This is not Julien Libeer's first Ravel recording, but for a long time he has wanted to explore the whole of Ravel's piano works, even a little more. For only the complete works, or nearly, are essential in order to square the circle. "And yet, we keep studying them with 'all we can bring as an offering', as Lipatti used to say. His music - lucid, ardent - wakes you up, keeps you on the edge. In passing, it seems to make amends for all that's imperfect about the world."

Get Lost is Bruno Bavota's first studio album since the 2016 release of Out of the Blue helped thrust him into that peculiar world of anonymous but significant success via high-volume streaming playlists and high-profile TV commercials. Out of the Blue marked the beginning of Bavota's drift from immaculate, traditional piano music. If Get Lost isn't a complete reinvention, it is at the very least a radical new direction. Rather than obsess over the sound of the piano itself, Bavota now explores the sounds around the piano - the resonance, the silence, and the acoustic ambience of the living, breathing space in which the piano resides. He employs an array of outboard effects pedals and processors to not just capture those sounds that are often overlooked, but to sample, loop, and reposition them as central figures in a story. Bruno Bavota gave Get Lost it's name when he found himself drifting deeper into the darker side of his music. Inspired by a familiar observation of modern life, Bavota confessed, "I think people are becoming more selfish and don't seem to have time to listen to other people who need to be heard. We don't show much empathy." Much like Bavota's evolving approach to the piano, he has discovered profound purpose and influence in the people and places least visible but most meaningful.

The Columbia Symphony may not have been a first-class orchestra, but Bruno Walter trained to do the right things, and it responded with first-class accounts of the Brahms symphonies. While there are instances of less-than-crack ensemble, there is also some very fine first-desk playing, and the performances as a whole are marked by a natural feeling of movement, phrasing, and expression. Walter’s approach to the music is kindly, caring, wonderfully whole – sunny but not overly brilliant, warm but not overly heated, sincere but not overly impassioned. Anyone who thinks that means the conductor was slow, shapeless, or indulgent should listen. There is thrust here, and plenty of momentum. The recordings are closely miked and somewhat bass-heavy, but in Sony’s 20-bit remastering the sound is wonderfully alive and direct. – Ted Libbey, author of The NPR Guide to Building a Classical CD Collection

Poised and patrician interpretations that concentrate on lyricism, warmth, and spacious breadth rather than incipient tension.

Walter’s 1960 B flat recording hasn’t Beecham’s geniality or élan but it does have an unhurried and patrician affection that is hard to gainsay. The generosity of the phrasing never descends to Casals’s rather heavy-handed loving kindness; the sectional balance is fine, the direction remains crisply understated but affectionate. The wind and horn principals distinguish themselves in the slow movement where Walter brings out detail with candour but without any kind of finicky over-scrupulousness. Genial and leisurely – and without any crunching tutti weight – the finale is of a piece with Walter’s mature perception of the symphony. It’s a young man’s work but seen somewhat through avuncular and retrospective eyes.

The Unfinished was recorded two years earlier, this time in New York. Poised and patrician once more this is a reading that concentrates on lyricism rather than incipient tension or internal dynamic contrasts. The orchestra sounds notably fine and Walter’s direction retains a grand seigniorial approach, one that will perhaps disappoint those who might have missed the spirit of his fiery wartime performances with this orchestra, a time when he seemed on occasion hell bent on recreating Toscanini’s sweeping dynamism. Nevertheless his later approach certainly makes up in warmth and spacious breadth – especially the second movement – what it lacks in velocity and power.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International [reviewing Sony 78741]

The Creation is potentially the most life-enhancing work in the choral repertoire but it hasn’t been particularly well served on record, partly because it is difficult to sustain the necessary fervour in studio conditions. Sony has found performers who are both able and willing: Tafelmusik’s playing is predictably immaculate, and the Tölz Boys Choir (with fresh-voiced tenors and basses) is radically more accomplished than many all-male groups.

The big, set-piece choruses are very exciting, though some may find Weil’s speeds shockingly fast, and the impact would have been greater had the balance favoured the choir just a touch more. He is not afraid of greater expression in slower numbers (such as the introduction to Part 3), though on occasion the result is, I fear, too pretty for its own good.

All three soloists have something to offer: Ann Monoyios boasts a light, clear soprano ideally suited to her decorative arias in Parts 1 and 2; Jörg Hering’s warm tenor brings fluent musicality throughout; and Harry van der Kamp’s distinctive low-vibrato bass is deployed with great intelligence.

The overall style of performance is relatively intimate, so it’s a shame that the engineers give us quite so much resonant church acoustic; but the well-articulated German text is never under threat. Anyone not allergic to period-instrument Haydn will find much to enjoy here.

-- Stephen Maddock, BBC Music Magazine

Zino Francescatti never made a better disc than his 1958 coupling of Mozart's Violin Concertos Nos. 3 in G, K216 and 4 in D, K218. The Californian sound is again warm and well balanced and Walter and the Columbia Symphony provide affectionate, immaculately turned accompaniments. The slow movements are slightly romantic in feeling, but agreeably so, and the overall impression is one of freshness combined with the performers' love for the music.

-- Gramophone [8/1995]

Having already enjoyed substantial reissue programmes devoted to Furtwangler, Klemperer and Toscanini, I was delighted to receive the initial instalment of Sony Classical's admirable "Bruno Walter: The Edition", doubly so in view of its superb presentation, exceptional technical quality (the best of Walter's stereo recordings were always remarkably lifelike) and its rich trawl of topdrawer repertory. This particular feast includes two violin concertos: the Beethoven with Szigeti, and the Mendelssohn with Milstein-interpretatively worlds apart but instructive in that Walter's accompaniments reflect (and respect) the very different styles of his two soloists. Then there is a two-CD Wagner compilation [ Sony 64459] that gathers together all the stereo Columbia Symphony material and adds a 45-minute Siegfried Idyll rehearsal, and a magnificent run of Mahler: the NYPO Dos Lied von der Erde (with Ernst Haefliger and Mildred Miller—and in my view one of the most profoundly inspired ever made, certainly in terms of the conducting and orchestral playing [ Sony 64455]), the NYPO Fourth and Fifth Symphonies (from 1945 and 1947, respectively), the Lieder und Gesfinge aus der Jugendzeit (with Desi Halban and Walter at the piano) and the stereo Mahler recordings—the First, Second and Ninth Symphonies (the latter appended with "A Talking Portrait" and "A Working Portrait"), and the Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen with Mildred Miller.

-- Robert Cowan, Gramophone [2/1995]

These quintets come from a set of six in a Madrid manuscript with an attribution to Boccherini: they are not in Boccherini’s own catalogue of his works, which doesn’t necessarily exclude their authenticity (he noted in it most of his true chamber music, though not the cello sonatas or the keyboard ones); they sound as if they date from the 1780s, and the presence of an obbligato cello part does of course imply at least some link with him. This is claimed as their world premiere recording.

They are very agreeable and on the whole deftly written pieces, but to my mind don’t quite have the ring of his style: their formal regularity, their sometimes motivic writing (the first movement of the G major work, for example), and the frequent spells of rather routine invention argue against his authorship, as does the three-movement form (he preferred, oddly, two-movement opere piccole or four-movement opere grande), the absence of minuets (a movement type he patently relished) and the presence of three very schematic variation finales (a type he avoided). The compiler of the Boccherini thematic catalogue thought that they had “formulas and turns of style which are characteristic of him”, on reading through the parts, but since he evidently didn’t notice that they were for flute, violin, viola and two cellos (as opposed to flute and string quartet) I am inclined to think the reading-through wasn’t too rigorous.

By Boccherini or not, they make pleasant listening. They don’t demand that special affection for detail or feeling for texture that the most characteristic Boccherini needs, and respond well to these direct, modern performances, neatly phrased, the dialogues gracefully executed. The first cellist, who has several flights into the upper reaches of his instrument, is very assured, and there is also the particular pleasure of Jean-Pierre Rampal’s flute playing, as urbane as ever.

-- Stanley Sadie. Gramophone [8/1998]