Slowly and steadily, BIS continues its advocacy of the works of Swedish compatriot Allan Pettersson, a labor of love if ever there were one, since lovable this music certainly is not. The Third String Concerto is a huge work, with two ample quickish movements surrounding a monstrous, 25-minute-long central slow one simply marked "Mesto" (sad). Aside from its length, the music, whether ostensibly quick or slow, largely consists of static ruminations punctuated by abrupt, dissonant outbursts, and the lack of sustained music in quick tempos magnifies the listener's perception of the music's length indefinitely.

You might not find this a recipe for success, but the curious thing is that this awkward piece is much more successful, and more emotionally affecting, than the first two string concertos. Although much shorter, those seem little more than experiments when compared to this piece, in which the mature Pettersson is clearly operating. Despite the angularity of much of the writing, there is also melody, often clearly tonal and quite beautiful, and it always seems to crop up just when the music needs it most. Of course there's no effort to be ingratiating: all of Pettersson's music is heavy-duty stuff--but you won't feel as though he is being gratuitously gnarly, or that your time is being wasted by the merely miserable.

This performance also is much more successful than the competition (on CPO), being better played by the strings of the Nordic Chamber Orchestra, and is considerably quicker in the first two movements. This gives them greater coherence as well as tension--crucial qualities, as I'm sure you will agree, if you're intrepid enough to take the plunge. As usual, the BIS sonics are excellent as well. If you're in the market for this music, this is the recording you will need to own.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

I first heard the fearless Norwegian tuba player Øystein Baadsvik in the Aho concerto (review). I say fearless, for anyone who’s brave enough to play this instrument in a solo capacity deserves a medal of some kind. He’s since recorded several tuba discs for BIS – the Aho piece was subsequently reissued on BIS-SACD-1685 - all of which have found favour on these pages. The master of ceremonies here is the indefatigable Christian Lindberg, who has impressed me a great deal as both trombonist and conductor; in the latter role his recent Stenhammar recording deserves special praise (review).

The Arctic Philharmonic, one of the world’s newest – it was formed in 2009 – also has the distinction of being the most northerly on the planet. It’s not a band I’ve encountered before, but given Lindberg’s work with diverse ensembles – most recently the Royal Flemish Philharmonic – I’d say they are in very capable hands. That’s evident in the three-movement Baadsvik concerto which although not an instant hit grows more delightful with each hearing. Directed with commendable flair and enthusiasm the piece also highlights Baadsvik the soloist’s dexterity and finesse. His secure, nicely nuanced tone us nothing short of remarkable; the essentially songful central movement and its quiet, sustained close are simply gorgeous.

What I find endearing about this concerto is that it never overworks its material or outstays its welcome; that’s more than I can say for the stern, somewhat lugubrious Ness piece, a Baadsvik commission. Curiously the start brings to mind the deathly tread of Mahler’s Abschied; not what Ness intended, I’m sure. The liner-notes rather unhelpfully describe his current style as a blend of ‘post punk and ambient music’. I’m bemused by such statements, especially when they don’t offer an obvious entrée to the music being played. The composer doesn’t help by describing the title thus: ‘Bogey Thresher is a threshing machine for ghosts, i.e. a machine designed to harvest spectres.’ Despite some virtuosic playing from Baadsvik there’s rather more chaff than wheat here.

Lindberg is not at all precocious about Panda in Love, which he explains is nothing more than a juxtaposition of personal experiences and ‘mental images’. I suspect if instruments were animals the tubby tuba might just qualify as an Ailuropoda melanoleuca; indeed, the instrument’s full, ripe lower registers are very much to the fore and this, together with nimble rhythms, whoops and scale-like passages, makes for an inventive and witty display. The recording is equally impressive, although it does benefit from some extra ‘wellie’ — i.e. volume.

Two of the three concertos are well worth hearing; Baadsvik shines throughout.

– Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

Considered to be one of the great Nordic symphonies of its time, Wilhelm Stenhammar's Symphony No. 2 in G minor was a long time in the making. Stenhammar the conductor and pianist was a leading figure in the musical life of Sweden and Scandinavia, but in his role as composer he struggled with self-doubt, feeling that his knowledge of musical theory was insufficient. In 1910 he decided to address this perceived shortcoming, and began an intensive study of counterpoint which included setting himself several thousand assignments over the following decade. At the same time, between 1911 and 1915, Stenhammar composed his G minor symphony, and against this background it is hardly surprising that it displays his preoccupation with counterpoint, its final movement a grandiose double fugue. If the symphony is one of Stenhammar’s most celebrated works, his music for Strindberg’s A Dream Play is one of the least-known. It was composed for a production of Strindberg’s existential drama in 1916, a year after the completion of the Symphony. Rarely performed after that, the music was arranged into a concert version in 1970 by Hilding Rosenberg. Christian Lindberg and the Antwerp Symphony Orchestra have previously recorded Stenhammar’s Serenade to critical acclaim.

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REVIEW:

Lindberg’s reading of the 2nd Symphony moves with the sense of urgency Stenhammar most assuredly had in mind. The Andante lilts, the Scherzo swings, and he wisely keeps the busy contrapuntal finale bustling along. This glorious release should not be missed.

– Gramophone

This album, The Genteel Companion, is named after a book of the same name which was published in 1683 and contained tunes and instructions for the recorder. +Including compositions by John Baston, George Frideric Handel, William Croft, and more, this album is a broad look at recorder music of the Baroque era. The works here are performed by Richard Harvey on the recorder, and other outstanding musicians on period instruments.

My attention was won by the cover. There’s Jakob Lindberg holding the most enormous stringed instrument I’ve ever seen. The long neck of the instrument extends off into the distance and Lindberg himself looks completely unintimidated. There’s no way to resist that. Then I put on the first track, Giovanni Girolamo Kapsperger’s “Arpeggiata,” and was enthralled. It’s an extraordinary little piece, building with the minimalistic drama of a Philip Glass piece across chords and seemingly across the centuries. 

There are more gems to be had here. Kapsperger’s “Passacaglia” is a masterwork, the compact frame and starkly simple bass line concealing a work of enormous emotional fervor. I was going to call it “haunting” until I saw that the booklet - written by the artist - already does, and yet there really is not a better word. As always in the baroque byways, there are composers exploring harmony in interesting ways; most intriguingly, Alessandro Piccinini contributes a “Toccata cromatica” and Bellerofonte Castaldi a “Cromatica corrente”. Castaldi’s “Cecchina corrente” is more of a scene-stealer, bounding in with a burly, jovial dance but then, halfway through, breaking down into a more intricate rhythmic pattern. That said, it’s really Kapsperger who dominates this recital, since there is next to no music here better than the arpeggiata, passacaglia, or rowdily witty “Colascione”.
 
The main competition is from Paul O’Dette on HM Gold, a mid-price recital of nothing but Kapsperger. O’Dette uses a chitarrone for some works and a lute for most. He somehow misses out on the passacaglia, but his Kapsperger is well worth having too. In fact I purchased it after hearing the CD being reviewed here. A disc on Hänssler I haven’t heard, featuring Joachim Held on a lute, combines these three composers with the amusingly named Michelangelo Galilei. Castaldi’s songs with voice can be heard on Toccata Classics, and on a CD which was one of MusicWeb’s 2012 Recordings of the Year. For the neophyte this excellent BIS CD is a good sampler; depending on what you like you can move on to the composer-specific albums elsewhere, although I warn that you really will want to collect Kapsperger if you don’t already. If you do, I hear nothing which will let you down here.
 
A minor irritation: if you’re intending to add this to your computerized collection, you have your work cut out. The Gracenote (iTunes) database doesn’t have information on this CD, which means you’ll be typing in all 27 track names yourself.
 
-- Brian Reinhart, MusicWeb International

2 discs for the price of 1: included on a separate DVD is an hour-long film by David Lindberg about Allan Pettersson’s First Symphony and the preparation of the score.

Born on 19th September 1911, Allan Pettersson was a singular voice in Swedish, and indeed European, 20th-century music. Raised in a poor neighbourhood in Stockholm, his first instrument was a fiddle made by one of his brothers from a tin box and some strings, and Pettersson immediately realized that music was his calling. In 1939 he won a place as viola player in what is today the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra, but at this time he also began to compose – at first his Barfotasånger (Barefoot Songs) and chamber works. It was towards the very end of the 1940s, while he was working up the courage to leave his steady position, that he began to compose his Symphony No.1. In a letter he recounted how the symphony was growing and growing, and even threatened to swallow him up whole. Perhaps as a result of a study visit to Paris, where he had lessons with René Leibowitz and Arthur Honegger, Pettersson laid the work aside, but during the following years – and possibly as late as in the 1970s – he kept returning to the sketches. He certainly never abandoned the symphony, and in 1953 when he completed a second symphony, he insisted on calling that work his 'No.2'. On two previous discs, Christian Lindberg has conducted Pettersson's Three Concertos for String Orchestra as well as the orchestral versions of the Barefoot Songs. These were released to great acclaim, for instance in Fono Forum, whose reviewer dubbed Lindberg and the Nordic Chamber Orchestra 'more than ideal interpreters of Pettersson's music, which is as stark as it is fascinating'. Entrusted with the manuscript material – some 240 pages – of Symphony No.1, Lindberg was able to prepare a performable version and gave the work its world première in May 2010, conducting the Norrköping Symphony Orchestra. His recording of the work – and of Symphony No.2 – is accompanied by a DVD with an hour-long film by David Lindberg about Allan Pettersson's First Symphony documenting its genesis, the preparation of the performance edition and the path to the work's first performance and subsequent recording.