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d'Albert: Cinderella Suite, Little Mermaid, Overtures / Markl, Leipzig Radio

Naxos

Available as CD

~~$19.99~~ $9.99

Apr 29, 2014

D’ALBERT Aschenputtel Suite. Overtures: Esther; Der Rubin; Die Abreise. Preludes: Die toten Augen; Gernot. Das Seejungfräulein 1 • Jun Märkl, cond; 1 Viktorija Kaminskaite (sop); MDR Leipzig RSO • NAXOS 8.573110 (75:11)

The extravagantly gifted pianist and composer Eugen d’Albert had one of those improbably full, cosmopolitan lives spanning the 19th and 20th centuries. Born to a family of French and Italian origin in 1864, the same year as Richard Strauss, he grew up in Scotland. Taking on German nationality as a young adult, d’Albert studied with Liszt, who called him “Albertus Magnus,” and had a significant association with Brahms. A leading pianist of his time, he later turned to composition and was a prominent figure in Berlin’s extraordinary musical flowering in the 1920s.

D’Albert’s style isn’t easily pinned down, since he adopted differing stylistic approaches in different works. All of his music that I have heard is very well crafted, and some of it is inspired. It tends to be lively, affirmative, and light, at times, more like Humperdinck (traditional) than Busoni (progressive), to mention two of his contemporaries. Harmonically, it’s usually less adventurous than that of Liszt or Strauss. One of d’Albert’s teaches was Arthur Sullivan, for whom he composed the Overture to Patience . The writing for female chorus in Tiefland reveals this unusual influence.

D’Albert composed 19 operas in all manner of genres, changing his style from work to work, as Mascagni also did, in the quest for popular success. He found it with Tiefland , which is sometimes called a German verismo work, and is still occasionally performed. (Recordings of the Jewish-themed Der Golem , and the brief domestic comedy Die Abreise , have been issued in recent years.) Musically, Tiefland is compelling, and in it, one hears that d’Albert’s text setting and writing for the voice are as confident as his orchestration. It’s a very satisfying work to listen to, and I can recommend the Janowski recording with Marton, Kollo, Weikl, and Moll.

There’s a lot of music in this collection, all of it unfamiliar, and some of it very impressive. D’Albert’s colorful, sumptuously orchestrated preludes and overtures aren’t brief, and not all of them make a strong individual impression, but two stand out. The overture to Grillparzer’s play Esther from 1888 resembles a fully developed symphonic movement, majestic, with contrastingly playful sections, and perhaps modeled on Brahms. The prelude and introduction to Die toten Augen (1916), a biblical tale, sounds completely different, an atmospheric combination of a Korngold movie score mixed together with La mer.

Das Seejungfräulein (The Mermaid), an extended scene for soprano and orchestra, after Hans Christian Andersen, was composed in 1897 for one of d’Albert’s six wives, the soprano Hermine Finck. (Another was the pianist Teresa Carreño.) This intensely chromatic, surging music certainly shows the influence of Wagner, but manages not to sound derivative. Though it maintains more traditional harmony, it reminds me a little of the soprano “songs” in Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder, and it’s the most impressive composition on the CD. In the strenuous vocal part that requires the power and range of an Isolde or Brünnhilde, the Lithuanian soprano Viktorija Kaminskaite has a warm, attractive voice, and a committed delivery, but she strains and loses tonal support on some sustained high notes.

Finally, the disc’s featured work, the 1924 Aschenputtel (Cinderella) Suite , after the Brothers Grimm, is a deftly scored set of five brief, programmatic dances. Keith Anderson’s notes don’t identify the suite as a ballet, but it would certainly lend itself to choreography. This tuneful, entrancing score is a masterpiece of its kind, and like Ravel in Ma mère l’oye —there’s a French feel to Aschenputtel —d’Albert had the gift of creating captivating, childlike music.

Jun Märkl leads lively, flexible performances, and the Leipzig Radio Symphony plays well, particularly in the Aschenputtel Suite , with its many solos. I highly recommend this disc for the chance to make the acquaintance of Die Seejungfräulein , although I hope that there will be future recordings of it with more technically assured singing, and especially Aschenputtel , a delightful find.

FANFARE: Paul Orgel

-----

Eugen D’Albert was a tremendously gifted musician, and even had he not been we would owe him respect for being married six times and inspiring his second wife, the also multiply married Venezuelan pianist Teresa Careño, to utter that immortal line, “Darling, your children and my children are quarreling with our children again!” Aside from multiple marriages, D’Albert composed multiple operas, nineteen at least, and the overtures and preludes contained on this disc are very enjoyable. They range from the moody prelude to Die toten Augen, to the the luscious The Ruby (his first opera), to the jolly comedy The Departure.

The Overture to Grillparzer’s Esther is actually a robust, early concert work, while the delightful Cinderella Suite has plenty of the requisite fairytale atmosphere. The Little Mermaid is a brilliant, post-Wagnerian scena for soprano and orchestra, and it’s quite beautifully sung by soprano Viktorija Kaminskaite. Her voice rides the orchestra effortlessly, while her tone remains consistently smooth and lovely throughout its range. Jun Märkl leads the MDR Leipzig Radio Symphony with plenty of verve and a conviction often missing from his prior recordings of Debussy.

D’Albert’s style lacks the ultimate in individuality, but it’s unflaggingly attractive, and he clearly evolved from his Wagner/Liszt origins to something more contemporary, if not more personal. Anyway, the only way to find out is to listen, so let’s get to it.

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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d'Albert: Cinderella Suite, Little Mermaid, Overtures / Markl, Leipzig Radio

~~$19.99~~ $9.99
CD

Naxos

Apr 29, 2014

8573110

Lehár: Eva / Bozic, Fadayomi, Et Al

CPO

Available as CD

~~$36.99~~ $25.99

Jul 25, 2006

cpo are doing great things for lesser known music, many times undeservedly neglected works. The cycle of Kurt Atterberg’s nine symphonies is one recent project, gloriously realised, Carl Loewe’s songs and ballads is another long-time undertaking; I reviewed volume 20 not long ago, and Franz Lehár’s “other” operettas – apart from that handful that is frequently played – have been given brand new recordings. This is the third within a year. They may not always have picked the best singers in the business and presentation has sometimes been a bit slipshod, but operetta lovers must still feel grateful that the music becomes available.

Eva has never been much of a success and set beside some of his other stage-works the musical – or rather – melodic inspiration seems a bit meagre. The only hit-song is Eva’s Lied early in act I, Wär es auch nichts als ein Augenblick, which also appears a couple of times later on in the operetta as a kind of Leitmotif. There are good enough melodies of typical Lehár Schmalz and a great deal of light-hearted rhythmic dances, but they tend to slip out of one’s memory as soon as they are over. What is obvious though is his masterly handling of the orchestra and more than in any other operetta I know gives grateful and attractive solos to many of the instrumentalists in a transparent orchestral web. I think he is closer to Puccini’s sensuality than Richard Strauss’s overblown bombast, even though in the second act finale there are reminiscences of Der Rosenkavalier, which was premiered almost a year before Eva was first performed, on 24 November 1911 at Theater an der Wien. That was the same theatre that also saw the premiere of Die lustige Witwe, and the first Hanna Glawari and Danilo, Mizzi Günther and Louis Treumann, also sang the leading roles in the new operetta.

