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Franco Alfano’s opera Risurrezione draws its inspiration from Tolstoy’s novel Resurrection and was the work that ensured Alfano’s considerable success as a composer. The plot narrates the story of Katiusha and her tragic love for prince Dimitri who seduces and abandons her, condemning her to a life of sacrifice and desperation. Seen here in Fancesco Lanzillotta’s acclaimed Florence production, Risurrezione recalls Richard Strauss and Puccini – the drama evolving in an uninterrupted flow with moments of soaring lyricism alongside striking and evocative orchestration. The work gives voice to an idea that Alfano left in his memoirs: ‘Recoiling from catastrophes, I believed and still believe in the renovation, regeneration, and final purification of human passions from evil to goodness.’

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Franco Alfano’s opera Risurrezione draws its inspiration from Tolstoy’s novel Resurrection and was the work that ensured Alfano’s considerable success as a composer. The plot narrates the story of Katiusha and her tragic love for prince Dimitri who seduces and abandons her, condemning her to a life of sacrifice and desperation. Seen here in Fancesco Lanzillotta’s acclaimed Florence production, Risurrezione recalls Richard Strauss and Puccini – the drama evolving in an uninterrupted flow with moments of soaring lyricism alongside striking and evocative orchestration. The work gives voice to an idea that Alfano left in his memoirs: ‘Recoiling from catastrophes, I believed and still believe in the renovation, regeneration, and final purification of human passions from evil to goodness.’

Xiayin Wang just gets better and better; well worth your time and money.

The bar is set very high when it comes to these concertos, and that poses a formidable challenge for pianists brave – or foolhardy – enough to attempt them. That said, having reviewed Xiayin Wang and these forces in a splendid pairing of the Khachaturian concerto and the original version of Tchaikovsky’s G major one, I’ve no doubt she’s bold – and limber – enough to vault these three (with room to spare). And the presence of Peter Oundjian and the RSNO, whose latest John Adams release was so warmly welcomed by Simon Thompson, is a definite plus.

Usually, I list several of comparative versions of the work(s) under review, but this time I’ll select just one each. Starting with Tchaikovsky’s first concerto, I was much impressed by Alexandra Dariescu’s 2014 account with Darrell Ang and the Royal Philharmonic (Signum). As for the third concerto, I always return to Peter Donohoe, Rudolf Barshai and the Bournemouth Symphony, recorded in 1989 (Warner). Then there’s the Scriabin, as set down by Yevgeny Sudbin, Andrew Litton and the Bergen Phil in 2013 (BIS).

Given the legendary status of Tchaikovsky’s Op. 23 – and its long line of stellar soloists – it’s all too easy for lesser pianists to over-reach themselves with this one. That’s what turned me off two recent recordings, with Denis Kozhukhin (Pentatone) and Beatrice Rana (Warner). Indeed, one of the greatest strengths of the Dariescu/Ang performance is that it doesn’t punch above its weight. That said, there’s eloquence and insight aplenty, which, together with an attractive coupling – Mikhail Pletnev’s Nutcracker arrangement – and good sound, makes for a most enjoyable release.

That same judicious approach is very much in evidence in Xiayin Wang’s Op. 23, the famous opening still thrilling in its surge and sweep. She’s firm and focused from start to finish, Ralph Couzens and Jonathan Cooper’s recording warm and weighty. The RSNO are on top form, too, with liquid woodwinds and songful strings. But it’s the soloist’s imaginative phrasing and disarming manner that deserve the most praise here. Also, Oundjian, a sympathetic accompanist, allows the music to ebb and flow in the most natural and unobtrusive way. Tuttis are all the more satisfying for being so discreetly signposted and so sensibly scaled.

My word, Xiayin Wang is a very thoughtful and engaging artist, the pliancy and soul of the ensuing Andantino especially pleasing. What a lovely touch, too, Tchaikovsky’s jewelled writing as lustrous as one could wish. Happily, she’s rhythmically supple yet suitably animated in the Allegro con fuoco, which burns with a steady flame rather than flares with magnesium heat. Then again, that’s the nature of this performance, which has none of the self-seeking pyrotechnics that so often mar this exhilarating finale. And so it is with the compact, closely argued Op. 75, where Xiayin Wang’s technical prowess, sensitively channelled, serves the music and nothing else.

