This Signum Classics release presents four orchestral works by leading Chinese composer Xiaogang Ye, performed by the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Dane Lam. Recorded in February 2024 at Liverpool Philharmonic Hall, the album features The Backyard of the Village alongside two concertante works: The Memories of Mount Jing Gang with violist Diyang Mei, and My Faraway Nanjing with cellist Guy Johnston, plus the overture The Loquat in Five Colors. Ye's music blends contemporary orchestral writing with Chinese history, landscape, and cultural memory, reflecting his distinctive international voice.

These works share the common key of E flat major but represent two very different stages in the composer’s life. The Piano Concerto "No. 0," WoO 4, was written when Beethoven was 13 years old and is one of his earliest works. With the orchestral score lost, this extant version for piano solo written in Beethoven’s hand includes the tutti sections reduced for piano. The radiant ‘Emperor’ Concerto shows the 38-year-old Beethoven at the peak of his creative powers, and remains a glorious example of his spirit triumphing over life’s adversities.

REVIEW:

Boris Giltburg’s recording of Beethoven’s Emperor Concerto is offered with a scintillating twist, the ‘other’ E-flat concerto composed when the composer was 13. This brings Giltburg’s Beethoven concerto cycle to a close, his ebullience and physicality the reverse of plain-speaking, brilliantly partnered by the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic under Vasily Petrenko.

Given such forces this is never simply ‘another’ Emperor, but one boldly and exuberantly conceived. Giltburg makes you listen with new ears to one of the most familiar and greatly loved works in the repertoire. The Piano Concerto No 0 (played in Beethoven’s original piano reduction) may be a protracted jeu d’esprit, but Giltburg’s relish of its tonic, virtuoso aplomb sets the pulse racing. Naxos soundworld is of an exceptional clarity and focus.

-- International Piano

Excellent performances of the Emperor and the rarely heard Concerto No. 0. The sound reproduction on this Naxos CD is vivid and well balanced. Those looking for an excellent performance of the Emperor and who are attracted to its lesser coupling, will certainly find this a most rewarding disc.

-- MusicWeb International

Not only do you get performances to rank with the best, but also a bonus of the splendidly played Rondo.

Beethoven’s first two piano concertos share an abundance of lyric and virtuosic qualities. Concerto No. 1 in C major is expansive and richly orchestrated with a sublime slow movement that is tender and ardent, and a finale full of inventive humor. Concerto No. 2 in B flat major marries energy with elegance, reserving poetic breadth for its slow movement and quirky wit for the finale. Also included is the jovial Rondo, WoO 6, which Beethoven originally intended to be the finale of Concerto No. 2.

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REVIEWS:

Here’s a very promising start to what I assume will be a new Beethoven piano concerto cycle, featuring performances not otherwise included in Naxos’ “complete” Beethoven box. Boris Giltburg plays both works with the youthful panache that they require–the kind that makes you forget about any formal issues and just revel in the virtuoso passagework and good tunes. The standard for comparison in this coupling is Argerich/Sinopoli on DG–you might think an unmatchable team, at least pianistically, but Giltburg more than holds his own. Indeed, in Concerto No. 2 he matches Argerich’s fleet timing in the finale (and other movements) almost exactly, and in the First Concerto he’s even a bit quicker, all without sacrificing subtleties of touch, dynamics and phrasing for mere velocity.

Of course there are difference–welcome ones too. In the first concerto, Giltburg adds a couple of minutes to the central Largo, producing a genuine specimen of that particular tempo designation. His legato playing is beautifully sustained, making this early example of Beethovenian lyricism a real gem. Petrenko accompanies with real flair, proving himself a true partner in both concerto first movements. It’s so much more satisfying to have a real conductor working with a gifted soloist, rather than the single-person-at-the-keyboard approach so frequently offered these days. There’s just no substitute for full-time orchestral guidance. Giltburg also includes the original “Concerto No. 2 finale version” of the Rondo WoO 6, a considerable bonus, as are his intelligent and detailed booklet notes. Fine playing, fine conducting, fine engineering–in short, a really fine release generally.

