Rudolf Kempe (1910–1976) was born near Dresden and in 1930 joined the celebrated Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra as first oboe. After his debut as a conductor in 1935, he joined the German army in 1942 but was ‘retired’ the same year and went back to conducting. A large number of engagements followed after the War, at the Saxon State Opera, the Dresden Staatskapelle, and as music director of the Bavarian State Opera (1952–1954). Kempe opened the 1951 season at the Vienna State Opera, and appeared at Covent Garden in 1953 (conducting Strauss with enormous success), and later at the Metropolitan Opera in New York in 1955.

He declined to become Covent Garden’s director twice but remained a regular and much-admired conductor at Covent Garden and on the concert platform both in London and on the Continent. He became chief conductor of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra (1961–1975) and the BBC Symphony Orchestra in 1975 until his untimely death in 1976. In Europe, he became chief conductor of the Zürich Tonhalle Orchestra in 1965 and in 1966, general music director of the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra.

The first part of the Douze Toccates by Hans Georg Nägeli was published in Zurich in 1808; there was no second part. On the title page, the composer conceals himself behind an “éditeur” of the same name. Prominent status, on the other hand, is given to the Répertoire des Clavecinistes, a series that ran from 1803 to 1805 in which Nägeli published a total of 15 volumes with works by Clementi, Steibelt, Dussek, Beethoven and others. The choice of “auteurs”, whose works he included in the Répertoire and to whom he dedicated the Toccates, reveals Nägeli’s view of the latest developments in music for the keyboard. Clementi and Beethoven in particular stand out for him as representatives of an era in which “contrapuntal writing is interwoven with artful display by the pianist”, as he writes in the “Announcement” of the Répertoire in the musical press. It is his aim that the Toccates should be understood as an observation on this turning-point in music history. There are therefore good reasons to combine Nägeli’s Toccates with works by Clementi and Beethoven on this release. Nägeli’s pieces enter into a historical context that is an integral part of the Toccates as aesthetic objects, not mere surroundings to them. We hear Nägeli’s pieces in Nägeli’s musical world and Nägeli’s musical world in the pieces. The musical portfolio of Els Biesemans has many aspects to it. After studying piano, organ and chamber music at the Lemmens-Institut in Leuven, Els Biesemans specialized in the varied keyboard styles of the 18th and 19th centuries at the Schola Cantorum Basiliensis. With a repertoire ranging from medieval music to the modern era, Els Biesemans is the recipient of numerous international awards.

Shura Cherkassky was born in Odessa, Ukraine in 1909 and died in London in 1995. He was initially taught by his mother who had played for Tchaikovsky, but when the family moved to the US in 1923, he studied with his long-time teacher and mentor, the legendary Josef Hofmann, before auditioning for Rachmaninov. Prior to World War II, he had made his name in the US but from 1945 he extensively toured Europe and settled in London in 1961. The last of the great Romantic tradition of pianists, Cherkassky was described by Bryce Morrison as a ‘mercurial genius’, a unique personality, blessed with an incredible technique, who delighted in defying convention as no performance was identical. For a musician reluctant to visit the studio, live performances were the showcase for his stunning virtuosity and creativity caught on the wing.

Bryce Morrison, the celebrated critic and authority on piano music, described the pre-eminent Hungarian pianist as follows: ‘Annie Fischer was among the greatest and most richly comprehensive of all pianists’. The distinguished Russian pianist Sviatoslav Richter, notoriously critical, described her as ‘an artist imbued with a spirit of greatness and with genuine profundity’.

Fischer was universally acclaimed in Mozart, Beethoven, Schumann, Schubert and Chopin as well as her own compatriots, Liszt, Bartók and Kodály. Despite her international reputation, however, in comparison with other pianists of her generation she is probably the least represented on disc. This was mainly due to a distaste for the recording process - she preferred the freedom and spontaneity of live performances. It is a well known that her studio recordings of the complete Beethoven Piano Sonatas were made over many years and with many different producers. She was never satisfied with the results, so in this BBC recital of selected Beethoven sonatas, Annie Fischer is heard as she would have wanted - live and caught on the wing, making this recording very valuable. Misha Donat, her producer for Sonata No.30, said: “she hated working in the studio so these are real performances; they were always done in a complete ‘take’, though sometimes she would play through a movement twice”.

Despite the very large number of recordings already made of this musical corpus, Minnaar and de Vriend have proved that they have something new and totally their own to say about this collection of masterpieces. And it is indeed the peculiar blend of sheer energy and esprit de finesse that can be identified as the distinctive brand or these recordings. Gramophone: "a Beethoven cycle [which] is a bold move, but one that pays off in all sorts of ways"

Step back to a time when the night was an antithesis to the clarity of illumined day. In the especially fertile imaginations of the 19th-century Romantic composers, this was a time when the world gave itself over to mystery and magic. These works explore the “otherness” of night and its potential for strangeness. The album also focusses on the theme of passion, mostly from the Romantic period. In the especially fertile imaginations of the 19th-century Romantic composers, this was a time when, shielded from the gaze of the Almighty, the world gave itself over to mystery and magic: lovers met for forbidden trysts, revelers drank and cavorted through the small hours, and spirits walked the earth. In this album, Brownell hopes to transport you out of our sterile, modern understanding of night and into the stranger, more interesting reality it must have been for most of human history.

Described by Musical Opinion as “potentially one of the most significant pianists of his generation, since winning 1st Prize at the 2005 J.N. Hummel Competition (Bratislava), he has achieved widespread recognition as “one of the foremost Hummel interpreters of our time” (Hudobný Život). Brownell’s performances have been seen and heard on BBC radio and television, Classic FM, NPR, CBC, ORF, and RBB KulturRadio. He has been soloist with orchestras such as the Hallé, Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, and Calgary Philharmonic.

In the opening Allegro con brio movement of the Piano Concerto No. 2, Beethoven follows Classical rules, concentrating on the two principal subjects of a double exposition—orchestra first, the soloist next—then a development section, and finally, a recapitulation. The main themes in their cheerful confidence are distinctly Beethoven’s. However, their working out is clearly influenced not only by Haydn but also by the recently departed Mozart. The middle movement—Adagio, in E flat major—hints at the slow movement of the Fourth Concerto to come a decade later. It is, in effect, an accompanied fantasia that resembles a carefree theme and variations, with an attention-getting solo recitative-like passage at the end. The twice-rewritten finale, Molto allegro, combines sonata and rondo forms, with perhaps the nicest surprise of all saved for last: a brief solo rumination which the orchestra brusquely interrupts with a terminal tantara. Mozart may have been his model, but the spirit here is pure young Beethoven.

Far from any kind of drama, the first movement of Ravel's G Major Concerto emphasizes joy, elegance, and cheerfulness. It all starts with a crack of a whip! Ravel sets out five thematic figures with Spanish influences and glissando-like jazz sounds; “circus-like elements” are also particularly evident in his extensive use of percussion. The Adagio offers the greatest possible contrast to this. The movement is characterized by simplicity and discretion. The final movement, Presto, abruptly tears the listener away from the melancholy mood. The music unfolds at a breathtaking speed, defined by circus-like percussion. The piano-playing is determined by frantic activity, indeed, by breathlessness. The motifs are sometimes onomatopoeic, now and then syncopated, at times march-like and grotesquely distorted, but always tempestuously pressing ahead until the fanfare from the beginning abruptly ends the work.

George Antheil called himself a ‘Pianist-Futurist’. A lover of speed, cars and airplanes, the American composer settled in the Paris of the Années Folles, where he frequented Picasso shows and Stravinsky concerts, and composed works such as the Sonate sauvage and Jazz Sonata, which caused a scandal: during a concert in Budapest, he even brandished a pistol to restore silence in the hall . . . He hero-worshipped Beethoven, whose pieces he played in the first part of his recitals before moving onto his own music. In 1933, he returned to the United States, where he met John Cage and Morton Feldman. Patricia Kopatschinskaja and the young Finnish pianist Joonas Ahonen – whom The Times, following what the journalist described as ‘one of those concerts you remember for ever’, presented as the violinist’s ‘doppelgänger’! – pay tribute to the self-proclaimed ‘Bad Boy of Music’.

Critical acclaim from the New York Times:

"George Antheil (1900-59) was a technophilic, self-declared bad boy of music; regardless of whether that’s true, he didn’t please his way into the canon. Here, however, this American composer gets a tribute that places him in a lineage of innovators from Beethoven to the mid-20th century — traced by the daredevil violinist Patricia Kopatchinskaja and an enthusiastic partner in the pianist Joonas Ahonen.

"...Antheil would perform his works alongside, say, something from a century earlier, and Kopatchinskaja and Ahonen do the same by programming Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 7 in C minor. It is a fiery and freely interpreted account reminiscent of Gidon Kremer and Martha Argerich’s fearless, unpredictable, at times unwieldy recordings from the 1990s.

"Like the Beethoven, the Antheil is in four movements, but it blends traditional form with a thoroughly modern sound that, in this reading, bustles at a breakneck pace with percussive and metallic timbres. Looking beyond Antheil’s generation, the album also includes pieces by Morton Feldman and a nocturne by John Cage, works that subtly recall the sonatas but also stand alone as studies in sound-making and extremity — of strength and softness, of overtone-rich expanses. Executed with discipline that borders on mechanical, they couldn’t be better suited to a world according to George." --The New York Times (Joshua Barone)

In each volume of my complete recording of the piano sonatas of Ludwig van Beethoven, I have clearly chosen the order of pieces with autobiographical criteria in mind. Over the past 15 years, my work as a pianist has increasingly migrated toward music-making in partnership with others. Whenever I was asked what became of my solo playing, I had to answer with a shrug, explaining that I needed a sort of sabbatical to let me practice solo repertoire undisturbed before I started giving solo piano recitals again. Then, covid struck. All of a sudden, I had time on my hands.

Beethoven und Schulhoff in Dialogue
Schuch:"Indeed, it’s quite exciting to look at what was going on exactly 100 years ago – perhaps because 1923 doesn’t seem all that distant to us.
Certain events and circumstances seem to mirror one another a century apart. From a musical point of view, Erwin Schulhoff’s piano concerto is a truly interesting work that has not attained the recognition it deserves…
In terms of style, the piano concerto, composed between 11 June and 10 July 1923, is one of those works where Schulhoff radically deals with the dance types of jazz, which had crossed the Atlantic at the end of the First World War and spread out from Paris until taking all of Europe by storm…
No other pair of composers could be more different – on paper – than these two.
Schulhoff always took a decisive stance against traditionalism. Indeed, he may have been something of an iconoclast, but he was also a talented and well-trained pianist – a pianist who wanted to earn success in that very role. Of course, Schulhoff studied the Beethoven concertos, performed them, and ultimately also took the opportunity (like many other composers before him) to put his stamp on these works by writing his own cadenzas…
…It was also in Berlin – in February 1923, to be exact – that Schulhoff conceived and worked out the cadenzas for the first four Beethoven piano concertos…" (Excerpts from the booklets notes)