The libretto is a variant of the old Cinderella story, where the poor factory girl wins the prince, in this case the owner of the glass factory, situated near Brussels. A kind of social realism, one could think, but in the second act we are back in the normal upper class operetta world, in Octave Flaubert’s villa. The third and last act takes us, not for the first time in a Lehár operetta, to Paris. There are rather few arias, and those few are labelled Lied (song) to make them less pretentious, since they are often very short. Most of the musical numbers are duets, but there are no less than three melodramas that grow into songs or duets. The three finales are quite extended numbers, the one in act II is almost 14 minutes long, and here, just as in the melodrama numbers, Lehár works in freer, partly recitative style, more related to opera. It is also in these more ambitious numbers that his inventive scoring is at its most colourful. This recording is complete with all the spoken dialogue, in some places fairly stilted and unatmospheric but there are several heated scenes where the acting is lively and involved. It is a pity, though, as is unfortunately often the case, that the spoken dialogue is recorded at a seemingly lower level. This means that you have to turn up the volume quite a bit to hear it properly and then turn it down again when the music starts. The melodramas are likewise afflicted and even though Lehár has scored the music lightly, the orchestra still tends to mask some of the spoken words. I also regret that the sung and spoken texts are not printed in the booklet, which would have been a great asset even for fluent German speakers. Apart from the balance problem the recording is good without being very atmospheric. It was recorded in the Festival Hall in Bad Ischl, where every summer there is a Lehár festival. Lehár lived in a beautiful villa in Bad Ischl in Salzkammergut in Austria, from 1910 until his death, but he also had a house in Vienna. This recording was not made during performances but with a cast that had played a number of performances and were settled into their roles. Conducted by Wolfgang Bozic, who is well versed in this genre – I have heard him conduct operetta in Vienna – and he finds that typical Lehárian lilt in the music with tempos that feel absolutely right. The chorus is good. There is even some a cappella singing at the beginning of Act I.

Of the soloists Morenike Fadayomi impresses in the title role with a large vibrant dramatic soprano voice. It comes as no surprise to find that she has been singing both Aida and Salome. Reinhard Alessandri, an experienced operetta singer. I saw his Edwin in Die Csardasfürstin at Volksoper some years ago. He is a good actor while his voice is rather small and he has some trouble with the top notes. But he can sing meltingly beautifully when the tessitura is not too high and in the main he makes a positive impression. Zora Antonic as Pipsi is fully into her role and Thomas Malik is just perfect for the comic part as Dagobert with his expressive and fluent buffo tenor. Stefan Frey contributes one of his well-researched liner notes and also a synopsis that unfortunately isn’t related to the track-list, but rather gives a general overview. On the credit side it is nice to have several photos, both from the original production back in 1911 and from the Bad Ischl event.

A matter of swings and roundabouts but operetta lovers will find much to enjoy here.

Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International

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Lehár: Eva / Bozic, Fadayomi, Et Al

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CD

CPO

Jul 25, 2006

777148-2

The Young Friedrich Gulda

Profil

Available as CD

~~$27.99~~ $20.99

Sep 02, 2022

Friedrich Gulda was born in Vienna on May 16, 1930. He began his musical education at the Grossmann Conservatory and subsequently took private lessons from Felix Pazofsky. From 1942 to 1947 he studied piano at the Vienna Academy of Music under Bruno Seidlhofer and Music Theory and Composition under Joseph Marx. He gave his first public performance in 1944 and, two years later when just 16 years old, won the Geneva International Music Competition. Starting after the Second World War, as a 20-year-old, Gulda established himself as a piano soloist with an excellent international reputation and even performed at Carnegie Hall in New York City in 1950. In the 1950s he was celebrated and considered the leading interpreter of Beethoven in his generation. He founded his own Klassische Orchester Gulda for chamber music with members of the Vienna Symphony Orchestra.

In addition to Beethoven, Gulda’s repertoire encompasses works by Johann Sebastian Bach, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Franz Schubert, Frédéric Chopin, Claude Debussy, Maurice Ravel and Richard Strauss, whose Burleske in D minor and lieder are included in this release, with Gulda accompanying soprano Hilde Güden. Gulda was essentially an out-and-out contrarian who showed that a great genius can sometimes be only a step away from a certain madness. While Karl Böhm or Rubinstein admired him as a magnificently talented interpreter of Bach, Mozart and Beethoven, Gulda could also be provocative – including inciting his fellow concert pianists. Asked about Vladimir Horowitz, Gulda once responded: “Horowitz is a master. Because he is able to do – whatever he wants,” but also added: “But what he is after doesn’t interest me” (Joachim Kaiser).

REVIEW:
Friedrich Gulda (1930-2000) was certainly never a conformist pianist. But he was less flamboyant in his youth than in his later years, and he did present new perspectives at the beginning of his career, which helped to provoke a change in thinking. The recordings in this CD box set date from this period.

He recorded the freshly perky Mozart Sonata K. 576 in 1948, and both Concertos K. 503 and 537 in 1955 with the New Symphony Orchestra under Anthony Collins. Gulda’s fresh yet nuanced playing compensates for the weak orchestra’s playing. The Beethoven sonatas Nos. 4, 7, 8 and 19 show the still searching Gulda of 1955 on his way to the 1967 complete recording. The 3rd CD includes the concerto piece by Carl Maria von Weber and the Strauss Burlesque, as well as a set of Strauss songs that Gulda recorded with Hilde Güden in 1956. These are wonderful interpretations of rare freshness and suppleness. Güden’s silvery timbre and her confidently controlled, light vocal line coupled with Gulda’s spontaneous and sensitive playing make for an uncommonly natural performance.

Recorded in 1954, Chopin’s compositions, the 4 Ballades and the 1st Piano Concerto, are among Gulda’s ‘immortal’ recordings. In the 1st Piano Concerto, Gulda collaborates with the more traditional Adrian Boult, but it is precisely the contrast in temperament that leads to special tension and dynamics. This recording has been available several times on various labels, but here it definitely sounds in the best quality so far. Also very exciting are the four ballads, which he plays dramatically and narratively.

Debussy and Ravel, the composers represented on CDs Nos. 5 and 6 of this box, have been Gulda’s recurring preoccupation. The early recordings from 1953 and 1955 may not yet be as stylistically tested on the hard, sharp and pithy of jazz as the late recordings, but their analytically modern style, with clear, precise lines and contours and good transparency, shows the intellectual brilliance of these interpretations.

The bottom line is that this encounter with the young Gulda is a very important one that should help one understand the older musician and could help bring respect to Gulda among those who did not appreciate his later work as much.

-- Pizzicato

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The Young Friedrich Gulda

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CD

Profil

Sep 02, 2022

PH19017

Rudolf Kempe Conducts Dvorak & Strauss

ICA Classics

Available as DVD

~~$26.99~~ $20.99

Feb 22, 2011

This new DVD preserves some superb performances directed by a conductor of the highest calibre, performing live and at the peak of his abilities.

3465422.az_STRAUSS_Ein_Heldenleben_1.html

STRAUSS Ein Heldenleben 1. DVO?ÁK Symphony No. 9, “From the New World 2” • Rudolf Kempe, cond; 1 Royal PO; 2 BBC SO • ICA 5009, mono (DVD: 89:22) Live: Royal Albert Hall, London 1 8/28/1974; 2 8/29/1975

How absolutely wonderful it is to see Rudolf Kempe, looking hale and fit, ascend the podium and direct an absolutely magical performance of Ein Heldenleben with his usual minimum of podium fuss, his face mirroring both the music’s changes and his obvious pleasure at hearing it emerge the way he wants, the Royal Philharmonic members playing their little hearts out for him. This is exactly the way I always imagined Kempe in performance, as close to Toscanini’s podium style as any conductor who outlived him, eliciting that magical, transparent sound, ignoring nothing in rhythmic acuity and liveliness, and now we have the pleasure of seeing how he did it.

