Pasturelands Cello Concerto The pastures of the wilderness overflow, the hills gird themselves with joy, the meadows clothe themselves with flocks, the valleys deck themselves with grain, they shout and sing together for joy. (Psalms 65:12, ESV) Pasturelands Cello Concerto was written in an accessible Americana style to highlight the picturesque settings of western grasslands and pastures of the United States. Composed in four movements, 'Awakenings', 'Great Plains', 'Calves at Play', and 'Open Range', this work expresses the daily and seasonal changes of God's natural forces on the ranches and ranges of America. There is a beautiful simplicity of life lived on the prairies and plains of the American West. A rough, rugged, self-reliant spirit nurtures life, yet this spirit also relies on God's seasonal elements to sustain it. From 'Awakenings', which opens the concerto as sunrise might open the day, to the fun and up-tempo third movement 'Calves at Play', Pasturelands urges the listener to enter into the simple yet ancient daily life of grazing cattle and fields full of swaying grasses. Grand Teton Suite is a symphonic work inspired by the grandeur, beauty, and untamed spirit of the Grand Teton mountain range. Through sweeping melodies, vivid orchestral colors, and contrasting moods, the music evokes the dramatic landscapes of the American West-from majestic peaks rising above the valley floor to tranquil alpine meadows and the ever-changing skies above them. The suite captures both the power and serenity of this iconic wilderness, inviting listeners on a musical journey through scenes of natural wonder. Rich orchestral textures and expansive themes reflect the scale of the mountains, while moments of intimacy portray the quiet beauty found within the landscape. Grand Teton Suite celebrates the enduring connection between nature and the human spirit.? American Patriot Hymn Composed in celebration of the 250th anniversary of the United States, American Patriot Hymn is both a reflection on the nation's origins and a tribute to the enduring spirit of it's people. Central to the piece is it's use of texts attributed to Samuel Adams (The Source of Liberty) and John Quincy Adams (Narrations), whose words capture the philosophical and moral foundations of the American experiment. These elements are not merely decorative-they serve as the backbone of the work's narrative, illuminating themes of liberty, sacrifice, and civic responsibility. By setting these texts, the audience is projected into the voice of the Revolutionary era, inviting reflection on the ideals that shaped the nation's birth. Musically, American Patriot Hymn is grounded in a language that feels both familiar and freshly imagined. It's melodies evoke the character of traditional patriotic song-broad, singable, and resonant-while avoiding direct quotation. The original thematic material captures the essence of American musical identity: open intervals, noble contours, and a sense of forward motion that mirrors the country's ongoing journey. The orchestration reinforces this spirit, balancing moments of grandeur with passages of introspection. In this anniversary year, American Patriot Hymn stands as a musical statement of remembrance and renewal. It honors the vision of the nation's founders while acknowledging the continued responsibility of each generation to carry those ideals forward.

Layers The Album For centuries, spiritual singing was an inseparable part of everyday life of mankind. It accompanied the course of day, course of life and course of year and acted as a kind of measure to keep in touch with the flow of time. There were songs to sleep and wake by, pray for God's mercy in all situations possible and maintain a harmonious and modest life. These songs travelled through Europe mostly with the help of protestant pastors and songbooks, but blended into local folk heritage in every parish. Different versions of well-known chorales create a unifying web across Western culture while maintaining a distinct, irreplicable voice of the isolated communities. These songs, either straight from songbooks or transcribed during field trips by scholars of early 20th century, are the core of this album. Layers, so to speak, of spiritual singing reach seamlessly from Estonia, across the Swedish-speaking areas of Estonia to mainland Sweden and Norway, overseas to Iceland, making a stop at good old England where similar cultural processes took place a little earlier. Latin hymns translate into local languages, blend into folk tradition, get picked up again, make their way into art music directly or indirectly and become a source of inspiration once again. We encounter these songs in an environment where boundaries between social classes, styles of music, scenes and venues get blurred over and over, each time according to a whole different logic. We break a few canons, cliches and customs by approaching spiritual hymns with modern equipment, still making the vocals sound natural, timeless and unprocessed, vulnerable and enlightened. In our arrangements, we are aware of the tradition but treat the material with playfulness and a slight sense of irresponsibility. This is the layer we add to the heritage that has shaped our identities as individuals and nations, keeping the very core of human knowledge and spiritual existence alive and relevant.

By the mid-19th century, the burgeoning piano industry was in full flower, incorporating many developments and improvements in design. This led to increased consumer demand and mass production. Consequently the piano evolved from being a luxury item to home entertainment center. Until the advent of radio and recordings, this was how you experienced music at home. Apart from traveling to concerts, the only way to get to know, say, a new Brahms Symphony or the latest Wagner or Verdi opera was to play them at the piano, more often than not in arrangements for one piano four hands. Glancing through myriad music catalogs (not to mention IMSLP), it seems that nearly every symphony, string quartet, choral work and opera had once been available in duet arrangements. Most publishers employed staff arrangers for this task; indeed, one could find certain works in more than one or two editions, such as the Beethoven Symphonies. Composers like Liszt, Brahms, Smetana and Dvorak either made their own four hand arrangements or else supervised others to do so. In essence, the piano duet medium represented the most viable way to dissemenate new orchestral works, particularly those for which concert performances were few and far between. One case in point concerns Bruckner's 1877 reworking of his Symphony No. 3. Although it had little success, that didn't stop the 18-year-old Gustav Mahler from transcribing it for piano duet for what is considered to be Mahler's first publication. In turn, Mahler's disciple Bruno Walter arranged Mahler's First and Second Symphonies for four hands. And Alexander von Zemlinsky, another close member of Mahler's inner circle, unveiled his four-hand version of the Sixth in 1906. Born in Vienna on October 14th 1871, Zemlinsky played both piano and organ from a young age, and was admitted to the Vienna Conservatory in 1884 where he studied piano and composition. Brahms apparently was impressed by Zemlinsky's Clarinet Trio (1896), while Mahler himself conducted the premier of Zemlinsky's opera Es war einmal at the Vienna Hofoper in 1900. That same year he made the acquaintance of the 21-year-old aspiring composer Alma Schindler. Their initial teacher/student relationship soon evolved into a turbulent love affair that lasted until the following year when Alma met Mahler, whom she eventually married. Mahler composed his Sixth Symphony between 1903 and 1905, but continued to make adjustments until his death in 1911. He conducted it's world premiere at Essen on May 27th 1906. Out of all of his purely instrumental symphonies, the Sixth is scored for the largest and most varied assortment of instruments. Although Mahler did call this symphony 'Tragic,' he did not designate an official title. Yet the music indisputably embodies the classic Greek idea of tragedy in the futility of one's heroic striving against an inevitable fate. As such, it's the only one of Mahler's symphonies that concludes neither happily nor peacefully. The opening bars introduce the driving march rhythm that loom large throughout the symphony. A chorale-like theme leads into the passionate F Major second theme that Alma claimed to describe her. Not all conductors (nor Faliks and Schlosberg) observe Mahler's indicated exposition repeat, a convention that had long been considered as optional. The development section subjects the themes to elaborate and compact contrapuntal interplay. While one misses the spatial impact of cowbells against soft celesta chords accompanied by high triple-piano violin tremelos, Zemlinsky compensates with equally compelling keyboard textures and pedal effects. Mahler never made up his mind about the order of the two middle movements. His manuscript and first published score places the Scherzo before the Andante, although his performances opted for Andante-Scherzo, which is reflected in the 2003 critical edition. In any event, listeners can program this release to suit their own preferences. In addition to reiterating the motto march motive, the Scherzo stands out for it's quirky and highly original dance sequences. The Trio, marked 'Altvaterisch' ('in an old-fashioned style'), features irregular rhythms and off-beat accents that, according to Alma's memoirs, represent 'the arhythmic games of (our) two little children, tottering in zigzags over the sand. ' Somehow the third section dance's woodwind squeals and col legno string effects prove just as grotesque and menacing via Zemlinsky's piano scoring. By contrast, the Andante provides the Symphony's only sustained point of respite, alternating between two of Mahler's longest and most heartfelt melodies. As writer David Hurwitz astutely explains in his Mahler Symphonies 'Owner's Manual,' the Finale's ambitious dramatic trajectory takes place in four distinct musical zones, each with it's own specific atmosphere: 1) the familiar march elements, 2) the surging lyrical tunes, 3) the introspective pastoral passages and 4) a 'twilight zone' full of terror and mystery. With Mahler's encouragement, both Zemlinsky and Schoenberg founded the Vereinigung schaffender Tonkünstler (Alliance of Creative Musicians) in Vienna in 1904 to promote and disseminate new works. One outcome of the organization was Zemlinsky's four-hand arrangement of the Sixth, which he and Mahler played in Schoenberg's presence. The performance may well have planted the seeds for Schoenberg founding his Verein für musikalische Privataufführungen (Society for Private Musical Performance) in 1918. Under Schoenberg's supervision, Zemlinsky's arrangement was performed twice at the Society by pianists Eduard Steuermann and Ernst Barich. In his biography of Mahler, Erwin Ratz wrote that 'The performance. Was a highlight in the concerts of the Society. In about thirty rehearsals Schoenberg had prepared the performance with loving care. In retrospect it may be said that the four-handed rendition bears equal comparison with the performance of the original version. ' Naturally 88 piano keys cannot replicate the visceral impact of Mahler's unprecedented orchestration and his genius for instrumental color. However, since Mahler's orchestral original is ubiquitous in concert and via recordings, one should welcome this opportunity to experience Mahler's Sixth in a relatively unfamiliar yet fresh and authentic light. As Inna Faliks and Daniel Schlosberg cogently reveal in this remarkable recording, the music works well on the piano. In purely keyboard terms, Mahler's contrapuntal acumen and rich harmonic language make a pointed, intimate and idiomatic impact, losing little in translation. Moreover, two pianists sharing one bench can respond with unusual flexibility and immediacy to the music's harrowingly wide emotional gamut, channeling the spirit of Zemlinsky and Mahler hovering over the keyboard when the ink had barely dried on the page. - Jed Distler

Evelyn Converse (Connie's mother): Is it sweet little ditties or is it modernistic? Connie Converse: It's got everything in it. I'm the one in the smoky gray button-down, gently disentombing a viola from it's case in the gauzy, late morning light illuminating this inviting Northcenter studio. In the freelance Classical (and Classical-adjacent) world, projects and their attendant rehearsals encompass the vibes and caliber spectrum, but managing the contents of one's tear ducts is not generally a required qualification. Maybe you can try to get word to the violist, currently encamping himself and his stand beneath a towering harp. That unwitting sap-the one who at this moment only knows that the pieces he's playing were originally penned by someone with an enticingly alliterative moniker-has no idea that this music is about to occupy a good deal of the rent-free space available in his head and heart long after the live broadcast, the 'gig,' wraps. It is, I'm afraid, a decidedly common reaction to an oeuvre of unquestionably uncommon music for those that encounter it some seventy-plus years since it was meticulously penned. Whether this is your first orbit or you already count yourself amongst the members of the How Sad, How Lovely devout-Connie's modest and also astonishing kitchen table recordings, most recently reissued by her fellow Michiganders Third Man Records-the sounds currently spinning through your synapses here offer an entirely unique perspective of an artist who not only scooped Dylan on coaxing folk music from the universal to the personal by a literal decade, but indeed ventured into a territory of art song he will never quite access. Her Only Light is a more dimensional, more expansive view of Connie Converse, a composer-performer-pacifist-scholar-activist who, like the story of her enigmatic departure, deserves a telling beyond an easy headline. Some orientation is necessary, though. Elizabeth Eaton Converse was valedictorian of her high school, a scholarship recipient at Mount Holyoke College, a songwriting hopeful in Harlem, and the Co-Editor of the Journal of Conflict Resolution (Center for Research on Conflict Resolution) at the University of Michigan. Was she, as is editorialized about so many of my favorite creators, maybe a little too smart to be happy? A more accurate assessment arrives by way of her nephew Tim Converse, who generously shared with me, 'I think that she saw so clearly the way things should be that she was constantly disappointed by how things actually were.' This was certainly the case regarding her years in New York, having absconded early from Mount Holyoke to pursue her songwriting and singing aspirations. Consider that the 1950's Greenwich Village folk revival-in full swing as she composed-for all it's posturing about political revolution and working-class authenticity, was structurally about as progressive as a debutante ball. Add to that the fact the (then) recording industry's almost unshakable insistence on genre conformity and, in the case of female performers, sexual magnetism, and it doesn't take much to understand how a path-carving artist more engrossed in her compositional brilliance than her appearance failed to break through to the monoculture. Though history is of course littered with unrecognized genius, this was actually not precisely the case for Converse. She was featured on CBS's The Morning Show hosted by no less than Walter Cronkite, and was championed by animator Gene Dietch who, in addition to her own efforts, we have to thank for the recordings found on How Sad, How Lovely. At this inflection point, when she seemed poised to, well, make it, Connie Converse pivoted her writing toward a far less marketable but perhaps more adventurous corner of musicmaking: 'art song.' If Connie's 'Guitar Songs' (singer-songwriter, folk-oriented) were slow to gain traction, what hopes could her 'Piano Songs' (art song, harmonically enterprising) possibly have in such an inhospitable industry? Jesus. We're halfway through these liner notes and I haven't even introduced you to the two remarkable interpreters of said songs-the thoughtful Converse evangelists behind Her Only Light: arranger Ronnie Kuller and vocalist Emmy Bean. Almost immediately in that aforementioned rehearsal, which I should clarify was in service of a live performance on WFMT after this album was mixed and mastered, I was scheming how I might stay in proximity to Ronnie's dextrous, insightful writing and Emmy's lustrous, utterly persuasive phrasing in the years to come. Like so many generative collaborations, theirs originated in an abiding desire for connection and a fascination with the sublime. It was also a creative lifeboat in the not-so-distant era of prolonged home confinement. Sparked by Bean's sharing the 2015 Anna and Elizabeth cover of 'Father Neptune'-the harmonizing of which would provide inspiration for the arrangement here-with Kuller (who had already taken Converse's music up on stage while in residence at beloved Chicago venue The Hideout) the latter describes her decision-making process with unguarded enthusiasm: 'I want a harp. I want two clarinets at the same time. I want a string section! I want Emmy Bean to sing to me!' Ronnie goes on to share what I consider an essential reason why Her Only Light is so riveting and unmissable: 'When Emmy is singing, I believe every word.' Given that Connie is often credited with originating the singer-songwriter genre, one in which vulnerability evaporates any dramatic or emotional partition between singer and lyric, Converse's songs can only truly thrive when delivered with such tender veracity. As the duo explored Converse's art songs, transcribed by Kuller from the hand-written original scores, the desire for immersion in and dispersion of these songs only deepened. Emmy describes her 'forever memory' like this: 'Once we got started on the art songs we began with 'Song for Old Wars,' and I remember singing it for the first time in a big cavernous room on an old piano. This was a few weeks after Russia invaded Ukraine in 2022. Hearing the final cadence of that song echo in the room-the "horns"-was incredible. It gave me something to honor in all the chaos of new/old wars; I felt like Connie was with us, grieving the losses.' The other partition in need of a wrecking ball-one of primary importance to both singer and arranger-was that of folk song vs. Art song. Not only is this boundary a fanciful one perpetrated by hierarchically-minded (i.e. misled or confused) listeners and record industry execs originating from preconceptions about formal education, 'rigor,' and, to get right down to it, vibratoin the context of Connie Converse it results from the reality that her art songs, the 'Piano Songs,' never made it on tape during her own and Dietch's kitchen recording sessions. They were written later, and composed for voices other than her own, sometimes soprano, sometimes baritone. Emmy found herself slipping into Connie's world without friction, but decisions on how to stylistically inhabit the 'Guitar' and 'Piano' songs only revealed itself once the project was at full tilt: 'I was surprised to find how Connie's songs invite another singer into them. Some songs belong so intimately to their writer's voice (especially folk singers or singer-songwriters) that it feels wrong to sing them or hear them sung by others. When I took on this project, I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to find the access point, that I wouldn't be able to inhabit them, that I would find myself mimicking her or struggling to find myself in them. But the craft that Connie put into her art songs-the 'Cassandra Cycle,' 'anyone lived in a pretty how town,' etc-is also there in the songs she wrote on guitar. They are no less solid, no less fully realized than the ones she wrote on piano. They completely stand on their own, and they welcome any singer with the imagination and humility to hear them and be with them. The reward of singing them is to be inside of Connie's mind for a moment, to feel such great joy and such deep empathy, and to be able to smile at things that are so, so sad. I was also struggling to figure out how Connie's guitar songs and piano songs would exist together on the same record, in the same voice (mine). It wasn't until we got into the studio that Ronnie and I figured out that I could be the same singer throughout; there was no need to over-stylize the art songs or under-sing the folk songs. Together we were able to find an approach that honored the depth of her writing in both contexts, and that kind of broke the spell of genre over the whole thing.' As you traverse these Guitar Songs- 'Talkin Like You (Two Tall Mountains)' 'I Have Considered the Lillies' 'Father Neptune' 'One by One' and these Piano Songs- 'Vanity of the Vanities' 'The Rainmaker' 'Incommunicado' 'anyone lived in a pretty how town' (text by e.e. cummings) 'The Age of Noon' The Cassandra Cycle (excerpted) 'Cassandra's Entrance' 'Song for Old Wars' 'She Thinks of Heaven' 'She Devises a Lullaby' -relish as I do, if you will, Ronnie Kuller's orchestrational witticisms and delights, as with her leitmotif approach to 'Talkin Like You (Two Tall Mountains),' here and elsewhere gracious without unnecessary reverence or over-caution. Be carried off by Emmy Bean's sumptuous and entrancing delivery of 'Father Neptune,' but don't miss the cheeky wink in her voice as she alights on the song's more eyebrow-raising lines ('And it's still his creed that he has no need of a wifeexcept on shore'). Perhaps you're familiar with the melancholy pervasive in Converse's tunes, but her humor is equally nimble. And of course, don't disembark before you experience 'One by One,' the song currently making the hapless gigger unprofessionally bleary-eyed in the middle of a rehearsal. Loneliness has found it's most crystalline, most desolate voice in these verses, and to these ears at least, it is a one-of-one. That quote at the top of the page? It arrives by way of a recorded conversation between Connie and her mother concerning an in-processopera! This heroine of songwriting contained multitudes-a conclusion you are funneling toward as you make your way through this enchanting tracklist-and with Her Only Light, we are finally provided Connie Converse in full, resplendent resolution. -Doyle Armbrust

LEGENDS: Rebellion is the next installment in a series of recordings celebrating women as storytellers and bearers of cultural memory. Featuring world-premiere recordings, Grammy-nominated, long-time collaborative duo soprano Laura Strickling and pianist Joy Schreier return to add to the evolving legend of modern art song in an album exploring rebellion in many forms: political, emotional, erotic, maternal, and spiritual. From Afghan women's landay poetry composed in defiance of oppression, to mythic heroines reclaiming their own narratives, to an unflinching portrayal of new motherhood and a powerful meditation on love as resistance. Pushing against conventional expectations of what art song 'should' be, this album offers a kaleidoscopic array of harmonic and rhythmic languages alongside compelling, deeply human texts; a program that fascinates, challenges, informs, and delights - inviting both devoted listeners of art song and those less familiar with the genre into a richly expressive sonic world celebrating contemporary song as a space for courage, vulnerability, witness, and transformation.

The Holy Liftoff (2024) is the 11th installation of Claire Chase's 24-year Density 2036 project, an initiative to create a bold new repertory for the flute by the 100th anniversary of Edgard Varèse's seminal 1936 flute solo, Density 21.5. Density 2036 has been called "one of the great musical undertakings of our time" by The New York Times, and "a quarter-century journey that has little precedent" by The New Yorker. Terry Riley began composing The Holy Liftoff in 2022 as an open score sketchbook brimming with colorful drawings that were intended to be played by Chase with any number of collaborating musicians. Over the following two years, the sketches evolved into a multidimensional work that now combines extensive through-composed material as well as graphic notation, evocative artwork, and Riley's signature open-form scoring that can be freely interpreted by the performers in variable durations and ensemble formations. Samuel Clay Birmaher's 60-minute realization of the work, which he composed in close collaboration with Riley and the performers, is scored for multiple flutes and string quartet. "When I improvised the first 16 bars of 'The Holy Liftoff' the melody and the chords whispered it's name while simultaneously urging me to make drawings of the experience. The drawings had angels and flying creatures and all the energies were rising up into a surrealistic skyscape... This piece could only have been written for Claire Chase." -Terry Riley

Original motion picture soundtrack from A Letter From Helga All music is composed by Kristín Anna Valtýsdóttir except "I'm Not The Loving Kind" is composed by John Cale Arranged by Kristín Anna and Davíð Þór Jónsson Accordion, pianos, marxophone, synthesiser and vocals performed by Kristín Anna Cornett performed by Áki Ásgeirsson Cello arrangement and performance on tracks 1, 2, 7 and 15 by Gyða Valtýsdóttir Tuba, trombone, alto horn and euphonium on tracks 1, 10, 12 performed by Ingi Garðar Erlendsson Hammond organ on "I'm Not The Loving Kind" performed by Davíð Þór Jónsson Additional vocals on "I'm Not The Loving Kind" performed by Davíð Þór, Kristín Anna and Ása Helga Hjörleifsdóttir Recording engineering by Úlfur Hansson, Kristín Anna, Gyða Valtýsdóttir, Gabríel Ólafsson and Reykjavík Orkestra Mixed and produced by Kristín Anna Mastered by Styrmir Hauksson

ARENSKY String Quartets: No. 1; No. 2. Piano Quintet • Ying Qrt; Adam Neiman (pn) • SONO LUMINUS 92143 (76:56)


Anton Arensky’s String Quartet No. 1 appeared in 1888, six years after he graduated from the Leningrad Conservatory, and immediately joined the Moscow Conservatory as professor of harmony and counterpoint. (The requirements were much lighter at the time, in a culture where classical music was essentially viewed as a new Russian art form, earlier isolated musicians such as Dmitri Bortniansky, Yevstigni Fomin, and Mikhail Glinka notwithstanding.) It reveals the pronounced influence of Tchaikovsky, who became a mentor and friend of his younger colleague. Not always to the good, either, as the first and third movements meander pleasantly with little of distinction to say and less energy to convey it, all much in Tchaikovsky’s worst manner. The andante sostenuto is better, a simple, lyrical song whose charm lies in its rich accompanying harmonies, while a central section nods perfunctorily at counterpoint. The finale is by far the best thing in the work, a theme and variations (a form that, like Glazunov, Arensky excelled at) of a very Russian cast. The variations reveal the art and unpredictability of which the composer was master.


The Second Quartet followed the first by 12 years, and exists as a complete work in two versions: one for the standard lineup of two violins, viola, and cello, and one for violin, viola, and two cellos. They are musically identical, and were presumably composed to prove a point—not for the first time, since Arensky was a contrarian who would go out of his way to do something when someone else said it couldn’t or shouldn’t be done. (Tchaikovsky once reproached him for his occasional employment of unusual meters, citing the 5/4 finale to his Piano Concerto. Arensky immediately responded by composing several further works with similar metrical irregularities.) It is a more striking and imaginative work than the previous quartet. The first movement attempts the same frequent shifts of effect, textures, and harmony as its predecessor, but with superior thematic material, if with no greater ability to weld its disparate parts together. It is followed by only one other movement, a large-scale (17:28, in this reading) theme and variations on a Tchaikovsky song. With a lengthier theme that supplied more elements to vary, Arensky achieves as much as he had in the first quartet, but on a more ambitious scale. If a couple of the variations, such as the fifth, are little more than ornamentation, the overall result is successful.


The Piano Quintet appeared in 1900. Schumann’s Florestan is prominent in its opening movement, while another group of variations makes its appearance immediately afterward. As such, it’s an andante set, a rarity in Russian music, and an unabashedly sentimental, Tchaikovsky-like set, too. The scherzo is perfunctory, but the finale is more Arensky contrarianism: a 3:31 movement of which the first 2:47 consists of a stern contrapuntal prelude, leading to a fast and otherwise undistinguished reprise of the Schumann-like theme that opened the quartet.


