Unaffectedly straightforward with a disarming simplicity in which charm lifts imperceptibly into the most intense utterance, moving us compellingly through the salon-like early pieces to the increasingly desolate soundscapes of old age. Exemplary. Classic. Spellbinding.



FAURÉ Nocturnes (complete) • Charles Owen (pn) • AVIE 2133 (79:36)


Fauré’s son, Philippe Fauré-Fremiet, described the composer’s playing: “His hands were strong and looked heavy; in fact they were supple and light. He hardly raised them above the keys but was able to obtain any effect he wanted. He had a horror of virtuosity, of rubato and effects aimed at making the audience swoon. He followed the printed notes meticulously, keeping strict time. What was so overpowering about his playing lay below the surface, in the areas of thought and emotion where teaching is helpless to guide you.” To which Jessica Duchen, in her annotations for David Jalbert’s unfortunate tilt at the nocturnes (Endeavour 1014, Fanfare 30:1), adds, “To play Fauré’s piano works successfully, a pianist must have a tremendously flexible technique, a strong sense of contrapuntal voicing and, perhaps above all, the ability to convey those sensuous, intertwining lines and subtle harmonies without allowing structural rigor to slacken. While playing this music with no expressive fluctuation whatsoever could seem excessive, a healthy respect for his ‘pudeur’—modesty veiling the immense sensuality beneath—is as essential to faithful Fauré interpretation as good posture is to the dance.” Both observations describe Charles Owen’s way with the nocturnes—unaffectedly straightforward, rhythmically steady (but breathing and never rigid or inflexible), the pedal sparingly used, allowing a light touch (graciously deft in animated passages) to articulate with absolute clarity while imparting moments of aquarelle-like color (rather than the heavily sustained impasto of the average pianist), all making for a disarming simplicity in which charm lifts imperceptibly into the most intense utterance, moving us compellingly through the salon-like early pieces, the opulent ecstasies of the middle nocturnes, and the increasingly desolate and despairing soundscapes of old age. Duchen confects a final elegance with other, no less gracefully penetrating, annotations. Avie captures Owen closely, at the optimal point where clarity flares into spaciousness. Exemplary. Classic. Spellbinding. And enthusiastically recommended.


FANFARE: Adrian Corleonis

LISZT Ad nos, ad salutarem undam Fantasy and Fugue for organ and orchestra (arr. Dupré). Weinen, Klagen, Sorgen, Zagen (orch. Weiner). Orpheus, for organ (trans. Liszt). Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H (orch. Bischof) • Martin Haselböck, cond; Christian Schmitt (org); Deutsche RP (Saarbrücken/Kaiserslautern) • CPO 777 472–2 (69:58)


During his Weimar years, Liszt’s friend, the organist Alexander Winterberger, spurred his interest in the organ, prompting the composition of two of his most ambitious works, the Ad nos… Fantasy and Fugue (1850) and the Prelude and Fugue on B-A-C-H (1855, revised 1870). Thereafter, Liszt experimented, transcribing a number of his own works, including the tone poem Orpheus . The Weinen, Klagen,… variations, composed for piano in 1862, were transcribed for organ the following year. Considering the metamorphoses visited upon them by their composer, the step to orchestral arrangements by other hands was small, if ambitious. Depending on venue and acoustics, the instrument, registrations, and the acumen of engineers, these organ works can come across as towering masterpieces or murky monster-pieces. One of the joys of the orchestral transcriptions is hearing details often covered in cavernous rumble or obscured by distance on the organ standing forth boldly from the orchestra, their intricacies revealed, while their climactic moments acquire major clout and transparency. Weiner’s tilt at Weinen, Klagen,… is indebted to mid-19th-century models, highlighting a Gothic, cobwebby aura clinging to Liszt’s kaleidoscopic variations. Rainer Bischof’s take on the BACH Prelude and Fugue , on the other hand, is brash, brassy, and unabashedly modern in its use of an overloaded wind and percussion contingent (in addition to the cited vibraphone, do I hear a wood block, tubular bells, and a glockenspiel, among other novelties?) to make for metallic brilliance, glittering passage work, and climactic cataclysmics. The Gothic stunner, however, is Marcel Dupré’s arrangement of the Ad nos … Fantasy and Fugue for organ and orchestra, a feat placing what many believe to be Liszt’s greatest single work in company with the Saint-Saëns Organ Symphony and Poulenc’s Concerto for Organ and Orchestra.


