Schubert Vol. IV: The Early Piano Sonatas The early sonatas still show a clear connection to the inheritance of Haydn, Mozart and of course, the titan of the piano sonata, Beethoven. However, rather than trying to follow in the path of the elder Beethoven, Schubert emancipated himself from the shackles of his forebears. Schubert was still a student of Antonio Salieri (1750-1825) at the time of writing these early sonatas. Salieri was a legendary teacher in Vienna and must have noticed the talent and dedication of the young Schubert, since he offered him free lessons. Schubert, who survived on a meagre income as a schoolteacher, was evidently grateful and proud to be Salieri's student, sometimes even writing 'Pupil of Herr von Salieri' as a footnote to his compositions of the time.

Caspar Joseph Brambach's chamber music is less well known than his choral and vocal works, but clearly demonstrates his roots in the Romantic musical tradition of the 19th century. His works for smaller ensembles - such as those for piano and strings - are characterised by a clear, balanced form and melodic catchiness. Typical of Brambach's chamber music is a rather conservative style, modelled on composers such as Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy. The focus is on song-like themes and a harmonically pleasing musical language that prioritises expression and musical coherence over experimentation.

World Premiere Recording Vatroslav Lisinsk 1819-1854 Deutsche Lieder / German Songs In his 35 years of life, Lisinski left an unexpectedly large body of work for someone who began pursuing music relatively late. Among the 160 preserved compositions, in addition to operas and orchestral works, notable pieces include choral works, piano pieces (mazurkas and other dances), and art songs in Croatian, Czech, Slovakian, and German. Unlike the Croatian songs, which he composed throughout most of his career, the German songs were written within a shorter time span. Most of his German art songs were composed in 1846, with only a smaller number being written between 1846 and 1851. Moreover, we would be hard-pressed to find a stylistic difference between Lisinski's Croatian and German art songs. It was only after Lisinski's death that musicologist Franjo Ksaver Kuhac undertook a thorough study of Croatian folk music, and his collection of songs significantly influenced later Croatian composers. Therefore, the musical language of both Lisinski's Croatian and German songs is similar or even identical: it is the musical expression of early Romanticism.

Whenever a definition is made in an attempt to distinguish one artistic concept from others, such delineation becomes an art in itself and is sometimes artificial. Music, let alone the musical genre of the art song, is no exception. Catch-all headings make matters easier. The two song cycles on this release certainly qualify as art songs. Ludwig van Beethoven wrote his opus 98 in 1816; musicologists commonly describe An die ferne Geliebte (to the distant beloved) as the first ever song cycle. Franz Schubert wrote his Schwanengesang (swan song) in 1828, the year of his death; the songs were posthumously made into a collection. In terms of its musicological and sociological development, the Lied, having long been considered “inferior,” underwent a kind of emancipation process throughout the early modern period up until the start of the 19th century, when the emergence of the educated middle-class, particularly in the German-speaking world, allowed the new genre to take root. Such songs were performed at small venues too: in salons, small halls and before audiences that were not necessarily aristocratic of courtly. Dynamically versatile and affordable, the piano was now a common keyboard instrument and was often used to accompany the vocalist with supportive harmonies and melodic counterpoint.

Arnold Mendelssohn's compositional oeuvre essentially encompasses all the major musical genres. He wrote three symphonies, a violin concerto, a cello concerto, numerous chamber pieces, three operas, a variety of sacred and secular cantatas and oratorios, around 170 songs and piano and organ music. This release features the world premier recording of the complete solo piano works of Arnold Mendelssohn. The pianist Elzbieta Sternlicht began her studies at the State Music Academy in Warsaw with Zbigniew Drzewiecki, and continued them in Paris with Vlado Perlemuter and Suzanne Roche. She has given concerts, master courses, workshops and radio broadcast performances throughout western and eastern Europe as well as in North and South America and Asia. She has released several critically-acclaimed albums, including world premiere recordings of the complete solo piano works of Josef Koffler.

"The Baroque Soloists, Munich are among the best mixed ensembles in the field of historically informed performance practice A program of some of Vivaldi‘s less familiar concertos for various instruments The members of the Baroque Soloists Munich are in high demand as soloist, orchestral and chamber musicians on the early music scene"

Florian Uhlig draws near the conclusion of the first truly complete edition of the solo piano music of Robert Schumann with this 9th installment in the series featuring the Kinderszenen op. 15 and the Novelletten op. 21 surrounding hitherto largely neglected contemporaneous pieces. An exclusive hännsler Classic artist praised for his cohesive concert programs, Mr. Uhlig made his orchestral debut at the London Barbican in 1997, and since then a busy performing schedule has taken him to the concert halls of Berlin, New York, London and Paris, as well as Hong Kong, Reykjavik and Cape Town.