– ClassicsToday (David Hurwitz)

Giltburg is a subtle artist who, despite his all-encompassing technique, rarely, if ever, engages in virtuosic grandstanding, preferring instead to interpret the music for maximum artistic yield. Nor does he employ radical or eccentric interpretive approaches. Yet, his performances are never bland but rather quite individual, typically rich in nuance and meaningful detail, and containing insights missing in other versions. His accounts of the two concertos feature well-chosen dynamics, main lines and inner voices perfectly balanced, and judicious tempos. In addition, he realizes these are the works of a youthful Beethoven, not of the mature, profound and serious-minded master of the three concertos that followed. Thus, he points up their lighter, more vivacious characteristics, his dynamics appropriately less weighty and his pacing never too relaxed.

Not only do you get performances to rank with the best, but also a bonus of the splendidly played Rondo.

– MusicWeb International

The Estonian composer Mihkel Kerem - born in Tallinn in 1981 and Joint Assistant Leader in the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra since 2015 - used the Covid lockdown to produce no fewer than four symphonies, two of them, his Seventh and Eighth, conceived as a contrasting pair. Kerem's dark and ominous Seventh Symphony, like that of Sibelius, plots a huge sonata-form arch, growing from and back into it's opening material. It's soundworld sits somewhere between Sibelius and Schnittke, combining a sense of natural symphonic growth with dramatic twists of kaleidoscopic textural variety. No. 8, which also nods to Sibelius' Seventh by quoting it's celebrated trombone theme, is a vast, unhurried accelerando, it's three linked movements tapping into the Nordic-Baltic tradition of using the controlled power of the orchestra to suggest the vastness of nature.

When introduced to the audience in Liverpool by Domingo Hindoyan, Roberto Sierra's music was greeted with standing ovations. His name may be new to many, but his music is vibrant, appealing, accessible, and extremely well crafted. "The works included on this album span 25 years of creative activity. While current projects are always my focus, looking back is not something I often do; however, this recording confronted me with compositions representing a good part of my creative life. Most interesting was to notice that, although my music has changed through the years, there are traits common to all these pieces. These are elements that encompass aspects ranging from the expressive to the technical. A penchant for certain types of melodic constructions, harmonies, and orchestration choices is always present in these works. Another common element is the use of idioms that stem out of Afro-Caribbean and, more specifically, from the folk and popular music of Puerto Rico." This album is a wonderful introduction to this important contemporary composer from Latin America.

Italy, Florence - nothing gives me the slightest pleasure so far wrote Tchaikovsky to his brother. "I cannot live outside Russia." In the depth of depression, the composer commenced work on his sextet, Souvenir de Florence, which he completed upon his return to Russia in June 1890. Melancholy Russian folk melodies mingle with Tchaikovsky's Florentine theme rising in the Adagio. In 1892, with more creative struggles - a symphony in E flat was abandoned (much of it becoming the 3rd piano concerto and the Andante & Finale), and a new symphony in B minor was started. If the melancholy of Souvenir de Florence is never far from the surface, it threatens to overwhelm the 6th symphony. "I am very proud of the symphony, and I think it's the best of my compositions." Tchaikovsky died 9 days after conducting it's first performance, a victim of the cholera pandemic raging over the Russian Empire.

The playing throughout is sensitive and glowing in this meditative and glistening work that recalls Vaughan Williams and Hovhaness.

The composer Jon Lord rose to fame in the 1970s as a member of Deep Purple. Celebrity collaborations between the group and Malcolm Arnold included Concerto for Group and Orchestra written and scored by John Lord and conducted by Malcolm Arnold. Lord has over the intervening years increasingly extended his reputation into the classical field. The Durham Concerto is the latest and most ambitious example to date. In this he is not alone, witness the various classical pieces by Paul McCartney - the latest being Ecce Cor Meum and the orchestral work Seven by Tony Banks of Genesis – a work recorded on Naxos. All are individual in their own way but a sign that some musicians with a rock-popular reputation felt the siren call of classical eternity even if we ignore the blurring of ‘boundaries’ represented by the work of Frank Zappa, Soft Machine and Tangerine Dream.