One expected more of Christian Schmitt, whose recent go at Koechlin’s organ works (CPO 777 512–2, Fanfare 36:4) demonstrated an arresting keenness to that composer’s psychic, haunted atmospherics. His Orpheus is well-paced in the way that one thing leads to another, though having heard performances in which episodes escalate with fraught portent—e.g., Olivier Vernet’s solo rendering, or, as we’re considering transcriptions, his duo with Laurent Cabasso on piano (a six-CD intégrale , Ligia 0104226–11)—Schmitt’s dynamic range and resources of feeling are audibly constricted. The Ad nos … arrangement compels more adventurous playing, but Schmitt is disadvantaged by the recessed capture of the organ in Luxembourg’s Philharmonic Hall which allows orchestral overshadowing. That said, the upshot is still thrilling, magnificent, and magisterial. To the last point, one may feel that, in their orchestral and orchestra/organ garb, one is hearing these works for the first time. Martin Haselböck, himself an organist of exceptional prowess, who has performed the originals many times and recorded them at least twice, leads with a sweep alert to detail and, in the Ad nos … Fantasy and Fugue , manages the organ/orchestra dialogue with potent eloquence, though the recording imbalance becomes distracting in the fugue. The orchestral works come across in immediate, transparent, often walloping sound. Enthusiastically recommended.


FANFARE: Adrian Corleonis

This Blu-ray Disc is only playable on Blu-ray Disc players and not compatible with standard DVD players.

Also available on standard DVD

Former Music Director Mariss Jansons returns to Amsterdam to conduct Pique Dame at the Dutch National Opera with “his” Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra. He encounters a noteworthy cast and under his baton the orchestra sounds “brilliant and splendid“ (Der Tagesspiegel). Renowned director Stefan Herheim staged Tchaikovsky’s much-loved opera about a young man who, for the prospect of earthly wealth, gambles away his chance for love and happiness. Herheim, whose stagings are famous for their multi layered levels of interpretation, attempts to reflect on the composer’s hidden love for men. “The Latvian maestro, the intriguingly performing orchestra, the smartly-chosen soloists, and director Stefan Herheim have succeeded in staging an extraordinary production” (Die Presse). “Stefan Herheim makes a great picture show out of Tchaikovsky’s ‘Pique Dame’” (NMZ). “A masterpiece” (Der Standard).

REVIEW:

Superimposing the composer’s biography on to arguably his greatest opera works ingeniously. Musically, standards are extremely high, led by Mariss Jansons’s inspired presence in the pit. Aksenova sings a steely Lisa. Diadkova is remarkable as the Countess – singing rather than growling her role.

– Gramophone

DETAILS:

Format: NTSC
Language: Russian
Subtitles: English, German, French
Dubbed: English, French, German, Korean
Region: All Regions
Aspect Ratio: 1.78:1

The Ensemble Concertant regularly celebrates great successes with it's extraordinary instrumental forces. Since George Onslow alone dedicated dozens of works to the string quartet plus double bass, the ensemble has espoused the music of this Anglo- French composer with special interest. MDG is now presenting a special edition of two long sold-out albums at an attractive price with works including the Piano Sextet, a concerto en miniature that took the Parisian salons by storm. Onslow composed the Piano Quintet op. 79bis during the middle years of the nineteenth century- when he was at the height of his popularity- in the famous and just as rare "Trout Quintet" instrumentation with double bass. However, Onslow pursued a path different from that of Schubert; here the virtuosity of the piano with it's leaps, arpeggios, scales, octaves, and other daring technical deeds let's the other instruments know who is the boss. The Quintets for String Quartet and Double Bass- so to speak, Onslow's specialty- reveal a master situated between classicism and romanticism. Marvelously sumptuous melodies in classical form breathe the romantic spirit but refrain from virtuosity for mere show. Instead, the works go straight to the heart and make it beat to the big sound supplied by the double bass and it's profound foundation.

