Shakespeare's Tempest - Sullivan, Sibelius / Stern, Kansas City Symphony
Reference Recordings
CD
$18.99Jul 07, 2008
Arthur Sullivan's music for The Tempest reveals the 19-year-old as a serious talent. Yes, the music owes something to Mendelssohn--the Prelude, particularly, takes a few major hints from the Fingal's Cave Overture. But the melodic inspiration is fresh, the orchestration vivid, the dance music aptly toe-tapping, and the brief postlude curiously moving in a way that actually anticipates the more reflective moments of the Sibelius that follows. Coupling these two works, one a barely known first orchestral essay, the other a late but still curiously neglected masterpiece, was a brilliant idea--a "concept" album that really makes good musical sense.
The playing order of the Sibelius also is very intelligent: Prelude (Storm), Suite No. 2, then Suite No. 1, which ends with a reprise of the Prelude's storm music. Happily, both here and in the Sullivan, the performances are as smart, atmospheric, and vibrant as the music itself. Caliban's Song and the storm episodes have impressive power, and they're stunningly recorded in vintage Reference Recordings fashion. The more lyrical moments, such as the Berceuse and the various song transcriptions, are all beautifully played by the Kansas orchestra. The wind soloists are uniformly fine (listen to the flute in The Oak Tree, from Suite No. 1), and the harp, so important to the music's "magic" elements, is wonderfully present without ever sounding spotlit. Only "Miranda" from Suite No. 2 sounds a touch edgy in the violins, the tempo slightly rushed. This and any other minor quibbles certainly aren't enough to prevent me from recommending this new release in the strongest possible terms. It's a winner in all respects.
Tchaikovsky: Violin Concerto; Bartok: Violin Concerto No 2 / Stern
Audite Musikproduktion
CD
$14.99Sep 24, 2013
TCHAIKOVSKY Violin Concerto1. BARTÓK Violin Concerto No. 22 • Isaac Stern (vn); 1Lorin Maazel, cond; 2Ernest Ansermet, cond; Swiss Festival O • AUDITE 95624 (69:37) Live: Lucerne 18/23/1958; 28/18/1956
This release is of particular interest to me, for as one who was born, raised, and lived most of my life in San Francisco, I probably saw and heard Isaac Stern perform live in concert and recital more times than any other single artist. That, of course, was because of Stern’s close ties to the city in which he grew up and studied violin under Louis Persinger, one-time teacher of Menuhin, and with Naoum Blinder, the San Francisco Symphony’s then concertmaster. In 1936, Stern made his debut with the orchestra under the baton of Pierre Monteux, and though he would soon leave San Francisco to pursue a career as one of the world’s most recognized and sought-after violin virtuosos, he returned often to the city that had nurtured him to appear with the orchestra and in recital with his long-time accompanist, Alexander Zakin.
In 1945, Stern signed a recording contract with Columbia, an association that lasted uninterrupted for 40 years, one of the longest such artist/record company alliances in history. And during those years, Stern joined forces with famous conductors, orchestras, and chamber musicians to record the entire mainstream violin concerto and chamber music repertoire, and beyond, often more than once. If you grew up in the 1950s and began collecting records in junior high and high school, as I did, the chances are you grew up with Isaac Stern spinning on your turntables. He was Columbia’s intended rival to RCA’s Heifetz, and I readily admit that I learned much of the violin literature from Stern’s recordings before I discovered those by other celebrated artists.
These versions of the Tchaikovsky and Bartók concertos—let it be stipulated that we are dealing with Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 2, the more famous one, so it needn’t be repeated on each subsequent reference—are not only previously unreleased, they’re claimed to be quite rare, as Stern was seldom recorded live. A 1959 Brahms Concerto with Monteux and the Boston Symphony at Tanglewood was captured live and released by West Hill Radio Archives, which, I presume is still available since it was reviewed by Richard Kaplan as recently as 35:3. But that was the Brahms, not the Tchaikovsky or the Bartók; and while Stern revisited the Tchaikovsky on a number of occasions with different conductors and orchestras, his track record with the Bartók, as far as I know, is limited to his one and only other version, a commercial studio recording he made two years after this one, in 1958, with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic. That, of course, makes this Audite release all the more valuable.
Of the Tchaikovsky—not counting this live performance—there are four others I’m aware of: (1) a 1949 recording with Alexander Hilsberg and the Philadelphia Orchestra; (2) a 1958 recording with the same orchestra under Eugene Ormandy, released in both mono (ML 5379) and stereo (MS 6062) and originally coupled with the Mendelssohn Concerto, but reissued a number of times in various sets and singles, including one coupled with the Sibelius Concerto; (3) a 1973 recording with Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic; and (4) the violinist’s last, a 1978 recording with Rostropovich and the National Symphony Orchestra.
Let me deal with the Bartók first, since there’s only one other Stern version to compare it to, the aforementioned studio recording with Bernstein. Before proceeding, however, I need to voice a disclaimer. I’ve had Stern’s Bartók with Bernstein on LP for longer than I can remember, but I haven’t dusted it off and listened to it in ages because, frankly, I never liked it. The reason goes back to my opening paragraph, where I reminisce about seeing and hearing Stern live on numerous occasions in San Francisco, though never in the Bartók.
It was around that same time, however, that another San Francisco-bred violinist, who also returned regularly to the city to play with the orchestra, appeared in 1957 to perform the Bartók. I’m referring, of course, to Yehudi Menuhin, and that was my very first time hearing the Bartók. It made a deep and lasting impression on me.
In that same year, Menuhin made his classic recording of the piece with Antal Doráti and the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra, which was released on a Mercury Living Presence LP, and which I promptly acquired and haven’t parted with since. Menuhin had a special affinity for the piece—he’d recorded it four years earlier for EMI with Furtwängler and the Philharmonia Orchestra—and I found his reading of it not only more idiomatic than Stern’s but more rapturous. Nothing in Stern’s performance transported me the way those magical moments did towards the end of the second movement in Menuhin’s recording with Doráti.
Stern, of course, didn’t suffer the deterioration in bowing that was already quite evident in Menuhin’s playing by 1957, but it may have been because of that, rather than in spite of it, that Menuhin’s performances took on a sense of vulnerability which made them all the more moving. Stern’s live Bartók under Ansermet in 1956 on the present CD is markedly different than his studio Bartók under Bernstein in 1958, and in some ways I like it better. At first glance, as you can see from the timings below, there’s an overall difference of only 16 seconds between Stern/Ansermet and Stern/Bernstein, which would suggest that despite different conductors, Stern’s view of the work hasn’t changed.
Stern/Ansermet (1956)
Menuhin/Doráti (1957)
Stern/Bernstein (1958)
15:39
15:30
16:22
9:47
9:08
10:01
11:33
11:08
10:52
36:59
35:46
37:15
But a closer look at the timings of the individual movements tells a different story. Under Bernstein, the first movement is almost a minute slower, which is just enough to make it sound a bit slack and lacking in thrust. Compare Stern/Ansermet to Menuhin/Doráti; they’re much closer, with Menuhin being only nine seconds faster. But tempo aside, in both cases, they project the music with a greater febrile intensity. Similarly, in the second movement, though Stern/Bernstein isn’t much slower than Stern/Ansermet, it loses even more of a sense of momentum under Bernstein, and considerably so compared to Menuhin/Doráti.
I think it’s in the last movement, though, that there’s a more serious interpretive misconstruing of the score under Bernstein. Bartók, as is well known, was intrigued by formal symmetry and proportional balance; many of his works exhibit both micro and macro mirroring structures, such as arch forms. The Violin Concerto is no different. The second movement is a set of variations, while the third movement is a variation on the material presented in the first movement. Therefore, it’s important for a performance to present the Finale in a way that reflects the tempos and thematic connections to the first movement. Stern/Ansermet and Menuhin/Doráti manage that better, in my opinion, than does Stern/Bernstein.
It wasn’t until receiving Stern’s previously unreleased Bartók that I was able to make this three-way comparison, and it reinforced for me my general lack of appreciation for the Stern/Bernstein version. Of course, one could make many other comparisons as well, for Bartók’s Concerto has been quite lucky on record. There are superb performances by Henryk Szeryng with Bernard Haitink and the Concertgebouw (another favorite of mine, next to Menuhin), Gil Shaham with Boulez and the Chicago Symphony, and for something more recent, a recording by James Ehnes with Gianandrea Noseda and the BBC Philharmonic on Chandos.
I’ve limited my comparisons to the above three because of their proximal dates, because of the San Francisco connection (both Stern and Menuhin coming of age there, and my hearing the Concerto for the first time performed there by Menuhin), and because Menuhin had a special association with the piece, though he was not the first violinist to play it. Zoltán Székely gave the premiere with Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw in 1939, while Tossy Spivakovsky gave the American premiere in 1943 with Artur Rodzi?ski and the Cleveland Orchestra.
Stern’s Bartók with Ansermet is a fine one, and preferable, I think, to his effort with Bernstein. When it comes to the Tchaikovsky Concerto on this disc, there isn’t much to say. Something that can be said of Stern is that he was a remarkably reliable, even-tempered player. He wasn’t an artist prone to either spontaneous white-hot inspiration or to having off days. When you bought a ticket to a Stern concert or a new Stern recording, you knew in advance what you were going to get, and what you got was never less than good, solid, professional musicianship of a very high caliber.
Frankly, I hear little difference between this 1958 Tchaikovsky with Maazel and the violinist’s studio recording with Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra that same year. If there are any differences worth noting, they relate to the orchestral playing. The Swiss Festival Orchestra is an ad hoc assembly of musicians who come together annually for the Lucerne Festival. The players are all professionals, but they’re drawn from various ensembles around Switzerland and from various European orchestras. Well-rehearsed as they are, it would be disingenuous of me to say that they’re a match for the Philadelphia Orchestra in its prime under Ormandy. So, if you have the Stern/Ormandy Tchaikovsky in one or another of its various incarnations, I don’t think this one adds anything of any special merit to Stern’s recorded legacy. The Bartók, however, I believe does, so recommended to all audiences for the Bartók and to Stern fans in particular for a heretofore unpublished live performance recording of the Tchaikovsky. FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
This release features three of the greatest musicians of the twentieth century, and some would even argue of all time: violinist Isaac Stern, cellist Leonard Rose, pianist Eugene Istomin, and conductor Georg Szell. These musicians, in addition to their illustrious solo careers, formed a trio which performed all over the world for many years. These live performances from July 13, 1966 include Beethoven’s Triple Concerto for Violin, Cello and Piano in C major, Op. 56, as well as Brahms Double Concerto for Violin and Cello in A minor, Op. 102. The capable Cleveland Orchestra paints a beautiful backdrop for these musicians without overcoming them in any way. Leonard Rose is without a doubt one of the most prominent cellists and pedagogues of the twentieth century. After completing his schooling at Philadelphia’s Curtis Insitute of Music, he joined the NBC Symphony Orchestra under Arturo Toscanini and almost immediately became associate principal. At 21 he became principal of the Cleveland Orchestra, and just five years later principal of the New York Philharmonic. American pianist Eugene Istomin was a child prodigy. When he was only twelve years old he entered the Curtis Institute, and at seventeen won the Philadelphia Youth Award. He debuted with the Philadelphia Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic the same week in 1943. Ukranian born Isaac Stern moved to San Francisco when he was only 14 months old. He enrolled at the San Francisco Conservatory where he studied under Naoum Blinder. At fifteen he made his public debut with the San Francisco Symphony performing Sant-Saens’ Violin Concerto no. 3.
Principal Harpist of the Philadelphia Orchestra Elizabeth Hainen's first release for AVIE spanned three centuries of Harp Concertos (AV 2221). Her new Kickstarter-funded release, Les Amis, features a rare pairing of works by Claude Debussy and André Caplet, exploring the composers' friendship through their respective works Danse sacrée and Danse profane, and the evocative Masque of the Red Death, with Michael Stern and the IRIS Orchestra. Rounding out the recording, Elizabeth solos with a transcription of Debussy's Petite Suite, originally for solo piano, and Caplet's Divertissements, and is joined by her own amis, fellow Philadelphia Orchestra principal flautist Jeffrey Khaner and violist Roberto Diaz, President of the Curtis Institute, in Debussy's Trio Sonata for Flute, Viola and Harp. critical acclaim for Elizabeth Hainen's Harp Concertos (AV 2221) "The entire production has class and great aural resonance, a real delight to add to an otherwise neglected body of music." ¬- Audiophile Audition "Hainen plays with impressive virtuosity." - Fanfare "The tonal range of Hainen's playing, coupled with her technical finesse and sense of style, bring allure to the entire disc." - The Daily Telegraph
Saint-Saens: Symphony No. 3 "Organ" / Stern, Kansas City
Reference Recordings
CD
$18.99Jun 09, 2015
Rather than parachuting in any headline-catching international soloists, the Kansas City Symphony has enlisted its concertmaster and principal cello as protagonists in two of the Saint-Saëns works. Noah Geller is soloist in the Introduction and Rondo capriccioso, and he is joined by cellist Mark Gibbs in the once rarely heard but now almost ubiquitous La muse et le poète. Backed by airy orchestral textures, Geller exudes lyrical warmth and a perky rhythmic spirit in the first work, and in the second he uses the violin’s wily flights of fantasy to engage Gibbs’s poetic cello in an intimate dialogue.
Then comes the big beast of the programme, but, as always, the crucial test is not so much the volume of the organ but the way in which the orchestral context of the symphony as a whole is established. Here Michael Stern impressively injects impetus into the first section’s sinewy fabric, alert to instrumental colour and the contrapuntal discipline and intrigue of the writing. The organ, making its muted first entry in the Adagio, is a 5,548-pipe Casavant Frères instrument, an integral part of Kansas City’s Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts where the recording was made, as indeed is Jan Kraybill who plays it. Stern crafts a proper, stately Adagio but an Adagio with momentum and shapely contours, and he ignites real fire in the Allegro moderato of the symphony’s second part. When the tempo changes to presto, the piano’s arpeggios and scales are prominent enough to make their point without leaping out at you, just as the organ in the finale asserts its grandeur without overwhelming the orchestral palette.
Even in a competitive market, this version has a distinct edge.
– Geoffrey Norris, Gramophone
When it rains, it pours. This is the third recording of Saint-Saëns’ Organ Symphony in nearly as many months, and like the previous ones, it’s remarkably good. The Kansas City Symphony under Michael Stern withstands comparison to any of the competition. My only quibble with the interpretation comes in the first movement, where Stern’s concern for precision of rhythm, otherwise admirable, seems to preclude that last bit of intensity at the tops of those crescendos that propel the principal theme onward into the second subject.
Otherwise, this is an unusually vivacious and texturally transparent reading, recorded with welcome clarity in an acoustic that never permits detail to get obscured by excessive reverberation. The balance between organ and orchestra in the finale, even when everyone is blasting away, could not be more perfect. In the serene Adagio too, which flows with impressive poise, the soft tones of the organ add just the right touch of color to support the strings and solo woodwinds. In the scherzo, Stern keeps the rhythm taut, and he doesn’t drag out the quiet coda to the point where one’s patience begins to run thin. In the finale everyone really does pull out all of the stops, literally and figuratively, bringing the work to a thrilling conclusion.
The fillers are welcome, and not the usual stuff. Le muse et le poète is a rarely heard late tone poem with parts for solo violin and solo cello, more than ably taken by orchestra principals Noah Geller on violin and Mark Gibbs on cello. Geller also plays an excellent, sunny Introduction and Rondo capriccioso. And let’s not forget organist Jan Kraybill in the symphony. I do wish, though, that Reference Recordings had included a stop list in the booklet. The instrument has some interesting timbres and I would have liked to know what resources it calls upon to make them. Audiophiles will want to hear this for the superb sonics, but the musical values are just as strong..
Mozart: The Piano Quartets / Ax, Stern, Ma, Laredo
Sony Masterworks
CD
$17.99Oct 15, 2014
The G minor Quartet is one of the most fervently passionate of all Mozart’s chamber masterpieces – so much so that the publisher who commissioned a set of three piano quartets was utterly taken aback by the uncompromising style of this first work in the series, and Mozart agreed to release him from the remainder of his contract. By that time he had already composed the more genial E flat major Quartet, but he never completed the set. What is immediately striking about these new performances is how stylish they are, with Emanuel Ax providing discreet ornamentation for the repeats, as well as a tasteful cadenza leading into the return of the rondo theme in the finale of K478. But they are much more than that: what they reflect above all is a real joy in music-making and a willingness to allow the music its full expressive range. At first, I regretted the lack of the long second repeat in the opening movement of the G minor quartet – one of Mozart’s great second-half repeats – but the playing generates such intensity that a further hearing would have been emotionally draining. No Mozart lover should miss this.
Dvorak: Piano Quartet, Romantic Pieces, Sonatina / Ax, Stern, Ma
Sony Masterworks
CD
$17.99Jan 16, 2014
A chamber-music ensemble of star instrumentalists is an oxymoron; this foursome proves to be the exception. Isaac Stern is the key: His thrilling tone may have diminished and impeccable technique eroded, but his innate musicality has grown into wisdom. He is the Rudolf Serkin of our day, influencing innumerable young artists to become musicians rather than superstars. Which is not to slight the three others here: Each fits the mold perfectly, and Laredo and Ma have been strongly influenced by both Serkin and Stern. The four play as one, with youthful exuberance as well as the wisdom of age. The playing is filled with rhythmic vitality and avoids any touch of sentimentality. That it also has little Czech warmth is emphasized by rather clinical recorded sound. There have been more emotional performances (Josef Suk and colleagues) and more elegant ones (Artur Rubinstein with Guarneri members, Menahem Pressler with Emerson), but this sturdy reading is well worth hearing.
The duo performances are in a similar mold. The Sonatina is a delight, a blend of spirit and ease. The Romantic Pieces need a more luminous tone and vivacious expression than Stern provides. He receives sympathetic support from pianist Robert McDonald.
Isaac Stern's career as a solo artist, chamber musician, and much else (he led the movement to save Carnegie hall) was remarkable. This album of his live performances is an eloquent testament to his musical insights, technical command and his gorgeous, luminous tone. Isaac Stern was born in 1920, in Krimieniecz, now in Ukraine. A year later his parents came to San Francisco. Violin lessons began at eight, with Naoum Blinder. Two years later he made his debut, playing Bach double concerto with his teacher. His Town Hall debut in 1937 was followed by a Carnegie Hall debut in 1943. He was the first American artist to tour the former Soviet Union-and as a result became a deeply respected figure there. The campaign to save Carnegie Hall began in 1960. The Six-Day War of 1967 saw his iconic performance of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto with Leonard Bernstein on Mount Scopus. His involvement with Hollywood, which began in 1948 with his performance in the film Humoresque, was followed up in 1971, when he played on the soundtrack of "Fiddler on the Roof". His travel to China in 1979 led to a resurgence of classical music in that country, documented in "From Mao to Mozart". He recorded prolifically and received countless honors and tributes. Isaac Stern passed away at the age of 81 in 2001.
Tchaikovsky: Piano Concerto No. 2 & Concert Fantasia / Nebolsin, Stern, New Zealand Symphony
Naxos
CD
$9.99$19.99Save 50%Sep 09, 2016
Tchaikovsky has long maintained his position as among the most popular of all composers, his unequalled gift for melody and colorful orchestration given added depth through a rich Russian soulfulness. The Second Piano Concerto has always lived under the shadow of the famous First but, played here in the composer's original version, is full of life-enhancing character and emotion. Both this and the Concert Fantasia also contain beautiful chamber music sections allowing unique interaction between soloist and orchestra.
-----
REVIEWS:
Nebolsin opts for a reading that is refreshingly mellow, almost intimate and, above all, profoundly lyrical. His focus is on the shape of the phrase, inflected with the most delicate rubato. Stern and the New Zealanders mirror this rhetorical flexibility with great skill and subtlety. The finale has a fleet lightness, heightening the overall golden bravura of the concerto.
– Gramophone
Nebolsin hardly puts a foot wrong, and Michael Stern secures rhythmically vibrant playing from the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra.
Turning 40 this year, Jonathan Leshnoff is proving to be one of the most gifted traditionalist composers of his generation. Born and raised in New Jersey, he is a graduate of the Peabody Institute in Baltimore, and cites as his most important teachers Moshe Cotel and Thomas Benjamin. He seems to have settled in Baltimore, and is currently Composer-in-Residence of the Baltimore Chamber Orchestra, and on the faculty of Towson University.
This is Naxos’s second release devoted to the music of Leshnoff. I reviewed its predecessor favorably in Fanfare 34:3; that one featured a violin concerto and a string quartet. Looking back at that review, I see that I wrote this about his Violin Concerto: “Flagrantly and unabashedly tonal and melodic, its conventional and accessible style calls to mind the music of Lowell Liebermann, though it reveals a greater sense of expressive urgency.” Funny, I was thinking exactly the same thing as I listened to this CD, except that I find this more recent release even more appealing by quite a margin. Like the earlier CD, each piece falls into a slightly different stylistic category, yet each remains satisfying in its own way.
Almost immediately after composing his Violin Concerto, Leshnoff was asked to write a Double Concerto featuring violin and viola. He completed the work later the same year, in 2007. This ambitious four-movement concerto grabbed me immediately. Its style is thoroughly traditional and clearly tonal in the late-romantic sense. That is, the listener will hear nothing that couldn’t have been written by a neo-romantic composer 50 years ago. This is, of course, a bold and courageous posture for a composer to take, because not only does he place himself in direct comparison with many celebrated figures of the recent past, but his chosen language makes it virtually impossible for him to avoid the “sounds like” references that so many critics use to diminish the stature of traditionalist composers and their works. I must emphasize that “sounds like” references in this review are provided solely to give the reader a frame of reference that might facilitate his forming a mental impression of what the music sounds like, not a criticism or accusation of “derivativeness.”
Lasting nearly half an hour, the Double Concerto is a serious, passionate work in four movements. Its opening movement is fraught with a grim, heartfelt pathos strongly reminiscent of Ernest Bloch. The second movement is a lively, exciting scherzo with no shortage of lyrical moments. The third movement is a mysterious nocturne that returns to the somber cast of the opening. The finale is a perpetual-motion affair that calls Shostakovich to mind; despite its continuous vigor, it ends the work on a subdued note. The solo performances, featuring violinist Charles Wetherbee (who excelled in the aforementioned Violin Concerto) and violist Roberto Díaz, are truly masterly, while the orchestra, under the direction of its founder, Michael Stern, provides the solid, confident support one might expect of a far more seasoned ensemble. The IRIS Orchestra, formed in 2000 as the resident orchestra of the Germantown Performing Arts Center in Tennessee, is extraordinarily fine, and Stern appears to be a committed advocate of Leshnoff’s music.
Leshnoff’s Symphony No. 1 was commissioned by Stern, and is subtitled, “Forgotten Chants and Refrains.” It was completed in 2004—earlier than the Double Concerto—but is more obviously a work of the turn of the 21st century, in its emphasis on sonority and gesture reminiscent of the music of Joseph Schwantner, as well as in its passages of rhythmic stasis. The work comprises five movements, played without pause, and is supposedly a “Brotherhood of Man” sort of statement. Lately I find myself on a campaign against references to extra-musical content and meaning that are not borne out by the music itself. I have no particular criticisms of Leshnoff’s Symphony, which I enjoyed greatly; I just think that its pretense of “[speaking] to all humanity in an uplifting way” is irrelevant. The Symphony opens with a slow introduction that produces a great sense of anticipation, which is released in the energetic movement that follows. The third movement—the centerpiece—is the longest, and after an eerie opening, becomes more hymn-like, with quotations from earlier religious music, including Gregorian chant (presumably for purposes of spiritual uplift), before returning to its initial mysterious character. The fourth movement also includes quotations and, like the second, provides rapid activity through swirling gestures. The finale, “Resolution,” is solemn and chant-like, bringing the work—like the Double Concerto—to a subdued conclusion. Despite my carping about extra-musical meaning, this is a satisfying work with potentially broad appeal, demonstrating that there is still plenty meaningful to say within the symphonic genre.
Rush is a relatively short, very animated work dating from 2008 that partakes of the post-minimalist manner of John Adams and Michael Torke. It is quite successful in generating the kind of excited exuberance for which such pieces seem to strive, although Rush offers quieter moments as well.
As indicated earlier, the performances presented here are superb, and the music provides just less than an hour of fully enjoyable listening.
Even composers such as Rossini and Verdi revered and valued Johann Simon Mayr (1763-1845) highly. Known for a long time only as Donizetti's teacher, his oeuvre has experienced a well-deserved renaissance in recent years. The Belgian-Israeli pianist Edna Stern and the Georgisches Kammerorchester (Chamber Orchestra) Ingolstadt under Ruben Gazarian present piano concertos nos. 1 & 2. Intellectual curiosity, a questing spirit and an uncompromising rigorousness in the service of music are the three major aspects of the personality of Edna Stern and of her conception of musical interpretation. Her repertoire ranges from J.S. Bach and his son Carl Philipp Emanuel to Luciano Berio and contemporary composers, playing on period instruments as on modern ones. She has been invited to play recitals and chamber music at the Festivals la Roque d'Anthéron, Colmar, MDR, Ludiwigsburg Festsspiele, at the "Moments Musicaux" of Châtelet or at the Palais des Beaux-Arts of Brussels. She has also appeared, both with an orchestra and in solo recitals, at the Concertgebouw of Amsterdam and at the Tonhalle of Zürich. She has also played chamber music with the quartets Ebène and Lotus, The Oxalys ensemble, as well as with Alban Gerhardt, Magali Mosnier, Alexandre Tharaud and the violinist Amandine Beyer.
Gassmann: Ah, ingrato amor - Opera Arias / Vegry, Stern, NDR Radio Philharmonic
CPO
CD
$18.99Aug 07, 2020
The soprano Ania Vegry, the recipient of many prizes, was nominated by Opernwelt as the Young Artist of the Year in 2009 and has been an ensemble member at the State Opera of Lower Saxony in Hanover since 2007. The Online Musik Magazin certifies that “her soprano voice, most highly fluent in the coloraturas, possesses warmth and substance, expressive power, and flawless intonation” – which makes her the ideal choice for the rich affections of the arias of Florian Leopold Gassmann, an Austrian composer on the cusp between the Baroque and Early Classicism. After two years of study with Giovanni Battista Martini, Gassmann became an organist in Venice. In 1757 he composed his first opera, and through 1762 he composed an opera every year for the Carnival season In Venice. The musical settings heard on this recording include arias belonging to the genre of the opera seria, the Italian-language serious opera of the eighteenth century. Others are exit arias in da capo form and typical of the genre: after the action – designed as a recitative in the music during the course of a singer’s time on stage – has advanced, one of the protagonists expresses his state of heart and mind in an aria before he exits from the stage. The da capo form (A-B-A) underscores the fact that dramaturgically the static unity of the affection to be expressed occupies the foreground. In his later vocal works Gassmann goes much farther in his elaboration of textual nuances, so that the works have the effect of vocal arias for an opera buffa. The text is bursting with emotional excitement, which Gassmann sets in a relaxed tone and with long coloraturas composed with fine art.