The Ying Quartet started life in 1988 with four Winnetka, Illinois, siblings who all studied at the Eastman School of Music. When first violinist Timothy left in 2009, Frank Huang took over the chair, and when he left the following year to become the Houston Symphony’s concertmaster, Ayano Ninomiya became first violinist. It’s this final lineup that recorded this Arensky album. Their most distinguishing characteristics are an emphasis on energy, a narrow, disciplined tone, chance-taking, and intense group practice. I enjoyed their silky and at times quixotic versions of the Tchaikovsky quartets and Souvenir de Florence (Telarc 80685), and wasn’t surprised to find much the same qualities exhibited on this release. The attempts at portamento aren’t especially convincing, given that their string tone lacks the kind of “plush” necessary to bring it off, but as the central section of the Piano Quintet demonstrates, they and pianist Adam Neiman are certainly capable of employing rubato and expressive dynamics as to the romantic manner born. These are, in short, worthy performances of all three pieces.


They aren’t without competition, however. The Lajtha Quartet with Nona Prunyi offered an identical lineup of music on Marco Polo 8.223911, though with slightly less technical virtuosity and a lot less theatricality. Among recorded performances that offer one of the works, the String Quartet No. 2 receives a vigorous, almost impatient reading from the Raphael Ensemble (Hyperion CDA 66648), while a more spacious account is offered by the Arienski Ensemble on Meridian 84211 (deleted, but still available from some sources). I’ve also enjoyed the warmly expressive live reading of the Piano Quintet on the three-disc set titled Martha Argerich and Friends , recorded at the 2008 Lugano Festival, though the Yings supply more finesse in the middle movement.


In short, while there’s no clear winner when it comes to a single version of the Second String Quartet, the Ying Quartet is my preference for all three works combined. With excellent sound, definitely recommended.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

Alexander Borodin's Second String Quartet has vastly superceded the First in popularity. Musicologists tend to bemoan this fact, citing the earlier work's greater compositional ingenuity. Yet most listeners are understandably drawn to Quartet No. 2's irresistible tunefulness (two of its melodies were used as songs in the Broadway musical Kismet). The St. Petersburg Quartet emphasizes the intellectual rigor of No. 1, making a connection between it and Beethoven's late quartets. The playing, with its smoothness and clean intensity, lends an especially bleak cast to the rhapsodic Andante con moto, sounding here like a precursor to the quartets of Shostakovich.

This ensemble takes a more lyrical approach for No. 2, which is full of feeling yet maintains a strong sense of line (the first movement's argument is seamlessly realized here). Both performances are quite satisfying and are recorded in wonderfully clear, detailed, dynamically realistic sound by Dorian. Fine as these performances are, the Borodin Quartet on EMI displays even greater imagination throughout both performances (especially in the finale of No. 2), and a more deeply felt passion (No. 1's first movement and No. 2's Notturno). However, the cavernous Melodiya recording tends to blur some detail and adds an element of gigantism to the readings. So, it looks like the Dorian is the more generally recommendable version. It's quite enjoyable, and if you don't know these pieces, you've got quite a treat in store.

--Victor Carr Jr., ClassicsToday.com

If you care about Mahler, make a point of hearing this disc, no matter how many Fourths are already on your shelves. And I hope we will soon need more shelf space for additional CDs of Slowik's Mahler, some of it with full-sized orchestras. Mahler's music is no longer rare, but performances of such freshness, commitment and depth are always in short supply.
-- Bernard D. Sherman, Andante.com

Seascapes is a collection of some of the finest and most interesting sea-influenced pieces in piano literature.From peaceful meditations, dramatic reflections of violent waves, to a depiction of marine luminescence, these pieces truly encompass the vast possibilities for creation that the majestic sea can inspire.Pianist Janice Weber is a member of the piano faculty at Boston Conservatory and MIT.“Maximum virtuosity with minimum gesture is a particular Weber talent...no bravura gestures divert attention... She is a musician's musician - and a listener's musician.” (Bergen Record)

Sono Luminus announces the release of Icelandic ensemble Nordic Affect’s debut album on the label, Clockworking, featuring the music of five Icelandic women composers – Anna Thorvaldsdottir, Hildur Gudnadóttir, María Huld Markan Sigfúsdóttir, Hafdís Bjarnadóttir, and Thurídur Jónsdóttir. The album was recorded by Georg Magnússon at The Icelandic National Broadcasting Service, with mastering and post-production by Valgeir Sigurdsson.

REVIEW:

[A] brilliantly sensitive sound mixed more like up-close ambient music than chamber music, and it's one of the most evocative releases edging on either category in recent memory.

-- WQXR