A superb collection of very early Kubelik recordings, including numerous world premieres.

This is an excellent collection honoring Rafael Kubelík. The two jam-packed CDs of live 1940s broadcasts include his central repertoire, works he championed very early on, and indeed multiple world-premiere recordings. Not least is the first-ever recording of Shostakovich’s Ninth Symphony, a live concert dating from December 1946; we also get a live reading of Dvorak’s Piano Concerto with Rudolf Firkusny, from the first-ever Prague Spring festival, and, although the booklet doesn’t identify the premiere recordings, I’d be surprised if any earlier performances of the Martin? Fourth Symphony or Memorial to Lidice, or Dobiás’ Stalingrad Cantata, exist.
 
The collection begins with Dvorak’s Eighth, in quite constricted sound - turn up the volume more than normal - but glittering with the kind of brilliance Kubelík brought to the piece for his entire career. Aside from a prominent trumpet flub in the finale, it’s a highly accomplished live reading by the Czech Philharmonic, revealing they and the conductor were masters of the symphony even in the besieged year of 1944. The piano concerto, in sound which suggests that the orchestra is playing somewhere very far away, nevertheless powers forward with energy and vigor. Firkusny plays the old “revised” piano part, with the absolute command which explains why he has long been associated with this piece. Luckily for us, the recording of his piano is much better than we’d expect from the murky-sounding orchestra. Firkusny’s cadenza is especially fine, although more recent interpreters - Aimard with Harnoncourt, say - are more to my liking in the poetic slow movement with its beautiful opening horn solo.
 
Shostakovich’s Ninth - the first recording of the work - is given a performance unlike any since. The outer movements are remarkably speedy affairs, with some live sloppiness but a lot of spirit and neoclassical sharpness; by contrast the second movement sprawls over ten minutes, the slowest I’ve ever heard it. Compare 10:33 to Vasily Petrenko’s 8:46, Leonard Bernstein’s 8:10, or indeed Rudolf Barshai’s 5:43. The scherzo is rather languid, too. All in all a fascinating account of how different it is from the way the symphony is performed today, and it’s worth overlooking the constant audience noise. What may cause distress is the fact that distortion in the tape results in the entire symphony sounding like it is being performed in E rather than E flat!
 
Bohuslav Martin?’s Fourth, a celebratory masterpiece inflected with joy, energy, and inner peace, receives a great performance here (1948). It’s hard to imagine a more thrilling scherzo than Kubelík’s, whirling forward in a great rush of excitement, but by contrast he really milks the gorgeous romanticism of the slow movement, unafraid to play up the different moods - doubt at the beginning, something very like love after 6:00. Belohlávek’s recent recording on Onyx with the BBC Symphony may be preferable in the finale, where the new account’s freer tempos underscore the triumph of the ending, which Kubelík - maybe intentionally - leaves more ambivalent. The recorded sound is sufficient to give the orchestral piano its place, although you will miss some bass lines and timpani and the incredible colors of the opening pages. Supraphon engineers have, as elsewhere, used technology which removes the hisses and pops but at the expense of a slightly constricted acoustic.
 
The disc is rounded out with Martin?’s Memorial to Lidice - a moving rendition which goes more slowly and tragically than many, although Eschenbach’s reading on Ondine is the most anguished I’ve heard - and a novelty, the Stalingrad Cantata of Václav Dobiás. Written in 1945, the cantata for baritone, male chorus, and orchestra is an eleven-minute paean to the Soviet forces, or at least I’m assuming so, because the sung texts are not provided. The music sounds a bit like a ramshackle Nevsky Cantata, with the same wildness and raw masculine energy but without the tunes or distinction. It counts as a welcome rarity, though, because recordings of Dobiás are otherwise basically non-existent.
 
These are valuable historical broadcasts all around, then, from the world premiere recordings of Shostakovich’s Ninth and probably a few other works too, to the Dvorak concerto from the first Prague Spring festival. Rafael Kubelík’s conducting is consistently superb and insightful; his Martin? is energetic but powerful, his Shostakovich like nobody else. This can all be had in more modern recordings - the Dvo?ák symphony from Mackerras or Kubelík himself, the Martin? from Belohlávek or Thomson - but as a two-disc monument to Kubelík’s superb work with the Czech Philharmonic, this can’t be beaten. For a one-CD tribute to that pairing of great artists, though, we must remember the unforgettable Smetana concert they gave after the end of the Cold War.
 
-- Brian Reinhart , MusicWeb International

The Walhall Eternity label is for the first time releasing in it's entirety the legendary 1959 Covent Garden Ring cycle of Richard Wagner conducted by Franz Konwitschny, performances that feature the finest Wagnerian voices of the 1950's, including Wolfgang Windgassen, Hans Hotter, Astrid Varnay, Ramon Vinay, Amy Shuard (student of Eva Turner and Covent Garden regular), Gottlob Frick and more. Franz Konwitschny's gripping interpretations lie comfortably between those of Fürtwängler's commanding heights supremacy and Solti's fire and spontaneity. Re-mastered 24bit/96kHz.

BEETHOVEN Violin Concerto. BERG Violin Concerto • Antje Weithaas (vn); Steven Sloane, cond; Stavanger SO • AVI 8553305 (67:51)


Violinist Antje Weithaas’s pairing of Beethoven’s and Berg’s violin concertos isn’t the first, even in recent memory—Isabelle Faust did so, for example, with Claudio Abbado on Harmonia Mundi 902105 ( Fanfare 35:6). Arabella Steinbacher also programmed the two works, with Andris Nelsons conducting the WDR SO (Orfeo, 778 091, Fanfare 33:4)—which, incidentally, at 75:22, lasted almost eight minutes longer than Weithaas’s performances—and Audite released a pair of older readings by Christian Ferras of the two works with different conductors. Weithaas asks in the booklet notes for the reason for yet another recording of Beethoven’s Concerto and gives a sort of answer—she believes that she’s found something personal to say in (through?) it. She plays a violin made by Peter Greiner in 2001; and, in doing so, joins a number of intrepid artists willing to espouse the productions of contemporary violin makers. That violin itself deserves attention, because of the bright, silvery sound she draws from it, one that’s generally more than captivating (the engineers have made a contribution to its effect, of course). And, with it, she does manage, as she seems to have hoped, to express a message that, while it may in itself not be so original, yet features many nuances that do from moment to moment in the first movement, in passagework and in cantabile, repeatedly bring something unexpected for the listener to ponder. Her tempos in the first movement remain on the quick side, but that’s no hindrance to the music’s profundity, as Jascha Heifetz and Aaron Rosand have shown. She sounds at times commanding and at times like pure quicksilver in the cadenza, which introduces timpani (as did Beethoven’s own for his piano transcription of the concerto), and the effect is electrifying. (Isabelle Faust, Ji?í B?lohlávek and the Prague Philharmonia, Harmonia Mundi 90194, Fanfare 32:4, also gave an electrifying account of the cadenza.) The purity of tone that graced Weithaas’s reading of the first movement plays an even more central role in the slow one. Anne-Sophie Mutter dug for more individuality and depth in the movement’s preternaturally still sections with what sounded like warped tools; Weithaas does so without a trace of eccentricity, either stylistic or timbral. While the soloist combines fluidity in statements of the finale’s main subject matter with confident declamation in the episodes (while interspersing a large number of striking cadenzas), Steven Sloane and the orchestra make the tuttis, as in the first movement, authoritatively explosive, but at the same time achieve admirable clarity of detail. Which would be the greater arrogance, to release yet another recording of Beethoven’s work or to believe yourself capable of doing so? Weithaas may be guilty on both counts, but she acquits herself of all charges with a convincing performance that combines light and dark in a delightfully individual way.


Weithaas and Sloane also adopt a quick tempo in the first half of Alban Berg’s Concerto’s first movement, a tempo that, perhaps surprisingly, does little to disperse its mists and brings passages together for listeners in a fresh way (recall the famous, perceptually ambiguous, duck-rabbit). As in one of the outstanding early recordings of the work, that by André Gertler (Angel 3509, released on CD as Hungaroton 31635), the engineers have placed the violin within the orchestral web, and make a strong case for it belonging there. Sloane and the orchestra revel in the shifting timbres of the first movement’s scherzo-like second half but build to an almost terrifying climax near the middle. Weithaas slashes more savagely than Gertler did in the opening of the second movement’s first half (and Sloane extracts more disturbing dissonances from the orchestra than did Paul Kletzki in that recording). And they create, in the tragedy at the end of that half, a terrifying sense of existential Angst . And in embellishing the chorale tune ( Es ist genug ) that Berg spun out of his tone row, Weithaas and Sloane evince an almost chamber-like intimacy.


Previous experience with Weithaas’s recordings made the arrival of this one for review particularly intriguing, raising the highest expectations. Each and every aspect of the release (including the prepossessing tone of Greiner’s violin) has met, and even exceeded, those expectations. A recording of special merit, it deserves a place on every record shelf. Urgently recommended.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Ivan Repusic, who made his debut as Principal Conductor of the Munchner Rundfunkorchester in the autumn of 2017 with Giuseppe Verdi's "Luisa Miller", now presents a further and lesser-known masterpiece by the famous Italian opera composer. The concert performance of Verdi's early stage work "I due Foscari" was recorded on November 25, 2018 at the Munich Prinzregententheater. Outstanding performers provide an authentic atmosphere and vocal magnificence, and no less a person than the multiple-award-winning Italian baritone Leo Nucci was successfully engaged for the role of the Doge of Venice. This highlight of the Munich music scene from late last year is now available from BR-KLASSIK as a double album. Verdi's early masterpiece "I due Foscari" was the first of the operas he wrote for the Teatro Argentina in Rome. He had already worked on the material (Lord Byron's drama "The Two Foscari"), and, after a first subject had been rejected by the Roman censors, Verdi returned to it and had the libretto written by Francesco Maria Piave. Although the opera's premiere on November 3, 1844 was only moderately successful and Verdi would even distance himself from it later on, the work was still frequently performed up to the 1870s. It was rediscovered during the early 1950s and has since become a fixed part of the international opera repertoire. The concert performance (sung in the Italian original) in Munich's Prinzregententheater received great acclaim from audience and critics alike, again justifying the Munchner Rundfunkorchester's strategy of successfully reviving underrated music-theatrical works by means of standard-setting performances. Ivan Repusic conducts a genuine theatrical Verdi here: vital, robust, fiery and extremely lively.

Selection includes Reminiscences of Václav Talich.
Selection includes Václav Talich rehearsing Dvorák's Cello Concerto.
Selection includes Speech by Václav Talich on his name day.
Selection includes Václav Talich rehearsing Dvorák's "New World" Symphony.
All tracks have been digitally mastered using 24-bit technology.

The reissue of the recordings made in 1978 and 1988 pays tribute to the unforgettable Czech tenor Vilém Pribyl’s superb performance of three extraordinary Czech song cycles. The artist dazzled several generations of music-lovers in Bedrich Smetana’s and Leoš Janácek’s operas. His professional career was mainly connected with Brno, where he lived and worked for three decades. Moreover, Pribyl performed as a guest at the National Theatre in Prague, and he also impressed audiences in Edinburgh, London (Royal Opera House), as well as in France, Italy and the USA. The three song cycles are deemed to be the best works in the genre created by Smetana, Dvorák and Janácek. They are fundamentally different in terms of inspiration. While in his short cycle Evening Songs Smetana sumps up his lifelong endeavours and experiences, Dvorák’s Biblical Songs represent the composer’s intimate prayer and thanksgiving. In The Diary of One Who Disappeared, Janácek’ depicts the story of a village boy who madly falls in love with a beautiful gypsy girl. The benchmark historical albums are as enchanting today as they were decades ago. An engrossing recording of three Czech mature song cycles, as performed by Vilém Pribyl.

Markus Schäfer writes of his new release: "A musical interpretation should always strive to breathe new life into a composer's legacy by making it audible and understandable in accordance with the here and now. In this new recording we have once again dared to open up our performance experimentally to the sort of effects that emerge from spontaneous improvisation. Faithfulness to the original begins with a willingness to decode, decipher, and interpret the score; it is not achieved by staring fearfully in awe at the manuscript. To the contrary: we are fully aware that any confrontation with a masterpiece of the past can only be justified if we recreate it anew while maintaining a fragile balance between faithfulness to the musical work and faithfulness to the "text"."

From the Church of St Mary, Marienberg

Sächsische Bläserphilharmonie
(The Saxony Philharmonic Wind Orchestra)
Thomas Clamor, Conductor
Ruth Ziesak, Soprano
Rundfunk – Jugendchor Wernigerode
Peter Habermann, Chorus Master
Ensemble Sonora

TRACK LIST
1. Wolfgang Schumann: Christmas Toccata
2. Gloria in Excelsis Deo
3. George Frideric Handel: Arrival of the Queen of Sheba
4. George Frideric Handel: Let the bright Seraphim
5. George Frideric Handel: Rejoice greatly, O daughter of Zion
6. From Heaven above to Earth I come (trad.)
7. Richard Wagner: Elsa’s Procession to the Cathedral
8. Blest Mary wanders through the thorn (trad.)
9. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky: Excerpts from the “Nutcracker” Suite
10. Felix Mendelssohn: Christmas / In Advent
11. Lo, how a rose e’er blooming (trad.)
12. Felix Mendelssohn: For He shall give His angels charge
13. Let us listen, blessed angels (trad.)
14. Eduard Ebel: Snow falls softly at night
15. Sweeter the bells never sound (trad.)
16. Richard Eilenberg: St Petersburg Sleigh Ride
17. Roger Harvey: Festive Cheer
18. John Francis Wade: Adeste fideles
19. Engelbert Humperdinck: Evening Prayer
20. Siegfried Köhler: A thousand stars are a cathedral
21. Franz Gruber: Silent night, holy night
22. Oh, how joyfully (trad.)

Picture Format DVD: NTSC 16:9
Sound Formats DVD: Dolby Digital 5.1, DTS 5.1, PCM Stereo
Region Code: 0 (worldwide)
Running Time: 84:15 min
Number of Discs: 1
Disc Format: DVD-9

Rather than parachuting in any headline-catching international soloists, the Kansas City Symphony has enlisted its concertmaster and principal cello as protagonists in two of the Saint-Saëns works. Noah Geller is soloist in the Introduction and Rondo capriccioso, and he is joined by cellist Mark Gibbs in the once rarely heard but now almost ubiquitous La muse et le poète. Backed by airy orchestral textures, Geller exudes lyrical warmth and a perky rhythmic spirit in the first work, and in the second he uses the violin’s wily flights of fantasy to engage Gibbs’s poetic cello in an intimate dialogue.

Then comes the big beast of the programme, but, as always, the crucial test is not so much the volume of the organ but the way in which the orchestral context of the symphony as a whole is established. Here Michael Stern impressively injects impetus into the first section’s sinewy fabric, alert to instrumental colour and the contrapuntal discipline and intrigue of the writing. The organ, making its muted first entry in the Adagio, is a 5,548-pipe Casavant Frères instrument, an integral part of Kansas City’s Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts where the recording was made, as indeed is Jan Kraybill who plays it. Stern crafts a proper, stately Adagio but an Adagio with momentum and shapely contours, and he ignites real fire in the Allegro moderato of the symphony’s second part. When the tempo changes to presto, the piano’s arpeggios and scales are prominent enough to make their point without leaping out at you, just as the organ in the finale asserts its grandeur without overwhelming the orchestral palette.

Even in a competitive market, this version has a distinct edge.

– Geoffrey Norris, Gramophone

When it rains, it pours. This is the third recording of Saint-Saëns’ Organ Symphony in nearly as many months, and like the previous ones, it’s remarkably good. The Kansas City Symphony under Michael Stern withstands comparison to any of the competition. My only quibble with the interpretation comes in the first movement, where Stern’s concern for precision of rhythm, otherwise admirable, seems to preclude that last bit of intensity at the tops of those crescendos that propel the principal theme onward into the second subject.

Otherwise, this is an unusually vivacious and texturally transparent reading, recorded with welcome clarity in an acoustic that never permits detail to get obscured by excessive reverberation. The balance between organ and orchestra in the finale, even when everyone is blasting away, could not be more perfect. In the serene Adagio too, which flows with impressive poise, the soft tones of the organ add just the right touch of color to support the strings and solo woodwinds. In the scherzo, Stern keeps the rhythm taut, and he doesn’t drag out the quiet coda to the point where one’s patience begins to run thin. In the finale everyone really does pull out all of the stops, literally and figuratively, bringing the work to a thrilling conclusion.

The fillers are welcome, and not the usual stuff. Le muse et le poète is a rarely heard late tone poem with parts for solo violin and solo cello, more than ably taken by orchestra principals Noah Geller on violin and Mark Gibbs on cello. Geller also plays an excellent, sunny Introduction and Rondo capriccioso. And let’s not forget organist Jan Kraybill in the symphony. I do wish, though, that Reference Recordings had included a stop list in the booklet. The instrument has some interesting timbres and I would have liked to know what resources it calls upon to make them. Audiophiles will want to hear this for the superb sonics, but the musical values are just as strong..

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com