At the most meagre level this is a beautifully packaged delightful musical souvenir of Durham University's 175th anniversary in 2007. The concept might remind you of John Scott’s Colchester Symphony but this is in fact a seriously-intentioned extended orchestral suite of six movements grouped in pairs.

At the start long-held Tallis-like string chords speak out of the mists of antiquity. This is music that takes a slow-shifting shading from Hovhaness. The glistening murmur forms a backdrop to meditative solos from the wind instruments. Then at 3.10 comes Ruth Palmer's Lark-like violin solo speaking as a fragile human voice against the downward remorseless tread of time. Given the accent of this first movement it is some surprise that Lord was not among those pop-contemporary world musicians interviewed for Tony Palmer’s recent RVW film-biography. As this movement, entitled Cathedral at Dawn, rises to its peak it is the notable ecstasy of Vaughan Williams that is most closely echoed.

The composer's Hammond organ is featured in four of the six movements. It ushers in the second (Durham Awakes) with its atmospheric solo for Northumbrian Pipes. The pipes are played by that doyenne of the instrument Kathryn Tickell. Matthew Barley's solo cello acts as orator and encourager in this Copland-inflected music but ancient and melancholically serene voices from the Pipes – unable to escape celtic connections - and the solo violin are there too. The Hammond also intercedes at several points. This movement proves a fine example of the successful interweave of pipes, cello and violin.

Those first two movements form Part 1: Morning. Then comes Afternoon in the shape of another two movements. The first reflects the spiritual journey of St Cuthbert and the physical journey of his mortal remains to interment in the Cathedral. It communicates as a slow revelatory sunset much in the same atmosphere as the Dawn. This is followed by the equally introspective, cello-led From Prebends Bridge. Here the composer had in mind the view from the Bridge and the innumerable people who have stood and taken in that view down a thousand years.

The cello solo once or twice seems rather meandering before it gathers itself for a more direct and emotionally hard-hitting address. The music here reminded me of the Elgar concerto, Rubbra's Soliloquy and Holst's Invocation. Then comes a much needed rowdy movement in which students on a rag day and a miners gala meet head on. The brassy whoops here reminded me of Arnold. Again Lord's Hammond is to the fore, lending dynamism to its usual watery discourse - it's the nature of the instrument. There's plenty of forward pulse here and the orchestra have fun with the pizzicato writing. The Arnold accent appears strongly at 4:12 onwards with something of the Commonwealth Christmas Overture to be heard as well as a nicely burred and brassy Gaudeamus Igitur at 6:21. History takes hold again at the end of the movement and those sustained string chords reassert the long view. The Pipes invoke the sorrowing melancholy of heritage morphing without break into the long meditative finale: Durham Nocturne.

I hope we will hear more of Lord's classical compositions including the suite for strings, Disguises (2004) and the piano concerto Boom of the Tingling Strings (2003). Both are due out from EMI later in 2008. What else remains to be recorded?

The concept of the present piece and the use of an 'ethnic' instrument recall, as an idea, Shaun Davey's works – especially The Relief of Derry Symphony and The Brendan Voyage.

The playing throughout the Durham Concerto is sensitive and glowing with much accomplished and thoughtful work for the solo instruments. The recording produces an almost tangible effect without embracing an in-your-face pop balance.

Here is an extended work of continuity across six substantial movements. The predominant meditative character will instantly mesh with those who love John Barry’s Beyondness of Things, Tavener and Vaughan Williams.

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

British composer Peter Racine Fricker was one of the first to be heavily influenced by the early 20th century masters Bartok, Stravinsky, and Schoenberg, and his style is an assimilation of these influences combined with his own very distinct musical voice. Fricker’s compositional catalog exceeds 160 works, and includes all genres except for staged opera.

The Vision of Judgement performance presented here is conducted by Charles Groves, and features the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra. It was broadcast on BBC on October 14, 1980. Symphony No. 5 for Organ and Orchestra features Gillian Weir on organ, as well as the BBC Symphony Orchestra conducted by Colin Davis. It aired on the BBC on May 5, 1976, and was performed live from the festival hall.

