband: she continually praises him and his singing, expresses vicariously hurt pride when the neurologist suggests that changes in his painting style are due to his illness rather than any process of artistic maturation, and cannot hide her all too understandable fears for his future.
Finally, this opera is to some extent also a hymn of praise to the power of music. Music is, quite literally, all that keeps Dr P. going: his musical gifts are still very much intact; he sings to himself all the time; and, as the neurologist says at the end, in essence he uses music to organize his life, so that the only relevant prescription can be: “More music”. Not, of course, that this can lead to an entirely happy ending. The opera’s last words, spoken by the neurologist in retrospect, are: “To this inner soundtrack he moved, he acted, Fluently. Cogently. But, when the music stopped… so did he”. So music can’t be or do everything; but while there’s music, there’s hope.
As to Nyman’s music ? well, predictably enough, it consists in the main of recitative-like vocal lines supported by a repetitively chugging chamber group consisting of two violins, a viola, two cellos, a harp and a piano. But there is much more to it than that. There are certainly some operatic subject-matters to which a basically minimalist style would not be suited; but here it works well. Nyman’s steady rhythms and additive processes here create a sense of inexorable nervous tension, which has the effect of reflecting very vividly the gradual but relentless loss of Dr P.’s powers of cognition. By way of contrast, this nervous tension is frequently interrupted by slower, more lightly scored passages, which tend to accompany reflections on proceedings by the neurologist, but can also involve less predictable elements, such as a full performance of Schumann’s ‘Ich grolle nicht’ from Dichterliebe, which Dr P. delivers to his wife’s piano accompaniment. A particularly good example of Nyman’s ability to vary his musical material within a consistent style comes in a five-minute passage towards the end of the scene in the neurologist’s surgery: the tempo accelerates as Dr P. describes the “darting details” (a sunflower, a snowflake, a map of Dresden, a dinosaur) that flash fleetingly into his mind; this gives way first to an almost arioso passage where he imagines a river and an idyllic guest house, and then to a more heavily scored, faster one that climaxes in his bizarre yet humanly tragic misidentification of his hat. Cumulatively, the music gives expression to a mixture of ongoing tension and emotional ups and downs which will strike many listeners as sensitively reflecting the experience of observing and accompanying a person afflicted with a degenerative illness.
The new Naxos performance of Nyman’s work is based on a production given by Nashville Opera in November 2013. Indeed, one of its functions is clearly to provide a souvenir of that occasion: there is a brief note by the director, John Hoomes, and a veritable smorgasbord of credits naming everyone even remotely associated with the production, from the pianist’s page turner through the make-up artist to every conceivable luminary of the Nashville Opera Association. That said, there is nothing to suggest that the CD itself was recorded ‘live’: the sound is of excellent ‘studio’ quality, and there are no audience or stage noises.
The three young singers generally acquit themselves well. Curiously, given that one sings the Duke of Mantua and the other Sparafucile, the (pleasingly) baritonal tenor, Ryan MacPherson and the bass, Matthew Treviño initially sound rather like each other – a situation which isn’t helped by the seeming misattribution of some of their lines in the online libretto. But that impression doesn’t really last, and both clearly have the measure of their roles, combining expressiveness with excellent diction. The rather brittle, fluttery soprano of Rebecca Sjowäll will not please all ears, but she gives a vivid performance as the unfortunate wife, rising well to her occasional ‘big moments’ ? such as her anguish when, following a period of relative lucidity, Dr P. fails to recognize a photograph of his mother, and her anger when the neurologist speaks seemingly unkindly of her husband’s painting. Dean Williamson and his musicians give a thoroughly sound and sensitive account of the score, though one which seems to me rather to underplay its humour.
Overall, it would be idle to pretend that this new recording supersedes that on CBS Masterworks (MK 44669) featuring such seasoned campaigners as Emile Belcourt and Frederick Westcott, and conducted by the composer. I have seen no evidence, however, to suggest that this 1987 issue remains generally available, or that there have been any other recordings since. In that context especially, the Nashville recording can be warmly welcomed and recommended. One could do with slightly older singers, and the performance as a whole perhaps lacks something in characterful individuality; on the other hand, there is nothing seriously wrong with it, the sound is good, and – above all – it restores to the catalogue a highly unusual work of real craftsmanship and considerable depth.
– MusicWeb International (Nigel Harris)