How sensuous she is in the Scriabin, its rich harmonies superbly realised by soloist and orchestra alike. It’s a piece that’s apt to sprawl, and that it doesn’t here is a measure of everyone’s clarity and commitment. The Andante has wonderful poise and detail, the latter a reminder of how good the engineering is. It’s all so exquisitely washed and tinted, our painter-pianist showing exemplary taste and good judgment throughout. As for the finale, essayed with a strong sense of shape and approaching exultation, it’s even more rewarding when delivered with such assurance and style.

Would I want to be without Dariescu and Donohoe in the Tchaikovsky, or Sudbin’s Scriabin? No, but I’m happy to file Xiayin Wang’s fine performances alongside theirs. And while I’ve grumbled about the sound of some recent Chandos releases, I’ve absolutely no qualms about this one. Detailed liner-notes by David Nice complete a most attractive package.

Xiayin Wang just gets better and better; well worth your time and money.

– MusicWeb International (Dan Morgan )

This is one of the freshest and most enjoyable accounts of Tchaikovsky 1 I have heard for a long time. In Xiayin Wang’s hands and supported superbly by the impressive Scottish players and their conductor, the concerto takes on the narrative of a tone poem in an account of commendable brio and clarity. This is among the most deeply felt and warm-hearted accounts of No. 3 you will hear.

– Gramophone

Eugène Ysaÿe, a violin virtuoso admired by all his contemporaries, was an inheritor of what has justly been considered as the Belgian school of violin, whose ascendancy can be traced back to the beginning of the 19th century. His work as a composer, however, is much less well known today and it is this facet of his extraordinarily active life that we will explore here. He composed many different types of works; here we present his works for solo violin and orchestra, including two movements of violin concertos which are now available on record for the first time, and his chamber music. A great champion of the music of his time, Ysaÿe gave the first performances of a great number of works, many of which were dedicated to him as well as having been commissioned by him; the most well-known of these pieces are also included here. This fascinating boxed set from the Queen Elisabeth Music Chapel is a fine example of the work of this important musical institution: it features the Chapel's masters and the young soloists who trained there alongside two Belgian orchestras of international renown.

End of the opera. 12 November 1918 (on the day of the declaration of the German-Austrian Republic and the union with the German Reich!). This sentence was written by Schreker at the close of the manuscript full score. The call for the dissolution of the Habsburg Empire and for unification with Germany was a genuine republican position and supported by all political parties.

A highly decorated composer in Soviet Russia, Reinhold Glière maintained a low political profile and a conservative but astonishingly inventive melodic style. His interest in national harmonies and folk-music emerges in the Twelve Album Leaves, and his remarkably important contribution to cello repertoire is demonstrated both in his mastery of small forms in the Duets Op 39, and a unique ability to create orchestral sonorities in the Duets Op 53, a rare example of an original cycle for the delightful combination of two cellos.

The young Romanian violinist Ioana Cristina Goicea and her piano partner Andrei Banciu draw on the full range of their talents: on their debut album, they bring late Romantic music by Richard Strauss, Erich Wolfgang Korngold and the world premiere recording by Stan Golestan to life in full color. The two winners of the competition are perfectly attuned to each other. A technically flawless rendition serves as the basis of their interpretation and is exalted by the extraordinary artistic personality of the two Romanian musicians. The romantic exuberance creates goosebumps! Ioana Cristina Goicea is one of the outstanding violinists of her generation. She won First Prize at the 2017 Michael Hill International Violin Competition in New Zealand, with critics praising her passionate performance and describing her as "a new star in the musical firmament." In 2018 she won First Prize at the German Music Competition in Bonn and was a laureate of the International Violin Competition of Indianapolis. In 2019 she became a prize winner of the prestigious Queen Elisabeth Competition in Brussels. Born in 1985 in Timisoara (Romania), Andrei Banciu began studying the piano in his home town with Maria Bodo, later continuing in Berlin at the UdK (University of the Arts) under Prof. Klaus Hellwig and at the "Hanns Eisler" School of Music under Prof. Fabio Bidini.

