Herbert von Karajan and the Philharmonia Orchestra sometimes had a tense working relationship, especially during the period of their US tour in the autumn of 1955 and the beginning of their European one in January 1956. Yet, as these live broadcasts repeatedly demonstrate, that tension resulted in music-making of astonishing power, scorching intensity and unrivalled beauty. The tensions became a trend in Karajan’s later career, too. It happened with the Vienna Philharmonic at Salzburg in the mid-1960s, and it happened again towards the very end of his tenure with the Berlin Philharmonic, but rarely were the results as magical as those he achieved in the 1950s with the Philharmonia.

Karajan and Tchaikovsky have never struck me as particularly suited to one another (all of his studio recordings have, in one way or another, left me wondering if he really understood the music). And this really goes to the root of the Karajan problem for many listeners: There are two Karajans, one bound to the precisions of the recording studio, the other completely – and unidiomatically – improvising on the concert platform. I find many live Karajan performances to have such a deep sense of inner conflict it is almost impossible to take any one performance out of the context of what preceded it, and this is certainly true of the 1955 Tchaikovsky Fourth we have here. We do not have the Sibelius Fourth which came before it, but the turbulence, urgency, passion and drama of the Tchaikovsky are uncommonly vivid; it is a performance that is as much about the composer as it is about the conductor.

Karajan struggled with Sibelius’s Fourth throughout his career (indeed, he rarely programmed the symphony), and the only live recording I have ever heard of him doing the work (in January 1978, released on Fachmann or, more readily available, on Palexa) is the most devastating and bleak performance imaginable (not unlike his remarkable Philharmonia studio recording of the work). Karajan drives the Philharmonia in the Tchaikovsky into quite dark territory – climaxes are more like moments of crisis, the instrumental narrative seems closer to a psychological confession, and though there is much beauty to the phrasing and playing, it is so taut and angular as if the music has been stitched together with razor wire. There are eruptions in this performance that are dazzling, and the virtuosity is just on the side of effortless. It is fluid, yet volcanic, without sounding mannered as Karajan sometimes could be under studio conditions. And the improvisation he manages is replicated by players who are given the space to phrase their notes with genuine character, though the interpretation is not for one moment stretched out or slow. One can certainly listen to this Tchaikovsky Fourth on its own terms, though given how radically different it is to any of his studio recordings, how much darker and more tragic it sounds, the bleakness of the unknown Sibelius hangs over Karajan’s performance of it like none other by this conductor, in my view. It is absolutely compelling, and shattering.

The Philharmonia were always exceptional in French music – and the Ravel which completes the first CD is ravishing. It is not just the precision of the playing which is so marvellous, it is the breath-taking quality of their dynamic range. The mezzo forte of the opening Prélude is beyond criticism, as are the gloriously muted strings of the Philharmonia. For a conductor who could sometimes seem passive and ambivalent about rhythm, the flamenco and Habanera are rather sensual, and the Feria is a joy.

The second CD of this set is given over to a Mozart concert from 6th February 1956, the last concert the Philharmonia gave with Karajan as part of their European Mozart bi-centenary tour. The ‘Haffner’ had opened the huge programme of three symphonies, which included the Tchaikovsky Fourth, back in July 1955, and here we have the work again, coupled with the great Clara Haskil in the K488 and Mozart’s ‘Jupiter’, a symphony which Karajan seemed to have abandoned in the studio during his late August 1953 recording sessions with the orchestra at Kingsway Hall (a Beethoven Fifth suffered a similar fate the same month). Karajan’s Mozart certainly could not be called HIP, though these Philharmonia performances are much less imposing than live recordings from either Berlin or Salzburg. This is not just because the sound of the Philharmonia is so much leaner, and more tensile; Karajan himself is much more flexible than he later became in Mozart. The K488 with Haskil, a pianist of extraordinary sensitivity, which in part was necessitated by her physical frailty, is intensely poetic – very different from the masculine, urbane recording that Karajan and the Philharmonia made with Gieseking in 1951. The two Mozart symphonies are both beautifully played, fleet enough with tempos to just escape sounding heavy.

These are important additions to Karajan’s Philharmonia discography, in more than tolerable sound. One sometimes has to remember that the Philharmonia Orchestra was principally founded to make recordings and concerts came a distant second. Karajan, it seems, only conducted the orchestra about a hundred times in concert (from 1948 to 1960) – less than twenty of those concerts being in London, and six at the Edinburgh Festival. The rest were conducted in Europe and the United States. Whilst a Don Juan, from Turin, and a Tallis Fantasia, from Naples, both from the October 1954 European tour exist, little else does. The Tchaikovsky we have here is stunning, the Haskil Mozart a minor miracle… but I do rather think one would have killed to get hold of a live Philharmonia/Karajan Sibelius Fourth too!