The sound is still mono but the images are in color. The members of the orchestra look completely rapt in concentration; everything in this performance is focused on the music, nothing on how they look to the audience. A bit dull to watch? Perhaps. But, like watching such similar conductors as Toscanini, Doráti, and Böhm, it amazes one that such exuberance of spirit and a rich palette of colors can emanate from such outward calm and control. For make no mistake, Kempe was a master of coloration. He knew how to make an orchestra “speak.” He knew the secret, now lost to a modern generation of conductors, of how to play music like this so that it sounded not only beautiful but noble, eschewing bombast in favor of the long line, the gradual ebb and flow of suspense, and—I reiterate—that unbelievable palette of colors he had at his disposal. Kempe’s strings had the sound of a choir singing.

In my experience there was only one performance of Ein Heldenleben I really loved prior to hearing this performance, and that was Willem Mengelberg’s 1941 broadcast with the Concertgebouw Orchestra. The Concertgebouw of that time was by no means the technically precise instrument that the New York Philharmonic of 1928 was, in his Victor recording, but there is so much more detail and drama in the later performance that I forgave the roughly played passages. Kempe’s Heldenleben is an entirely different animal. The contrasts are all musical, not as dramatic, but with a flow and coloristic quality that make the score sound more akin to the upward spiral of ascending angels than to Mengelberg’s explosive reading (though they join hands in “The Hero’s Deeds of War”). There is nothing like it in my experience, not even Kempe’s studio recording for EMI, because the studio recording adds the goop of mid 1960s reverb to a performance that doesn’t need it. Here we have, if you will, Kempe urtext, and the result is simply mind-boggling. Listen, for instance, to the way he makes the low bass passage resound with great depth without sounding heavy or ponderous. His legato flow is seamless, the accuracy and crispness of his attacks and releases flawless. It was exactly moments like these that took your breath away when listening to a Kempe performance.

Yet he resented EMI’s pushing him as a Wagner and Strauss specialist. Kempe conducted a great deal more than that, Schubert, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Dvo?ák, Shostakovich, and Bruckner among them, and all of them well (he’s one of the few conductors besides Furtwängler who, to me, made some sense of Bruckner’s succession of endings in his symphonies), and here he follows Heldenleben with the “New World” Symphony of Dvo?ák. Unexpectedly, his performance of this symphony is startlingly dramatic, having almost the punch and drama of Toscanini’s excellent 1953 recording, only with Kempe’s patented transparency. The orchestra swells and ebbs flawlessly and naturally under his guiding hands; an unexpected rubato after the brief flute solo is picked up with tremendous force when the brass and high strings erupt again. Dozens of little details—clipped rhythmic accents here, buoyant legato bridges there—mark this interpretation as unique.

Kempe uses a fairly small baton, even a little smaller than Toscanini’s but not as tiny as the toothpicks that Strauss and Reiner used. His arms are a little further apart than Toscanini’s, but he is only slightly more animated on the podium, his arms moving in graceful arcs. Only a few months after the Dvo?ák performance came the shocking announcement that Kempe had died. I can remember that moment as if it were yesterday; it grieved me more than you can imagine. He had a very special gift, sought by many but bestowed on few, and we are all the poorer for his untimely passing.

FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

--------

In a letter to his friend, the distinguished French man of letters Romain Rolland, Richard Strauss categorically denied that he was the model for Ein Heldenleben: “I am not a hero. I have not got the necessary strength; I am not cut out for battle; I prefer to withdraw, to be quiet, to have peace.”

Some commentators may have refused to take Strauss at his word, but the uncredited director of this BBC transmission of a 1974 Proms concert is clearly not among them. His view of things is crystal clear for, throughout the whole of the work’s first section, a musical depiction of Der Held (The Hero), he resolutely directs his cameras at the conductor. There is, in fact, not a single second of that opening 4:59 of music when Rudolf Kempe is not pictured on-screen, whether in close-up, middle distance or in long-shot. The corollary of that fact is that as soon as we begin the work’s second section, Des Helden Widersacher (The Hero’s Adversaries), we start to see the orchestra members on their own – but maybe I am now stretching my theory of the supposed relationship between the visual images and the “text” just a little too far.

Even though Kempe’s widow Cordula records in the DVD booklet notes that her husband “thoroughly resented” being pigeonholed as a Strauss (and Wagner) specialist, his affinity with Strauss’s music was well recognised at the time. His record company EMI persuaded him to set down the complete orchestral works on disc. No less a personage than the Queen Mother reportedly gushed “Oh, Mr Kempe, when will you do the Alpine Symphony again?” (rather a surprise, given recent revelations of the sort of music she listened to at home). And, as evidenced in this performance taken from the conductor’s very last concert with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, the 1974 Promenaders were quite over the moon with this Ein Heldenleben; critic Joan Chissell reported that this performance elicited “a hero’s ovation and rightly”.

Having never seen Kempe conduct live or on film before, the first thing that struck me was just how physically charismatic and animated he was on the podium. By fastidious, very precise gestures with both his baton and the fingers of his left hand, he coaxes some exquisite sonorities that we can fully appreciate thanks to his scrupulous care for orchestral balance - and to the installation of fibre-glass acoustic diffusing discs on the Royal Albert Hall’s ceiling just five years earlier, successfully reducing its notorious echo.

The outstanding characteristic of Kempe’s interpretation is that, by the application of both sensitivity and sensibility, he gives Strauss’s score the opportunity to breathe. This is, indeed, anything but a brash, bombastic account: the orchestra plays with notable and carefully controlled intensity and Erich Gruenberg’s substantial violin solos are especially affecting - he justifiably gets a special roar of approval from the Promenaders as he takes his bow.

If the Strauss is very fine indeed, the Dvorák is, however, outstanding. Edward Greenfield’s booklet notes suggest that its distinguishing feature is the wide range of dynamics that Kempe applies. What struck me most, however, was the interpretation itself. In contrast to performances that emphasise the score’s elements of cheery Bohemian bonhomie, Kempe’s is a deeply serious account.

The opening movement is characterised by fierce attack and precision - wonderful playing from the BBC orchestra - and Kempe minimises the elements of lyricism in favour high drama. In a similar vein, the second movement’s sentimentality is entirely played down. Its well-known “big tune” ( Goin’ home, Goin’ home, I’m a goin’ home / Quiet like, still some day, I’m just goin’ home) is moved purposefully along and the fervent manner in which its central section is played communicates, to this listener at least, a distinctly uneasy feeling of agitation and unrest.

Kempe’s interpretation is nothing if not consistently of a piece for the scherzo and the allegro con fuoco finale are similarly driven powerfully forward. The formers elements of bucolic rusticism are given short shrift and the latter, right from its opening bars, emerges as a real daredevil ride and is terribly exciting - while still very skilfully controlled and crafted.

This New World is one that emerges as a real eye-opener and a very different work from the one that we’re usually presented with. It justifiably receives a huge ovation from the audience.

This new DVD, then, preserves some superb performances. The direction – originally for BBC TV - is expert and thus almost entirely unobtrusive, the visual image - in colour throughout - is sharp and pleasing and the sound is more than acceptable. It offers an opportunity to acquaint or reacquaint oneself with a conductor of the highest calibre, performing live and at the peak of his abilities.

-- Rob Maynard, MusicWeb International

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Rudolf Kempe Conducts Dvorak & Strauss

~~$26.99~~ $20.99
DVD

ICA Classics

Feb 22, 2011

ICAD 5009

Strauss: Symphony In F / Halász, Slovak State Po

Marco Polo

Available as CD

$19.99

Jan 09, 1996

STRAUSS, R.: Symphony No. 2 in F Minor, Op. 12

Strauss: Symphony In F / Halász, Slovak State Po

$19.99
CD

Marco Polo

Jan 09, 1996

8220358

STRAUSS, R.: Don Juan / Till Eulenspiegel / Death and Transf

Naxos

Available as CD

$19.99

Oct 24, 1990

STRAUSS, R.: Don Juan / Till Eulenspiegel / Death and Transf

STRAUSS, R.: Don Juan / Till Eulenspiegel / Death and Transf

$19.99
CD

Naxos

Oct 24, 1990

8550250

Strauss Ii: Waltzes - Opp. 117, 228, 279, 281, 314, 316, 319

Bella Musica

Available as CD

$10.99

Jan 01, 1995

Classical Music

Strauss Ii: Waltzes - Opp. 117, 228, 279, 281, 314, 316, 319

$10.99
CD

Bella Musica

Jan 01, 1995

BM312049

J. Strauss Jr. Edition Vol 11 / Alfred Walter, Et Al

Marco Polo

Available as CD

$19.99

May 21, 1991

STRAUSS II, J.: Edition - Vol. 11

J. Strauss Jr. Edition Vol 11 / Alfred Walter, Et Al

$19.99
CD

Marco Polo

May 21, 1991

8223211

Richard Stohr: Orchestral Music, Vol. 4

Toccata

Available as CD

$20.99

Nov 21, 2025

From the early days of the twentieth century until the Anschluss forced him into American exile, Richard Stohr (1874-1967) was one of the more prominent personalities in Viennese musical life, as composer, teacher and author. Earlier releases in this series of recordings revealed him to have an individual voice, somewhere between Bruckner, Mahler, Korngold and Strauss. It can be heard in it's full glory in his Chamber Symphony of 1912, a sunlit score modest in it's orchestral demands but expansive in it's ambit and generous in it's ceaseless flow of gorgeous melody.

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Richard Stohr: Orchestral Music, Vol. 4

$20.99
CD

Toccata

Nov 21, 2025

TOCC0766

Alfano: Concerto for Violin, Cello & Piano, Piano Quintet

Brilliant Classics

Available as CD

$14.99

Oct 10, 2025

Franco Alfano was born in Naples on 8 March 1875 and soon showed musical aptitude, studying piano with Alessandro Longo at the Conservatorio San Pietro a Majella in Naples and composition with Camillo de Nardis. In 1895 he moved to Leipzig to study with Salomon Jadassohn, where he was able to undertake deeper study of Bach and Wagner, as well as Busoni, Richard Strauss and other composers still little known in Italy. In the summer of 1899 he moved to Paris, encountering an even more stimulating environment where musical debate between such names as Massenet, Bizet, Charpentier and Debussy aroused his curiosity. His long career saw it's greatest successes in the field of opera, his most successful being 1904's Resurrection, based on Leo Tolstoy's novel of the same name, L'ombra di Don Giovanni (1913 rev. 1941), La leggenda di Sakùntala (1921 rev. 1952, his masterpiece) and Cyrano de Bergerac (1936), along with eight other operas. In spite of this prolific operatic output, Alfano owes his fame today mainly to his completion of Puccini's Turandot on the basis of notes left by the deceased composer. The decision to have Alfano complete the opera was taken by Arturo Toscanini and the publisher Ricordi because of affinities that Alfano's Sakùntala had with the unfinished finale of Turandot. Alfano died in San Remo on 17 October 1954. Begun in 1929 and quickly completed, the Concerto in A for Violin, Cello & Piano was performed on 31 May 1930 at the Accademia di Santa Cecilia with Luca Ballerini (violin) and Benedetto Mazzacurati (cello) along with Alfano himself on piano. It had a warm critical reception for it's clarity, expressive intensity, powerful construction and 'it's effusive cantabile and substantial episodes', all distinctive traits of the composer. Particularly appreciated was Alfano's use of the ancient modes - a different one for each movement: Phrygian for the first ('Con dolce malinconia'), Dorian for the second ('Allegretto fantastico') and Hypolydian for the last ('Presto, con grande vigoria'). This concerto also displays absolutely masterful writing for the three instruments, which take up a truly animated discourse, each with a defined role and interesting individual timbral solutions and combinations. Alfano's final chamber music composition, the Piano Quintet in A flat for strings and piano dates from 1945. Written after a ten-year gap in Alfano's chamber music output, the difference between the trio on this album and this piano quintet is evident. He uses less elaborate solutions in the later work, in fact, including doublings and emphatic unison tutti at resolutions and cadences. Ornamental material is more conspicuous here than before, lending the work a certain Art Nouveau flavor. Alfano displays a desire to return to a stylistic idea from the past, as of one consciously wanting to fall back on old certainties, idealizing and emphasizing them while distinctive Alfano traits remain evident, such as the genuineness of the lyrical impulse and the quality of the technical craftsmanship. Other information: - Recorded December 2023 in Bernareggio, Italy - Bilingual booklet in English and Italian contains notes compiled by Marcello Miramonti & Enrico Graziani and profiles of the ensemble and it's musicians - Franco Alfano (1875-1954) was an Italian composer best known for completing Puccini's opera Turandot after the composer's death. His own works, particularly his chamber music, show a deeply personal lyricism and rich harmonic language. Among these, his Concerto for Violin, Cello, and Piano and Piano Quintet stand out as exceptional examples of his late-Romantic style infused with Impressionist and modernist influences. - The Concerto for Violin, Cello, and Piano, composed in the 1930s, blends lyrical expressiveness with intricate counterpoint, weaving dense textures while maintaining clarity between the three instruments. The dialogues between the violin, cello, and piano are filled with emotional intensity and virtuosic passages. - His Piano Quintet, composed in 1945, is marked by soaring melodies, rich harmonic color, and dramatic contrasts, the piano playing an integral role rather than merely accompanying the strings. Alfano's harmonic language in this work is both forward-thinking and rooted in late-Romantic tradition. - Played with passion and commitment by the Italian Davinci Ensemble.

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Alfano: Concerto for Violin, Cello & Piano, Piano Quintet

$14.99
CD

Brilliant Classics

Oct 10, 2025

BRI97310

Grainger: Country Gardens & Other Piano Favourites / Jones

Nimbus

Available as CD

$16.99

Nov 01, 2003

"Martin Jones’s recordings of Percy Grainger have been gathered together into a 5-CD box set of the Complete Works, NI1767, in which form they were reviewed by Jonathan Woolf in March 2011 but we don’t seem to have reviewed this generous selection. It’s all that many potential listeners will want and I see that it’s advertised as available again. My copy of the CD dates from 1994. It’s not a reissue of a single CD from the set but a compendium of Grainger’s best-known works.

Let me deal with the least attractive part first: as Jonathan Woolf noted, the recording is not to everyone’s taste – it’s certainly too reverberant for my liking, but it didn’t get in the way of my enjoyment too much. Subscribers to the Naxos Music Library might wish to try it there first but give it a chance: after a few tracks you’ll hardly notice any problem.