Much has been written about the compositional history of the Piano Concerto in D minor by Johannes Brahms: how the composer initially planned a sonata for two pianos and then a symphony; how Beethoven's overwhelming legacy inhibited him; how the young composer also as a pianist ended up delighting his audiences in Hanover but unsettling them in Leipzig. Dina Ugorskaja, performing with the Brandenburg Symphony under the conductor and Siemens Prize recipient Peter Gülke, is now presenting this work in it's essence: a magnificent contribution to the music literature that even 160 years after it's premiere continues to be filled with enigmas and marvels. As an encore, Dina Ugorskaja offers a highly poetic rendering of the three intermezzi from Brahms's op. 117, a work from his late period. This very personal interpretation moves listeners with it's flexible tempo and an enormous spectrum of tone colors. Lovingly produced and recorded under the finest circumstances, this ambitious program featuring these so very different works is an enriching addition to every collection.

BEETHOVEN Piano Sonata Nos. 1; 2; 3; 28; 29, “Hammerklavier” • Paavali Jumppanen (pn) • ONDINE 1248 (2 CDs: 143:37)


It has become a fairly common practice to program very early and very late Beethoven on the same recital. The purpose is obvious, but always useful; to compare and contrast the evolution of Beethoven’s style. Some pianists will point to the differences more starkly by emphasizing the strong Classical roots of the three opus 2 sonatas, as compared to the mystical Romanticism of the mighty final sonatas, including the massive “Hammerklavier.” The young Finnish pianist Paavali Jumppanen opts for an approach that seeks the commonality in the music, extracting kernels of that mysticism in the first sonatas, and emphasizing the Classical beauty and structure that still resides in the sprawling worlds of late Beethoven.


Jumppanen enhances this sense with generally leisurely tempos, which allow him to render textures with alluring clarity and balance, as well as pearly tone. The gentle pace of his playing is significant, because it flies in the face of the historicists who are keen to observe the metronome markings that Beethoven meticulously applied to his works, even years after they were composed (the metronome was patented in 1815). I am not one of those reviewers who normally lists competing timings, but in the case of Jumppanen’s “Hammerklavier” first movement, for example, the numbers are striking. He clocks in at 12: 08. No pianist in my collection comes close to such a crawl. Richter, 10: 35. Ashkenazy, 10:40. Horszowski, 11:39. Taub, 9:12. And the speed king, Schnabel, who attempts to hit the metronome marking of the composer, a remarkable 8:45.


These are not performances that carefully avoid the infusion of the performer’s personality. Jumppanen puts a certain gloss on the music that historically minded listeners might find off-putting, as I normally would. I also generally prefer this music a bit on the brisk side, although it is silly to expect performers to slavishly follow the metronome markings, which, for any number of reasons (and mere speculation) may not be accurate. But there is no denying the beauty of this playing. Jumppanen is no cookie-cutter pianist, and if my caveats do not bother you, there is much to enjoy here. Ondine’s beautiful recorded sound is no little bonus.


FANFARE: Peter Burwasser

During his short and turbulent life, Robert Schumann often composed as if in a trance. This exuberance, this impulsivity is particularly apparent in his works for piano and orchestra, all closely connected to his love for Clara Wieck. - "A cross between symphony, concerto and great sonata, not a concerto for the virtuoso" was his aim - and this is brilliantly realized; however, these works require a virtuoso with nimble, as well as strong and sensitive fingers, a pianist able to recreate Schumann's unique romantic world. Gerhard Oppitz achieves this in exemplary fashion, flawlessly mastering the technical demands in an interpretation imbued with a very personal passion for one of our greatest composers - all the while supported by and in dialogue with an orchestra ideally suited to his vision: The Bamberger Symphoniker.

DONIZETTI Marino Faliero • Bruno Cinquegrani, cond; Giorgio Surian ( Marino Faliero ); Rachele Stanisci ( Elena ); Ivan Magri ( Fernando); Luca Grassi ( Israele ); Luca Dall’Amico ( Steno ); Domenico Menini ( Gondolier); Bergamo Music Fest Gaetano Donizetti O & Ch • NAXOS 8.660303-04 (2 CDs: 144:24) Live: Bergamo 2008


Composing the score for Marino Faliero was an important project for Gaetano Donizetti in late 1834 because for the first time he had received a commission to create a work for Parisian audiences. Paris in those years was the glamorous opera capital of the Western world; to work there meant the real possibility of great fame and much fatter purses. The commission had come from expatriate Gioachino Rossini’s Théâtre Italien, then a thriving Paris showcase for new Italian opera works in their original language. Because of previous commitments, Donizetti was forced to work on his score in Italy. When he finally arrived in Paris he was induced to make major revisions to what he had already written, whether at the behest of Rossini or because he felt the opera inadequate to please Parisian tastes in its original state, we do not know; perhaps some of both.


Donizetti’s new work was to be blessed with the participation of four of the best singers then performing, including soprano Giulia Grissi and tenor Giovanni Battista Rubini, but also cursed with the ill fortune of appearing in the theater directly after I Puritani , the highly regarded new work of Vincenzo Bellini, both at the March 12, 1835, premiere in Paris and later that year at its London premiere with the same singers. Operagoers in both cities picked favorites, and I Puritani won out. The famous singing foursome was dubbed the “I Puritani Quartet,” not the “Faliero Quartet.”


I am certainly not familiar with all the 65 or so librettos Donizetti set or partially set to music; very few people are. I have heard and read enough of them, however, to know even though the story is based on a work by Lord Byron, Marino Faliero probably doesn’t rank in the top 20. The story is of Faliero, the 55th Doge of Venice, already the titular head of the citizen government of the 14th-century city-state. Feeling disrespected by the ruling Council of 40 for not pursuing stiffer penalties against his political enemies and others who are bandying his wife’s name about as an adulteress, Faliero joins a conspiracy against the ruling elite and declares himself Prince of Venice. The uprising fails and Faliero is imprisoned. To add insult to injury his wife, Elena, informs the Doge before his execution that the rumors are true, she has been unfaithful with his tenor nephew Fernando, who had been killed off in act II. The Doge is initially angry, but comes to a better state and forgives Fernando and his wife before going off to the block. The Dogaressa, bereft of both lover and husband, will hie to a nunnery. So, what’s not to like here? A cheating wife who precipitates the death of her young lover? A political leader not content with his own power who acts foolishly and treacherously on spurious reasoning? Who can’t get into that? Donizetti mitigates the infelicities of the libretto to some extent with very good, if not great, music. He does not match the level of inspiration Bellini achieves in I Puritani , but this work is not chopped liver, either.


The singing on this recording is generally quite good. The vocalists understand the need to ornament repeat passages, especially in Donizetti’s cabalettas, and do so with varying degrees of success. Young tenor Ivan Magri and young soprano Rachele Stanisci perform the best, although as Fernando, Magri is killed in act II, and Stanisci, as Elena, does not appear in act II at all. Magri can go a bit flat at times, but both voices handle the bel canto style and soar when necessary. Both hold the potential of good careers to come. Baritone Luca Grassi competently sings the substantial role of Israele, leader of the conspirators. The disappointment in the pack is the singing of Giorgio Surian as the Doge, Faliero. Surian has developed a wide vibrato; some would call it a flutter or incipient wobble. That makes him difficult to listen to for long and spoils some of the ensemble pieces as well. There is also very little separation in tonal quality between bass and baritone in their several numbers together. The partly student Bergamo Festival Donizetti Orchestra plays surprisingly well and supports the singers in excellent fashion under the baton of bel canto specialist Bruno Cinquegrani. The chorus is a bit ragged at times; it sounds like they need more rehearsal time.


To my knowledge, this Naxos CD release (and its DVD counterpart) is only the fifth recording of Marino Faliero. The modern-era revival in Bergamo in 1966 was captured live and issued on Melodram LPs with some locally known singers (I don’t believe this recording ever made it to CD). In 1977 a live production for RAI Turin featured possibly the best Faliero in bass, Cesare Siepi. He is accompanied by the well-sung Israele of Lucinio Montefusco, the Elena of Marisa Galvany, and the Fernando of Giuliano Cianella, the last two of which lack any clue about bel canto style. In addition, the tenor ducks high notes throughout and more than one number is transposed to a lower key. This set is still available in quite good mono sound on Myto and Bongiovanni. A 1999 release from Hungary on the Agora label, which I have not heard, apparently suffers from a badly inadequate tenor. There is a Hardy DVD filmed in Parma in 2002 with some major voices, including Rockwell Blake as Fernando, Mariella Devia as Elena, and Michele Pertusi as the Doge, which is arguably better than the current set, although it too has some problems. Devia is not really a bel canto type either, and by 1992 Blake’s voice was distinctly unlovely, although he still retained his excellent mastery of Donizetti style.


The Naxos booklet contains an article about the opera, a synopsis keyed to the track listing, and short bios of key performers. An Italian-only libretto is available on the website. The stereo sound is excellent; the enthusiastic audience does not intrude on the performances. Marino Faliero is a pretty good opera still wanting a definitive recording. Those who want to see it might opt for the 2002 Hardy DVD or the Naxos release of the current set. This quite substantial and inexpensive CD edition can fill in quite well on the shelf while we wait and hope.


FANFARE: Bill White

Ricciardo e Zoraide, premiered in Naples on 3 December 1818, was Rossini’s 26th opera in eight years, and with close predecessor like Il barbiere di Siviglia, Otello, La Cenerentola, La gazza ladra and Mosè in Egitto it goes without saying that it has been rather overshadowed by the competition. This is not to say that it is uninteresting as a story and that the music is undistinguished.

It takes place during the Crusades in Dongola in ancient Nubia. The Nubian king Agorante is infatuated with Princess Zoraide, daughter of Ircano, whom Agorante has defeated. Zoraide was captured and the Christian knight Ricciardo, Zoraide’s lover, accompanies an emissary to have her released. Agorante’s wife, Zomira, feels her position as Queen is threatened and arranges that Ricciardo and Zoraide are captured and plots to have them executed. In the end an army of Christians rescues the two lovers.

The story is more complicated than the above summary says, but it is something of a thriller and it should be able to engage an audience – as it obviously did at Bad Wildbad in July 2013, even though it was only a concert performance. This on the other hand means that extraneous noises are reduced to a minimum – only applause after some numbers and at the end of acts.

The sinfonia is brass-laden and gloomy and we understand that this is going to be a sad story. After 3-4 minutes it becomes lighter in tone, march-like for a while, but there is little joy. Some woodwind for a while lighten things up further but a long horn solo spreads more gloom – though the melody is beautiful. In the end the Rossini we know steps forward, faintly smiling, but no crescendo within eyesight, just a jolly piccolo flute … and then: Curtain! There is a brassy intro to the opening chorus with troops and Nubian people – and here some joy creeps in: their leader Agorante has just returned home victorious.

Agorante addresses the people and informs that he has expelled Ircano and his followers because Ircano has denied him the hand of his daughter who, we already know from the summary, happens to be in love with Ricciardo. Thus we are at once involved in the love triangle that is the core of the story.

Agorante then sings a cavatina with high-lying tessitura and virtuoso passages, well-sung by Randall Bills who ends in the bass register. The cabaletta that follows, requires him to climb up in the stratosphere. A man of power he is properly hailed by his soldiers … and the audience.

Enter Zoraide, who is an important character – at the premiere she was sung by Isabella Colbran and we can expect some great things, but she is not quite in focus yet. After some dialogue with her confidante Elmira, the Queen, Zomira arrives. She offers to help Zoraide deal with Agorante’s unwelcome wooing – but her prime aim is to render Zoraide harmless since she believes Zoraide wants to force her off the throne. Zoraide doesn’t trust the Queen and the two women sing a dramatic duet, where the Queen is formidable in her anger (CD 1 tr. 8-10). When Agorante pops up this gives Rossini an opportunity to write a lively and dramatic terzetto, Cruda sorte! (CD 1 tr. 12-13), with a bridal chorus singing a wedding song in the background (the King is very sure he will bring home his new bride!), and here Rossini can’t avoid building up one of his famous crescendos.

There is a change of scenes, and after a proud soldiers’ chorus we finally encounter Ricciardo and his friend Ernesto. They have just arrived on a ship, Ernesto is there to plead to Agorante that he releases Zoraide and Ricciardo, disguised as an African, is acting as his guide. He sings a cavatina where he pours out his longing after Zoraide. Maxim Mironov, certainly one of today’s best bel canto tenors, has a sappy voice, elegant vocalism and marvellous phrasing (CD 1 tr. 16). In the cabaletta, which is filled with stunning coloratura, Ernesto also joins in. After a new change of scenes we meet the jealous Zomira and her confidante Elmira, who is ordered to keep an eye on Zoraide’s every move. In the final scene the tension builds up and Agorante’s decision to start another war creates turmoil, accompanied by martial rumble from the timpani.

We needn’t go into every complication during the second act, but there are some good musical numbers worth pointing out. The first is the duet between Agorante and Ricciardo, the latter still in disguise. Their voices are so different in character that there is no problem to tell them apart. They sing well together, and in the following florid cabaletta Agorante (Bills) excels in brilliant top notes, whereas Ricciardo (Mironov) displays his elegant bel canto (CD 2 tr. 6-7).

They separate and now Ricciardo and Zoraide meet alone for the first time – but they are secretly observed by Elmira! Their duet (CD 3 tr. 2-3) is one of the highlights of the score. The final note, taken fortissimo, causes furore in the audience. I would have preferred it much more lyrical. Before Ricciardo has been able to explain his plan to run away with his beloved, Agorante suddenly appears, and when Ircano, Zoraida’s father also unexpectedly appears, this gives room for a quartet, where Nahuel Di Pierro powerful black bass in the role of Ircano gives dramatic depth to the music.

In the next scene the vengeful Zomira has a big scene (CD 3 tr. 7-8). Musically it is excellent and Silvia Beltrami’s powerful and expressive voice – more contralto than mezzo-soprano – is certainly in phase with the character. A pity that her vibrato sometimes is a bit wider than one could wish, but it is a dramatic highpoint.

The final scene begins with plaintive sounds in the orchestra. Ricciardo and Zoraide are now certain they will be executed, and Zoraide, expresses her desperation in her grand scena. Alessandra Marianelli musters some really intensive singing here. But their rescue is imminent. Like a deus ex machina Ernesto arrives with his troops and disperses Agorante’s soldiers. He disarms Agorante, but Ricciardo prevents him from killing the King and gives his sword back to him. Moved by such chivalry Ircano grants Ricciardo the hand of Zoraide. Everybody, except Zomira, rejoices at this happy end!

Though not one of Rossini’s greatest operas, it still has a lot to offer. The singing on this issue is generally good and Maxim Mironov adds another great achievement to his CV as recording artist. The recorded sound is worthy of the occasion, and there is an interesting essay and a comprehensive synopsis. Rossinians shouldn’t miss this.

– MusicWeb International (Göran Forsling)