1944 saw the premiere of the ballet Fancy Free, 25-year old Leonard Bernstein’s first major composition as well as the first in a string of scores for the stage and film. In order to celebrate the centennial of Bernstein’s birth in 1918, Christian Lindberg has gathered music from five different productions spanning a period of 13 years – from Fancy Free to the iconic musical West Side Story, premiered in 1957. The disc is bookended by the sparkling and witty Overture to Candide and Three Dance Episodes from the musical On the Town. Also included is the substantial Symphonic Suite from ‘On the Waterfront’, developed by Bernstein from the score he wrote for Elia Kazan’s classic film. The drama of this tale of love and betrayal set amid the docks of Hoboken in New Jersey is brought out by Bernstein’s music, which seethes with dramatic tension. Making its first appearance on BIS in these flamboyant and life-enhancing scores, the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra clearly relishes the opportunity to let its collective hair down. The players are egged on by Lindberg, known for his ability to energize both orchestras and audiences.

REVIEW:

The Royal Liverpool Philharmonic put on such a good show throughout this disc. The Symphonic Dances from West Side Story find them rounding corners that challenge the very best big bands. The all-dancing aspects of the disc do Bernstein’s struttin’ NYC style proud.

– Gramophone

Vasily Petrenko’s Shostakovich cycle marches on. This is volume seven. I presume there are four more to follow as and when Petrenko sets down the Fourth Symphony – to which I’m particularly looking forward – and numbers 7, 13 and 14.
 
This latest instalment pairs symphonies from the opposite chronological ends of the composer’s symphonic output. Number 2 was written to mark the tenth anniversary of the 1917 Revolution. Perhaps ominously – in terms of potential for artistic merit – it was commissioned by the Propaganda Division of the State Music Publishers’ Section. Interestingly, Richard Whitehouse relates in his notes that, initially, the work was not designated as a symphony; Shostakovich only took that step, it seems, a couple of years later. The work is in one continuous movement and in the last six minutes or so an SATB chorus is introduced. Their task is to deliver the four-stanza poem by one Alexander Bezimensky (1898-1973). Richard Whitehouse describes him as an “’official’ proletarian poet” but if this is a fair example of his work the term “party hack” might be more appropriate. Clearly, Shostakovich had no say in the choice of text and, apparently, he didn’t think much of it.
 
Richard Whitehouse observes that the symphony was composed during the most overtly modernist phase of his career. One might suggest that the term “brutalist” might also fairly apply to this score. Naxos helpfully split the piece into three separate tracks and these are reflected in the liner-notes. Shostakovich can be a forbidding composer at times but in this score we find him at his most experimental and intractable. For a start there are virtually no melodic themes in it – the trumpet tune that appears a couple of minutes into the score is more or less the only melody, as Whitehouse points out. Given the absence of themes it’s perhaps unsurprising that I struggle to discern any sort of development in the conventional sense. For example, I find it hard to see what relation the first five or six minutes of the score (track 1) bear to the music that follows, except as an unrelated introduction, perhaps. The music that opens the second section (track 2) is reminiscent of parts of the First Symphony. As this section unfolds the music becomes ever more strident. After a solo violin passage the texture becomes increasingly complex but it’s hard to see what all the activity signifies. Hereabouts the playing of the RLPO is tremendously vigorous and earlier, when the music was stirring to life from very subdued beginnings, there was no little finesse to the playing. So far as I can tell the performance is also very precise.
 
It would be kind to describe the words of the concluding choral section as banal; the poem is unmitigated Revolutionary tosh! Shostakovich “rewards” the poet with choral writing of no great distinction; these final minutes are brash and boldly coloured but, to be honest, one feels it’s a case of sound and fury signifying nothing. It’s richly ironic that when Shostakovich produced the sort of music that the authorities expected he wrote such stuff as this but when he composed music that was not in keeping with official expectations – in the Sixth or Eighth Symphonies, for instance – he produced his finest work. Vasily Petrenko and his orchestra – and choir – do their best for the score and give a colourful and committed account of it but, really, this is base metal. I find it perplexing, to say the least, to trace Shostakovich’s development as a symphonist from the precocious First Symphony through to the magnificent, complex Fourth. Indeed, the Second and Third Symphonies don’t really seem to offer much in the way of a bridge between those two tremendous scores.
 