– MusicWeb International (Marc Bridle)

This outstanding performance was recorded as part of the Philharmonia Orchestra’s 70th concert season. Led by Honorary Conductor for Life Christoph von Dohnanyi, this recording was taken live at the Royal Festival Hall in October of 2015. Believed by many to be Schubert’s greatest symphony, this work is interpreted by Dohnanyi beautifully, and with grandeur and intensity.

Pianist Min-Jung Kym makes her recording debut on Signum Records, leading the Philharmonia Orchestra under conductor Clemens Schuldt in performances of Beethoven's Piano Concerto No. 4, and joined by Zsolt-Tihamer Visontay for Mendelssohn's Double Concerto for Violin, Piano and String Orchestra in D Minor. Steinway Artist Min-Jung Kym has acquired an internationally recognized reputation performing with some of the world's leading orchestras and musicians, and has enjoyed collaborations including with (amongst others) Barry Wordsworth, Alison Balsom, the Haffner Ensemble, Pierre Amoyal, Leon Bosch, Joy Farrall, Andrew Haveron, Sergey Levitin, Adrian Brendel, Thomas Carroll, Mats Lidstrom and the soprano Susan Bickley. Min-Jung was the 'pianist of choice' for the masterclasses of the legendary violinist Ruggiero Ricci. "Min-Jung is an exceptionally talented pianist, with a wonderfully controlled and even technique, combined with a highly sensitive approach to the music." (Ruggiero Ricci)

With the famous Symphony No. 6, this album contains a lesser-known part of Tchaikovsky's repertoire - the Sérenade mélancolique, with the extraordinary Leonid Kogan playing the solo violin - the Variations Rococo, with Danil Shafran playing the cello and especially the Suite No. 3 for Orchestra, a composition wrongly forgotten by the common discography of the Russian composer. This release is a tribute to one of the biggest Russian conductors of the 20th century, gathered at the top of his career.

The performance of Tchaikovsky's Symphony No.1 in April 2002 with the BBCSO was the last concert he gave before his death two months later. Svetlanov's studio made Tchaikovsky recordings with the USSR Symphony Orchestra for Melodiya in the 1960's were the cornerstones of the catalogue at the time and he brings an unqualified authority to the Barbican concert recorded here. Svetlanov's account of Stravinsky's Firebird is superbly detailed and imaginative with the Philharmonia in tremendous form. The digital sound recorded in the Barbican for both performances is totally natural and warm. These live recordings are issued for the first time on CD.

SCHOENBERG 6 Songs, op. 8. 1 Friede auf Erden. 2 6 Pieces, op. 35. 3 Ei, du Lütte. 4 Kol Nidre. 5 Moses und Aron: act II, sc. 3 excerpts 6 • Robert Craft, cond; Jennifer Welch-Babidge (sop); 1,6 David Wilson-Johnson (rabbi-narr); 5 Simon Joly Chorale; 2–6 Philharmonia O 1,5,6 • NAXOS 8.557525 (78:31)


It’s our job to listen carefully to every recording, but I sometimes put on a disc—for its first hearing—while doing something else, just to let its music seep into my (un?) consciousness. My immediate response was: This is Schoenberg ? Most of the Six Songs, op. 8, of 1903–04 have somehow escaped this Schoenberg-lover; they are all flat-out gorgeous. The Brahms-loving composer leaned more on Wagner here, the rich harmonies only a touch more adventurous than his. The vocal writing is thoroughly operatic; these could be six dramatic arias, each with an orchestral prelude and postlude. The orchestrations are varied and colorful, hinting at Zemlinsky and even Tchaikovsky, as well as The Ring . The results are closer to Gurrelieder than to anything else of Schoenberg. Perhaps the popularity of these songs has been limited because they are not a united song cycle but six separate works, or perhaps it’s because no one has sung them like Welch-Babidge (there are recordings by Anya Silya and by Eva Marton). I was not particularly impressed by her Marzelline in the Met’s Fidelio , but she is magnificent here, displaying full, rounded tones over a wide register and dynamic range, consistently landing on pitch across many leaps. Her voice recalls a young Phyllis Bryn-Julson, although I never heard the latter tackle dramatic writing with such a high tessitura. Each song is a major piece; they vary in length from one-and-a-half to nearly six minutes, spanning over 25 minutes altogether.


This is the a cappella original of Friede auf Erden (“Peace on Earth”), written in 1907 when Schoenberg was searching for new ways but hadn’t yet settled on any. Craft’s chorus manages the difficult music well, but the piece still fails to make much of an effect. The Six Pieces for male chorus (“Inhibitions,” “The Law,” “Expression,” “Happiness,” “Mercenaries,” and “Obligation”) are no more successful. Schoenberg wrote his own texts, which are poorly expressed pieces of vague social and religious philosophy—at least in English translation; it’s difficult to imagine what he had in mind. The music may be more interesting to analyze than to hear; Craft does so at length in his always-educational program notes. Ei, du Lütte (“Oh, you little one”) is a brief, charming chorus written when Schoenberg was 21.


With Kol Nidre (1938) we return to top-notch Schoenberg—the return of the orchestra is equally welcome. The Kol Nidre is a Jewish liturgy; Schoenberg—writing in English—had objections to the historical text, but his modifications merely served to get his piece banned from use in synagogues. This performance is sensational, putting all others I have heard to shame. Craft and the Philharmonia realize all of the music’s oddly moving details, and Wilson-Johnson, who is a singer rather than an actor, gives a superb reading of the extensive, dramatic narration, a no-holds-barred emoting which works perfectly in this wild piece.


Three excerpts from “The Golden Calf at the Altar” scene of Moses und Aron are an odd filler, as there are several top-notch presentations of the opera on disc (and a superlative one on DVD; see Fanfare 31:2, page 344). Craft matches any of them but does not offer any special insight, nor does Welch-Babidge singing the Young Girl. The best part may be Craft’s notes: “An orgy follows, but at this point the excerpt ends.” And so does the disc.


The generally excellent recordings come from six sessions held from 2003 to 2006, all at Abbey Road Studio One. The orchestral songs are very well balanced; Welch-Babidge remains in front of the orchestra, yet instrumental details are always clear, and the whole has beauty and life. An awkward splice at 1:29 of the opening song is unfortunate. A major handicap to appreciating this all-vocal disc is the lack of texts. They are available, but only in German, at www.naxos.com/libretti/557525.htm. Sony’s two-CD set of Schoenberg choral music under Boulez (44571) has German and English texts for much of this music, but not the songs for soprano.


For the orchestral songs and Kol Nidre , a Want List candidate.


FANFARE: James H. North

The present 10-album compilation illustrates Louis Kentner as a successful soloist, chamber musician and concert pianist. A highly gifted musician, Kentner studied from 1911 to 1922 at the Franz Liszt Academy of Music in Budapest, attracting early attention in 1916 with a concert performance of Chopin. At the Music Academy, he studied piano with Arnold Székely, chamber music with Leó Weiner and composition with Hans Koessler and Zoltán Kodály. He made his official debut at the age of 15 (1920) and began concert tours of European cities, attracting particular attention for his interpretations of Chopin and Liszt. He won the Liszt Prize in Budapest and the Chopin Prize in Warsaw. In 1933, Kentner gave the first Hungarian performance of Béla Bartók’s Second Piano Concerto (conducted by Otto Klemperer); in London in 1946, the first performance in Europe of the composer’s Third Piano Concerto under Sir Adrian Boult. Bartók’s artistic oeuvre found a special place in Kentner’s heart.

REVIEW:

Profil’s 10-disc Louis Kentner collection offers a diverse, if somewhat skewed, representation of the Hungarian-born/London-based pianist’s large recorded output. Among his sessions with violinist Yehudi Menuhin included here, the 1961 Ravel Trio, 1954 Chausson concerto, the 1956/57 Brahms sonatas, and 1950 Walton sonata represent their collaboration at its equitable best. However, two entire CDs given over to their 1951 Bach sonatas capture Menuhin on raspy and intonationally tenuous form, notwithstanding Kentner’s sensitive contributions. On the other hand, Kentner’s Dvorák “Dumky” Trio with violinist Henry Holst and cellist Anothony Pini was the 78 era’s point of reference.

