As we all know, Walter Gieseking was the first pianist to record the entire piano works of Mozart. This series was produced by the British Columbia and it consisted of no less than 16/20 LPs which have represented a reference point of Mozart’s chamber music discography. From this edition, we have taken all these “minor” but absolutely fundamental pieces (minuets, Variations, Fantasies, Rondos) that today are difficult to find together in one release. French-German pianist Walter Gieseking was largely self-taught. He was born in France and travelled with his family throughout Europe until he enrolled at the Hannover Conservatory where he studied under Karl Leimer until his graduation in 1916. In 1915 he made his debut in Hannover. He was drafted into the German army in 1916, but escaped combat by performing in his regimental band. After the war he undertook the life of a working musician, accompanying singers and instrumentalists, playing in chamber music ensembles, and working as an opera coach.He later became an advocate of new music, performing works by Arnold Schoenberg, Ferruccio Busoni, and Paul Hindemith. One of the most extraordinary pianists of his time, he never practiced, except in his mind. He would study the score, imagine playing it, and then perform it flawlessly.

When Lajos Lencsés learned by chance of some of Gluck's oboe quintets, the manuscript of which was in the Este Library in Modena, nothing held him back from looking at them himself as soon as possible. The delightful pieces are successful arrangements of Gluck's operatic melodies, which represent a veritable enrichment of the repertoire.

Lajos Lencses is generally considered one of the most talented oboists in Europe. He has appeared on over 30 recordings and has actively promoted contemporary music for the oboe. Lencses is not only a virtuoso oboist but is equally talented on the oboe d'amore and English horn. While he has attained nearly the level of acclaim of iconic oboist Heinz Holliger, Lencses has chosen to balance his career as a soloist by remaining the first chair oboist in the Stuttgart Radio Orchestra. His repertory is amazingly broad, taking in works by J.S. Bach, Vivaldi, Cimarosa, Handel, Rosetti, Mozart, Dittersdorf, Bellini, Koechlin, Nielsen, Françaix, Martinu, and contemporary Hungarian composers Sandor Balassa, Frigyes Hidas, and Josef Soproni. Stylistically, he is known for his ingratiating tone, lyrical sensibilities, and brilliant technique.

Although Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s first instrument was the piano, even as a child he revealed himself to be a highly gifted violinist. In this domain too he was encouraged by his father Leopold, well-known violin teacher in his own right and author of a violin method widely respected at the time. Even when Wolfgang was already 21, father Leopold reaffirmed his son’s violinistic talent, on 8 October 1777. ‘You don’t realize how good you are on the violin when you put your mind to it, playing with character, conviction and spirit, just as if you were the best violinist in Europe.’ That letter was written in the period between 1773 and 1779, when Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart composed numerous works requiring string soloists. From April to December of 1775 alone, the 19-year-old penned 5 violin concertos, in an unbroken process as it were. At that time Mozart was employed as concertmaster by the archbishop’s court in Salzburg, where instrumental music was highly prized. He had, however, previously got to know the Italian tradition and art of the violin in situ, frequenting students of the famous Giuseppe Tartini there, such as Pietro Nardini and Gaetano Pugnani. On several occasions during his three journeys to Italy, he also met the Bohemian composer Josef Myslivecek, who cultivated the violin concerto genre intensively. Synthesizing the influence of Italian masters with that of Joseph Haydn, Johann Christian Bach and French violinists, Mozart composed his own concertos, which sparkle with vitality but are at the same time both intimate and graceful.

“It has been almost 50 years since I met Yo-Yo in the cafeteria at the Juilliard School… We became friends very quickly and a couple of years later played a benefit concert for a children’s orchestra... I believe that in the life and career of a musician, luck plays an enormous role. The great piece of luck in my musical life has been my partnership with Yo-Yo. I learned most of the standard cello repertoire with him, but through our work together I also learned an enormous amount about all the other music that I was playing – and about sharing my love of music with audiences. Our approaches to learning a new work together started at opposite ends quite often. Yo-Yo always saw the big picture, he thought first about the emotional impact. I often started by asking why the third eighth note in bar 2 had a dot, and the fourth one didn’t. Gradually, we met in the middle. For me, it was revelatory to work in his way, and I hope I did not annoy him too much with my persnickety questions!

"Our first recordings were the Beethoven Sonatas. We had played them in concert a number of times and thought that we could do a creditable performance on disc. I remember so well the thrill of seeing those LP covers; the pianist is now a white-haired old gentleman, and the cellist looks as young as ever! I am a great lover of Russian music, but never felt that I could play it properly. The albums of Shostakovich, Rachmaninoff and Prokofiev are very special to me as they represent my attempts at music that I adore… When I look at the list of recordings that Yo-Yo and I have done together I feel enormously privileged to have shared in the journey of this unique artist. It was happenstance and great good fortune that gave me this gift, and I am grateful beyond measure for the time we have had together. I hope there are still some years left for me to keep learning from him, and that we continue to have fun exploring together.” (Emanuel Ax)

After his acclaimed interpretation of Messiaen’s Catalogue d’Oiseaux, pianist Pierre-Laurent Aimard returns to PENTATONE with a recording of Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata and Eroica Variations. The Hammerklavier Sonata is one of the pinnacles of Beethoven’s creative output, and arguably one of the highest mountains to climb for any pianist. To Aimard, it poses one of the most frightening tests of a performer’s life, but one that is as irresistible as it is insurmountable. The dazzling Eroica Variations are nicknamed after Beethoven’s iconoclastic Third Symphony, and employ the melody he would later use as the main theme of the symphony’s finale. Beethoven’s fondness for this melody is evident, as he also used it in his ballet music for The Creatures of Prometheus, as well as in the seventh of his 12 Contredanses. Widely acclaimed as a key figure in the music of our time and as a uniquely significant interpreter of piano repertoire from every age, Pierre-Laurent Aimard enjoys an internationally celebrated career. He started his exclusive engagement to PENTATONE with a complete recording of Messiaen’s Catalogue d’Oiseaux (2018).

REVIEW:

Having heard Pierre-Laurent Aimard give several intense and impassioned live performances of Beethoven’s Hammerklavier sonata over the past several seasons, his studio recording generally seems reserved and even foursquare by comparison.

To be certain, his exemplary technique allows for no vagaries of voice leading or textural misfires, while Pentatone’s production values do justice to Aimard’s tonal clarity and transparency at quieter dynamic levels. Still, there’s a pre-planned quality about nearly every breath pause, tenuto, caesura, and dynamic hairpin that somewhat dissipates the outer movements’ continuity and momentum. This is not a function of Aimard’s generally conservative tempos, although the fugal finale becomes heavier and less timbrally alluring as the music unfolds (this is true about most performances, to be fair).

Interestingly, in concert Aimard’s outer movements went for broke, while the Adagio sostenuto came off sounding relatively reserved and reticent. Here, however, Aimard’s expressive palette opens up, with a controlled freedom to the rubatos that culminates in a devastating climax. In the rising chain of broken fifths and sixths between hands just before the first-movement recapitulation (measures 224-226), Aimard reads the lower note upbeat as A-natural, rather than the so-called “inspired misprint” A-sharp, vis-à-vis Kempff, Petri, Brendel, and Perahia; I personally prefer A-sharp, as do Schnabel, Solomon, Arrau, and Levit.

Years ago during a public master class I heard Aimard spontaneously launch into a most inspired and unified reading of Beethoven’s 32 Variations in C minor. Similar inspiration and unity abound throughout his Eroica Variations, with more than a few audacious touches.

I like the force of his right-hand triplets in Variation 2, buttoned by brash left-hand accents at phrase endings, as much as No. 5’s ruminative delicacy. In No. 6, Aimard’s suave, effortlessly dispatched broken octaves enable the offbeat accents their due without pressing the point. All the more surprising that No. 13’s triplet chords and witty melodic appogiaturas don’t match the insouciant thrust one hears from Clifford Curzon. Yet the concluding Fugue has the variety of character and articulation that I expected to encounter more consistently throughout Aimard’s Hammerklavier Fugue.

– ClassicsToday.com (Jed Distler)

Musical anniversary celebrations have inevitably been curtailed in 2020, and overshadowed by Beethoven, but Giuseppe Tartini was renowned throughout Europe as the pre-eminent genius of the violin – not only as a performer but as a composer of works which demonstrated his extraordinary gifts, and as a teacher who welcomed students from across Europe to his home in the north-Italian city of Padova, where they learnt every sophistication in the art of violin playing; not only virtuoso trickery but the sustaining of a true legato like a great singer. Tartini’s concertos have laid down the gauntlet to great violinists down the ages, even if many of them have been forgotten and only recently revived. Now Giulio Plotino joins their number, selecting three of the best-known concertos to complement what is still Tartini’s best-known work, the ‘Devil’s Trill’ Sonata whose title and fearsomely intricate figuration was apparently inspired – almost diabolically dictated – by a dream of the composer’s. The concertos chosen for this recording, from among the 125 or so in the Dounias catalogue, conform to the traditional quick-slow-quick construction. In contrast to the Vivaldian template, however, Tartini integrates the material of the opening tutti within the solo passages, and shuns passagework of sequences even in the outer movements, but most particularly in the solemn and tender slow movements, where Tartini the technician gives way to Tartini the singer and the maestro di capella, composing for himself and his ensemble to accompany the liturgy.

Especially in his late sonatas, Leopold Kozeluch’s keyboard music belongs no less to the quickly evolving cultural landscape of late 18th- and early 19th-century Vienna than the works of Mozart, Beethoven and Schubert. It can even at times be hard to tell which composer influenced whom; Kozeluch is his own man, not gifted in the final analysis with Beethoven’s feeling for dramatic expression, Mozart’s subtlety of formal innovation or Schubert’s melodic inspiration, but sharing a portion of these qualities while bringing to the table something of his own, not least a mood of deceptive simplicity which belongs to the world of his native Bohemia. Kozeluch (1747-1818) seems to have worked with uncommon ease and fluidity, in command of all the technical possibilities of his instrument, writing in the popular galant style and testing both performer and instrument with moto perpetuo passagework, double trills, sudden contrasts and, in the minor-key sonatas, a brooding chromaticism that belongs to the most powerful expressions of Sturm und Drang. In the hands of Kozeluch, as in those of all fine composers, they produce a musical whole that seems far greater than the sum of its parts; and, as in the creations of all geniuses, there is a profundity that cannot be explained merely by description of the processes at work. Jenny Soonjin Kim is a specialist in performances of Classical-era repertoire on instruments of the period. For this recording she performs on a modern copy of an Anton Walter fortepiano from Vienna in 1795.