The most recent and longest of the works heard here quite possibly makes the longest musical journey as well. The Clarinet Concerto (2001), subtitled Landscape with Blues, was commissioned by the IRIS Chamber Orchestra for Richard Stoltzman. In offering the commission, the orchestra's Executive Director, Albert Pertalion, asked for a work that might reflect in some way on the heritage of Mississippi Delta Blues. As the composer notes fondly, "he even took me on a whirlwind tour of blues country to get a feel for the birthplace of one of America's greatest musical traditions. From that trip, I took away an indelible sense of the countryside, the heat and humidity, the purple martens chasing mosquitoes at twilight". But in it's realization, the piece goes much farther afield than that. It starts in the West African nations of Senegal and The Gambia, or "Senegambia" as they are sometimes known, with their great musical story-telling tradition known as griot singing, audibly one of the roots of American blues. These audible links are heard in their repetitive accompaniment patterns and rhythmically free, declamatory vocal melodies that tend to begin high then work themselves down to a lower register. Here, Hartke casts the clarinet solo as the griot, with the woodwinds engaging in a sort of call and response chorus, all built over a repeated five-note bass line. The second movement, entitled Delta Nights recalls Hartke's impressions of the Delta, but just as importantly owes much to the novel, Train Whistle Guitar, by Albert Murray, about his boyhood in a small African-American community near the Delta during the heyday of the great itinerant bluesmen. Hartke writes: "In Delta Nights, the soloist evokes a blues harmonica wailing away in the night, and even the structure of the movement is loosely related to a series of blues choruses. Moreover, some of the soloist's turns of phrase are derived from the opening motive of Cool Drink of Water Blues by Tommy Johnson, one of my favorite bluesmen. But the predominant influence here was Murray's recollection of the excitement which fired his boyhood imagination, hearing the distant sound of blues music drifting across the fields from juke joints that he was too young to visit." The final movement, Philamayork, takes it's title from Albert Murray, a compound word he uses to denote the nearly mythical cities of the North, where blues had gone and become a hard-driving urban music. Here Hartke's own New York roots are most apparent, and the movement unfolds almost like a nightclub dance-set, starting with a blues, then a faster dance number, a slow torchy ballad and some travelling music at the finish.

Audiophile LP Edition. 180 Gram Premium Virgin Vinyl- State Of The Art Pressing - Made In Germany Ron Carter and Richard Galliano decided to risk intercontinental collaboration for the second time after 1990, when they recorded their acclaimed album 'Panamanhattan' in Paris. Here the French accordion master, whose fingers fly over the keyboard with acrobatic ease and can make the instrument weep in melancholy or rejoice with joy. There the American bass wonder, whose deeply tuned strings enhance more than 2,500 (!) recordings and are among the cornerstones of the complete artistic works of Miles Davis, Eric Dolphy, Archie Shepp, Herbie Hancock, Aretha Franklin, Roberta Flack and Antonio Carlos Jobim. Two who have already gained hero status in their own worlds and can actually only lose when they transgress into each other's terrain. The two protagonists of the musical joint venture interact without fear of contact. Neither remains in his accustomed position. Like two intrepid mountaineers, they balance over a yawning abyss, perform daring maneuvers and clear the way for each other time and again. The longer the intimate wanderings of subtle nuances and sensitive, dancing elegance last, the greater the familiarity seems to be. 'Richard really seizes every rhythmic and harmonic chance,' the American marveled about his French partner. And he replies gallantly: 'Ron still looks so young, fresh and elegant like three decades ago. And he is still enthusiastic, straightforward and comes straight to the point.' An often thoughtlessly used image rarely fits better than on this very special evening: Ron Carter and Richard Galliano create a universal musical language, whose vocabulary consists of notes. Risk-free enjoyment.

Charlie Parker's music has been recorded, studied, debated, and canonized for more than seventy years. Which is precisely why paying tribute to Bird still takes a lot of nerve. There is no safe middle ground. You either bring something new to the conversation, or you risk being drowned out by history. On Another Kind of Bird, Richard Baratta does not tiptoe around this dilemma. Joined by arranger and pianist Bill O'Connell, Baratta revisits Parker's music with a clear sense of purpose and a refusal to play it safe, delivering bold reimaginings propelled by a powerhouse ensemble. Baratta anchors the session with his working band, then raises the stakes. On select tracks, saxophonists Eric Alexander, Abraham Burton, and Craig Handy join regular altoist Vincent Herring to form a dynamic horn section that adds muscle and urgency to the music. Parker emerges here not as relic, but as catalyst: energized, expanded, and unmistakably alive.

Stoltzman plays in a uniquely personal style - bent notes and microtonal slides in near vocal effects. Magical!

Richard Stoltzman could be claimed as the James Galway of the clarinet. He has developed the personality of the instrument in new ways, often drawing on jazz effects, in what he regards as an American tradition. And he has a considerable following. He has recorded major pieces like the Corigliano Concerto (RCA, 4/89), but in this collection he's simply relaxing.

He starts with an ingenious arrangement of Gershwin's piano pieces, the Three Preludes, where the few extra effects in both clarinet and piano are completely idiomatic. Then there's Bernstein's early Sonata, another American classic, which Stoltzman has now recorded in Sid Ramin's orchestration (RCA, 12193).

W. T. McKinley makes his debut in the British catalogue with a recent, rather overblown, fourmovement Sonata and so does Clare Fisher with Sonatine. There's nothing very individual in either work, but Stoltzman obviously enjoys playing them. The real gems come when he goes deeper into jazz, especially Jimmy Rowles's The Peacocks, which was used in the soundtrack of Round Midnight. This brings out everything in Stoltzman's unique style - bent notes and microtonal slides in near vocal effects. Magical!