In 2011 Thomas Fey was nominated for a Grammy for his world premiere recordings of the music of Antonio Salieri. Every new release of Haydn symphonies from Thomas Fey and his ensemble is greeted with enthusiasm; truly this is how Haydn should sound today. To bring this about, Fey's musicians bridge past and present, performing both on modern string instruments and replicas of authentic period woodwind, brass and percussion instruments.

There is nothing immature about the earliest Haydn symphonies, which in style straddle the older Italian overture and Baroque musical world while simultaneously looking forward to exciting new melodic and rhythmic developments of the Classical era.

HONEGGER Jeanne d’Arc au bûcher • Helmuth Rilling, cond; Sylvie Rohrer ( Jeanne d’Arc ); Eörs Kisfaludy ( Fr. Dominique ); Karen Wierzba ( La Vierge ); Letizia Scherrer ( Marguerite ); Kismara Pessatti ( Cathérine ); Jean-Noël Briend (ten); François Le Roux (bs); Stuttgart College Boys’ Ch; Gächinger Kantorei Stuttgart; Stuttgart RSO des SWR • HÄNSSLER 098.636 (2 CDs: 84:30 & French only) Live: Stuttgart 4/2–3/2011


Here is, truly, an unusual release: the little-known but extremely powerful dramatic cantata by Arthur Honegger, Joan of Arc at the Stake, conducted by one of the world’s leading baroque specialists, Helmuth Rilling. This combination, which seems on the surface a mismatch, in fact results in one of the most emotionally powerful and musically atmospheric realizations on record in my entire memory.


The drawback, of course, is that the libretto is in French only. Certainly one is aware enough of Joan’s story to be able to follow what is going on in generalizations, yet the highly literate subtleties of Paul Claudel’s libretto are lost on the non-French speaker. Thus we must rely on the few words we can pick out of the booklet and rely on the emotional and dramatic power of the speakers, singers, chorus, and orchestra. Even within those parameters, this is pretty powerful music. Behind the spoken dialogue, at one point, the chorus enters singing strophic lines in almost Stravinsky-like neoclassicism, which then leads directly into a baritone solo with choral interjections. Honegger’s orchestra slashes and burns throughout: sometimes as an undercurrent, at other times in the foreground, moving from staccato brass chords to stabbing or swirling figures, underlining the drama of the situation—confined to the time of Joan’s trial and execution—in the most dramatic terms possible.


Conductor Marin Alsop has given us this synopsis of the oratorio at npr.org/2011/11/05/142021891/arthur-honeggers-joan-of-arc-for-the-ages:


“Claudel wanted to look at Joan’s life in a series of flashbacks—starting at the end. The piece opens with darkness setting over all of France. Is this the France of 1400 or the France of 1935? Perhaps that’s the point. Joan meets Frère Dominic in the afterlife and recognizes him, at which point they look back on what led to her trial and death. When Joan asks, ‘How did this happen?,’ Frère Dominic replies, ‘It was a game of cards that decided your fate,’ alluding to the political quagmire in which Joan, an illiterate peasant teenager, found herself immersed. The adjudicator at Joan’s trial was aptly named Cauchon (pig), and Claudel goes wild with the possibilities. The assessors are all depicted as animals, with the ass leading the pack and sheep commenting on the proceedings. And then there’s Honegger’s instrumentation, which creates a vibrant and unique sound world. He includes three saxophones plus an ondes martenot —a spooky-sounding instrument, invented in 1928, that sounds like its cousin the theremin. Honegger and Claudel’s collaboration brings Joan to life in a vivid and emotional drama that concludes with the line, ‘There is no greater love than the person who gives his life for a friend.’”


Alsop, as well as other commentators, allude to the “cinematic” quality of this opera-oratorio, mentioning that Honegger was also a film music composer. But if this is film music, it is extremely dominant in mood and structure, which to my ears is far too aggressive a composition to work well in that mode. Yet there is a certain “cinematic” structure to the work, which in effect makes it a “movie for the ears.” (One constantly hears nowadays that we “listen with our eyes,” so why not at least one piece where we “see with our ears”?) Alsop conducted a live performance of this work at the Barbican in 2011, but according to one online commentator the program notes for that performance were also spotty and indistinct.