I like the genial interaction between Kentner, clarinetist Reginald Kell, and violist Frederick Riddle in Mozart’s wonderful “Kegelstatt” Trio, while the pianist’s intense and angular partnership with violinist Jeno Lener in Beethoven’s A major Op. 30 No. 1 sonata makes the music sound positively contemporary. Kentner’s otherwise run-of-the-mill 1959 Mozart C minor K. 491 concerto stands out for the pianist’s own harmonically wild first-movement cadenza. The 1958 Brahms B-flat concerto with Adrian Boult is riddled with slapdash articulation and glaring wrong notes from the soloist, compounded by slack ensemble elsewhere (the slow movement’s misaligned clarinet/piano in measures 59 and 61).

The day after presenting its European premiere, Kentner and Boult played Bartók’s Piano Concerto No. 3 in a BBC studio broadcast, first issued on CD by Pearl. Aside from the pianist’s momentary stumble in the final bars, Kentner offers a direct and clear reading of the piano part. Kentner’s 1930s and ’40s Liszt recordings generally make up in proficiency for what they lack in inspiration. For example, in La Leggierezza, Kentner almost always slows down before a climax, and generally keeps the left hand parked in neutral. The E-flat Paganini Etude’s descending octaves sound expertly rehearsed rather than demonic in the way of the great Horowitz and Arrau shellac versions. He brings brooding drama to the Hungarian Rhapsody No. 2’s opening section, but the “friska” doesn’t match the insouciance of Friedman or Moiseiwitsch.

While Kentner’s 1948 Liszt Sonata misses the fantasy and volatility of Cortot or Barerre, its clarity and classicism warrant respect. The same applies to Balakirev’s Islamey. In his pioneering Balakirev Sonata and the first of his two recorded Liapunov Transcendental Etudes cycles, Kentner’s tone opens up as his effortless fingers fuse bravura and poetry. Kentner is also on top form in Constant Lambert’s curious arrangement of Liszt’s Dante Sonata for piano and orchestra.

To sum up, Profil’s Kentner box offers undeniable attractions, not to mention its modest cost. But why waste two discs on Menuhin’s lousy Bach, when Kentner’s Chopin Scherzi and Ballades, 1963 Beethoven Hammerklavier, and 1963 EMI Liszt Années de Pèlerinage excerpts have yet to be reissued?

– ClassicsToday.com (Jed Distler)

The distinguished clarinetist Michael Collins has in recent years also gained recognition as a conductor, appearing with eminent orchestras across the world. The present disc sees his recording debut as a conductor of symphonic repertoire, from which he has chosen Vaughan Williams's Fifth Symphony - one of the composer's best-loved works. Written during the Second World War and with it's symphonic predecessor displaying a convulsive fury and desolation, the Fifth is surprisingly serene and pastoral. Vaughan Williams dedicated it 'without permission' to Jean Sibelius - who in his diary described his impression on first hearing the work as 'a caress from a summer world.' On the present release, Vaughan Williams is followed by his younger colleague and friend Gerald Finzi, who he once advised to write a symphony: 'They're ever so easy'. Finzi was not convinced, and remains known as a composer of primarily vocal music, but among his few instrumental works is a Concerto for Clarinet, the instrument widely regarded as the most voice-like of all. For this, Michael Collins reverts to his customary role as soloist, conducting the strings of the Philharmonia Orchestra from the clarinet.

Of Armenian heritage, Manoug Parikian was born on September 15, 1927 in Mersin, Turkey. After studies in England, he débuted as a soloist in 1947. In the course of his career, he was concertmaster of London's famed Philharmonia Orchestra and also held that post with the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, the English Opera Group Orchestra and the Yorkshire Sinfonia. In addition, he directed the Manchester Camerata and often performed at the Aldeburgh Festival. As a soloist, he was particularly noted for his magnificent interpretation of Mozart. Parikian also dedicated himself to the performance of contemporary violin concertos and several leading British composers wrote concertos for him. Parikian was an acclaimed teacher at the Royal Academy of Music for many years. He passed away on Christmas Eve, 1987. On the day of his death, the BBC broadcast a performance by him in the Antonio Stradivari Gala Celebration. Parikian was an outstanding musician and violinist. He was a great inspiration to other violinists and had great integrity and a marvelous ability to adapt and change style from one composer to another.

British conductor Sir John Barbirolli is remembered most for his relationship with the Halle Orchestra in Manchester, having saved the ensemble from dissolution in 1943. He spent the rest of his life with this ensemble. This two disc set features Barbirolli conducting the Halle Orchestra, as well as the Philharmonia Orchestra and the Sinfonia of London. The works on this release are all by English composer Ralph Vaughn Williams, and were recorded between 1957 and 1962.