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

Since his appointment as chief conductor and later music director in 2003, Andrew Litton and the Bergen Philharmonic Orchestra have richly proven a particular affinity for Russian repertoire, both on their numerous tours and in recording. Works by Prokofiev, Stravinsky, Rachmaninov, Tchaikovsky, Medtner and Scriabin have featured on discs which have been welcomed by the international music press with distinctions such as Editor's Choice (Gramophone), Disc of the Month (Classic FM Magazine and ClassicsToday.com), Empfohlen (Klassik-Heute.de) and IRR Outstanding (International Record Review). As Litton now steps down from his post with the Bergen orchestra, the team marks the event with their rendition of Sergei Rachmaninov's gigantic Second Symphony, with its playing time of 60+ minutes as broad and expansive as the Russian steppes. The work followed upon a first symphony which in 1897 had had a disastrous reception, and it took the intensely self-critical Rachmaninov ten years before making another attempt at the genre. Fortunately the first performance of the work in 1908 was a complete success, the broad melodic gestures and the arduous journey from the brooding melancholy of the symphony’s introduction to the triumphant liberation at its close speaking directly to the St Petersburg audience. Later criticism of the symphony’s broad scale prompted Rachmaninov to sanction several cuts, however, and it was only in the mid-1960s that it became common practice to perform the symphony complete – as in the present recording. Rachmaninov is joined on the disc by his older colleague Anatoly Liadov, whose brief and shimmering tone poem The Enchanted Lake provides an atmospheric ending to the recording – in the words of Liadov himself an image of nature, as ‘fantastic as a fairy tale’, in which the listener will feel ‘the change of the colours, the chiaroscuro, the incessantly changeable stillness…’

Review:

Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony is often accused of being gargantuan, schmaltzy and overblown. In Andrew Litton’s new recording with the Bergen Philharmonic, it sounds gargantuan, schmaltzy – and just blown enough, if you like your Rachmaninov big and extrovert.

– Guardian (UK)

Let me say it right off the bat: I absolutely loved this CD, and I’m betting that you will, too. I have been enthralled with Hindemith’s Kammermusik ever since I acquired the complete set of works collected under that title in Riccardo Chailly’s 1992 two-disc Decca release. Seven works in all make up the series. Six are essentially chamber concertos, each featuring a different solo instrument: piano in the op. 36/1, cello in the op. 36/2, violin in the op. 36/3, viola in the op. 36/4, viola d’amore in the op. 46/1, and organ in the op. 46/2. The seventh, op. 24/1, is for 12 solo instruments. That leaves the op. 24/2 for five wind instruments heard here, to which Hindemith gave the title Kleine Kammermusik. Technically speaking, it falls outside the set of seven the composer designated Kammermusik, but in style it shares much in common with its siblings. Written in 1922, it is a delightful thing, peppy, perky, and playful, with just enough of those Hindemithian sour notes thrown in to give the piece a lemony zest. The Six Bagatelles by György Ligeti (b. 1923) is a fairly early piece written between 1951 and 1953, while the composer was still living in Hungary. The work is based on six movements from Ligeti’s Musica ricercata, and is clearly indebted to neo-Classical models, particularly Bartók and Stravinsky. Do not expect anything like the later spatial and spectral tone-cluster music that made Ligeti famous in the West.

I am of two minds when it comes to Carl Nielsen (1865–1931). Hearing his name so often in hyphenation with Sibelius (like Debussy and Ravel), I could not imagine how or why anyone would pair these two composers who sounded to me so utterly different in style and musical speech. Moreover, I was (and still am) a Sibelian to the core, and I was mystified that Nielsen, who seemed quite the inferior of the two, could be held up as an equal. Well, that was a long time ago, and before I really applied myself to learning Nielsen’s music. I still believe that Sibelius was the greater of the two composers, but they are so different from one another that comparisons are not very instructive. I have long since come to appreciate Nielsen for the individual and special voice that was his.

His Wind Quintet, op. 43, from 1922, is testament to that unique voice. At nearly 25 minutes, it is a substantive and masterful work. The concluding Theme and Variations movement, especially, is not only a brilliant display of wind-writing technique, but really beautiful and moving music.

What can I say about the Quintett Wien? These five musicians are more than masters of their craft; they come together as a perfectly blended ensemble that breathes as a single living organism. Truly magnificent. Nimbus captures them in an acoustic that is open and radiant, but not reverberant. I know that I will be playing this CD many times over.

Jerry Dubins, FANFARE

Beneath the shimmering surface of Delius’s little-known violin sonatas are the latent exuberance and nostalgic rapture which have made his orchestral music so popular. Across the decades separating the B major Violin Sonata of 1892 from the Third Violin Sonata of 1930, Delius developed a unique musical language which leavened the post-Romantic heritage of Wagner with French Impressionism and European and Afro-American folk idioms; an intoxicating mix that moved Sir Thomas Beecham to call him ‘the last great apostle in our time of beauty and romance in music’.

When he became music director in Cologne after the war at the age of thirty-three, Günter Wand insisted from the start on the inclusion of contemporary music in order to restore musical life amid the material and intellectual ruins. Among others, he championed composers as diverse as Walter Braunfels and Tadeusz Baird. This recording is typical of a program – with the added bonus of renowned horn soloist Dennis Brain and oboist Lothar Faber.

Dukas’ three major orchestral works make a logical and satisfying single program, and they are very well performed and recorded on this fine new disc from Naxos. There’s no guarantee, of course, that a French conductor will do especially well in French music, and no doubt Jean-Luc Tingaud does not wish to be pigeon-holed or limited only to the music of his countrymen, but he does play all three pieces with a certain idiomatic flair that’s both quite memorable and often excitingly fresh.

The Sorcerer’s Apprentice, which opens the program, receives a swift and brilliant reading, but also one notable for its naturalness and unforced musicality. Right from the start, in the slow introduction, you will register the way that Tingaud and the RTÉ wind players skillfully build long phrases from Dukas’ melodic fragments, and ensure that the tension never sags. The climaxes also are perfectly judged. La péri, with its opening fanfare brilliantly played, never lapses into the sort of droopy languor that tempts other artists into overindulgence: the music has both rhythm and impetus as well as lusciousness.

This reading of the Symphony in C major may be the most impressive performance of all. The opening movement is really gripping, and the long coda, which can sound like an artificial appendage, builds in energy right through to the final bars. Kudos to the orchestra for keeping up with some pretty hard-driving conducting here. The central Andante also is beautifully shaped and truly “espressivo”, but with no dead spots, while the lively finale offers a very satisfying conclusion. Although there is no shortage of available recordings of these works, or even discs that present them together, this one is as good as any, and better than most. Give it a shot.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

REGER Symphonic Fantasia and Fugue, op. 57, “Inferno.” Pieces for Organ, op. 145 • Edgar Krapp (org) • NAXOS 8.557891 (69:09)


The Symphonic Fantasia and Fugue opens with a violent fury, building to a quick climax, punctuated by chords and keyboard runs before diminishing into a calm meditation—all within the first minute. Throughout this 10-minute Fantasia, the music swells and diminishes, from climax to serenity. Edgar Krapp brings this off superbly. Max Reger considered his op. 57 the most difficult music he ever wrote, but Krapp never breaks a sweat. He has mastered this music and knows every nuance. He lets all the stops out in the Passau Cathedral in Eisenbarth, Germany, making no apologies for the intensity or force of the music. At times he seems carried away in a kind of divine madness, reveling in every decibel. The effect is exciting and dramatic. But the Fugue has a different character, and is not as successful, hampered by Reger’s penchant for thick writing. In the Fantasia (and throughout most of this recording), the sound captured by the Naxos engineers is vivid, clear, and even spectacular. But the Fugue is a little muddled. Yet every climax is captured superbly; Reger—and Krapp—emerge in triumph as if through the clouds. This is a mighty work that deserves to be heard more often.


Reger wrote his seven organ pieces in 1915–16, in the midst of World War I. These pieces are dedicated to key moments in the liturgical year; yet the war clearly lingered in Reger’s mind as he wrote. One senses sadness during the first piece, which was dedicated to those who died in battle. The second piece is a psalm of thanks, titled, “What God does, that is well done.” Dedicated to the German people, this too has dark moments and builds to a treatment of the familiar hymn, Praise to the Lord the Almighty . As this title indicates, there is a sense of recognition of God’s sovereignty at a time of war. But even in moments of triumph, there is a haunting touch of uncertainty. This is great music.


The piece focuses on Christmas, and Reger incorporates familiar choruses, including Silent Night . This, too, has a dark hue; everything is not quite so “calm and bright.” The fourth part focuses on the passion of Christ. The fifth celebrates his resurrection with a form much more like a chorale. The sixth celebrates the Holy Ghost. Fleet keyboard runs are woven into a strong, declaratory conclusion. The seventh is a victory celebration, highlighted by Reger’s adaptation of the hymn, Now thank we all our God (with Deutschland, Deutschland über alles ringing in the pedals). Some may feel that this uncomfortably mixes politics with music, but this did not bother me, and I found it to be stirring music, and highly enjoyable.


This is Volume 7 in the Naxos collection of the organ music of Reger, and the first that features Krapp. All of the recordings in this series that I have heard have been outstanding. This one is too. Highly recommended.


FANFARE: John E. Roos