Dick Hyman is another jazz pianist and composer. He has recorded a complete Joplin and has written rags himself. His Clarinata is a red-hot encore with a soupy middle section. Finally Stoltzman plays his own arrangement of Amazing Grace, starting unaccompanied, and very touching it is too. Altogether an attractive collection, well recorded, with some uniquely personal playing.

-- Gramophone [9/1996]

At the end of its 40th anniversary season the Academy of Ancient Music — described as “the finest period-instrument orchestra in the world” by Classic FM — releases a significant new recording of JS Bach's Orchestral Suites BWV1066-69, directed from the harpsichord by Richard Egarr. Performed with single strings and at a low, "French" pitch, this recording offers a unique, chamber-like interpretation of Bach's virtuosic ouvertures.

"[This collection] shows Richard Stoltzman, with his succulent tone and infectious bravura (so easily displayed in the finale of the Weber and the very operatic Rossini Variations), at his best...One tends to think of Weber's concertos as being rather more than halfway between the classical and romantic traditions, here the romanticism is very much in the ascendent. But overall the performance of the F minor Concerto combines a lively impetus in the outer movements with warmth in the Adagio whilst the orchestra—notably the horns—add much to the listener's enjoyment."

-- Ivan March, Gramophone [10/1989]

Tashi don their tuxedos and, in the case of violinist Ida Kavafian, a flapper dress. The roaring twenties provide the only common link in this oddball collection; as the sleeve-note suggests during that rollicking decade ''the world was bent on having a good time''. I'll take that on trust. Tashi have a good time here, and so, for the most part, do we. I am never entirely sure about Hindemith, but you don't argue with the craftsmanship. He was 28 and irritatingly eager when he put together this inventive little Quintet. No musical fashion seems to have escaped him—from the obligatory string elegy with its generous coating of late romanticism, to the curdled third movement Landler with its grotesque mix of Berlin cabaret and Mahlerian Wunderhorn (Richard Stoltzman in his element brandishing the E flat clarinet), a touch of premature minimalism in the curiously spare fourth movement, and a finale which begins by sounding as though it is rewinding the score back to the beginning. The Lukas Foss piece is weird, too—not in terms of the musical language, which is disarmingly mainstream, but on account of its gentle off-beat humour. Just when you think you should be taking it seriously … The treadmill finale, for instance, is notable for two thin-lipped piano solos and a spooky disappearing-trick at the end. Stoltzman again gets the lion's share of the virtuosity.

As for the remaining bon-bons Stoltzman and friends are suitably laid-back. Alan Shulman's Rendezvous was written for Benny Goodman and sounds much as its title suggests. A deceptive start, like off-duty Richard Strauss, gives way to swingtime. And swingtime is what we are looking for, and get, in at least three of the five Gershwin morsels. Stoltzman tosses off a deliciously frisky Promenade (or Walking the dog) while the standards are duly adored—the flavour of the arrangements, Palm Court with a twist.

-- Edward Seckerson, Gramophone [3/1990]

Boulez is not a 'tender' conductor; nor would he wish to be found one. But, as I said before, again and again he provides a revelation of the 'meaning' of a particular passage—simply by playing it exactly as it stands: not so simply, by his apparent ability to convey the intentions of the composer's creative mind. Two final examples: the hollow bang on the bass drum in the second scene, during Wozzeck's hallucination; and the celesta/harp trickle, with other motifs exactly poised against it, while Marie in Scene 3 falls into a reverie. Each tells marvellously.

-- Gramophone [2/1967, reviewing the LP release]

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Berry [is] perhaps the best Wozzeck on record... [Boulez] is very good at nail-biting suspense and lucid clarification of complex textures...

-- Gramophone [2/1989]

This is not a particularly generous collection: it was originally published in 1983 but never previously issued in the UK. It shows Richard Stoltzman, with his succulent tone and infectious bravura (so easily displayed in the finale of the Weber and the very operatic Rossini Variations), at his best, while the Mozart Andante, if it is to be transcribed for clarinet, needs a lighter touch: here the rich, rather deliberate phrasing loses the music's simplicity and charm. In the Weber the orchestral tuttis are somewhat hefty for a group called the Mostly Mozart Festival Orchestra, but this is primarily the effect of the resonant acoustics of the unnamed hall where the recording was made. One tends to think of Weber's concertos as being rather more than halfway between the classical and romantic traditions; here the romanticism is very much in the ascendent. But overall the performance of the F minor Concerto combines a lively impetus in the outer movements with warmth in the Adagio whilst the orchestra—notably the horns—add much to the listener's enjoyment.

-- Ivan March, Gramophone [10/1989, reviewing RCA 60035]

This recording, explain the liner notes, attempts to give the listener an authentic version of what the 13th-century listener heard in a church when this anonymous play was performed, and it succeeds with panache. The combination of Gregorian chant, declamations, and vocal solos, accompanied by lute and instrumental solos, is performed by the Mittelalter-Ensemble der Schola Cantorum Basiliensis with great fervor.
What is especially unexpected and exciting to the listener is that the songs are punctuated by exclamations, cries, and laughter. For example, "Lazarus, amicus noster dormit" starts out with a solo melody on a shawm (or a similar wind instrument), which is then picked up vocally in a repetitive, almost magical fashion, with an echo-laden crescendo. The overlay of sound is mysterious and very evocative. After a soft baritone solo, the melody is recapitulated. Then there is a sudden shriek--it is quite dramatic--and the number finishes. At this point it would have been wonderful to have a libretto of sorts to be able to follow the words closely.
This artistic reconstruction of the Carmina Burana makes more serious chant music available to the listener.