Seen as the successor to Beethoven by many of his contemporaries, Johannes Brahms combined traditional form with an originality o fmusical language that has inspired generations of composers. His two string quintets are, like Mozart's, scored with two violas for richness of texture and harmonic depth. The positive mood of the First String Quintet reflects the sunny resort of Bad Ischl where Brahms composed during the spring of 1882, while his Second String Quintet combines symphonic breadth with nostalgic melancholy in what was originally intended to be his final chamber work. Formed in 1987, the New Zealand String Quartet has established a distinguished international reputation over the past three decades. The ensemble's discography includes all the quartets by Mendelssohn, Bartok and Berg, and this recording completes their three albums of Brahms chamber music for Naxos.

Brahms’s string concertos are indissolubly linked with the musicians for whom the works were written. He wrote his Violin Concerto for Joseph Joachim, and inn it he combined what a contemporary critic termed ‘the great and serious’ with songful lyricism, melodic beauty, and a fiery Hungarian finale. To mend a breach with the violinist, Brahms later composed a concerto with the unusual combination of violin and cello, the latter played at the premiere by Joachim’s colleague Robert Hausmann. Neither instrument predominates in a work of reconciliation that embodies both drama and reflection. Highly acclaimed Naxos artists Tianwa Yang and Gabriel Schwabe are featured on this recording, as well as Antoni Wit, one of Naxos’s best-selling and best-known conductors.

REVIEWS:

[Yang] plays the concerto with great passion and expressivity, highlighting many details and indulging in more sliding than we usually hear today. Behind all this I sense a directness, a desire perhaps to expose the virtuosic elements of the piece. Conductor Wit is also a musician who does not tend to linger, but I am not sure they are always on the same page. Yang leans toward aggressive playing, while Wit is more mellow—more Eastern European. If you like the concerto with a minimum of philosophizing, you’ll like this performance because it is very well done.

– American Record Guide

In Yang’s and Schwabe’s hands the Double Concerto enjoys an incarnadine reading which benefits from a sweet, close-quarters recording. What we hear evinces both concentration and brio. When a performance of the Double really works it communicates a nicely elongated storminess, as is the case here and with the classic recording by Leonard Rose, Isaac Stern, and the Philadelphia conducted by Eugene Ormandy.

Yang makes tense but re-creative work of the Violin Concerto. Elder statesman Antoni Wit has been facilitating with Naxos for many years. He and the Deutsches Symphonie-Orchester Berlin work in commodious harness with the two soloists.

– MusicWeb International (Rob Barnett)

An invigorating and very enjoyable reading of this fine symphony.

This is the second instalment in Marin Alsop’s ongoing Brahms cycle. Both its predecessor and this latest offering have been widely praised by colleagues. I’ve heard her both on radio and on disc in twentieth century repertoire but I’d yet to encounter her in "standard" repertoire so I was curious to hear her in Brahms and especially in what has long been my favourite of the four symphonies.

She immediately scores high marks with me for taking the exposition repeat in the first movement. This is not so often done. I can understand why conductors omit the repeat for there is an issue of structural balance. Taking the repeat elongates the first movement by some five minutes - in this performance - and thereby means that, in Ms Alsop’s hands, the first movement accounts for 20:05 of the 44:51 that she takes for the whole symphony. So there is a danger of imbalance but I must say I didn’t feel that this particular reading was unbalanced and, in any case, why wouldn’t one wish to hear such wonderful music twice? Also, omitting the repeat means that the first time bars must be left out and that’s a pity since the music they contain is well worth hearing, as Ms Alsop demonstrates.

In his good liner-note Robert Pascall rightly draws attention to the dark side of this movement. The Second is conventionally regarded as Brahms’s sunniest symphony and many conductors focus on that side rather than the darker element, which is mainly to be found in the development section. Marin Alsop, it seems to me, is one such and I don’t find that her interpretation brings out the dark side of the music. That’s not to disparage her reading in any way. A "sunny" approach is perfectly valid and, in any case, even if you appreciate a performance that hints at deeper waters, as I do, you may not want to hear such a reading every day. A couple of years ago, for example, I reviewed what I thought was an exceptionally unsettling account of this movement by Furtwängler. Tremendously impressive though that was, it wouldn’t do for everyday listening. No, it seems to me that Marin Alsop gives us a well-imagined and highly enjoyable rendition of this movement, one which is built on rhythmic vitality, warm phrasing and excellent attention to dynamics.

