REVIEW:

Niels Gade was a musical conservative, very much of the Mendelssohn school, but he had a distinctive personality and...he knew how to make his music move. These symphonies have good tunes, almost no dead spots, and the Fifth, which has an important concertante part for solo piano, really is an entertaining and original piece by any standard.

At five discs for the price of two, this set is a steal. Neeme Järvi's versions of the eight symphonies are as fine as any available, certainly as good as Hogwood's excellent Chandos set which now costs several times as much. Niels Gade was a musical conservative, very much of the Mendelssohn school, but he had a distinctive personality and, more to the point, he knew how to make his music move. These symphonies have good tunes, almost no dead spots, and the Fifth, which has an important concertante part for solo piano, really is an entertaining and original piece by any standard. Järvi secures crisp, lively playing from the Stockholm Sinfonietta; there isn't a weak performance in the lot.

The Violin Concerto is also a fine, unaccountably neglected piece, very well played by Anton Kontra (of the eponymous quartet fame). Its central Andantino espressive really is a gem, but then the entire piece has a formal compactness and confidence typical of Gade. The Crusaders (featuring the Aarhus Symphony under Frans Rasmussen) is an hour-long cantata for soloists, chorus, and orchestra, and it makes a considerable bonus. Of course in today's world it's kind of hard to sympathize with the crusades, or with any piece in which Peter the Hermit is the good guy, but give Gade credit: he gets through the entire Armida/Rinaldo love story in 23 minutes, and it's the best part of the work. Enough talk: just get this box, and your Gade collection will be pretty much complete.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

On the 1956 set from Bayreuth [the role of Kothner] is taken by no lesser artist than Fischer-Dieskau, who presents to the life the precise, fussy keeper of the seal, none better on any recording of the work. But there is hardly a poor performance from any singer. Windgassen, who rarely undertook Walther, sings the part with untiring freshness and life, phrasing with a long line and an innate musicality that make Walther's music for once a pleasure to hear from start to finish. Brouwenstijn is his lull-throated if not very individual Eva. Stolze's David is predictably vivid, Schmitt-Walther's pedantic, unexaggerated Beckmesser a nice change from the then-customary caricature. Greindl's Pogner is not ideally steady but imbued with eloquent diction and feeling.

The clinching performance is Hotter's Sachs, profoundly satisfying in its depth of feeling, its understanding of every facet of Sachs's complex character, and he gives his two monologues a musing. interior quality that goes to the heart of the matter. Vocally, he starts a shade tired - not surprising when he was also that festivals Wotan - but, crucially, by the start of Act 2 he strikes his best form. This set would be worth hearing for him alone.

Cluytens's conducting is not on the Knappertsbusch level, rather matter-of-fact in the first two acts, much more inspired in Act 3—but in any case nothing can dim the quality here of the handpicked Bayreuth forces. Unfortunately this recording, unlike the other two, has moments of poor sound, but it is never unsatisfactory enough to mar the performance's many assets.

-- Gramophone [10/1998]

This album is, simply, a necessary addition to the Busoni discography, carried off with panache. A studio recording, sound is uncramped, gutsily close, and incisively detailed. Sine qua non for the Busoni aficionado, and enthusiastically recommended to all who care for the literature of the piano.

- Adrian Corleonis Fanfare (From review of Capriccio 10896 which contains the same performances.)

Reviews of recordings in this set:

The Creation


Although The Creation is no stranger to period-instrument performance, two in particular spring to mind as particularly outstanding. The first of these is Christopher Hogwood's on L'Oiseau-Lyre, which is in English and remains the only version to assemble the huge forces for which Haydn actually wrote, with singularly thrilling results. Second, there is Hengelbrock on Deutsche Harmonia Mundi, who demonstrated that at least on recordings the music can sound just as big and colorful, but without extensive doubling of instrumental parts. In his version of The Seasons, René Jacobs accomplished a similar feat, and so does this newcomer, even outdoing Hengelbrock in wringing every last drop of color from Haydn's perennially fresh orchestration. All of the other period performances, including Brüggen, Weil, Harnoncourt (twice), Kuijken, and Gardiner, stand at some remove from these three.

Andreas Spering has a lot going for him right from the beginning: crack vocal and instrumental forces, a strong lineup of soloists, and an excellent German radio production that sounds fabulous...This account of Chaos must stand as the most creepy and desolate on disc, the music still truly revolutionary and modern even at this late date. Spering takes time to make every detail tell: the sudden brass interjections, the startling clarinet run leading to the recapitulation, the muted strings and soloistic writing for timpani. Spering rightly treats the piece Romantically, allowing plenty of opportunities for rhetorical emphasis, as at the thrilling eruption of light and the ensuing recitative, taken a bit slower and more grandly than usual. But there's nothing mannered or unduly exaggerated: everything is dictated by the sense of the text. The chorus obviously relishes the words and sings as though they really mean something.

There are too many outstanding details to list completely. The concluding choruses of all three parts combine blazing brass with exceptional contrapuntal clarity. Sunhae Im and Hanno Müller-Brachmann make a charming Adam and Eve. The latter hasn't the steadiest of baritone voices, particularly in his lower register (as I noted in his recent recording of Bach's B minor Mass for Naxos), but he does surprisingly well in Raphael's big Part 2 aria "Nun scheint in vollem Glanze der Himmel", and tenor Jan Kobow turns in an excellent "In Native Worth" (as it's known in English). Spering somehow manages to play the living daylights out of the great duet with chorus at the center of Part 3, which Tovey called the greatest single movement that Haydn ever wrote, without making an anti-climax out of the following Adam and Eve duet and the big closing ensemble, with its dazzling coloratura "Amens". In short, from just about every possible standpoint, this is as fine a performance of this work as I hope to hear, one that at every turn reveals the miraculously undying youthfulness of Haydn's inspiration. Now on to the The Seasons, please!

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Il ritorno di Tobia (The Return of Tobias)

A welcome addition … worthy to set alongside the other great achievements of Haydn’s middle period.

This is a real find and a welcome addition to the Naxos catalogue. Haydn is justifiably famous for his oratorios The Seasons and The Creation. The latter has been recorded by these artists for Naxos to great acclaim. Now Andreas Spering and his Capella Augustina have unearthed Haydn’s first, all but forgotten oratorio, The Return of Tobias. The apocryphal subject of Tobias and the angel was extraordinarily popular in Haydn’s Vienna when he was composing this work, and he chose to home in on the section of the story when Tobias (Tobia) returns from his long absence from home and, with the help of his friend Asaria, aka the Archangel Raphael in disguise, cures his father’s blindness. Haydn takes this as an opportunity to create an oratorio which, while not as pacy or fast-moving as The Seasons and The Creation, contains much of beauty, and some very virtuosic singing for both chorus and soloists. Popular as the Tobias legend was in 1775, however, it quickly fell out of favour. It was furthermore felt that Haydn’s oratorio was too long (nearly 3 hours) and difficult to be easily revived so it fell out of favour and has barely been heard since. Length is less of an issue when you listen at home and, thankfully, the artists involved here make this difficult score seem all but effortless.

The first accolades have to go to the young soloists. We might hope that Nikolay Borchev would have sounded a little more weighty as Tobit, the blind father, but he brings pathos and sympathy to what could have seemed a dry character. His opening aria, Ah tu m’ascolta, oh Dio appropriately invokes sympathy for a man who seems to have lost all sympathisers on earth. Similarly Anders J. Dahlin is perhaps less forthcoming than we would expect from the hero of the story, but he brings a wonderfully mellifluous tone to the character of Tobias himself, from his first aria upon his return to his parental home, until the final miracle when his father is healed. The outstanding contributions, however, come from the three women soloists. Anna, Tobias’ aged mother, is characterfully sung by Ann Hallenberg. Her rich, fruity mezzo is perfect for the tone of despair the character needs at the opening, and she lightens her tone admirably when the mood of the piece turns more joyful in Part 2. Listen to her exciting opening aria (CD1, Track 4) and you will see how Haydn can create instant interest in the character, as well as how seemingly easily Hallenberg copes with it. Her nightmare aria is Part 2 is thrilling. Sophie Karthäuser tailors her tone to handle Tobias’ virtuous and dutiful wife, Sara. Most admirable of all, however, is Roberta Invernizzi, singing the role of Raphael. The angel is given appropriately difficult, often stratospheric music and Invernizzi sings it with flawless coloratura and effortless command of the technique.

The chorus seems totally convinced by this work and they throw themselves into their parts as if they were singing opera, which it often feels like they are. Two moments to watch out for: their fugal chorus that ends Part One is particularly exciting, and their stormy Part 2 chorus, Svanisce in un momento was resurrected by Haydn as his concert motet Insanae et vanae curae. The Capella Augustina, a period ensemble founded by Andreas Spering himself, plays this music as if it were written for it, and the chamber textures that Haydn is fond of using sound perfectly judged. Listen to Sarah’s Part 2 aria, Non parmi esser fra gl’uomini for a good example of how well orchestra and soloists blend. Spering holds the whole thing together with assured control, but also a sense of spontaneity, as if the music is unfolding in precisely the correct manner. This CD is a welcome addition to the catalogue, and something worthy to set alongside the other great achievements of Haydn’s middle period. Three cheers to Naxos for choosing to give it such a distinguished outing on CD. The booklet contains commentary, synopsis and Italian texts, but no translations.

-- Simon Thompson, MusicWeb International

Click here to view all 13 volumes of The Sibelius Edition



SIBELIUS Orchestral Works • Osmo Vänskä, cond; 1 Neemi Järvi, cond; 2 Jaakko Kuusisto (vn); 4 cond; 3 Leonidas Kavakos (vn); 5 Dong-Suk Kang (vn); 6 Marko Ylönen (vc); 7 Lahti SO; 1,3 Gothenburg SO 2 • BIS 1921 (6 CDs: 420:41)


Overture in E. 1 Scène de ballet. 1 Karelia: Complete music; 1 Overture; 2 Suite. 1 Impromptu. 2 Presto. 1 Press Celebrations Music. 1 Menuetto. 1 Coronation March. 1 March of the Pori Regiment. 1 Overture in a. 1 Romance in C. 1 Cortège. 1 Pan and Echo. 1 The Countess’s Portrait. 1 Violin Concerto: (1903–04); 1 (1905). 5 Rakastava. 1 2 Serenades. 2,6 2 Serious Melodies (2 versions). 1,2,6,7 6 Humoresques. 2,6 Academic March. 2 March of the Finnish Jäger Battalion. 1 3 Pieces, op. 96. 1 Suite mignonne. 1 Suite champêtre. 1 Suite caractèristique. 1 Morceau romantique. 1 Suite for Violin and Strings. 1,6 Andante festivo. 1 Processional. 1 Preliminary and alternative versions 1,3,4


Sibelius wrote a colossal amount of music for the orchestra. Already issued in BIS’s Sibelius Edition are boxes devoted to the tone poems (Vol. 1), theater music (Vol. 5, including the full scores plus the suites drawn from the composer’s incidental music), and voice and orchestra (Vol. 3); still to come, of course, is the volume of symphonies (Vol. 12, projected). That makes 21 or 22 well-filled CDs. Then there’s the present set, Vol. 8, which consists of everything else: works for violin and orchestra (about two CDs), music for patriotic pageants (one-and-a-half discs), and various occasional pieces, suites, and other works that don’t fit any of the above categories. The Sibelius quote with which annotator and project advisor, Andrew Barnett, begins his program notes could well serve as an epigram for the entire project: “I am myself a man of the orchestra. You must judge me from my orchestral works.”


Most of the contents of this set were first issued on single CDs: the Karelia music on BIS 915, the Press Celebrations Music on 1115, the two versions of the Violin Concerto on 500, the remaining works for violin and orchestra on 472, and various smaller works on 1265, 1445, 1485, and 1565. Items appearing here for the first time are the Karelia Suite, Menuetto, Romance, March of the Finnish Jäger Battalion , the three French-titled Suites, opp. 98 and 100, and the Processional , as well as several preliminary and alternative versions.


The sheer quantity of material here makes it most practical to discuss the works by category. Along with the Violin Concerto, the most important music in this set is that provided by Sibelius for two patriotic pageants during the Russian crackdown of the 1890s. Thinly disguised as benefits, the first in 1893 for education in the Viipuri district, the second in 1899 for the Press Pension Fund (the Russians had banned a Finnish newspaper), the Karelia and Press Celebrations pageants in reality served as nationalist rallies. The Karelia music, written the year after Kullervo and only two years after Sibelius’s first orchestral works, consisted of an Overture and music for eight tableaux; the Eighth Tableau quotes the song that would later become Finland’s national anthem. The Overture was published independently as op. 10, and three of the eight tableaux were adapted to form the Karelia Suite , op. 11. The remaining music—the entire score totals 50 minutes—is well worth hearing; particularly striking are the runic singing of Tableau 1 and the “siege” music of Tableau 6. In the runic singing, I prefer the earthy female voices used in Tuomas Ollila’s recording for Ondine to the bland baritones used here; otherwise, Vänskä’s version is more compelling. BIS includes Järvi’s energetic 1982 recording of the Overture (to avoid redundancy, one supposes), but gives the Suite in a new recording by Vänskä. I’m not sure why: there are plenty of fine recordings of the Suite already, and Sibelius collectors serious enough to consider this volume doubtless already have their favorite versions; mine is the RCA/Decca recording by Alexander Gibson, not currently available.


The Press Celebrations Music is almost as extensive, comprising a prelude and music for six tableaux; the final movement, “Finland Awakes,” with a new ending, became Finlandia , published as op. 26/7 in the expectation that the entire score would follow. In fact, only three other tableaux were published in revised form as Scènes historiques I , op. 25. The various stages of revision of Finlandia can be heard in Vol. 1 of the Edition; in the original, instead of the familiar apotheosis of the hymn tune, the ending consists of a series of bombastic fanfares. The Press Celebrations score is also included on the Ondine disc, but Vänskä is the clear winner.


The other major work here, of course, is the Violin Concerto. Kavakos and Vänskä give a compelling performance of the familiar 1905 revised version; it’s a performance of extremes, with the many technical challenges met head-on and the more lyrical music played with great sensitivity. Fans of Oistrakh on the one hand or Heifetz on the other won’t want to discard their favorites, but Kavakos offers yet another good option. The real story, though, is the 1991 version of Sibelius’s original score by the same artists; I believe it remains the only recording of the 1903–04 version. The comparison is intriguing; longtime Fanfare subscribers can find David K. Nelson’s detailed review in 14:6. It is impossible to discuss the two versions at length here, but two points should be made: first, the original is both longer and more difficult, including several fascinating passages that were later cut; second, as is almost invariably true, Sibelius’s final thoughts are his best. The revised version eliminates some interesting digressions and much extraneous detail, making it more cohesive and giving it more impact. The original version is still well worth hearing, not only because the comparison is so interesting, but also because it does include a good deal of music later eliminated. The two versions were originally issued in tandem, but here the original version is placed in an “appendix” on the last disc of the set, along with early or alternative versions of other works.


Kang and Järvi give sympathetic readings of the Two Serenades and the Serious Melodies ; the latter are also given, in the appendix, in Sibelius’s cello version by Ylönen and Vänskä. Only the Humoresques are a bit of a letdown. These superb pieces, written in 1917–18 when Sibelius was working on the Fifth Symphony under horrible conditions, are technically demanding and musically complex; they should be far better known, but their format—six short pieces totaling about 20 minutes—seems to have no niche in today’s concert programs. Kang and Järvi are less volatile, less exciting than Aaron Rosand on an ancient Vox LP. I have not heard the recordings of the violin-and-orchestra works by Tetzlaff or Kuusisto; Robert Maxham gave the former a mostly favorable review in 26:6, but the latter does not appear in the Fanfare Archive.


The many other pieces in this set can be addressed only briefly. Sibelius’s first orchestral works were the Overture in E Major and the Scène de ballet , both written in 1891; in 31:1, I preferred Järvi to Vänskä in the former, the reverse in the latter. The Overture in A Minor was written to fill out the program for the premiere of the Second Symphony; supposedly it was composed in a single evening. It certainly is far thinner in substance than the Symphony; its introduction, striking in its use of the trumpets, fails to go anywhere. The well-known Romance in C Major is given a rather perfunctory reading; Pan and Echo , a “Dance Intermezzo” sometimes grouped with the tone poems, is a striking miniature.


Rakastava (“The Lover”), a three-movement work for string orchestra with triangle and timpani written in 1911, the time of the Fourth Symphony, is a small masterpiece. It actually grew out of a much earlier choral work (thus perhaps explaining the anomalous opus number 11), and it was revised in 1912, Sibelius being dissatisfied with the arrangement. Again the final version is far superior to the earlier one, included in the appendix. Vänskä gives a sympathetic account.


Most of the remaining works are of minor importance; the Three Pieces , op. 96, and the three suites that followed, written between 1919 and 1922, are all essentially salon music; the Suite for Violin and String Orchestra, written in 1929 and thus one of Sibelius’s final compositions, is likewise not consequential. The Andante festivo , a 1938 arrangement of a work composed in 1922 for string quartet, is notable not only for its noble formality, but also because the recording of Sibelius’s live broadcast for the New York World’s Fair is the only surviving document of his conducting. That recording shows that almost everyone, including Vänskä, takes the piece too quickly; Vänskä’s version here has a timing of 5:10 versus Sibelius’s 6:55. Finally, the Processional is an arrangement of one of several songs Sibelius wrote for the Finnish Masonic lodge in 1927, again making it one of his last works.


The contents of this set range from some of Sibelius’s finest, most important works to some of the least significant products of his mature years. If you don’t have the single CD of the two versions of the Violin Concerto, or either of the pageant scores, or if you absolutely must have every scrap of orchestral music he created, this set’s for you. Collectors who have been acquiring each volume of the Edition as it is released will find this one of the more rewarding ones. Essential for Sibelians.


FANFARE: Richard A. Kaplan

Click here to view all 13 volumes of The Sibelius Edition



SIBELIUS Songs (complete) • Helena Juntunen (sop); Anne Sofie von Otter (mez); Monica Groop (mez); Dan Karlström (ten); Gabriel Suovanen (bar); Jorma Hynninen (bar); Bengt Forsberg (pn); Love Derwinger (pn); Folke Gräsbeck (pn) • BIS 1918 (5 CDs: 356:21 Text and Translation)


The foldout box housing this set bears the block letter “I” on its spine, signifying the exact midpoint of BIS’s Sibelius Edition; this is Volume 7, and the arrayed volumes, which also continue to unfold the gorgeous nature photo shown as a wrap-around on each box, now spell out “JEAN SI” on the shelf. As we have come to expect from the Edition, this volume of songs with piano can almost be described as “more than complete.” Sibelius published about 100 songs altogether: 84 in 16 opus-numbered groups, and another 16 or so without opus number. In addition, BIS also includes Sibelius’s own arrangements for voice and piano of a number of works originally written for voice and orchestra, as well as fragments of early songs not completed, unpublished songs recently discovered, and, as an Appendix to the volume (disc 5), alternative or preliminary versions of over a dozen others. The core of the collection consists of the contents of three previously issued BIS CDs: BIS 457 and 757, with von Otter and Forsberg, recorded in 1989 and 1994–95; and, BIS 657, with Groop and Derwinger, recorded in 1994. Almost all of the remaining items were recorded in 2008, and are making their first appearance here.


The great majority of Sibelius’s songs are set to Swedish poems; not only did Sweden have a much greater literary tradition than Finland did, but Swedish was also the composer’s first language. Sibelius’s favorite poet, judging by his choice of texts, was Johan Ludvig Runeberg, a nature poet whom Barnett calls “Finland’s national poet”; about a quarter of the songs are Runeberg settings. Sibelius did not begin writing songs until 1887 or 1888, toward the end of his student years, so this volume does not include the large number of student works and exercises found in the Chamber Music, Piano Music, and Violin and Piano volumes (Vols. 2, 4, and 6, respectively). He tended to write songs sporadically in groups through much of his career: after the initial burst of 1888–92, periods of activity in song composition included the years around the turn of the century, when Sibelius produced the last few of the Seven Songs, op. 17, and all of opp. 36–38, about 20 songs in all, including most of his best-known; and, the years 1908–11, the time of the Fourth Symphony, and a period in which Sibelius endured repeated surgeries resulting from an incorrect diagnosis of throat cancer. The last major group of songs comes from the World War I years, when he and his family faced great financial difficulties and of necessity he wrote mostly miniatures. Among these are the four groups of six songs each, opp. 72 (the first two of which are lost), 86, 88, and 90, his last bearing an opus number.


In all, von Otter sings about half the songs, including the two sets of Runeberg songs, opp. 13 and 90, that form bookends of Sibelius’s “official” song canon. Her warm, rich mezzo suits well many of the “Romantic” songs of opp. 17, 36, and 37, but she is also appropriately animated in the lighter, salonish German songs of op. 50, and in complete control in the op. 3 Arioso , a work of 1911 that Sibelius had to pass off as an early composition when he offered it to a local publisher instead of Breitkopf und Härtel, his usual publisher. BIS gives no word on why von Otter was not entrusted with the remaining items.


Groop, also a mezzo, has a less seductive sound than von Otter; then again, she is given relatively less rewarding repertoire: the Five Christmas Songs , op. 1 (again a misleading opus number), the bleak op. 57 songs of 1909, the extant four from op. 72—a polyglot mixture of the usual Swedish with one Finnish and one German setting—and, probably the finest of the batch, the six songs of op. 86. Most of these are rarely performed, and while I prefer von Otter’s singing, Groop’s performances are certainly more than adequate.


The two singers recently recorded in the remaining sets are a treat. Soprano Juntunen expresses a wide range of moods in the demanding Five Songs , op. 38, the darkest and most ambitious of the turn-of-the-century songs; she also impressively reprises her Volume 1 performance of Luonnotar in Sibelius’s own voice-and-piano arrangement. She shares with baritone Suovanen the Two Songs , op. 35, of 1908, perhaps the most musically radical of Sibelius’s works in this format. Suovanen sings both versions of the two songs from 12th Night , op. 60, the original with guitar and Sibelius’s arrangement with piano, and is most impressive in the Eight Songs , op. 61, of 1910. These are small tone-pictures with elaborate piano parts that do much to set the mostly dark moods; Suovanen easily manages the songs’ difficult tessitura, sometimes bringing to mind the young Fischer-Dieskau. He is also brilliant in Sibelius’s voice-piano version of The Rapids-Rider’s Brides . BIS has introduced other terrific new baritones, notably Tommi Hakala, but Suovanen is definitely one to watch! Tenor Karlström makes only three brief appearances, but acquits himself well; Hynninen, a veteran of the Edition, makes a cameo appearance in the preliminary versions of three of the op. 13 songs.


There should have been an elephant in the room, in the person of Tom Krause, whose complete set of the “canonical” Sibelius songs was issued on a five-LP set by Argo in the early 1980s, and appeared again on Decca CDs in 2004. To my shock, I found that this set is no longer available. Krause, whose musicianship had grown immeasurably since his 1963 single disc of Sibelius songs, would be a formidable rival in a number of these songs, several of which are really better suited to male voice because of the texts; and, the clearly “female” songs in the set were done by the imposing team of Elisabeth Söderström and Vladimir Ashkenazy. If you have, or can find, the Decca, odds are that, like me, you will prefer Krause in some items and von Otter in others.


As in previous volumes, BIS gives an insightful essay by Barnett (in five languages); texts in the original language and English translation; and, the five discs for the price of three. Owners of the Decca set may still want this if they’re really serious about Sibelius’s songs; both sets offer many beauties and many insightful performances. Hard-core Sibelians will want this for the material that is not included in the earlier set—mostly because the manuscripts had not yet come to light. Collectors who have been acquiring volumes of The Sibelius Edition all along need no further urging at this stage.


FANFARE: Richard A. Kaplan