REVIEW:

The Philadelphia Orchestra’s first two releases for Ondine under Christoph Eschenbach (Bartók and Tchaikovsky) were extremely good, no doubt about it, but this Mahler Sixth is really extraordinary. Part of its success must stem from the fact that the best German conductors usually do misery especially well, finding the dark side of just about everything. If you don’t believe me, check out Kurt Sanderling’s startlingly deep and edgy rendition of Poulenc’s Concert Champêtre on Supraphon. So you can just imagine what can happen with a piece like Mahler’s Sixth. Anyone fortunate enough to have heard Eschenbach’s performances of this work with the NDR Orchestra in Hamburg will know that he has a special feeling for its harrowing intensity and expressionistic instrumental palette. Toss in the collective virtuosity of the Philadelphia Orchestra, and the result is, to put it mildly, pretty special.

As a coupling, the early piano quartet movement is more appropriate than you might at first think. First of all, it shares the same key as the symphony, and second, it’s useful to have it along as part of an all-Mahler program, allowing collectors to round out their collections without having to search for an acceptable all-chamber-music program. The engineering also represents the best in this series so far, with virtually no audience noise, tremendous presence in both stereo and multichannel formats, and extremely natural balances between orchestral sections. I know that Mahler Sixes seem to be a dime a dozen these days, but this one, a first for Philadelphia, belongs among the elite few (Bernstein I and II, Chailly, Levi, T. Sanderling, and Gielen). It’s just bloody thrilling.

— ClassicsToday.com (David Hurwitz)

REVIEW:

Aarre Merikanto’s career divided broadly into three phases, those of apprentice, radical and conservative, and there are works from each present on this valuable new issue. Critical hindsight accords (quite rightly) that the brief radical phase, roughly corresponding to the 1920s, was the most valuable, though at the time Merikanto’s modernistic approach – and that of his like-minded contemporaries, Ernest Pingoud and Vaino Raito – was derided. Only one piece here represents this period, the highly accomplished tone-poem, Pan (1924), a wonderful, evocative, yet robust score, possessed of a very Nordic brand of impressionism. The playing of the Tampere orchestra is perhaps not quite as refined as the Finnish Radio Orchestra under Segerstam, but Ollila catches more of the dangerousness of the goat-footed deity.

Lemminkainen (1916), by contrast to Pan, seems immature, and rather parochial. A Sibelian shadow lies heavily across its quarter-hour duration, yet without a trace of the older composer’s own Lemminkainen tone-poems. There is little of the latter’s emotional and psychological depth – or musical range – but instead a prevailing rollicking good humour broken occasionally by quieter, more serious moments. The remaining works all date from the early stages of Merikanto’s post-modern period, when he reverted to a simpler, more accessible idiom. The Four Compositions (1932), which barely exceed Pan in length, nevertheless make a very effective and satisfying set, and whereas the Andante religioso (1933) seems like a piece out of context, the Scherzo (1937) is entirely convincing on its own. Taken together, these five works make a much more positive impression than did the rather uneven Pingoud works (Ondine, 2/98), especially in performances as sympathetic and well-recorded as these. Quietly recommended.

-- Gramophone [8/1998]

This CD features the acclaimed Finnish pianist Olli Mustonen with piano works by Alexander Scriabin, which have become his signature pieces in concert. Olli Mustonen has been hailed by The Sunday Times as, “a living dream of pianism, having broken through an expressive barrier that other players do not know exists.”

A most desirable addition to Tiensuu’s discography…magnificent.

REVIEW:

This brand new release from Ondine offers three recent works by Tiensuu. They help considerably in appreciating his evolution over the last few years. Incidentally a pair of Alba CDs (ABCD 224 and ABCD 258, both reviewed here by Rob Barnett and the present writer) also went in the same direction.

Tiensuu is a most secretive composer reluctant to comment on his music and preferring to leave it to the listener to make up his own mind about the music. Moreover the titles of his works are often quite enigmatic, which does not make the task any easier. This is the case with Vie composed in 2007 and subtitled “Concerto for Orchestra”. The title might probably mean “life” although it might also relate in some way or another to the English verb “to vie”. In fact this does not seem to matter a lot because the music speaks for itself and is brilliant enough to engage the mind and heart. It opens with a forceful, ostinato-based gesture that recurs at various points in one form or another as a unifying thread of sorts. At one point the music halts in a more static section in which the music almost disintegrates into isolated fragments; this before proceeding into a Scherzo-like section in turn leading into a rather forceful coda abruptly cut short. Vie is a real showpiece full of instrumental virtuosity, arresting textures and sometimes intricate rhythms.

Tiensuu has often claimed that he considered that “the ancient conception that music is the shortest path to higher spiritual spheres” was one of the most relevant premises of creative work for him. However, although Missa bears a definitely religious title, it is difficult to relate the work (Tiensuu’s second clarinet concerto) to anything religious. The only tenuous link is that the seven movements of the work refer to the different parts of a traditional Mass and that the music may reflect the character of those parts. The rather anguished mood of the Introitus spills into the sadly pleading Kyrie. The Gloria is an animated movement with intricate rhythms and allusions to Klezmer. The ensuing Credo opens hesitantly but then moves onwards with some assertiveness, at times verging on brutality before petering out unresolved. Sanctus is a fairly animated affair with capricious rhythms. The Agnus Dei opens calmly on high strings weaving a soft backcloth for the soloist’s song, sometimes echoed by the orchestral clarinets. The piece ends with a brief Ite.

The subtitle “Morphosis for Orchestra” might hint at what False Memories is about. A close analysis of the score - something beyond my skills - might show the way the variations evolve. The work is in three movements (Review, Nostalgy and Trauma). Again these titles may give an idea of the music itself. “Review” opens with strongly articulated, syncopated rhythms and, soon established, the capricious mood of the movement is maintained throughout. In its unsentimental way the music of the beautiful slow movement speaks for itself as does that of the troubled final movement that provides an unresolved conclusion.

Tiensuu’s recent music obviously takes a step further towards greater accessibility although it is still far from being easy, especially on the performers’ part. Even so, it clearly displays a new-found pleasure in music-making. Tiensuu obviously relishes the many textural possibilities of the orchestra. These three works undoubtedly demonstrate the composer’s enjoyment in his brilliant handling of large orchestral forces.

The performers clearly partake of that same delight with Storgårds conducting vital and immaculately prepared readings of these exacting and ultimately rewarding scores. Kari Kriikku is his own self in the demanding part of Missa which he handles with exemplary technique and remarkable musicality. The recording is just superb making the best of these often luxuriant scores.

This release might well be the best introduction possible to Tiensuu’s highly personal sound world.

-- Hubert Culot, MusicWeb International