I find the Fifteenth Symphony just as perplexing but in a very different way. Just what was Shostakovich saying this late score? What was going on behind that impassive face and those slightly owlish thick spectacles? A troubled spirit, it would seem, but what was troubling him?
 
One of the great enigmas of this score lies in the use made of quotations. Shostakovich made use of self-quotation in his music but to the best of my knowledge it was rare for him to quote other composers. Yet here, in what turned out to be his last symphony, we find him quoting from two composers – and from two radically different composers at that – as well as from himself.
 
The first movement opens deceptively with perky material on flute and then bassoon. The opening pages are reminiscent of the Ninth Symphony it seems to me. Then, at 1:57 the trumpet plays a familiar motif from Rossini’s William Tell overture. The Rossini motif has been foreshadowed in the moments leading up to its first appearance – the first of several in the movement – but what is the meaning? I confess I’m far from sure except to note that the motif is of a piece with Shostakovich’s characteristic sardonic streak and that, though the fragment of tune stands out every time we hear it, it is well integrated into the composer’s own material. The music becomes increasingly urgent, alarmed and, indeed, strident in tone and the reappearances of the Rossini quote seem to act as a brake on proceedings and to bring the music back to a less stressful, more insouciant level. Throughout this movement, whatever the mood of the music, the playing of the RLPO is crisp and characterful.
 
The second movement takes us to an altogether deeper level – though in saying that I don’t wish to imply that the first movement is superficial; it’s not. The Adagio opens with a brass chorale, which recurs at intervals as the movement unfurls. I think it’s hugely significant that this chorale is taken from the opening movement, The Palace Square, of the Eleventh Symphony, a work that I still think has yet to receive its full recognition within the composer’s output. It will be remembered that the Eleventh commemorates the failed Russian Revolution of 1905. The chorale is followed by extended glacial passages in which cello and viola solos are prominent. Here we are in the world of the string quartets. This is spare, searching music that has the character of a threnody. Petrenko and his players are excellent in maintaining the tension in these sparsely scored paragraphs, a virtue I < admired in their traversal of the first movement of the Sixth Symphony. Eventually (at 6:50) we hear an idea on the flutes but it’s not until this is taken up at some length by a solo trombone that it becomes clear that this is a funeral march. Eventually (at 11:01) the march erupts almost out of nothing into a huge climax. When this is spent the chorale returns, firstly on hushed strings and then on the brass. Now, I think, having experienced the funeral march we perhaps understand the significance of the quotation form the Eleventh. Is it that Shostakovich had unfinished business with the failed revolutionaries of 1905? Is he saying in this movement that those revolutionaries were betrayed by the Stalinist excesses in the years that followed the successful revolution of 1917?
 
The third movement, which follows attacca, is extremely brief. Richard Whitehouse rightly draws attention to the “barbed humour”. This is real nose-thumbing, sneering music and it’s adroitly done by Petrenko’s orchestra which offers some suitably pungent playing. Unless my ears deceive me the horns make a reference to the old DSCH motif one last time in a Shostakovich symphony.
 