The present recording of piano music by Julius Röntgen (1855-1932), the fourth of an ongoing series, comprises works that span a significant portion of Röntgen’s compositional lifetime. Fifty-five years separates the first Ballad, Op.6 written in 1873, when the composer was just 17 years old, from the Sonata in C-sharp minor of 1928. This far- ranging chronology gives the listener an informed overview of Röntgen’s output. This is especially interesting given the fact that he lived through such musically revolutionary times. Röntgen’s writing style for the piano shows a gift for creating unique sonorities alongside ingenious harmonic invention. In particular, I am intrigued by his ability to create, on the one hand, exquisite and sublime musical moments – such as those found in the major variations of the Variations and Fugue Op.38 - and, on the other, masses of chordal harmony punctuated with rhapsodic episodes. The Ballad No. 3 best represents the latter compositional style with its highly varied textural and emotional contrasts. When Röntgen died in 1932, Donald Francis Tovey wrote, “He was an inspiration for the future but with a link to the past. His compositions cover the whole range of music in every art form; they all show consummate mastery in every aspect of technique; even in the most facile there is beauty and wit, each series of works culminate in something that has the uniqueness of a living masterpiece.”

Hartmut Haenchen was born in Dresden in 1943 and from the moment of his 1971 Carl Maria von Weber Competition victory onward, he has been a force of nature in the classical music world. These Mahler recordings are being released to commemorate Haenchen's seventieth birthday and a rich career conducting orchestras and opera companies worldwide.

Enrique Granados is best-known for his piano music, especially the ‘Danzas Españolas’ and ‘Goyescas.’ Little regard is given to his chamber music, songs and orchestral works. Earlier this year I reviewed Volume 1 of the present series of orchestral music for MusicWeb International and concluded that it was a worthy project that explored beyond Granados’s normal repertoire and I looked forward to hearing the second installment.

The CD opens with what is probably the only one of the composer’s orchestral works to become a hit – the ‘Intermezzo.’ It was derived from his opera Goyescas (1915), which was premiered in New York on 28 January 1916. It was a by-product of the great piano suite. The composer described his opera as displaying in the ‘rhythm [and] colour, a portrait of quintessentially Spanish life and a sense of emotion that leaps from the amorous to the passionate, the dramatic or even the tragic…just as in Goya’s works you find aspects of both love and tragedy, and both quarrels and flirtations.’ The delightful ‘Intermezzo’ was composed very quickly just before the premiere, to accommodate a longer than expected scene change between the first and second acts of the opera. Its mood is of passion, drama with a hint of sultry sunshine and romance in the ‘big tune.’

The delightfully named ‘Danza de los ojos verdes’ (Dance of the green eyes) was first heard in New York’s Maxine Elliot Theatre just a few days after the opera’s premiere. It was presented as a part of an ‘evening of dance’ performed by Antonia Merce (1890-1936), who was billed as ‘La Argentina.’ The present short dance was written for, and dedicated to, Merce. It is an uncomplicated little piece that uses the usual ‘mechanics’ of a Spanish dance – tambourines, castanets, and ‘gypsy tinged orientalism’. It is a magnificent little tone-poem that depicts the flamenco celebrations in the Sacromente district of Granada.

The mood of celebration continues in the Danza gitana (Gypsy Dance), which was composed in 1915 and was dedicated to the dancer Carmen Tórtola Valencia (1882-1955). It is full of vibrancy, instrumental colour and Iberian rhythms. The liner notes point out that the composer used a large orchestra for this short work, which succeeded in ‘limiting its opportunities for performance.’ This three-and-a-half-minute dance would make an ideal ‘encore’ for any symphony orchestra, in Spain or elsewhere.

A very different mood is evoked in the major symphonic poem La nit del mort (Night of the dead man). It was subtitled ‘poem of desolation.’ The work, which includes a tenor solo and a chorus, was composed in 1897. As I understand it, La nit del mort was left unfinished by the composer and remains unpublished. I can only assume that it was completed by someone unknown. It is very much a work of two parts. The first section, as Rob Barnett has pointed out, is almost Delian in its subtlety and soft impressionistic mood. However, about halfway through things change. It becomes almost a mini-opera, with a tenor aria ‘I am death, my girl…’ The chorus insists that the ‘horns of war are sounding’ and that ‘those who die defending their country will be glorified and will not die.’ The ‘libretto’ is by Apel-les Mestres (1854-1936). As a piece, I am only partially impressed. The first section (which I love) is beautiful; the second (which I do not like) is bombastic, over the top and sub-Verdi in its effect.

‘Dante’ was premiered during June 1908 in Barcelona’s then new Palau de la Música Catalana. It was remarkably successful at the time, with performances in the USA, as well as at the Queen’s Hall, London with Sir Henry Wood. It subsequently fell into neglect. As the titles of the two ‘movements’ suggest, Granados took two important themes from Dante’s great poem: the meeting with the great Roman poet Virgil and the tragic love affair between Paolo e Francesca. In this latter movement the mezzo-soprano sings beautifully Francesca’s story. The composer suggested that it was not ‘my intention to mirror The Divine Comedy line by line, but to give my impression of a life and a work; the lives of Dante and Beatrice and The Divine Comedy are, for me, one and the same thing.’ The listener must not look for an Iberian influence in the pages of the two-part symphonic poem. The liner notes quote Carol A. Hess, who has pointed out that this is ‘a vast and sombre work with little hint of the traditional images of a lively, sunlit Spain…’ There are influences from Richard Wagner, César Franck, Alexander Scriabin and even the romantic side of Arnold Schoenberg. The harmonies are chromatic, rich and ‘voluptuous’. Tantalisingly, there exists a third movement of this massive tone-poem, ‘La Laguna Estigia’ (The Stygian Lake) but unfortunately there are only sketches. The work was originally planned to be in four movements.

All the music is finely played and performed by the soloists, the chorus and the Barcelona Symphony Orchestra under Pablo González. Mezzo-soprano Gemma Coma-Alabert gives a stunning performance in the ‘Dante’. The liner notes are helpful in approaching this little-known music. They are written by Justo Romero and well-translated by Susannah Howe. They are also given in Spanish. The text of La nit del mort and ‘Paulo e Francesca’ are presented in both languages. Details of the performers are included.

– MusicWeb Internationsl (John France)

The first section shows González and his orchestra at their best, with grainy strings, piquant soft-edged woodwinds and a natural, musicianly way of shaping a phrase. Those qualities are all in evidence in two short gypsy dances and the familiar Goyescas Intermezzo; the slightly hazy Naxos sound complements performances that are affectionate and characterful.

– Gramophone

“For a long time no child prodigy has appealed to us so sympathetically as the little Ferruccio Busoni. Precisely because he has so little of the child prodigy about him, but instead a lot of the good musician, both as a pianist and as a budding composer.” This is what Eduard Hanslick, the famous Vienna music critic, had to say in 1876 about the ten-year-old Ferruccio Busoni. Around this time Busoni had already composed many works – mostly for clarinet with other instruments, and all these works were very much born of the spirit of his father, who played the clarinet. In his time Ferdinando Busoni was a famous virtuoso and created a sensation as a traveling artist with opera fantasies and virtuoso showpieces.

Of his son’s two Violin Sonatas composed in 1889 and 1898, the op. 36a second sonata is to be regarded as an absolute key work. According to Busoni’s own testimony, it first delineated his unique character as a composer. The entire work is based on a Bach chorale, and it culminates in a magnificent variation movement on the same. However, his enormous public appeal and the admiration for his transcription technique made Busoni skeptical, and he thought that he had strayed onto conventional paths – which was not the case. The op. 29 first sonata is very much more conventional. Within its limits, very much in keeping with its composer’s life and times, the work today speaks unusually clearly to us, as an homage to Brahms, who supported Busoni, or as a link to the great pianist of those times, Anton Rubinstein, who himself published three violin sonatas.