Just about all the likely suspects are included in the programme, together with several pieces that I would hardly have described as well-known: track 4, for example, offers Grainger’s take on Dowland’s Now, O now, I needs must part. It’s in a style far removed from the madly dancing Percy Grainger that viewers of a certain age will retain from Ken Russell’s film about Delius – that’s Grainger, that was – and, though I hardly recognised Dowland’s original tune from Grainger’s treatment, he does retain the gravity and melancholy spirit of the original.

Much the same is true of My Robin is to the Greenwood gone (track 7) – the original tune is submerged in Grainger’s arrangement of what emerges as a fine piece in its own right. Nor is a folk tune such as Near Woodstock Town (track 15) quite the same after Grainger’s treatment. Mock Morris on the following track makes no pretentions to be other than Grainger’s own take on folk music – it only sounds as if it were based on a folk tune. In many respects it’s more quintessentially Grainger than anything else and it’s brought off to perfection here.

There are several arrangements here: the next track after Dowland (tr.5) contains Blithe Bells, Grainger’s arrangement of Schafe können sicher weiden (Sheep may safely graze), though, again, Bach’s original is almost lost in the latter part of the arrangement – it’s much more Grainger’s ‘own’ than Walton’s take on the same piece in The Wise Virgins. Other tracks contain arrangements of Stanford, Tchaikovsky and Richard Strauss – a characteristic Ramble on the final love-duet of Rosenkavalier.

The pop items are skilfully interwoven in the programme, starting with Handel in the Strand (track 1). Memories of George Malcolm playing this on the harpsichord are not erased but Martin Jones offers idiomatic and dextrous performances of the well-known and lesser-known works alike. Getting your fingers around the notes in a piece like the Stanford March-jig (track 9) is only half the story; the other half, which Jones contrives beautifully, is summoning an image of Grainger himself dancing to it around Delius’s garden.

On the following track we’re on Irish territory again in very different mood for the Tune from County Derry (alias Danny Boy). Does Jones milk the sentiment here slightly too much in the manner of those Irish tenors such as Josef Locke whom my father and grandfather worshipped? I think so, but perhaps my great-grandfather’s Irish blood was simply running a little too thin by the time it reached my generation. In any case, Marc-André Hamelin on Hyperion is faster and less sentimental here (see below). John Pickard’s observation in the booklet that ‘Grainger’s music shares with Bach’s the fact that, no matter how slowly one plays it, it always sounds satisfying’ looks as if it might have been written in defence of Jones’s tempo for this piece.

On track 11 Grainger and Jones take on the opening of Tchaikovsky’s First Piano Concerto single-handed, and do so surprisingly effectively. No question of too slow a tempo here.

Only if you are likely to be put off by the recording should you need to look elsewhere. If you do, you are likely to find a 1996 recording by Marc-André Hamelin on Hyperion your best choice – a very similar selection to that on Nimbus, on CDA66884 (CD or download in mp3 or lossless). If anything, Hamelin is even more fleet-fingered than Jones, but there’s not much to choose between them. If it’s the orchestral arrangements that you’re looking for, look no further than the inexpensive Introduction to Percy Grainger (Chandos CHAN2029: Bargain of the Month – see review), a sampler for their excellent complete series (see review), or another budget-price Chandos selection (CHAN6542, Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra/Kenneth Montgomery).

With first-class performances and excellent notes there’s a lot to be said in favour of this single-CD selection. Don’t blame me if it leads you to purchase the complete box, or if the Chandos sampler tempts you to buy some of the recordings in that series."

-- Brian Wilson, MusicWeb International

Grainger: Country Gardens & Other Piano Favourites / Jones

$16.99
CD

Nimbus

Nov 01, 2003

NI7703

J. Strauss Jr.: 100 Most Famous Waltzes, Etc Vol 3

Naxos

Available as CD

$19.99

Jun 01, 1999

Strauss II: 100 Most Famous Works, Vol. 3

J. Strauss Jr.: 100 Most Famous Waltzes, Etc Vol 3

$19.99
CD

Naxos

Jun 01, 1999

8554519

J. Strauss Jr. Edition Vol 50 / Christian Pollack, Et Al

Marco Polo

Available as CD

$19.99

Nov 25, 1996

STRAUSS II, J.: Edition - Vol. 50

J. Strauss Jr. Edition Vol 50 / Christian Pollack, Et Al

$19.99
CD

Marco Polo

Nov 25, 1996

8223276

Prokofiev: Symphony No 5 / Litton, Bergen

BIS

Available as SACD

$21.99

May 12, 2015

I discovered with Sakari Oramo’s Nielsen symphonies that writing off an entire cycle based on just one instalment is very unwise. To ensure I don’t do that again I’ve elected to review Andrew Litton’s Prokofiev Fifth, even though I found his Sixth rather disappointing. The Bergen Phil are a fine band, as their work with Andrew Davis, Edward Gardner and Juanjo Mena so amply demonstrates; not only that, Chandos and Hyperion seem to get better results in the Grieg Hall than BIS have managed thus far.

Then there’s the stiff competition; Neeme Järvi’s much-celebrated cycle for Chandos springs to mind, as does Dmitri Kitaienko’s for Phoenix Edition. Sakari Oramo’s Ondine Fifth and Sixth mustn’t be overlooked either. All offer very different views of the Fifth, Prokofiev’s great wartime symphony, and that in itself suggests the work responds well to opposing interpretations. Oramo’s is a case in point, for he taps into a vein of lyricism that others don’t always find. He also has a very transparent recording that exposes much of the score’s inner workings.

The Järvi Fifth dates from the conductor’s halcyon days with the RSNO – then the Scottish National Orchestra – which yielded particularly memorable recordings of Richard Strauss, Shostakovich and Prokofiev. Revisiting his Prokofiev Fifth after a long break I discovered the performance has all the spunk and spike that I remember, although the treble is fiercer and the big moments are rougher than I recall. I have no such qualms about his Scythian Suite – coupled with a white-hot Alexander Nevsky – which is my benchmark for the piece.

Litton’s Andante is powerful enough, but alongside Järvi and Kitaienko it takes a little while to limber up. Admittedly, this is the kind of music that lends itself to large, gruff gestures, but as Oramo’s forensic reading confirms there’s more to this score than that. For sheer excitement, though, Järvi is hard to beat; as for Kitaienko he plays the music with a a bold, deep-rooted conviction that’s impressive too. Litton isn’t quite so overt, so visceral, but I soon came to realise that's no bad thing. The recording is exceptionally vivid, although there's an occasional hardness in the treble.

Moving on, Litton’s perky Allegro marcato is nicely phrased, and he captures the score’s veers and vacillations very well indeed. Now this is more like it. The Bergen Phil are well up to the challenge and the BIS balances are much more believable than Phoenix's; while that certainly helps to soften the music’s sharpest edges it doesn't undermine the thrust and energy of Litton's reading. Oramo’s version is the most pliant and personal one here, but some may feel that robs the music of its pith and piquancy. As for Järvi he's as taut and compelling as ever in this movement, a reminder of just how good a team he and the RSNO once were.

The yearning Adagio with its inner musings and gentle tread finds Litton at his most thoughtful and communicative. There’s a pleasing lucidity and openness here that's most welcome. In short, this is a very persuasive account of this lovely, multi-faceted movement. Built on a smaller, more intimate scale Oramo’s Adagio is the most lyrical and colourful; the Ondine recording has a very strong stereo spread, and it’s closer to BIS's in terms of subtlety and tonal sophistication. Unfortunately Oramo allows the pace to flag, which is a shame as I like what he’s trying to do. Both are commendably refined, and that makes for more congenial performances than either Järvi's or Kitaienko's; frankly, the latter have a raw edge and restless angularity that can be a tad unremitting at times.

In that rather forceful context Litton’s frisky Allegro giocoso may seem rather reticent, although it’s actually alert and keenly paced. Not only that, there's a joy, a sparkle, to this music that brisker and more declamatory performances tend to miss. I'm also extremely imprssed by the recorded sound, which really brings out the score's muances and competing timbres. Here and in the symphony as a whole Litton is nearer to the affectionate and reflective Oramo than he is to the volatile Kitaienko/Järvi. I can live with both extremes, but it's a relief - and a pleasure - to hear Prokofiev performances that don't sound like they're being forged on a factory floor.

The Scythian Suite gets a typically febrile outing, with thumping bass and glittering treble. Järvi may have the rhythmic edge, not to mention the most spectacular recording, but Litton’s no slouch either. As with the symphony he combines slam with subtlety, and there's a mervellous sense of a tale being told. He’s aided and abetted by wide-ranging sonics and an orchestra that's in tip-top condition. Indeed, this strikes me as the very best of BIS’s Grieg Hall productions to date, and that augurs well for the rest of Litton’s Prokofiev cycle.

Despite some initial reservations I’m delighted to welcome this addition to the Prokofiev discography. These are performances that grow in stature with each hearing; in fact, not only is Litton's Scythian Suite every bit as thrilling as Järvi's, it's also the more illuminating - the most interesting - of the two.

A terrific pairing, very well played and recorded; here’s to the next instalment.

– MusicWeb International

Prokofiev: Symphony No 5 / Litton, Bergen

$21.99
SACD

BIS

May 12, 2015

BIS-2124

Der Ferne Klang / Jennifer Holloway, Ian Koziara

Oehms Classics

Available as CD

$37.99

May 14, 2021

Der ferne Klang by Franz Schreker (1878-1934) premiered on August 18, 1912 at the Frankfurt Opera House. Schreker had already begun composing his first full-length opera in 1901, after the text he had written in just a few weeks. Now the work, which was initially considered impossible to perform, but which made Schreker suddenly famous, is returning to the location of it's premiere for the first time after 1945. Almost half of all operas by the Austrian, who with one exception was both composer and librettist for all of his stage works, performed or premiered in Frankfurt. The Choir of the Oper Frankfurt and Frankfurter Opern- und Museumsorchester perform under the direction of Sebastian Weigle.

"Oper Frankfurt is arguably the “right” company to produce this Der ferne Klang recording, because Austrian composer Franz Schreker (1878-1934) had a special connection with this opera house. It was here that he scored his first big success with this opera, followed by the premiere of his complete version of Die Gezeichneten, two of his most definitive works. His musical idiom is decidedly Late/Post Romantic, yet uniquely his own, beguiling in its lush and translucent tone colours. His style can also extend into an intensely expressionistic and harmonically adventurous, if unsettling, musical soundscape. At the height of his fame during the early years of the Weimar Republic, Schreker was the most performed opera composer after Richard Strauss. He was also a noted pedagogue, as director of Berlin’s Hochschule für Musik, and counted Berthold Goldschmidt and Ernst Krenek as his students. But by the late 1920s, with the rise of National Socialism and its inherent antisemitism, Schreker, who was Jewish, lost his academic appointments and his compositions were banned. Sadly he descended into obscurity, suffered a stroke and died at the age of 56. It was only in the 1980s, through Decca’s “Entartete Musik” series, that Schreker reemerged from a decades-long obscurity. His revival gathered momentum both in Germany and America. Salzburg Festival’s striking 2005 Die Gezeichneten garnered critical and audience accolades, reaffirmed by the more recent Warlikowski production in Munich, which made a powerful (if nightmarish) impression on me in 2017...

Thankfully, Oper Frankfurt’s production of Der ferne Klang was revived before COVID shut everything down, and it is now commercially available on CD. It features a strong ensemble cast led by tenor Ian Koziara and soprano Jennifer Holloway as the two lovers. Both sing beautifully, with Koziara taking top vocal honours for his free, beautiful, never stentorian, ringing tone. Holloway is equally impressive, a few fleeting moments of steely sound notwithstanding.

This recording includes no less than three Canadians— bass-baritone Gordon Bintner, baritone Iain MacNeil, and mezzo Julia Dawson—all members of the Oper Frankfurt Ensemble. Bintner, as the Graf, has the most music to sing, including a very nice aria, “In einem Lande,” which he handles beautifully, particularly at the top. MacNeil and Dawson have less to sing but both offer fresh voices and vivid imagination. All supporting roles are well taken, perhaps with one painful exception. I debated whether to mention it as it involves a singer I have admired in the past. I heard soprano Nadine Secunde (Alte Frau Mama) as a marvelous Sieglinde and Elsa 30 years ago. Here she is in shockingly poor vocal estate, afflicted by a painful wobble —perhaps in character for an ‘Old Lady’, but does it have to be this way? Sebastian Weigle shows his fine understanding of Schreker, leading the Frankfurt forces with strength and eloquence— the Zwischenspiel in Act III is a highlight. This piece might not delight everybody, but if you are fond of Strauss and early Schoenberg, and have an inclination to stories with a Freudian bent, you are in for a treat.

The opera’s story has little to do with logic, yet is strangely suited to Schreker’s lush and atmospheric score. As the listener, one takes a journey of poetic imagination that’s oddly satisfying. This is a perfect opera to illustrate that one should listen not with the head but with the heart. As with a lot of Schreker, the visual element is important, if not crucial, to the total enjoyment of the work, so it’s regrettable that this isn’t a DVD release. That said, it is still very enjoyable and an important addition to the discography of a much neglected composer. Highly recommended." —— Joseph So

Der Ferne Klang / Jennifer Holloway, Ian Koziara

$37.99
CD

Oehms Classics

May 14, 2021

OC980

Reznicek: Symphony No 1 "tragic", Etc / Beerman, Prudenskaja, Brandenburg State Orchestra Frankfurt

CPO

Available as CD

$18.99

Jan 27, 2009

REZNICEK Symphony No. 1, “Tragic.” 4 Songs of Prayer and Repentance 1 • Frank Beermann, cond; Marina Prudenskaja (mez); 1 Brandenburg St O Frankfurt • cpo 777 223 (68:50)

In some ways, Reznicek might be described as the poor man’s Richard Strauss. Cpo, which is engaged in a project to record Reznicek’s orchestral output, has already released the composer’s Second and Fifth Symphonies and two tone-poems, Schlemihl and Raskolnikoff , reviewed by Henry Fogel in 28:2. Schlemihl has been dismissed in some quarters as the effort of a jealous and bitter Reznicek to parody and deflate the puffed up ego of Strauss’s Ein Heldenleben, schlemihl being Yiddish for an unlucky, incompetent boob upon whose head every manner of misfortune falls—in effect, the anti-hero to Strauss’s Übermensch . But the non-Jewish Reznicek, as Fogel pointed out, may have misconstrued the caustic connotation of the word, which imparts the flavor of not just a pitiable sad sack, but of a fool who invites bad luck and ridicule; for Reznicek’s trials and tribulations—the deaths of two children and his first wife—were real and indeed heartbreaking.

Like Brahms, who didn’t complete his First Symphony until he was 43, Reznicek was 41 in 1901 when he wrote his Symphony No. 1 in D Major. The original booklet essay written in German by Eckhardt van den Hoogen is, in translation at least, incomprehensible gibberish. I was unable to make heads or tails of its mishmash of arcane literary references and absurdist metaphors—“the Criminal Tango of the first movement and the Jesus Christ Superstar of the last movement”—not to mention the mental imagery of “pulling on the pigtails of Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto,” and the depiction of Reznicek’s beard as a “foot muff” that put me off my dinner. From what I was able to glean, it seems that the only “tragedy” that led the composer to subtitle the work “Tragic” was a ride on a crowded city train in which a pretty young girl who caught Reznicek’s eye got up and offered the “old man” her seat.

So what does this “tragic” concoction sound like? Well, a bit like Strauss being badgered by Pauline to go to his room and compose something. Then, beginning at 12:08 in the first movement, a sequence that seems to mimic the development section in the first movement of Tchaikovsky’s “Pathétique” makes a discomfiting appearance. Here comes a snippet of Schumann, there a scrap of Brahms, and everywhere the oddments and leftovers of Liszt. This symphony would be a piece of utter trash were it not for the twofold fact that it was obviously written by a master orchestral craftsman of the first order, and that it buys one entrance to a musical circus of clowns dressed up as Tchaikovsky, Strauss, Wagner, and Liszt somersaulting around the ring. I defy anyone to listen to Reznicek’s Symphony No. 1 and not laugh out loud as the parade of jesters passes by. If the piece had been written after Schlemihl instead of before it, a more appropriate subtitle might have been Schlamazel.

Having had my say on the Symphony, let me turn now to the Four Songs of Prayer and Repentance after words of the Holy Scriptures. Reznicek really ought not to be judged by his First Symphony, which has got to be either an aberration or some sort of off-color, politically incorrect joke. He was a serious composer with a quite significant catalog of works to his credit: five symphonies, a dozen operas, numerous orchestral and concerted compositions, at least five string quartets, two piano trios, and a considerable volume of solo piano and organ pieces. Very little of it has been recorded; and, except for the Donna Diana Overture, I’ve no recollection of hearing any of it performed live—which is a shame, because the Four Songs are gorgeous.

Written in 1913, long before Strauss said sayonara with his Four Last Songs , Reznicek’s songs take their cue from Brahms’s Four Serious Songs , though they are not nearly as reverential and austere. Where Brahms chose Biblical texts that reflect the fatalism of his last years—“for that which befalls man befalls beasts”—Reznicek selected verses from Ecclesiastes and The Book of Sirach that focus on comforting, acceptance, and the beauty that is to be found in wisdom—“The pipe and the psaltery make sweet melody, but a pleasant tongue is above them both.” Reznicek’s songs are supple and sensuous, but not sensual in that steamy, erotic way that many of Strauss’s songs are. The orchestral accompaniments caress the words with an angelic tenderness.

Marina Prudenskaja, who is identified as a mezzo-soprano, actually has more of a dark-hued contralto quality to her voice that reminded me a bit of Rita Gorr. She has the right timbre and range, I think, to be an ideal candidate for Brahms’s Alto Rhapsody.

Despite what you may have concluded from my opinion of the Symphony, this disc comes with a hearty endorsement, and not just for the Four Songs , which are lovely beyond description, but yes, for the Symphony, too, which is a laugh-a-minute Hooterville riot. Performances and recording are first-class.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Reznicek: Symphony No 1 "tragic", Etc / Beerman, Prudenskaja, Brandenburg State Orchestra Frankfurt

$18.99
CD

CPO

Jan 27, 2009

777223-2

MACDOWELL: Songs (Complete)

Naxos

Available as CD

~~$19.99~~ $9.99

May 01, 1999

This is the first complete recording of MacDowell's art songs. Between 1883 and 1902 he composed a total of 42 songs, which were, however, published out of chronological sequence. The earliest in opus number, the Two Old Songs, Opus 9, were actually the eighth group of songs MacDowell wrote. MacDowell's songs in their order of composition, marked a change in technical style. The earliest, dating from 1883, are full and opulent, but he soon began cutting back the piano score to the merest background for the vocal line. The earliest songs were composed in 1883 and published as Opp. 11 and 12 by C.F. Kahnt in Leipzig. In 1898 Breitkopf & Hartel reprinted the five songs as one set. Heinrich Heine is the author of the poems for Du liebst mich nicht (You Love me Not), Oben, wo die Sterne gluhen (The Skies, where Stars are Glowing) and Mein LiebGhen (My Love and I sat Close Together). The texts for the two songs of Opus 12 are by Emanuel Geibel and Friedrich Gottlieb Klopstock. MacDowel1 was still very much under the influence of Raff and these five early songs are fairly Germanic in both style and beauty and some biographers have even compared them stylistically to early Richard Strauss.

On Sale

MACDOWELL: Songs (Complete)

~~$19.99~~ $9.99
CD

Naxos

May 01, 1999

8559032

Jan Van Gilse: Symphony No. 3 / Porcelijn, Netherlands Symphony Orchestra

CPO

Available as CD

$18.99

May 29, 2012

GILSE Symphony No. 3, “Elevation” • David Porcelijn, cond; Aile Asszonyi (sop); Netherlands SO • CPO 777518 (63:02 Text and Translation)

This is only my second encounter with the music of Jan van Gilse (1881–1944). His First and Second symphonies, recorded by these same forces and reviewed by James H. North in Fanfare 32:2, didn’t leave me with a lasting impression of the composer’s musical profile, so in requesting this release of his Third Symphony, I thought I’d give Gilse another shot.

Though he was Dutch by birth, Gilse was the product of German training, one of his teachers having been Humperdinck. Upon completing his studies, he secured conducting appointments in Bremen and Munich, but after the outbreak of World War I, he returned to the Netherlands, where he led the Utrecht Municipal Orchestra from 1917 to 1922. Apparently, his tenure was a stormy one in which a vitriolic dispute between Gilse and composer and critic Willem Pijper eventually led to Gilse’s resignation and the penning of a 350,000-word autobiography in which he heaped scorn on the heads of all those who had made his life in Utrecht miserable.

But Gilse was not all bitterness and payback. During the Second World War, he and his two sons joined the resistance movement against the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands. His life, however, ended in tragedy, as he saw both sons killed by German troops and then succumbed himself, probably to pneumonia, soon after, not living long enough to see the war’s end.

Gilse completed his Third Symphony in 1907 while still in Bremen, including in its third and fifth movements a part for soprano soloist. Unfortunately, the English translation of John Smit’s album note by Susan Marie Praeder gives no explanation for the work’s title, “Elevation” ( Erhebung in its German publication), or its connection, if any, to the score’s verses.

The third-movement text appears to be a free verse poem by Gilse himself, dedicated in gratitude to Dina Mollinger-Hooijer, wife of the director of the Netherlands National Insurance Company. The love poem, which makes no attempt to hide its erotically charged imagery, leads one to read between the lines as to the reason for Gilse’s gratitude.

The fifth-movement text draws three stanzas from the equally suggestive erotic poetry of Solomon’s Song of Songs , though the particular verses Gilse selects don’t contain some of the text’s more explicit references.

If Gilse’s Second Symphony hints at Strauss, Elgar, and perhaps a touch of Mahler, as North noted in his review of that earlier work, the opening slow movement to his Third Symphony is almost pure Wagner in Tristan und Isolde mode; one waits for the face of the famous Liebestod to emerge at any moment from the granite slab Gilse is chiseling.