Ms. Alsop judges the start of the second movement beautifully, encouraging the celli to sing out. Later there’s excellent work by the LPO’s principal horn and, indeed, this is matched by the other wind soloists. Ms. Alsop clearly loves this music and under her guidance the strings phrase generously. She pays great attention to sustaining the musical line and this I like very much. In the central section of the movement there’s just the right amount of powerful projection before the return of the warm lyricism that characterised the opening paragraphs.

There’s some nice, pert wind playing at the start of the Allegretto and later the strings match their wind colleagues in agility. This movement is a fairly brief interlude in the overall scheme of things, a bit of a musical sorbet in fact. Here it receives a fresh and engaging reading.

Ms. Alsop catches well the mood of suppressed energy at the start of the finale. Once Brahms increases the volume she presses the music home splendidly, striking a balance between energy and lyricism that seems to me to be extremely well judged. The end of this ebullient movement is irresistibly jubilant here with the LPO brass, who have served their conductor well throughout the whole performance, well to the fore.

In summary, this is an invigorating and very enjoyable reading of this fine symphony. The LPO plays attentively and with commitment. On the evidence of this release, this Brahms cycle is not one that’s being made just for the sake of it but rather because Marin Alsop wanted to do it and has something definite to say about the music.

As a filler we’re offered eight of the Hungarian Dances, three of them in orchestrations by Brahms, the remainder in orchestral dress tailored for them by Dvo?ák. I have to confess that these pieces aren’t really my cup of tea but they are well done. In common with a lot of so-called light music these dances aren’t easy to do well. On this occasion the performances benefit from enthusiastic playing. Equally important is the fact that the dances are shaped affectionately by Marin Alsop, who displays a good, intuitive sense of rubato.

A most enjoyable disc which can be recommended confidently and enthusiastically.

-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

What a debut! The Scherzo in E flat minor is the first exsisiting composition by Johannes Brahms, and its gloom and bizarre character go beyond even the no-joking-matter models set by Chopin.

Hardy Rittner has recorded this rarity on the fourth installment of his historical Brahms series – for the first time on a 240-centimeter Ignaz Bösendorfer grand piano from 1846. The biting tone of this instrument immediately gets under the skin and forms an exciting contrast to the two J. B. Streicher grand pianos.

The two Rhapsodies op. 79 get things going. Brahms would not have been Brahms if he had not composed these pieces with a compelling formal logic. The second rhapsody bears the heading “Molto passionato,” and Hardy Rittner conjures magnificent passion out of the Streicher grand piano from 1868.

In the Piano Pieces op. 76 he spreads out a multicolored kaleidoscope ranging from melancholy to graceful charm and from dancy mirth to eerie gloom - it all is there and can be experienced with special immediacy on this historical instrument.

Brahms composed sixteen waltzes as his ticket to Viennese musical society and dedicated them to the feared critic Eduard Hanslick. This tactic paid off. Hanslick became Brahms’s most glowing admirer.

Rittner shows why this was so: simple on the surface, these exquisitely crafted waltzes create their own special cosmos of expressive colors with a wonderfully catchy tune, a racy Hungarian piece, and other masterful intricacies in three-four time.

BRAHMS Viola Sonatas: op. 78 (trans. Csaba Erdélyi); op. 120/1; op. 120/2 • Roberto Diaz (va); Jeremy Denk (pn) • NAXOS 8.570827 (70:55)


To twist an old saw two ways: Familiarity breeds contempt of the unfamiliar; familiarity breeds comfort. The familiar G-Major piano and violin sonata was transcribed by contemporary violist Csaba Erdélyi for piano and viola, and was transposed to D in keeping with Brahms’s transposition to D for his piano and cello version of this sonata. Erdélyi reasoned that if it works for violin and for cello, then why not in between—for viola. To my ears, this music thus altered by Erdélyi flattens its appeal, ironically by adding a sharp. The problem is the lowered-by-a-fourth pitch, which relegates too much of the piano sound to the “bass-ment,” especially in the Adagio. The viola sonorities are also dulled. The conclusion of the Adagio suffers most where the beauty of the rising and falling piano figure is sharply diminished by the key shift down to B? from the original E?. Here, Erdélyi sharpens the pain, fittingly by deleting a flat. I have not heard Brahms’s cello version, and I might not like that either. ArkivMusic does not list Brahms’s cello transcription separately, but I did find a few cellists listed who have recorded it.


The clarinet is the focal instrument in Brahms’s last four chamber works: the A-Minor Trio (op. 114), the B-Minor Quintet (op. 115), and the two op. 120 sonatas. Clarinetist Richard Mühlfeld was the dedicatee of these four pieces. Brahms recognized that the viola could substitute for the clarinet in the two sonatas, therefore he published the sonatas for clarinet or viola. The clarinet version seems to have been rooted in tradition, but the viola version has recently taken a firm hold, especially with the growth of recorded music. Currently, ArkivMusic lists about 60 clarinet versions and close to 40 viola versions.


Now I confess my secret conversion. After growing up with the clarinet versions and, without ever listening, disdaining the viola versions, when I first heard the viola versions a few years ago, I became a convert (my “con-version”). The viola sound in these sonatas is much more satisfying to me than that of the clarinet, although I love both versions. With that prejudice on the table (or on the page, or on the screen), the opus 120 performances by these two artists are excellent in every respect. As to phrasing, dynamics, tone coloring, tempos—whatever qualities I can muster—these are performances that belong in everyone’s collection.


Jeremy Denk is a pianist of growing reputation, having appeared as soloist with several major orchestras throughout the world. Roberto Diaz is a noted violist. Formerly principal violist of the Philadelphia Orchestra, he is now president and CEO of the Curtis Institute of Music. Their contribution to the Brahms opus 120 sonatas is most welcome.


FANFARE: Burton Rothleder

A 2017 Critics' Choice Winner at American Record Guide!

Evgeny Kissin (b. 1971) made his debut with the Ulyanovsk Symphony Orchestra when he was only eleven years old. The next year, he performed his first solo piano recital in Moscow. When he recorded the two Chopin piano concertos with the Philharmonic Orchestra of Moscow in 1984, his fame exploded. Each and every piano masterwork is included in this set, as Kissin was a master of broad-ranging repertoire. Staples by Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Chopin, Stravinsky, Scriabin, and more are all here. This specially priced hardcover box set documents many of Kissin’s extraordinary achievements, as it holds all of Kissin’s recordings for both RCA and Sony Classical.

Shumsky never recorded the Brahms Violin Concerto commercially, though TV film exists of his performance. Violin fanciers had quivering fingers set on 'record' when he played it on the BBC many years ago and I should know as my own calloused fingers were poised to plunge and capture the great man in action. Some hardy souls have uploaded their VHS copies onto YouTube. I think it's less well known however that he set down the Violin sonatas and Viola sonatas for MusicMasters in 1991 and these performances have now been revivified by Nimbus.

It was always a perplexing matter as to why Shumsky was one of that rare breed who, once he had made his belated and feted reappearance on the international scene, was so seldom asked back by orchestras. I understand that his tart and abrasive manner may have had something to do with it, but playing of his exalted level comes very seldom in one's listening experience. Maybe he was out of kilter with some elements of the public. I remember hearing his American colleague Aaron Rosand at his last Wigmore Hall appearance in London. The stranger sitting next to me turned at the interval and asked what I thought of the violinist so I gave him a more than favourable summary. The man's brow darkened. 'I don't like his tone or his playing', he said and turned away, and that was that. Perhaps he'd have preferred Midori.

Not much of which has anything to do with these late, patrician readings. Nobility courses through the veins of Op.108 - tone and phrasing - and even at 74 Shumsky gives younger players a master class in rubato usage and phraseology. His near contemporary Leonid Hambro demarcates the left hand accents of the slow movement punctiliously whilst Shumsky gauges the rise and fall of the lyric line with great wisdom, reserving greatest weight of tone and bow pressure for the optimum time. Both men catch the gutsy wit of the Scherzo and stake out the finale's geography with practised assurance. It's true that Shumsky's intonation is not infallible and his tone can become pinched from time to time but these are minor glitches amongst the panorama that unfolds.

The G major and A major share these virtues and abundance and also, it's true, some technical failings as well already alluded to as well as a lack of tonal body. Ensemble however is excellent, the double stopping in the Adagio of Op.78 on the money, whilst the piano's bass tolling is memorably insisted upon by Hambro. In the lyrically settled Op.100 things are first class, the lyric warmth conveyed with nobility but no hint of glutinous over vibration, albeit the slowing vibrato makes itself heard most especially in the sonata's finale where tone colours could be better varied.

Some may not know that Shumsky played the viola - though his son Eric does - but as he shows here he most certainly did. He was once an august member of William Primrose's quartet and I think it's to that great Scotsman that we can best ascribe the strongest influence on his viola playing. The tempi are remarkably similar - Primrose recorded I with Kapell and II with Gerald Moore and both with Firkušný. If you admire, say, Rivka Golani's playing (with Bogino, Conifer CDCF199) you will find Shumsky almost brusque in comparison. But this kind of 'alto' toned viola playing aligns well with Primrose's own, albeit the myriad colours and virtuosic panache of Primrose are a very different thing from Shumsky's own playing, which can sound rather more one dimensional. But it does share that same tensile-expressive curvature, that unsentimental affection, the subtlety of metrics and rubati.

This is one for Shumsky's admirers. It's not without its faults but it enshrines playing of rapt wisdom and assurance, and fortunately captures both Shumsky and his excellent colleague Hambro well.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.



BRAHMS Piano Sonatas: No. 1 in C; No. 3 in f • Hardy Rittner (pn) • MDG 9041538 (Hybrid multichannel SACD: 67:51)


“One of the best new solo Brahms albums to come my way in quite some time” was how I described Volume 1 of Hardy Rittner’s survey of Brahms’s early piano works in 32:1. Volume 2 adds the First and Third Sonatas to the Second Sonata, Variations on a Theme of Schumann , and ballades previously released. For this recording, Rittner plays a slightly earlier piano, one made in 1849–50, from the workshop of Ignaz Bösendorfer. On Volume 1, he played an instrument made in 1851.


I’ve always wondered why Brahms never wrote another piano sonata after having written three huge and enormously difficult essays in the form before his 21st birthday. It wasn’t for lack of wanting to. We know that his initial sketches for what would eventually become the D-Minor Piano Concerto began as a sonata for two pianos. The same is true of the F-Minor Piano Quintet, which Brahms did preserve and publish as op. 34b. But in both cases, these were conceived for two keyboards, not one. Brahms was an accomplished pianist, appearing publicly in that capacity on a regular basis, so one would think that the solo piano sonata would have been a logical vehicle for him to exploit. My conjecture—and it’s just that—is that even though the piano, by every evidence of the sound of the instrument on this disc (an instrument of exactly the same vintage as the sonatas), had evolved to its approximately modern-day state, it was still incapable of producing the symphonic sound and textures Brahms was able to achieve in his chamber works that joined piano with strings. The Bösendorfer here—serial number 1665—is of the new rounded case design with separate fallboard, a compass of seven octaves, and a length of over seven and a half feet. It also has both damper and una corda pedals.


A reading of any history of the piano’s evolution will tell you that, except for body length, which increased to approximately nine feet in the early 20th century, and continuing refinements to the frame and key mechanisms, most of the technical innovations, such as the double escapement action, the single piece cast iron frame, felt-covered hammers, the sostenuto pedal, and over-stringing were all inventions and improvements of the 19th century, some dating from even before Brahms was born. So, for all intents and purposes, Rittner’s Bösendorfer is much closer to a Steinway Model D than it is to any instrument Mozart would have known.


The sonic impact of this hybrid multichannel SACD is palpable, as it was on Volume 1. I find myself, however, not quite as wowed by Rittner’s readings of these two sonatas as I was by his previous release. His playing, technically, is still most impressive. But he is competing here against a number of pianists who have earned very high marks in this repertoire. I’m thinking in particular of Emanuel Ax and Mikhail Rudy. What seems ever so slightly lacking to me in Rittner’s performances is Brahms’s youthful exuberance, the sense of a young man barely out of his teens feeling, if not sowing, his oats. There’s just a bit of reserve or holding back in some of the go-for-broke passages, where Ax and Rudy throw caution to the winds and abandon themselves to Brahms’s unleashed passions.


This is a very minor criticism and should not put anyone off from acquiring this disc. Just to hear these works performed on an instrument that Brahms himself might have played, and captured in a recording of such depth and physical presence, is enough to offset any trifling reservation I may have expressed. If Rittner and MDG are planning a full run at all of Brahms’s works for solo piano, I definitely look forward to future installments.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

This new release from Ondine is the first installment in a series of Brahms recordings with the Gävle Symphony Orchestra and their chief conductor Jaime Martin. Together with the orchestra, Martin offers delightful interpretations of these two early examples of Brahms' orchestral writing. Jaime Martin became the Artistic Director and Principal Conductor of Gävle Symphony Orchestra in 2013. During recent years orchestral engagements have led the rising conductor to collaborate with several prominent orchestras around the world. Martin is also Chief Conductor of the Orquestra de Cadaques and known for his active career as a solo flautist. The two Brahms' orchestral Serenades heard here were written in the late 1850's and together with the first Piano Concerto, offer the earliest surviving examples of his orchestral writing.

REVIEW:

Anyone who champions Brahms’s gloriously eccentric, lyrical, and capacious Serenades deserves full attention. Here they get it. There’s some lovely playing, with warm woodwind and horns and nice, crisp syncopations. Martín does not allow the tempi to drag: important in works that need to be kept agile and alert to reveal their special charm.

– Guardian