I’ve been unable to track down an English translation of the text anywhere online. From what I can judge, between the French-only text and my slight grasp of the language, the actors in this recording are all extremely good, bringing out Joan’s combination of confusion, defiance, and fear perfectly. Much of the credit for this goes to Sylvie Rohrer, whose reading of the text is both dramatic and natural-sounding—a rare combination indeed. The singers are all excellent in both vocal quality and—more importantly—diction, as is the chorus itself. Despite being German, Rilling is to be highly commended for his persistence in bringing out the proper idiomatic Frenchness of the music as well as his insistence on clarity of pronunciation.


Particular credit for the success of this recording goes to engineer Friedemann Trumpp for capturing such incredible 3D sound.


There appear to be three other recordings available on CD: Supraphon 11 0557/58 featuring narrators Nelly Borgeaud and Michel Favory, sopranos Christiane Château and Anne-Marie Rodde, alto Huguette Brachet, and the Kühn Children’s Chorus, Czech Philharmonic Chorus and Orchestra conducted by Serge Baudo; a single-disc version (meaning under 80 minutes) with narrators Anne-Marie Ferrière, René Piloy, and Madeleine Joris, sopranos Marthe Dugard and Ria Lenssens, tenor Frédéric Anspach, and conductor Louis de Vocht (Opera d’Oro 1223); and another one-disc version conducted by Siegfried Heinrich (VMS Musical Treasures 152), none of which I’ve heard. I have, however, heard the recording by Sonia Petrovna, Michaël Lonsdale, Christian Papis, Anne-Marie Blanzat, other soloists, the Choeur de Rouen-Haute-Normande, and Orchestre Symphonique Français conducted by Laurent Petitgirard on Cascavelle OSF 49008/09. This was also a live performance, given on June 26 and 27, 1992 at the Salle Wagram in Paris. I could only find references to this recording on French CD sites like Price Minister and Amazon.fr. The sound quality is also excellent, and this performance, too, is wonderfully atmospheric, but none of the actors are recorded particularly well—they sound like they’re behind the choir. The actress playing Joan (Petrovna) is good, but does not declaim her text with as much feeling (perhaps she was an excellent actress visually, but on CDs you can’t see her). A very good performance, then, but this new Hänssler release is just as fine musically, better in the placement of the actors, and of course much easier to obtain, making it well worth getting. With the odd running time of this work, one could possibly combine it with the equally excellent but seldom-heard L’Amore de tre re of Montemezzi for a superb evening of dramatic works that will challenge and not just entertain you.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

SALUT D’AMOUR • Chuanyun Li (vn); Robert Koenig (pn) • HÄNSSLER 98.278 (67:08)


DVO?ÁK Slavonic Dance, op. 72/2. KROLL Banjo and Fiddle. ELGAR Salut d’amour. BAZZINI La ronde des lutins. GLAZUNOV Raymonda: Intermezzo. SARASATE Zapateado. GLUCK Orfeo ed Euridice: Melody. PAGANINI Introduction and Variations on “Nel cor più non mi sento.” GERSHWIN (arr. Heifetz) It Ain’t Necessarily So. R. STRAUSS Violin Sonata