The second movement tosses us right into the middle of Strauss’s Don Juan . There are moments of resemblance so close they border on plagiarism.

For the third movement, we’re back to Wagner. Without benefit of a score, I can’t be sure, but on one of the soprano’s climactic notes at 3:43, Gilse’s underlying harmony sounds darn close to Wagner’s augmented ninth “Tristan” chord.

Improbable as it may seem, the fourth movement opens with what sounds like a pre-echo of Ravel’s La Valse , and then we’re back to part Richard Strauss and part parody of the waltzing Strausses.

The fifth and final movement, at almost 22 minutes in length, dwarfs all the others. Here’s the Elgar North mentioned that’s been missing up to this point. What a gorgeous ceremonial opening. Though it lacks the same striding gait, the music recalls to no small degree the magnificent processional that leads off Elgar’s First Symphony. Patience is advised, for the soprano doesn’t make her first entrance until the movement is more than half over. When she finally does, it’s Isolde’s soliloquy leading up to the final Liebestod.

Clearly, Gilse’s score is largely derivative and, as North put it, “pure high Romanticism.” But that’s exactly what should appeal about it to those who love to laze in luxuriant orchestral scores. Gilse may not have had an original idea in his head for this symphony—I can’t speak to any of his later works or to his opera, Thijl , reputedly his crowning achievement—but he demonstrates a sure hand when it comes to the craft of orchestration and of weaving a colorful, vibrant musical tapestry. Gilse’s Third Symphony displays the talent of a composer who could write wonderfully effective music, even if it was someone else’s.

As usual, CPO’s recording is up to the highest industry standards, and David Porcelijn, who has been delivering the goods for the label’s Röntgen project, here leads the Netherlands Symphony Orchestra in what seems to be a perfectly paced performance. Estonian soprano Aile Asszonyi, who has a high-lying, lighter-than-usual, but exceptionally focused voice, beams right in on the notes with laser-like precision. Gilse’s writing, which exploits the voice’s upper range, seems ideally suited to Asszonyi, and she repays the composer with beautifully sung performances in the two vocal movements.

If you love the music of Wagner and Strauss with a serving of Elgar on the side, you are guaranteed to enjoy this CD.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Jan Van Gilse: Symphony No. 3 / Porcelijn, Netherlands Symphony Orchestra

$18.99
CD

CPO

May 29, 2012

777518-2

J. Strauss Jr. Edition Vol 51 / Jerome Cohen, Et Al

Marco Polo

Available as CD

$19.99

Oct 14, 1996

STRAUSS II, J.: Edition - Vol. 51

J. Strauss Jr. Edition Vol 51 / Jerome Cohen, Et Al

$19.99
CD

Marco Polo

Oct 14, 1996

8223279

Enescu: Piano Quartets / Tammuz Piano Quartet

CPO

Available as CD

$18.99

Jan 25, 2011

ENESCU Piano Quartets: No. 1 in D; No. 2 in d • Tammuz Pn Qrt • CPO 777506 (65:40)

Pianist Oliver Triendl is a veteran of numerous cpo chamber-music recordings in which the ensembles he is part of—the Minguet, Sine Nomine, and Vogler quartets, and Ensemble Acht—seem to change from one release to the next. I mention this because the Tammuz Piano Quartet is yet another ensemble recently established when Triendl and this time friends Daniel Gaede, violin; Lars Anders Tomter, viola; and cellist Gustav Rivinius (not to be confused with pianist Paul Rivinius) came together. This is their first, and as far as I’m aware, their only commercial recording.

The name of the ensemble struck me as odd, the booklet note informing us that Tammuz, in Babylonian and Assyrian mythology, was the lover of Ishtar, the goddess of love. I suppose for those up on their ancient Mesopotamian history, Ishtar might be the first reference to come to mind, but for many more of us, I suspect, Tammuz will ring a bell as the name of the 10th month on the Hebrew calendar, corresponding roughly to the Gregorian calendar month of July.

For most of my early years of musical discovery, I knew Romanian composer George Enescu (1881–1955) only by his Romanian Rhapsodies . I still remember a Columbia LP recording of them I had with Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra. It has only been within the last 20 or so years, I’d say, that Enescu’s large body of works has made inroads among the classical-music listening public. Live performances of his symphonies, orchestral compositions, and many chamber works are still relatively rare, and his large scale opera Œdipe , completed in 1931, had to wait until 2005 for its U.S. premiere. However, much of Enescu’s music is today available on record, and what has emerged in works like the C-Major Octet and the Sinfonia Concertante for Cello and Orchestra, which can be heard on Volume 1 of Hyperion’s Romantic Cello Concerto series, is a composer of broader scope than might have been thought from some of his popular folk-styled works.

James Manheim, reviewing the current CD for the website AllMusic, writes that “Enescu’s Piano Quartet No. 1, composed in 1909, sounds a bit like what might have happened if Richard Strauss had grown up in Paris.” Manheim’s observation that “the quartet is a large piece (for a chamber work), with the first two of its three movements clocking in at over 13 minutes each,” comports with Christoph Schlüren’s booklet note in which he states, “If only in point of length, the First Piano Quartet is a composition of epic dimensions.” “Epic” may be a bit exaggerated, for certainly there are chamber works, like Franck’s D-Major String Quartet, that exceed Enescu’s in duration. But “epic” has as much to do with weight and gravity of content as with length; and these two piano quartets are as serious in intent as they are seriously gorgeous.

Up until World War II, Enescu divided his time between his native Romania and France, but following the Soviet occupation of Romania, he repaired permanently to Paris. The French influence on Enescu cannot be downplayed. He studied with Massenet and Fauré, and in the first decade of the 20th century he would have heard not only the works of his teachers but also of Debussy. So, Manheim got the Paris part right, but not, I think, the Strauss reference. Enescu’s Piano Quartet No. 1 sounds to me like Fauré on testosterone, which is to say it has much the same restless harmony, arresting melody, and free-flowing rhythm, but it’s scruffier around the edges, with a week-old beard, sounding more masculine and muscular and smelling more of musk than of hyacinth and lavender.

Writing during the worst of times, Enescu composed his Piano Quartet No. 2 between 1943 and 1944. It was written to commemorate the 20th anniversary of Fauré’s death. Unlike its older companion, however, which is heavily influenced by Fauré’s melodic, harmonic, and rhythmic language, if not so much his elegant, refined style, the later work seems to take note of Bartók in the way it draws upon Magyar folk elements in its first and last movements, and to explore a kind of post-Debussy Impressionism in its slow movement.

Both of these works make very personal, very powerful, and very moving musical statements. For several years now, there has been a Naxos recording of the Piano Quartet No. 2 with the Solomon Ensemble, but it’s coupled with a performance of the composer’s Piano Quintet. To the extent that current listings can be trusted, this new cpo recording seems to be the only one available of the Piano Quartet No. 1. But it’s not trumpeted as a world premiere recording, which record companies usually boast when they’ve managed a coup.

The Tammuz Piano Quartet is really outstanding. The music sounds quite technically challenging, yet I hear no stress or strain in these performances. Playing and recording are superb. If the Romanian Rhapsodies are the only Enescu in your collection, you are in for a real surprise and a real treat with this CD. Not only do I urgently recommend it, I’m setting it aside as a potential candidate for my 2011 Want List.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Enescu: Piano Quartets / Tammuz Piano Quartet

$18.99
CD

CPO

Jan 25, 2011

777506-2

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