The finale brings us the quotations from a second composer: Wagner. Right at the start the low brass intone the ‘fate’ motif from Die Walküre, followed by the soft timpani tattoo from Siegfried’s Funeral Music in Götterdämmerung. A few moments later (at 1:07) there’s surely another Wagner reference. The violins have an extended melody and as a kind of upbeat to it they play the same three notes with which Tristan begins. It’s possible that this is a coincidence but I don’t think so. The melody itself is described by Richard Whitehouse as “graceful”. I know what he means but I’m not sure that description is the full story: it sounds to me to be a spectral kind of grace; as so often with Shostakovich ambiguity is everywhere. This long, winding violin theme serves as the impetus for much of the content of the succeeding paragraphs. After another appearance of the ‘fate’ motif (5:28) what is at first a ghostly passacaglia begins. The music grows in temperature and intensity until a substantial climax is reached (10:08). This is another – and the last – of Shostakovich’s trademark towering symphonic climaxes and in it I hear definite echoes – grim ones – of the Leningrad Symphony. After the climax has subsided the music becomes wan and lean again; here the playing of the RLPO is once again most effective. The ending is enigmatic; the soft, tintinnabulating percussion over soft string chords recalls the conclusion of the Fourth Symphony, albeit the passage is longer this time. With a soft bell chime Shostakovich writes finis to his canon of symphonies.
 
The Fifteenth is a difficult symphony, not because its language is difficult in the way that the language of the Second is gratuitously difficult. It’s difficult because it’s so hard to grasp what are the composer’s intentions. I bought Maxim Shostakovich’s 1972 première recording when it came out – I still have the LP – and yet, even after all these years I’m not confident that I fully comprehend this elusive piece. I am sure, however, that it’s a fine and expressive composition and it’s the work of a mature and highly experienced symphonist whereas the Second is the work of a young, iconoclastic innovator. I don’t believe that earlier piece is genuinely symphonic in the sense of including any conventional development of ideas.
 
I doubt I shall listen often to the Second, though I’m sure that Vasily Petrenko and his choir and orchestra serve it well. I’m certain, however, that I shall return to this performance of the Fifteenth which strikes me as being excellent both in terms of the interpretation and the execution. The Naxos sound is very good: it reports the massive climaxes very well but conveys equally successfully the many quiet passages, both at the start of the Second and during the Fifteenth. As usual, Richard Whitehouse’s notes are very good at outlining the background to the works and at describing each score. However, it’s slightly disappointing that he doesn’t attempt any real discussion of the quotations in the Fifteenth beyond saying that they’re present.
 
This is another fine instalment in this important Shostakovich symphony cycle and I hope we won’t have to wait too long for the next release.
 
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

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One of the nice things about Vasily Petrenko’s ongoing Shostakovich cycle, now well past its halfway point, is that it is making me reevaluate symphonies I did not think so highly of previously. The conductor’s recent recording of the Third Symphony (with the First, on Naxos 8.572396) inspired me to comment, “Petrenko’s reading is so full of good humor—and perhaps a little sarcasm—that I found myself enjoying this symphony more than usual.” Well, the Second is, for the most part, just as good, aided and abetted by some really fun playing from the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra, and exciting sound from Naxos’s engineering team. The opening pages, an extended bass drum roll, quietly played, and soon overlaid by what Shostakovich called “ultrapolyphony” (27 simultaneously played voices) create a strikingly Ivesian effect. Now, Ives was ahead of his time, and so was the young Shostakovich, who anticipated several of the 20th century’s later musical developments in this symphony. Petrenko pulls it off with impudence, and the factory whistle that introduces the chorus has never been more visceral in its impact. (Shostakovich advised that, in the absence of a factory whistle, a chord for horns and trombones could be used instead. I am not sure what is being used here—it sounds like a jet engine, actually—but it is most impressive.) The chorus is almost as idiomatic as it was in the Third Symphony, and if the singers sound a little hoarse, I can forgive them. (Shostakovich shows neither the orchestra nor the chorus much mercy in this symphony.) Perhaps that’s what singing about Lenin and communes does to one.
Few people doubt the importance of the 15th Symphony. In fact, in bolstering its stature, and its place as the terminal symphony in Shostakovich’s canon, conductors have a tendency to make it seem more funereal than perhaps is necessary. Petrenko’s reading takes 48: 35, which really is quite slow, but this is one of those times when the subjective tempos seem faster. I think this is because Petrenko plays up the chamber music-like textures that dominate this work; slow is not the same as heavy, after all. Also, he is almost maliciously funny in the first movement, and in the third. Yes, the humor is of the black variety, but Petrenko applies it delicately, and as a consequence, there is more subtlety and nuance here than one expects even in this symphony. There are many examples of particularly fine solo playing from several members of the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic, too. Surely, this is one of the best versions of the 15th Symphony currently available—right up there with one of Kondrashin’s recordings, or (for something much richer) Ormandy’s. Petrenko’s Second easily eclipses Morton Gould’s and Bernard Haitink’s (to name two of the most famous alternatives). For the Shostakovich fan, there’s every reason to get this newest release from Petrenko, and no good reason not to. Have at it.
FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle

This performance goes right to the top. Not since the amazing mono Ancerl recording has there been a version of this work of such intensity, such expressive urgency, and (yes, believe it or not) such incredible orchestral playing. It's impossible to praise the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic enough: they put their London colleagues to shame. The cellos and basses have a dark, tactile presence in pianissimo not heard since the old Kondrashin Melodiya recording. The horns play the daylights out of their solos in the first and third movements, while Petrenko has the violins sustaining, articulating, and phrasing the climax of the first movement with a passion and grit that's beyond praise.

Indeed, as an essay in Shostakovich conducting alone this performance deserves an honored place in every collection. Petrenko has the players digging into the second movement with unbridled ferocity at an ideally swift tempo. He ferrets out every subtle detail of scoring in the crepuscular Allegretto while never permitting the music to drag. His finale has just the right manic high spirits, and he clarifies the DSCH motive in the timpani at the end better than anyone else ever has. It's all captured in gloriously vivid, present sonics by the Naxos engineers. Thrilling, perfect, essential--a magnificent achievement and hands down the modern reference recording.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Although best known for his film music, William Alwyn composed five symphonies (among other concert works). Symphony No. 1 unsurprisingly marries symphonic form to an engaging dramatic narrative. The first movement's slow, quiet introduction is pregnant with anticipation of the conflict to come, while the moving Adagio features one of those irresistibly hummable movie-style tunes. And connoisseurs of classic film cannot help but conjure cinematic images as they listen to Alwyn's triumphant, brassy Allegro jubilante finale. But even without such associations, the First is a fine symphony in its own right.


The three-movement Symphony No. 3 is even more compelling. Alwyn states that he used a "new kind of 12-note system", but the resulting music is certainly not atonal. Indeed, much of it has a modal quality similar to Vaughan Williams--a similarity that extends to the music's formal plan, warlike character, and sometimes even the orchestration (the brass writing in the first movement, and the woodwind/string interplay of the finale's "scherzo" section)--all of which are reminiscent of that composer's Sixth Symphony. But Alwyn's own voice predominates, and the symphony is enjoyable for its powerfully argued rhetoric and taut thematic construction. Conductor David Lloyd-Jones certainly believes in this music, as he demonstrates in these winning performances with the excellent Royal Liverpool Philharmonic. Naxos provides first-rate sound.
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

Great performances of this massive symphony aren’t exactly thick on the field, but my goodness, this is one of them. Vasily Petrenko and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic play with 100 percent commitment in every single bar. The first movement opens broadly, the intensity already palpable. Taking full advantage of excellent sound and a wide dynamic range (crank up the volume for this one), the central march and battle will have you sweating in your seat. The unrelentingly sustained passion that Petrenko brings to this long section triumphantly vindicates Shostakovich’s controversial vision, and at the same time makes short work of a 28-minute overall timing.

It may sound odd, but what stands out most in the scherzo (for me anyway) is the strikingly sharp pizzicato violins accompanying the shrill clarinet in the movement’s central outburst (sound sample below). Obviously this isn’t the most important idea, but the fact that Petrenko and his strings take such care to characterize even simple accompaniments helps us to understand just why this performance is so compelling. Like the first movement, the Adagio has a strikingly intense central episode, one whose contrasting power helps to sustain interest in the slow, grave outer sections. Then we come to the finale, with a thrilling, wild allegro, and a broad, take-no-prisoners coda that’s simply immense. Petrenko’s Shostakovich cycle already is one of the best out there, but this release really puts the seal on his achievement. This is absolutely essential, and as I said, it’s exceptionally well recorded to boot.

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com