In how many programs does the obligatory sonata follow the encores (the jewel box lists the sonata first)? Chuanyun Li mixes simple and expressive numbers like Elgar’s Salut d’amour with virtuoso showstoppers like Paganini’s Variations on “Nel cor più non mi sento,” Bazzini’s Dance of the Goblins , and Sarasate’s Zapateado as an appetizer for the main course, Strauss’s concerto-like Violin Sonata. Those not familiar with Li from his playing on the soundtrack for the Chinese-produced movie, Together (and his appearance in the movie as a student emerging into the professional world playing Vieuxtemps’s Fifth Concerto), or from his video recordings produced by Bein and Fushi (both in a Ruggiero Ricci lesson and as a participant in a festival of Chinese violin music), should be struck in Hänssler’s issue of a 1999 recording he made at the Cincinnati Conservatory, by his soaring tone, his brilliant technical command, and his grasp of the many styles he’s assembled in his program. Idiomatic Elgar rubs shoulders with Slavonic Dvo?ák, darkly glowing Glazunov, and steamy Gershwin. Bazzini’s Ronde des lutins might as well have been retired for decades after Heifetz’s first recording of it in 1917; later recordings may have included all the notes but not the sizzle. Some, even as recent as Gil Shaham’s (24:3), seemed almost somber in comparison to the young Heifetz’s. Those who might not have heard that earlier recording might come to the end of Li’s with a very similar impression of overwhelming virtuosity coupled with heroic dash and élan. For example, at the section of notes repeated on each of four strings, some violinists simply struggle to play solidly, while Li manages to add tangy nuances. Glazunov’s Intermezzo offers many opportunities for portamentos, and violinists of earlier generations would have taken them with relish. So does Li, but never to the detriment of the music’s lyrical flow, which he builds in waves to a powerful climax. When the music settles to its quiet conclusion, he draws a pure tone from both strings in the final double-stops, a feat perhaps as difficult as the left-hand pizzicato in Bazzini’s Ronde . Li introduces stronger accents than Sarasate did into the Zapateado , and he adds some twangy timbral graces of his own. His performance goes beyond the heavier Russian style that became common in readings of the mercurial Sarasate; but, taken on its own terms, it’s a heady sprint to the finish. Heifetz and Milstein both played Gluck’s Melody, which Fritz Kreisler had arranged for violin and piano. Li’s performance matches theirs in elegance and warmth, and his special personal touches make it his own rather than a copy of theirs. Paganini’s Variations fare well in Li’s reading, sweetly lyrical in the manner of Rossini as devilish in the style of Locatelli. His gift for sumptuous melody alternates in this violinist’s compendium with his knack for brash pyrotechnics (which he fires off with surprising sweetness), and those mount to the conclusion in an unstoppable juggernaut.


Strauss’s early Sonata has been taken almost as a Concerto for Violin and Piano, and Heifetz (who reputedly tried to commission such a Concerto from Prokofiev) seemed always on the lookout for pieces he could play that way, like this one, Saint-Saëns’s First Sonata in D Minor, and Respighi’s. Memory of Heifetz remains strong, but Li manages to create his own forceful identity from the bold first movement. Arguably the slow movement of the Sonata makes a more glowing musical statement than does the slow movement of the (also youthful) Violin Concerto, and Li warms not only to its initial sentiment but also to its more agitated central section. He also seems comfortably at home in the finale’s broad rhetoric.


Here’s an old-fashioned violin recital with a Sonata thrown in to please everyone (the reverse of the usual procedure), and only those with almost unreasonably strong preferences should complain. It’s individual, brilliant, and musically both protean and probing—a substantial accomplishment for anyone, and certainly so for a 19-year-old. As Mischa Elman supposedly remarked to his accompanist, Joseph Seiger, when he heard Michael Rabin’s recording of Wieniawski’s First Concerto, that’s the way the violin should be played. Robert Koenig remains an insightful supporter through the many changes in style, and the lifelike recorded sound makes both players almost bodily present. Strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

DVORÁK Cypresses: 18 Songs for Voices and Piano (original version, 1865 1 ). Cypresses: 12 Songs for String Quartet (from original version, arr. Dvorák 2 ). Cypresses: 6 Songs for String Quartet (from original version, arr. Hans-Peter Dott 2 ) • 1 Marcus Ullmann (ten); 1 Martin Bruns (bar); 1 Andreas Frese (pn); 2 Bennewitz Qrt • HÄNSSLER 98641 (2 CDs: 81:05 Text and Translation)


Let me begin with just one swipe at Hänssler Classic, a label whose marketing practices I’ve questioned before. This entire program could fit onto a single CD. Discs of over 80 minutes, once rare, are now fairly common. A saving grace, however, is that as of now, mid-October 2012, ArkivMusic is selling the two-disc set for $26.99, which places it in the mid-price category on a per-disc basis. Hänssler is to be commended, however, for coming up with the idea of presenting Dvorák’s Cypresses complete in its original scoring as a song cycle for voices and piano, plus in its partial arrangement of 12 of the 18 songs for string quartet by the composer himself, and, in addition, in arrangements of the remaining six songs for string quartet by German composer Hans-Peter Dott (b. 1952). If anyone has done this before, it’s not reflected in any of the current listings I found. In fact, Dvorak’s string quartet arrangements far outnumber recordings of the song cycle.


Details of the song cycle’s path from composition to publication still remain a bit sketchy and open to some dispute. This much is known: Dvorák set the songs down on paper in 17 days between the 10th and 27th of July 1865. The 24-year-old composer was lovesick over one of his young pupils who didn’t share his feelings. So, like Mozart, Dvorák ended up settling for the girl’s younger sister, whom he eventually married. It’s hardly surprising then that the texts of the songs, taken from Cypresses: A Collection of Lyric and Epic Poems by Gustav Pfleger-Moravský, tell of unrequited love. Also generally agreed upon is that Dvorák intended eight of the songs—Nos. 1, 2, 5, 7, 8, 13, 14, and 15—to be sung by a tenor, while the remaining 10 songs—Nos. 3, 4, 6, 9, 10, 11, 12, 16, 17, and 18—were intended to be taken by a baritone, which is the way they’re divvied up on the disc.


But here’s where things get a bit dicey. It took Dvorák another 23 years, during which he arranged, rearranged, and otherwise tinkered with the songs, before he sent them to Simrock for publication in 1888 with the title, not Cypresses , but Love Songs , to which the opus number 83 was assigned. Yet a 2012 program note from the Chamber Music Society of Williamsburg unequivocally states that “Dvorák chose never to publish the songs in their original form, but material from several of the songs cropped up in his first two symphonies and in his operas and other vocal works.” Clearly, the songs were published in 1888, but I’m guessing that the discrepancy hinges on the words “in their original form,” for according to the imslp.org catalog of Dvorák’s complete works, the songs that were actually published were all third and fourth revisions of the originals. Meanwhile, a year earlier the composer selected 12 of the songs—Nos. 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8, 9, 12, 14, 16, 17, and 18— and began reworking them for string quartet, keeping close to the original models. He made only some minor rhythmic adjustments, and only in one case did he change the key. He did, however, reorder the pieces in a different sequence from the original song cycle—6, 3, 2, 8, 12, 7, 9, 14, 4, 16, 17, 18—and titled his collection of quartet arrangements Echo of Songs . These were not published, however, until 1921, 17 years after Dvorák’s death.


This brings up another misunderstanding that has been perpetuated regarding Dvorák’s titling of both the published song cycle and the string quartet arrangements that remained unpublished in his lifetime. All Music Guide states that it was the composer himself who named the song cycle Cypresses , but as noted above, he didn’t. He titled it Love Songs . And as for the composer’s quartet arrangements of 12 of the songs, he called them, again as noted above, Echo of Songs . The only Cypresses Dvorák was familiar with, other than the trees, was the collection of poems so titled by Pfleger-Moravský. The Cypresses title was conferred upon the string quartet arrangements—and then only retroactively and by association with the songs—by the publisher of the string quartet cycle, Hudební matice umrlecké besedy, and/or the cycle’s editor, composer Josef Suk. Hans-Peter Dott surmises there are reasons Dvorák omitted the six songs—1, 5, 10, 11, 13, and 15—from his own quartet arrangements, but Dott doesn’t tells us what those reasons might have been. Instead, he decided to arrange them himself anyway, and they’re included as the last six tracks on disc 2, after Dvorák’s 12.


So, there you have it: the complete song cycle, published in 1888 as Love Songs , Dvorák’s own string quartet arrangements he titled Echo of Song , published in 1921, and a recent arrangement by Dott of the remaining six songs—all on a two-disc set boldly titled “Cypresses,” with a stand of cypress trees pictured on the cover, a title Dvorák never gave to any of these pieces. I’m not sure he’d be amused. For millennia, the cypress tree has been associated with death and mourning—which is why it’s often found planted around cemeteries—not with the pain of rejected love, the subject of these songs. The music can be quite lovely, if a bit overly sentimental, but the singers and players exercise care not to succumb to some of its more self-pitying moments. While tenor Marcus Ullmann and baritone Martin Bruns deliver their respective songs with warmth of feeling and a good measure of tonal bloom, their voices are of a similarity of timbre and character that sometimes makes it difficult to distinguish which singer is performing which song without referring to the designated numbers in the notes.


When it comes to the string quartet arrangements, at least of the 12 made by the composer, there’s a good deal more in the way of competition, among which is a very fine reading by the Emerson Quartet. But not being familiar with every recording of the quartet versions listed, I can’t say whether any ensemble has previously included the additional six arrangements made by Dott, and Hänssler’s album note is not forthcoming on when Dott made them. If it was very recently, perhaps even for the Bennewitz Quartet and this recording, then this could be a first.


Neither the songs nor the quartet arrangements of them represent Dvorák at his best. One might even say that musically they are Dvorák before he blossomed into the Dvorák we know and love. All of the pieces are of sameness in tempo and mood, without much in the way of Dvorák’s later melodic inspiration or harmonic inventiveness to make any one of them particularly memorable. For that, of course, the singers and players are not to blame. So, recommended on the grounds that this may be the most complete recording of Dvorák’s “cypress”-based compositions collected together in a single set.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins