HOIBY A Pocket of Time. Pierrot. In the Wand of the Wind. Lady of the Harbor. The Lamb. Where the Music Comes From. To an Isle in the Water. Winter Hubris. Jabberwocky. Lied der Liebe. Nuits. I Was There. Autumn. Evening. The Darkling Thrush. Last Letter Home. Goodby, Goodby World. The Nightingale and the Lark • Julia Faulkner (sop); Andrew Garland (bar); Lee Hoiby (pn) • NAXOS 8.559375 (75: 12)

"With the exception of Robert Ward (still active at 92, last I heard), Lee Hoiby (now 83) is probably America’s oldest traditional neo-Romantic still composing. Although he has made valuable contributions to most musical genres, his songs, choral anthems, and operas represent his most distinguished efforts. Hoiby’s musical language places his best efforts in the stylistic vicinity of such composers as Samuel Barber and Ned Rorem, while his lesser efforts call to mind the music of Gian Carlo Menotti. But this is not to suggest that Hoiby doesn’t have a voice of his own; indeed, he does, although it is perhaps not such a strikingly individual one. Less pretentious than Rorem’s, Hoiby’s music is even more resolutely tonal and diatonic than that of his three confreres, and more consonant harmonically as well, although fluid modulations, chromatic and modal ambiguities, and well-placed dissonances keep things active and interesting.

Hoiby’s songs display a remarkably consistent sense of good taste: though many of his texts deal with intense, vulnerable emotions, rarely, if ever, does he cross the line into kitsch. In addition, his workmanship, sensitivity to language, and wide range of expression are on a par with Barber’s, placing them among the most sensitive and rewarding of American art songs.

Lee Hoiby’s songs are part of the vocal repertoires of most singers who include music of the 20th century on their programs. Listeners with a taste for neo-Romantic lyricism are strongly urged to sample this music if they are not already familiar with it, and Naxos’s budget price keeps the risk at a minimal level."

FANFARE: Walter Simmons

Michael Daugherty is a wonderful composer, and these three pieces make splendid listening. Fire and Blood is a violin concerto, and a damn fine one. Violin concertos are exceptionally difficult to write, especially in balancing the soloist against a large modern orchestra. Daugherty handles the challenge with aplomb. In the first movement, for example, he keeps the accompaniment light but colorful. Sounds that come across as hackneyed in the hands of other composers, such as harp glissandos or little glockenspiel accents, here sound freshly imagined, while the solo writing offers much that is genuinely lyrical and beautiful. Ida Kavafian puts plenty of heart into her playing, really digging into the tunes while making light of the technical difficulties.

Raise the Roof, for timpani and orchestra, does exactly what the title promises, but once again the music never sounds gimmicky. MotorCity Triptych features the orchestra's fine brass section: trumpet in the second movement and three trombones in the third. Daugherty's style mixes popular music idioms with traditional classical forms with complete naturalness. You never feel that he's trying too hard, or merely being trendy. Neeme Järvi and the band make exactly the bold, glittering sounds that the music requires, and I can only wonder why a disc that was recorded between 2001 and 2003 is only being issued now. Great sonics too.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

John Corigliano is a man of many talents – composer, teacher, record producer. This enterprising disc showcases both his earlier work (the violin sonata) and a set of variations based on his score for François Girard’s 1997 film The Red Violin. Sensibly, Naxos have paired them with violin vignettes by Virgil Thomson, perhaps best known for his film scores The Plow That Broke the Plains and The River.

The Russian-born violinist Philippe Quint may not be a household name on this side of the Atlantic but he has made quite an impact in his adopted homeland. Apart from winning a slew of prestigious awards he is dedicated to performing American music. He is partnered here by the charismatic pianist William Wolfram, who made an impact of his own with a fine disc of Donizetti opera transcriptions [see review].

Briefly, The Red Violin traces the travels of the eponymous instrument from Italy in the late 1600s to 19th-century England, China during the Cultural Revolution and finally to Canada in the 1990s. The conceit will be familiar to anyone who has read Accordion Crimes by Brokeback author Annie Proulx.

Corigliano won an Academy Award for the original score, which he has reworked as a set of five variations. From the outset it’s clear we are in the presence of a very fine fiddler. Quint produces a lovely warm tone in the elegiac opening to Variation 1, not to mention some scintillating passagework in the ensuing Con bravura. But it’s in the third variation that he really surprises, with an almost throaty sound. He seems perfectly in control at all times, especially in the quick, rhythmically precise writing towards the end of this variation. In Variation 4 he is wonderfully eloquent, too, and the instrument’s upper registers really sing. He also imbues the music with a meditative quality that is most attractive, notably in the final variation. Even in the more agitated passages he bows with great precision and bite, the engineers capturing the weight and character of sound very well indeed.

For anyone looking to sample Corigliano’s work this is an excellent place to start. His music is described as ‘neo-tonal’ but as so often the label doesn’t tell you a great deal about what to expect. Lightweight it may be but this is skilful music adroitly played. Ditto the violin sonata, where Quint is joined by Wolfram, whose first imperious entry is a sign of what’s to follow. Both soloists are warmly recorded, the violin tone nicely balanced by a weighty piano.

Wolfram proves he can play quietly and with feeling in the Andantino, in marked contrast to his jaunty Allegro. They both respond well to this meanderingly beautiful movement. But even here the music has a habit of modulating into something a little wilder before returning to its gentle wanderings. Indeed, there are times when one is reminded of Korngold’s violin concerto. But whatever the echoes it’s delectable stuff and superbly played.

The third movement – Lento – is more austere than anything we’ve heard thus far; Wolfram restrains the violin’s attempts to break free with darker more declamatory music. The tension is never fully resolved – shades of Shostakovich’s piano trios, perhaps – the movement ending in an enigmatic violin fade.

The final Allegro has a rollicking, silent-film quality that conceals writing of some subtlety and skill. Wolfram springs the rhythms with real affection, Quint shooting the musical rapids with ease. It’s a witty and engaging conclusion to a delightful work, helped by playing of rare commitment. Indeed, it’s hard to imagine this performance being easily trumped.

Virgil Thomson, like his contemporary Aaron Copland, belongs to that small group of composers whose work captures the spirit of America, whether in rousing tributes to the Wild West or evocations of its landscapes and rivers. But the works recorded here are altogether more urban – sophisticated, even – dating as they do from Thomson’s years in Paris.

The Three Portraits, arranged for violin and piano by Samuel Dushkin, are charming vignettes. It’s not essential to identify the subjects, who are rendered here with obvious insight. The first is a tipsy barcarolle, the second a haughty tango, both essayed with rhythmic subtlety and an artist’s eye for defining detail. The bird-like third portrait, complete with trills, is for violin alone. Fresh, open, never sly or knowing, these pieces are little gems.

Five Ladies, written in the 1930s but only published in 1983, offers more of the same but this time without the intervention of an arranger. If anything these pieces are more focused, the writing more distinctive than before. They really are the simplest of sketches, a series of telling musical pencil strokes. The soloists echo this disarmingly simple style with playing of lightness and grace.

The Eight Portraits, written between 1928 and 1940, give Quint another chance to demonstrate his skills. At first they can seem a little dry, almost like a set of practice pieces, but Quint individualises each of them with a range of mood and colour that is most impressive. That said, the material is overstretched at times. Minor caveats aside this really is playing of a high order, self-possessed yet never self-regarding.

Such fine performances of rarely heard works are what make the American Classics series indispensable. Indeed, this is one of the most consistently satisfying projects in the entire Naxos catalogue. And while this disc doesn’t qualify as mould-breaking or profound, it’s well worth hearing.

-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

If you enjoyed Vol. 1 in this ongoing series of Leroy Anderson's warm and beautifully crafted orchestral works, then you'll surely want this release as well (and probably the next one too). The performances are just as fine, and once again we get several important premieres, most notably A Harvard Festival (a sort of Academic Festival Overture, complete with organ to add extra weight to the climaxes) and Lullaby of the Drums. Only a few of Anderson's better-known works are here, most particularly The Waltzing Cat and Jazz Pizzicato, and once again there is one (relatively) large piece, the Suite of Carols, though this doesn't compare in importance to the marvelous Piano Concerto featured in Volume 1. Still, Anderson's brand of melodious charm is timeless, and you'll doubtless find many very enjoyable discoveries on this well played, well engineered disc. Kudos also go to Slatkin for lavishing such care and enthusiasm on "pops" repertoire. Easily recommendable.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Also available - Leroy Anderson: Orchestral Music Vol 1
Jeffrey Biegel's rendition of the terrific Piano Concerto is the best yet. Among the smaller pieces you'll find familiar favorites, but also some lesser-known but no less delicious surprises. Under Slatkin's baton the melodies flow effortlessly. -- ClassicsToday.com

Also available - Leroy Anderson: Orchestral Music Vol 3
Naxos continues its celebration of Leroy Anderson's 100th anniversary year with this third volume of his works, including popular favorites "The Typewriter," "Sandpaper Ballet," and "The Syncopated Clock."

No matter how well we think we know the music of a specific composer, we are consistently surprised when something from the darker recesses of their output appears on a concert program or a compact disc. Beethoven left a small but significant quantity of wind chamber music. Small but significant. Is that a contradiction in terms? Under some circumstances it might be, but in the case of Beethoven, the answer is a resounding “Nyet!” The fact is, Beethoven’s Sextet, op. 71 (scored for clarinets, horns, and bassoons), and the Octet, op. 103 (which adds a pair of oboes to the makeup of the Sextet), have earned a place of honor in the wind ensemble repertoire. So has the brief but lovely Rondino, WoO 25, which is scored for the same forces. There are less familiar works as well, including three duets for clarinet and bassoon, and the music for double reed trio on this recording.

Among the musicians that Beethoven encountered in the capital of the Austro-Hungarian Empire were the oboists Johann Wendt, Georg Triebensee, and his son, Josef. Tradition indicates that Beethoven’s Trio, op. 87, was inspired by similar works penned by Wendt and indeed, he wrote several such works for himself and Triebensee père et fil. The existence of more than a fistful of such seemingly oddly scored works is an indicator of the popularity of the genre at the time. Both the trio and the Mozart variations appear to date from the late 1790s and there is speculation that the variations were the original finale to the lengthier and more complex trio. Beethoven virtually abandoned wind chamber music after the turn of the 18th century, but works such as the trios recorded here and other music from his early years were instrumental—pardon the pun—in developing his treatment of the orchestral winds.

The Beethoven works owe their contemporary success to the composer’s ability to write for a group of winds that is somewhat analogous to a string configuration of two violins and viola or a vocal ensemble of two sopranos and an alto. There is no true bass instrument; the underpinning is assigned to the English horn, as is some of the melodic work. The Trio, op. 87, is full of the confidence of youth, almost bordering on braggadocio, but Beethoven’s sure footed treatment of the material and the way in which he dispenses it to the performers herald some of the great things to come. The set of variations on “La ci darem la mano” is among my favorites in the wind chamber music repertoire. It offers daunting challenges, both technical and expressive, and much contrast in style throughout its nine-minute run. All of the performers are put through their paces, especially the English horn in the second variation and the first oboist in the fifth. Melodic lines are tossed back and forth with the ease one would expect from Beethoven, and a delightful scherzo-like section dovetails into a quasi Andante variation on the theme, which concludes the work.

Beethoven’s circle of friends in Vienna included the brothers Paul and Anton Wranitzky. The youngest of the pair, Anton, was a much-respected composer, conductor, and concert manager. He studied with the best (Mozart, Albrechtsberger, and Haydn) and was so highly thought of that he went on to become leader of the Imperial Court Orchestra and of the orchestra at the Theater an der Wien. Undoubtedly Wranitzky worked with Wendt and Josef Triebensee at some point and either favored them with this trio gratis, or wrote it on commission from them. The trio could almost be termed a symphony for two oboes and English horn, for all of the elements are there, a fully-developed sonata-form first movement, a sunny and uncomplicated andante with a pleasant set of variations, the traditional minuet, and a buffo rondo finale in which all three protagonists chatter away like so many village gossips. These are relaxed, genial, and well-articulated readings that must be as much fun to play as they are to listen to. Textures are pellucid, clearly defined, and blended with masterly expertise. The sense of give-and-take between these three people is exceptional and the replications of old instruments project a unique and pungent tone that lacks the nasal quality found in their modern counterparts. Sadly, there is one problem. These three outstanding American wind-players have no collective name. I like Prevailing Winds. What about you?

Michael Carter, FANFARE

This second Naxos Dvorák violin and piano disc presents--in arrangements both by Dvorák and others--works that for the most part were originally composed for alternate media. Among the more interesting are Fritz Kreisler's Slavonic Dances transcriptions (Nos. 2, 10, and 16), played with energy and imagination by Qian Zhou and Edmund Battersby. The duo especially excels in the final Op. 72 dance, wonderfully projecting the music's winsome mood. Dvorák's Humoresque, Mazurek, and Songs my mother taught me are all instantly recognizable favorites, while the Ballad in D minor and Capriccio are the only two works in this collection originally composed for violin/piano duo. The Nocturne in B major is a high point of the disc, although this engrossing arrangement cannot compete with the radiant beauty of the string orchestra original. Naxos' recording sets the performers at a comfortable distance, creating an ideal balance between violin and piano. --Victor Carr Jr., ClassicsToday.com

"Felix Mendelssohn's surviving output for violin and piano comprises three sonatas, written between 1820 and 1838, thus spanning the mature phase of the composer's creative life, and a handful of shorter apprentice pieces. They're all elegantly constructed and tuneful works that you'd think might have attracted a wider following on disc and in the recital room. Instead, Mendelssohn's violin triptych is seriously under-represented on CD, and most of the short pieces haven't been recorded at all, so this budget newcomer is long overdue. The performers, violinist Nicholas Milton, concertmaster of the Adelaide Symphony Orchestra, and the Icelandic pianist Margrét Grímsdóttir, give strong, positive readings of these works on this nicely engineered Naxos issue. The student works, composed between 1819 and 1821, are basically composition exercises produced for Mendelssohn's teacher, Carl Friedrich Zelter; but so were the miraculous String Symphonies, and these violin pieces are scarcely of lesser quality, with the two Fugues (in D minor and C minor) reflecting the young Mendelssohn's extraordinary skills as a contrapuntist. The Nomos Duo gives competent performances of these slighter offerings, and delivers tersely argued, forthright readings of the three mature sonatas."

--Michael Jameson

COATES String Quartet No. 9. 1 Sonata for Solo Violin. 2 Lyric Suite for Piano Trio, “Split the Lark, and You’ll find the Music 2,3” • 1 Kreutzer Str Qrt; 2, 3 Peter Sheppard Skaerved (vn); 3 Neil Hyde, (vc); 3 Roderick Chadwick (pn) • NAXOS 8.559666 (58: 51)


I get the feeling that Gloria Coates does not spend a lot of time worrying about whether or not other people enjoy her music. That is a compliment, not a complaint. Whether or not you like what she does, she does it with a very personal style and with great conviction. The present CD, the fifth of Coates’s music to be released under Naxos’s American Classics imprint, ranks very low on the list of CDs one would play as light background music during a convivial dinner with friends. Coates’s music, this CD included, forces one to consider why we listen to music at all, and to examine what we mean by “entertainment.” To my thinking, entertainment, in the usual sense of the word, is overrated. We need to devote equal time and effort to moving ourselves into new emotional and intellectual territories, even at the risk of causing ourselves a little pain.


Coates is an American who now lives in Germany. In an interview, she describes the German culture as “very serious and formal,” and comments, “One is left alone much of the time unless he plans ahead.” Is there anyone in the United States who is writing music quite like Coates’s? Not that I am aware of. Her music says difficult things—things Americans seem unwilling to say at this point.


This is the world premiere recording of her recent (2007) String Quartet No. 9. The work is in two movements, both of them slow, and both of them making an almost obsessively detailed exploration of texture and sound. The first is a canon and nearly a palindrome, although the materials thus treated are not only melodic but also textural. The long, siren-like glissando, a trademark of Coates’s music from the start of her career, appears six minutes in and produces an unsettling effect. The listener also is thrown off kilter by pitch, because the first violin and the viola are tuned down one quarter-tone. Glissandos occur in the second movement, albeit within a narrower range; imagine listening to the slow movement of a late Beethoven quartet on a turntable whose motor is giving out and from an LP that has been pressed off-center. As Kyle Gann writes in his booklet notes, “The atmosphere is unworldly, creepily dissonant and yet serene, a kind of music of the spheres.”


The Sonata for Violin Solo (2000) allows aspects of Coates’s compositional style to stand out in stark relief. The movement titles—Prelude, Fantasia, Berceuse, and Hornpipe—suggest Handel or Bach, or at any rate more “traditional” composers, but once again, Coates goes her own fascinating way.


One might think that Emily Dickinson would elicit a brighter response from any composer. All of the Lyric Suite’s (1996) seven movements are headed by a fragment from Dickinson’s poetry. The Belle of Amherst was a mystic and a visionary, though, and Coates’s music underscores the notion that much of Dickinson’s work was actually quite strange, considering the time and place in which she lived. Once again, unusual playing techniques, including strings tuned a quarter-tone flat, create a sound world that is eerily beautiful and queasy.


For Coates newbies, any of the discs featuring her orchestral works might be a slightly easier introduction. Nevertheless, I feel that the present CD is an honest representation of who she is and what she does.


The Kreutzer Quartet has participated in earlier Coates recordings, and the quartet’s first violinist, Peter Sheppard Skærved, has championed Coates for her music for two decades. (Neil Heyde is the quartet’s cellist.) It is hard to know what to say about the performances, except that there would be little point in performing and recording this music if one didn’t believe in it. Separately and together, the quartet’s members, plus pianist Chadwick, are committed to the task, and carry it out with deep concentration.


As usual, the cover art is a painting by Gloria Coates, whose visual art looks much like her music sounds. As the saying goes, when God gave out talent, she stood in line twice.


FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle