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Piano Heroines
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Feb 06, 2026ALPHA1231 -
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- Pjotr Iljitsch Tchaikovsky: Swan Lake Variation
- Sergei Rachmaninoff: Paganini Variation
- Julian Lloyd Webber: Jackie's Song (Romanza)*
- Annelie: Tomorrow
- Johann Sebastian Bach: Bach Variation feat. Florian Christl*
- Alexis Ffrench: Hope, Ascending
- Jacob Shea: Mozart Variation
- Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart: Mozart Variation feat. Wide Eyed
- Maurice Ravel: Ravel Variation
- Frédéric Chopin: Chopin Raindrop Variation
- Clara Schumann: Three Romances for Violin and Piano, Op. 22: I. Andante molto
- Worakls, Esther Abrami: Sainte Victoire en sol mineur*
- Rachel Portman: Themes from "Chocolat"*
- Alban Claudin: Sunken Dreams
- Richard M. Sherman, Robert B. Sherman: Scales and Arpeggios (from "Aristocats")*
- Eric Satie: Satie Variation (after Gymnopédie No. 3)
- Amy Beach: Romance for Violin and Piano
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Piano Heroines
Bartlett & Robertson: Selected Recordings (Recorded 1927-194
Contemporary Character Pieces for Piano
Gouvy: Oedipe a Colone
GOUVY Oedipe à Colone • Joachim Fontaine, cond; Christa Ratzenböck ( Antigone ); Joseph Cornwell ( Polynice ); Stephen Roberts ( Thésée ); Vinzenz Haab ( Oedipe ); Kantorei Saarlouis; La Grande Société PO • CPO 7778252 (2 CDs: 93:05 Text and Translation)
Back in 34:3 I reviewed a premiere recording of Louis Théodore Gouvy’s secular oratorio Iphigénie en Tauride , conducted by Joachim Fontaine. While admiring the composer’s “usual fastidious craftsmanship and superior technical command of orchestration and of vocal and instrumental part-writing,” I expressed reservations about “a lack of dramatic contrast and real passion” and added: “The music is too cultivated for its often harrowing subject....Instead, one elegant and decorous set piece follows another, all inhabiting a temperate emotional climate zone that fails either to inflame or chill. There is also a certain stasis and lack of flow from one number to the next.” Having had a similar reaction to another one of the composer’s oratorios, Électre , I speculated that “Gouvy may deliberately have been cultivating a degree of emotional restraint in these works in order to convey a stylized sense of classical antiquity that would have fit 19th-century sensibilities.”
Fontaine now leads the same choral and instrumental forces, though with mostly different vocal soloists, in the premiere recording of yet another oratorio by Gouvy on a mythic Greek subject, Oedipe à Colone . What a difference from Iphigénie ! Here there is no such emotional restraint or stasis; the beautiful and inventive music positively surges with genuine dramatic contrast and intense passion. While still remaining mostly within the melodic and harmonic bounds cultivated by Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Max Bruch, the richness of orchestration reflects Gouvy’s expressed admiration for the masterful orchestration (though not the vocal writing) of Wagner. This is by far the finest oratorio I have heard (and I’ve listened to a fair number) from the half-century interval between Mendelssohn’s Elijah and Elgar’s Dream of Gerontius . At its premiere in Leipzig on December 6, 1881, it enjoyed a tremendous success—indeed, to such a degree that Gouvy told his sister that it was the happiest day of his entire life. While it received further performances during his lifetime, upon his death it immediately fell into the same neglect that all his works have, until recently, so unjustly suffered.
The libretto of Oedipe has a somewhat complex lineage. As with Iphigénie , Gouvy once again did not write or commission an original libretto, but instead borrowed and adapted an existing one penned by the 18th-century librettist Nicolas-François Guillard (1752–1814). In this case, the original tragedy of Sophocles was first adapted by the great 17th-century tragedian Pierre Corneille (1606–1684). Guillard then turned it into a libretto for a tragédie lyrique by the composer Antonio Sacchini (1730–1786), premiered in 1785 at the royal court in Versailles.
The action of the plot, divided in the oratorio into three parts, is subsequent to that of the better-known Oedipus Rex . Oedipe (the French name for Oedipus), having blinded himself after learning that he had unwittingly fulfilled the prophecy that he would kill his father and marry his mother, was exiled from Thebes with the consent of his sons Etéocle (Eteokles) and Polynice (Polyneikis), to wander as an exile with his daughter Antigone as his guide. In Part 1, the citizens of Colonus offer sacrifices to Poseidon in thanksgiving for the safe return of their king, Thésée (Theseus), who brings with him Polynice. The latter, having lost out in a power struggle with Etéocle for the throne of Thebes and being now also an exile, is filled with shame and remorse for having spurned his father. He has gathered a band of armed supporters and hopes to launch an attack to regain the Theban throne. The two men kneel before the altar to discern the will of the gods and implore their favor, but are answered first by ominous silence and then by a thunderstorm that extinguishes the altar’s sacred flame and terrifies the people.
In Part 2, Oedipe and Antigone approach Colonus, which the gods have prophesied is where the blind refugee shall at last find rest. Oedipe longs for death, while Antigone pleads for him to live. The exiled king experiences a terrifying vision of being pursued by the Eumenides, and curses Polynice for betraying him, before Antigone brings him back to his senses. The two of them unknowingly trespass on the sacred precincts of the temple; Thésée confronts and denounces them for sacrilege. Antigone begs for mercy and reveals the identities of herself and her father. The people react with horror and demand that the accursed pair be driven away, but Thésée angrily opposes the mob and, taking pity on the duo instead, offers them refuge.
In Part 3, Antigone and Polynice are reunited. Antigone brings her brother to their father so that Polynice can confess his guilt to Oedipe, beg forgiveness, and seek support for his scheme to dethrone Etéocle, offering to restore his father to the throne instead by way of atonement. Oedipe, however, rejects him and curses both of his sons, whereupon Polynice flees in horror. Oedipe then declares to all that the hour of his death has come, as he will descend to a secret burial place at the banks of the river Acheron. Antigone begs to be allowed to join him, but is commanded to live instead. Thésée leads Oedipe away as the people implore the mercy of the gods for the exile’s final moments.
In reviewing Iphigénie , while I was a bit cool toward the work itself, I thought it received a fine performance from a very good, though not great, quartet of soloists. Here, to my considerable frustration, the situation is reversed: I am unabashedly enthusiastic for the music, but have reservations about the solo quartet. Easily its best member is the one holdover from the recording of Iphigénie , Vinzenz Haab, whose soft-grained, mellow bass-baritone makes a most sympathetic figure of Oedipe, even if it lacks the granitic timbre needed to make the most of the passages of imprecation. While all of the other singers are sensitive interpreters who capture all the varied dimensions of their roles, they all have problems with control of vocal production. Baritone Stephen Roberts as Thésée has a persistent unevenness to his vibrato that verges on a full-scale wobble; tenor Joseph Cornwall as Polynice has an attractive voice that repeatedly becomes unsteady when he attempts to push and swell a note for intensified expression; soprano Christa Ratzenböck lacks vocal sheen and turns both harsh and squally to some degree in her upper register. None of them is so defective as to be unlistenable, but compared to their predecessors in the recording of Iphigénie they are collectively a disappointing step downward. By way of compensation conductor Joachim Fontaine, who I previously said “has a conscientious command of the score, though I can imagine podium maestros who would give the work considerably more punch,” here delivers a first-rate interpretation that combines and balances elegant lyricism and dramatic urgency in equal measure. As before the orchestra and chorus are excellent, and CPO once again provides its trademark excellent recorded sound, detailed booklet notes, and a trilingual French-English-German libretto. Despite my reservations about some of the soloists, this recording is enthusiastically recommended, especially as another version is unlikely to appear any time soon.
FANFARE: James A. Altena
Esther Abrami
Violinist Esther Abrami’s eponymous Sony Classical debut album is a creative melting pot of different styles of classical music – full of new and inspiring compositions. Collaborating with a great variety of contemporary composers and musicians as well as the Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra, Esther Abrami has set a creative and inspiring musical landmark representing a new generation of classical musicians.
British composer and pianist Alexis Ffrench, Dutch neo-classical pianist Annelie, French pianist and composer Alban Claudin, Oscar-winning British composer Rachel Portman, British Cellist and composer Julian Llyod Webber and American film-composer Jacob Shea all contributed new compositions to Esther Abrami. Next to this, the album features original compositions by Clara Schumann and Amy Beach as well as several unique new arrangements of some of the most famous classical melodies by Pjotr Tchaikovsky, Eric Satie or Frédéric Chopin. Composer and pianist Florian Christl has written a new arrangement based on Bach’s famous violin concerto and producer and composer Wide Eyed created an atmospheric new variation over Mozart’s legendary “Eine kleine Nachtmusik”. A special highlight on the album is “Sainte Victoire en sol mineur” – a great orchestral composition Esther wrote together with French producer Worakls.
“I've decided to perform different styles to connect with all my audience. People who get to know me via TikTok aren’t the same as those who found me on YouTube or on the radio. I wanted to link all of them together. I don’t think we should just be put in a box with only one music style. In classical music, musicians have a tendency to fade behind the music, but with this album people can discover who I really am as I’ve satisfied all my musical tastes and been able to be myself” says Esther.
She adds: “I’ve worked directly with Rachel Portman, who was one of my idols when I was younger. It was very important for me, as it’s going in the same direction as with Tomorrow by Annelie or Romance by Clara Schumann. I want to inspire young women to become a classical composer or musician, as we are still too few. It’s time to change things!’’
REVIEW:
Abrami’s self-titled debut album is a pleasing patchwork of pieces, from familiar items in new arrangements to works by high-profile newcomers. Radio airplay is surely guaranteed for this playlist, the gloss of which is almost blinding. Some lovely moments.
-- BBC Music Magazine
Tracklisting
*feat. Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra
Géza Anda plays Solo Recitals, 1950-1955
REVIEW:
Hungarian virtuoso Géza Anda (1921-1976) opens a recital derived from radio broadcasts from SWR Stuttgart with Haydn’s perky F Major Sonata (17 April 1950), given a sparkling bravura rendition. Anda’s pearly play and deft touch make themselves felt in every concerted bar, and the runaway Presto finale might be a minor meteor. Schumann ever maintained Anda’s devotion, and he often programmed Symphonic Etudes, including the free interpolation of the five posthumous variations. The rendition included here (2 October 1951) includes two of the posthumous etudes, nos. 4 and 5, inserted after the sixth and eighth of the traditional studies. The first exploits sweeping arpeggios and glissandi techniques; the latter opens a jeweled music-box filled with nectar crystals. The serenity yields to the following Etude, a staccato study in syncopations that becomes quite frantic. Etude X, for want of a better term, has always struck me as “Brahmsian” for its double octaves. The agitato mysteries of Etude XI have rarely been so rarified in their mist contours, except perhaps from Cherkassky. The Etude XII finale, besides its obvious, heroic bravura, exudes the Innigkeit requisite...
The Ravel waltzes, in their sturdy percussion, date from 19 May 1951. Anda does not spare the fortissimos nor the pedal, moving to extremes in the first two waltzes, from aggression to erotic insinuation. The dance marked “Presque lent--dans un sentiment intime” has its perfect executor in Anda, which rivals the classically-chiseled entry by Robert Casadesus. Lithe and sensuously nimble, the last two waltzes--Moins vif et Epilogue--combine Vienna glitter and Schubert’s intimate suggestiveness in Ravel’s idiosyncratic kaleidoscopic panoply. Rolf Liebermann’s 1951 Sonata (2 October 1951) marks one of the few pieces Anda programmed that post-date World War II. His “modern” repertory ceased, for the most part, with the 1945 Third Concerto of Bartok. Liebermann (1910-1999) begins his nine-minute work with a toccata-style Vivace with periodic moments of pointillist staccati. The heart of the piece is the Andante espessivo, rather angular and reminiscent of Ravel, Gershwin, and modal Poulenc.
The second disc is devoted to the 1955 (May 21) recital at Ludwigsburg, a venue frequented by Anda’s esteemed colleague, Clara Haskil. Anda opens with the First Ballade of Chopin, a reading of balanced intensities, gothic and introspective at once. The music’s fierce Neapolitan harmonies and inner tumult manage to find a noble repose in the course of its poetic declamation mid-way, only to yield to the Dionysiac dramaturgy of its late pages with a passionate abandon that belies Anda’s repute for “objectivity.”
Anda recorded the Op. 25 set of Chopin Etudes for EMI, and he often featured the complete ensemble as a concert staple. He plays the A-flat Major for its serene beauty, and thus sets the tone for the remainder, to be played in the classic style of Backhaus, for poetry and strength of form.
The Brahms E-flat Major intermezzo, a simple, nostalgic folk song evocation, makes the perfect commentary to all of the “learned” counterpoint of this evening’s colossal recital at Ludwigsburg, where the spirit of colleague Clara Haskil must have lingered nigh.
-- Audiophile Edition
Collage / Joyce Yang
In 2005, Joyce Yang became the youngest ever medallist of the Van Cliburn International Competition, and in 2010 she was awarded the Avery Fisher Career Grant. She now makes her recording debut for Avie with a collage of a program that ideally represents her artistry. Joyce chose pieces that illuminate each other in arresting ways: Sebastian Currier's Scarlatti Cadences reflect the repetitious melodic motifs of Scarlatti's Sonatas, Lowell Liebermann's Gargoyles echo the esoteric timelessness of Debussy's Estampes, and Liszt's transcription of Chopin's song My Joys opens a window onto Schumann's Carnaval. These works are an aural autobiography of Joyce's first 20-some years of music making, and also portray her unique brand of synesthesia, the visualization of music in shapes and colours. Appropriately, the repertoire Joyce chose for this recording is inspired by vivid imagery, and the striking artwork is the result of collaboration with artist Joan Snyder, whose colorful paintings are featured throughout. Joyce performs with such orchestras as the New York and Los Angeles Philharmonics; Chicago, San Francisco, Baltimore and Houston Symphonies; Philadelphia Orchestra and BBC Philharmonic, with such conductors as Edo de Waart, Lorin Maazel, James Conlon, Leonard Slatkin, and David Robertson. In recital Joyce has appeared at Lincoln Center's Alice Tully Hall, the Metropolitan Museum, the Kennedy Center, Chicago's Symphony Hall, and Zurich's Tonhalle. An avid chamber musician, she is a recurring guest at the summer festivals in Aspen, La Jolla and Santa Fe. Born in Seoul, Korea in 1986, Ms. Yang moved to the United States in 1997 to study at the Juilliard School where she graduated with honours. A Steinway Artist since 2008, Joyce resides in New York City. critical acclaim for Joyce Yang "romantic flair with musicianly elegance" - The New York Times "Poetic and sensitive pianism ... capable of hurling thunderbolts. - The Washington Post "polished, pearly evenness that was remarkable for its ease up and down the keyboard." - Los Angeles Times
Beethoven: Folk Songs / Various
Gade: Novelletter For Strings
The 2 Novelletten are among his most successful works. Beautifully crafted, elegant and warm they are rewarding discoveries, and a good introduction to this neglected but important figure in 19th century Scandinavian music.
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Very pleasant additions to the romantic string-serenade repertoire.
Niels W. Gade’s Novelettes are charming, fresh additions to the romantic string-serenade repertoire. There are two sets, the first in F and the second in E, both dating from fairly late in Gade’s career. For those listeners who enjoy Grieg’s Holberg Suite, or the serenades of Suk, Dvorák, Tchaikovsky, and Robert Fuchs, this style will need no introduction: elegant dances, lyrical melodies which rise and fall with a cool outdoor loveliness, the minor keys used merely for spice.
A standout moment might be the beginning of the second set, with its ambiguous slow introduction opening up to brighter things; the second set also features a gorgeous andante with a fine role for the cellos. The first also opens with a lovely slow introduction, and it closes with a finale that brings to mind Mendelssohn’s Octet with its light-hearted fugato opening and perpetual-motion effects.
This isn’t exactly at the top of the string-serenade ladder, not next to Tchaikovsky, Suk, and Dvorák. It’s not even on the second rung, where Fuchs and Dag Wirén reside. The first two Fuchs serenades were just released on a gorgeous Naxos CD which I’d recommend over this one if you only buy one pretty string music disc per year. It doesn’t help that the recorded sound, analog from 1981, is slightly glassy, or that the Aarhus Chamber Orchestra’s work as an ensemble isn’t as polished as that of the best chamber orchestras we have today. Another cause for slight hesitation is the booklet note, which profiles Gade so strongly that we only get 18 words about the actual Novelettes. The CD lasts just 43 minutes.
But please notice I only said slight hesitation! This is still lovely music, fresh and totally enjoyable, and an unquestionably fine way to pass 43 minutes’ time. It’s at Brilliant’s usual bargain price. That said, the same price gets you ten minutes’ more music (and more colorful music too) on the Naxos Fuchs album; though I usually wouldn’t recommend one composer over another in a review, I do listen to my romantic string music to satisfy a particular craving, or mood, and other composers fulfil that mood better than does Niels W. Gade. Still, this is very nice, and there is nothing wrong with very nice!
– Brian Reinhart, MusicWeb International
The Welte Mignon Mystery Vol. XVI / Josef Lhevinne
Those few precious discs are augmented by the piano rolls he made for Welte Mignon in 1906 and 1911. They have been finely reproduced by Tacet, who are one of the leading companies in this field, and whose booklets are full of important technical details as to the system’s operation, the numbers of the particular rolls, and well produced relevant photographs.
One of his warhorses was Schulz-Evler’s Arabesken über Themen des Walzers "An der schönen blauen Donau", the Blue Danube subjected to roulades of virtuosic wit. His Victor recording of May 1928 is a classic of its kind. He cuts the impressionistic shimmering introduction for the commercial 78, to fit it to a 6:59 length but for the roll he can take as much time as he likes, and he does, taking 8:20. But note that Naxos’s transfer of this same roll [8.110677] in their Welte-Mignon series comes up short at 7:48. My own view is that Tacet’s is the more accurate roll restoration, and it also doesn’t enshrine action noise as Naxos’s does. But this kind of thing illuminates only too clearly the dangers of roll reproduction and the vagaries of the system – let alone the editorial mediations that make it so conditional and provisional a method of analysing performance practice with any kind of assurance or objectivity.
Two other rolls were the subject of studio disc recordings. Schumann’s Toccata was set down in roll form in 1906, and recorded on 78 in 1935. The narrative dynamism of the disc is remarkable, the dynamics surging and cresting, the playing full of leonine command. By contrast the roll is a broken albatross; flat, unconvincing and relatively feeble. True, there is nearly thirty years between them, but the objection relates to the mechanics by which the sound is transferred or transformed (not Tacet’s responsibility, obviously). This is even truer perhaps of Chopin’s Etude Op. 25 No.10. The passionate sweep and rubato of the 1935 disc attests to a performance of committed excellence. The roll’s runs are alas mechanical, the schema of the playing rendered antiseptic.
One must be grateful that we can ‘hear’ Josef Lhévinne in repertory he didn’t set down in the studio – there is Liszt, Rubinstein, Weber and much else in these two discs – and one can enjoy speculating as to the performances he must have given. But contrasting the same pieces in both disc and roll form reinforces, yet again, how wrong it would be to take these artefacts at face value.
-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International
Tracklist:
Disc One:
1. Paul de Schlozer: Étude de Concert Es-Dur op. 1,1
2. Chopin: Étude h-Moll op. 25,10 ('Oktavenetüde')
3. Benjamin Louis Godard: En route, Scherzo B-Dur op. 107
4. Felix Mendelssohn Bartholdy: 7 Charakterstücke op. 7 Presto F-Dur Nr. 7
5. Alexander Skrjabin: Nocturne für die linke Hand
6. Schumann: Toccata C-Dur op. 7
7. Franz Liszt: Die Loreley R591, Begleitung für Sopran
8. Gluck/Brahms: Iphigenie in Aulis Gavotte aus der Oper von Gluck
9. Anton Rubinstein: Le Bal, Polka op. 14
10. Andrei Schulz-Evier: Arabesken über Themen des Walzers 'An der schönen blauen Donau'
Disc Two:
1. Carl Czerny: Kunst der Fingerfertigkeit Oktaven-Etüde op. 740,5
2. Anton Rubinstein: Kamennoi-Ostrow op. 10,22 Rêve angèlique
3. Giovanni Sgambati: Quattro pezzi op. 18,2 Vecchio Minuetto
4. Beethoven/Saint-Saens: Die Ruinen von Athen op. 113,4 Chor der Derwische
5. Moritz Moszkowski: Menuett G-Dur op. 17,2
6. Anton Rubinstein: Barcarole c-Moll op. 104,4
7. Anton Rubinstein: Album de Peterhof op. 75,9 Prélude f-Moll
8. Chopin: Mazurka Nr. 23 D-Dur op. 33,2
9. Carl Maria von Weber: Sonate C-Dur op. 24 4. Satz Rondo 'Perpetuum mobile'
10. Chopin: Étude c-Moll op. 25,12
11. Franz Liszt: Reminiszensen de 'Robert le Diable' (Meyerbeer)
total playing time: 107:15
Legendary Treasures - David Oistrakh Collection Vol 13
DAVID OISTRAKH COLLECTION, VOL. 13 • David Oistrakh (vn); Vladimir Yampolsky (pn) • DOREMI 7950, mono (70:19) Live: Paris 1/21/1959; Los Angeles, 1965 1
TARTINI Violin Sonata in g, “Didone abbandonata.” FRANCK Violin Sonata. SCHUMANN (arr. Kreisler) Fantasia in C. RAVEL Tzigane. BACH Violin Sonata No. 2 in a: Andante 1
DOREMI’s 13th volume dedicated to David Oistrakh combines what seems to be a complete recital with Vladimir Yampolsky from 1959 with a quasi-encore, the third movement from Bach’s Second Solo Violin Sonata, from 1965. The recital program opens with Tartini’s “Didone abbandonata,” a work that Oistrakh recorded for Melodiya, along with the “Devil’s Trill,” with Frida Bauer in 1970. Oistrakh sounded magisterial from the first measure of the first movement; but he didn’t pause to wring sentiment from the sprightly second movement, nor did he play the final Allegro commodo (he interposed an extraneous Largo in B? Major—published with the other movements—as was common at the time) in such a way as to suggest the pathos of Virgil’s tragedy. Nevertheless, his performance strikes a balance between expressivity and objectivity, an intoxicating antidote to the tendency to deprive this Sonata of Tartini’s hallmark vitality. Throughout his career, Tartini progressively dispensed with the heavily worked-out figured bass, and some have suggested that even the skeletal version of the bass that’s left in the “Devil’s Trill” could simply be omitted. So it’s perhaps no criticism to mention that Oistrakh dominates Yampolsky in this work.
DOREMI’s series reveals Oistrakh’s commitment to chamber music as well as his willingness to “sink the individual,” and his performance of Franck’s Sonata illustrates both of these attitudes. Yampolsky may not have possessed the dynamism of Sviatoslav Richter, three of his live performances of the work with whom from the mid 1960s have been available from time to time (he made studio performances with Oborin in 1950 and with Yampolsky in 1954); but Oistrakh, though the dominant partner, didn’t run roughshod over his frequent accompanist. Testament has released a live performance by the duo from the preceding year (9/20/1958) in Bucharest (1442); this one seems more given to subtlety and nuance.
The Bucharest recital also included Schumann’s Fantasia, which Oistrakh seems never to have recorded in the studio, and Ravel’s Tzigane , which he did (with Kondrashin and the USSR State Symphony Orchestra, a solid performance, the recorded sound of which still seemed more than acceptable in the mid 1960s, when it appeared on LP as Monitor MC 2073). In Bucharest, Oistrakh projected a strong individuality as well as a captivating (and in the last pages, downright scintillating) virtuosity through both Schumann’s work and Kreisler’s arrangement, and he did so as well in his performance in Paris. Oistrakh spits out the passages on the high G string in Ravel’s opening cadenza. Oistrakh didn’t play the Tzigane with Francescatti’s arch wit nor with Heifetz’s white-hot intensity, but his performances generally could serve as models of Gypsy excess rationally moderated. In this reading, he explores the beginning of the accompanied section almost tentatively before throwing himself into the spiky passagework. This performance, perhaps more than the others, creates an atmosphere suggesting a Gypsy campfire—or at least the reflection of one on the wall of a French drawing room.
Since so few examples of Oistrakh playing Bach’s solo sonatas or partitas have become available (DOREMI 7760 included a complete performance of the First Solo Sonata, 24:6), every stray movement should be particularly welcome to collectors. If his live performance of the Andante from the Second Sonata communicates an impression of strength rather than of subtlety; Oistrakh demonstrates through his deployment of a wide dynamic range just how tall an edifice he could erect with this movement’s building materials.
The recorded sound from Paris (air-checks?) balances the instruments fairly well; and, while it may not be particularly lively, communicates adequately a sense of Oistrakh’s sound, at once oleaginous and fibrous. In an interview, Yehudi Menuhin noted that Oistrakh fused control with abandon, and he appears to have struck a different balance from performance to performance, even those close in temporal proximity. That’s why it’s easy to recommend this recital strongly, despite its similarity in content to the one Testament has released.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
Rheinberger: Complete Organ Concertos / Stefan Johannes Bleicher
RHEINBERGER Organ Concertos: No. 1 in F; No. 2 in g. 3 Pieces for Cello and Organ • Stefan Johannes Bleicher (org); Douglas Boyd, cond; Musikkollegium Winterthur; Cäcilia Chmel (vc) • MDG 1643 (SACD: 57:58)
Josef Rheinberger (1839–1901) is frequently named alongside Max Bruch, Karl Goldmark, Robert Fuchs, and Carl Reinecke when mention is made of late 19th- to early 20th-century German Romantic composers who cultivated an essentially conservative style influenced by the Mendelssohn-Schumann-Brahms-Joachim axis. Budding composers from abroad, including America, flocked to Germany to study under these men and to have bestowed upon them the mantle of a proper German pedigree. In Leipzig, Reinecke could claim Grieg, Sinding, Svendsen, Janá?ek, and Weingartner among his students; while in Munich, Rheinberger could name Humperdinck, Parker, Chadwick, Wolf-Ferrari, Thuille, and Furtwängler among those he instructed.
Rheinberger’s instrument was the organ, a fact that’s hard to ignore based on his vast output in which the organ plays a dominant role. Yet, in his entire voluminous catalog—the solo organ pieces alone occupy 12 CDs—the two concertos on this disc are the only concerted works I’m aware of that he wrote for organ and orchestra. The mind leaps immediately to the similar compositions by Rheinberger’s French contemporaries Widor and Guilmant, but the reality is that Rheinberger’s concertos are in a more classical mold and of a thematic content somewhat similar to the chorale-like melodic and harmonic manner of Saint-Saëns. Oddly, as well, there are not a few passages that seem to anticipate the sort of ceremonial hubbub and pageantry one hears in Elgar’s soon-to-be pomp and circumstance mode. Rheinberger’s concertos, however, predate the earliest of Elgar’s coronation marches by 17 and seven years, respectively.
The Concerto No. 1, dated 1884, two years before Saint-Saëns’s brilliant “Organ” Symphony, is modestly orchestrated for three horns (or two horns and bassoon) and strings, with the organ filling in for the absent winds. Scoring in the Concerto No. 2 of 10 years later isn’t much augmented, but to the earlier ensemble Rheinberger adds two trumpets and timpani, so that the organ must still furnish the sonorities that would ordinarily be supplied by flutes, oboes, and clarinets. If the Second Concerto finds its voice somewhere between Saint-Saëns and Elgar, the First Concerto reaches a bit further back, perhaps to Mendelssohn and Schumann.
These are not hard works to like. They’re tuneful, spirited, and engaging enough that one doesn’t miss the fuller symphonic approach that Saint-Saëns took to the orchestra or the more variegated splashes of color Widor and Guilmant drew from their Cavaillé-Coll and French organs.
There are two or three more recordings of these works available than I find reviewed in the Fanfare Archive. In 23:6, John Bauman covered a Classico release featuring organist Ulrik Spang-Hansen with the Chamber Philharmonic of Bohemia led by Douglas Bostock; while in 28:5, James Reel readdressed a Capriccio recording that had originally been reviewed in 16:2 and was recycled in SACD format with the rear channels presumably artificially processed. That disc featured organist Andreas Juffinger with Harmut Haenchen conducting the Berlin RSO. Not reviewed, as far as I can tell, are recordings by Ulrich Meldau with Daniel Schweizer presiding over the Zurich Symphony Orchestra on the Motette label, and a more recent Naxos version by organist Paul Skevington with Timothy Rowe leading the Amadeus Chamber Ensemble. Of these several editions, the only one I have for comparison purposes is the Juffinger in its “enhanced” SACD incarnation.
The Capriccio booklet has nothing to say about the organ, though the recording was made in Berlin’s Jesus-Christus-Kirche, so I assume the instrument to be of German, Swiss, or Dutch pedigree, but for the concertos the new MDG recording is to be preferred. Newly recorded in February 2010, the disc is in true surround format. Full-page specifications are given on Winterthur’s historic Stadrkirche organ built by E. F. Walcker in 1887–88 and restored in 1980–84 by the Swiss firm currently doing business as Kuhn Organ Builders, Ltd. And MDG’s Bleiche and Boyd are considerably more animated than Capriccio’s Juffinger and Haenchen in every movement of both concertos, delivering performances that are crisply articulated and in which the organ and orchestra are beautifully integrated.
MDG’s bonus is three pieces— Abendlied, Pastorale, and Elegie —Rheinberger transcribed for cello and organ from a set of six pieces he’d originally written for violin and organ at the dual requests of church organist Johann Georg Herzog and the composer’s publisher, August Robert Froberg. Adagio meditation-type pieces for a solo string instrument accompanied by organ were rarities, if indeed they existed at all at the time. Rheinberger’s contributions are exactly what you would expect—the musical equivalent of votive candles flickering in the transepts. Cellist Cäcilia Chmel plays prayerfully enough, but the angels remain frozen in their friezes, unmoved by Rheinberger’s entreaties.
Definitely recommended for enjoyable, if not great, music, fine performances, and superb recording. I will not, however, be throwing away my Juffinger and Haenchen on Capriccio for the simple reason that it includes Rheinberger’s Suite for Violin and Organ, op. 166, a lovely neobaroquish affair that echoes with distant strains of Bach, Handel, and Corelli, and is a more substantial and preferable alternative to the three cello pieces on the current disc.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Bach: Secular Cantatas, Vol. 10: Cantatas of Contentment / Suzuki, Bach Collegium Japan
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REVIEWS:
This issue completes one of the great modern recording odysseys, being the final disc of complete surviving secular cantatas from Bach Collegium Japan. The Bach Collegium Japan sing and play as satisfyingly as they have done since their foundation in 1990 and the hero of the disc, as ever, is Masaaki Suzuki. His sense of the tempo giusto in this music is unerring, and his response to the sprightly dance measures is always infectious.
– MusicWeb International
We celebrate here, as always, many of Suzuki’s finest qualities of expressive lucidity, unforced coherence, and the quiet nobility of one serving the music as the most natural of reflexes.
Carolyn Sampson’s ever-inspiring contributions close the project with Ich bin in mir vernügt, a little-known solo soprano cantata compared to the Nos 51, 199, and 210s of this world. Just when one thought it impossible to hear Bach sung any better than in her recent performance of No 105 (arr. Schumann—Ondine, 8/18), she brings an Arcadian coloration to ‘Meine Seele sei vernügt’, placing her among the finest exponents on record of this composer’s peerlessly demanding soprano-writing.
– Gramophone
Schumann: Piano Works / Dénes Várjon
Schumann: Violin Sonatas Nos. 1 & 2
Klughardt: Symphony No. 3; Violin Concerto / Berg, Tschopp, Anhaltische Philharmonie Dessau
KLUGHARDT Violin Concerto. Symphony No. 3 • Golo Berg, cond; Mirjam Tschopp (vn); Anhalt P • CPO 777 465-2 (77:51)
Tired of listening to the Schumann symphonies? Not interested in still another newfangled maestro’s take on the Brahms symphonies? Find Spohr’s boring? Weber’s too bland? Bruckner’s too long? August Klughardt’s Third may be just your cup of tea. Likewise the Violin Concerto, custom-made for listeners who need a break from the Mendelssohn, Bruch, and Wieniawski examples.
Klughardt (1847–1902) retains a toehold in the classical record catalog almost solely on the basis of a woodwind quintet, and even that is not often heard. Now comes a significant addition to his tiny discography, two major orchestral works splendidly played, recorded in a vivid acoustic environment, and conducted with great verve and panache. In fact, these performances are so good they might well be even better than the music itself.
The opening seconds of the first track (the Violin Concerto) grab your attention equally for the attractiveness of the theme, the assertiveness of the playing, and the bright, natural acoustic environment. The 40-minute concerto, composed in 1895, is packed to the hilt with sumptuous melodies (the first movement’s second subject will melt your heart, and there’s one in the finale that brings to mind swaying palm trees and island breezes). It is hard to imagine any listener resisting this fine work, while soloists in search of a new concerto to add to their repertoire will find Klughardt’s eminently rewarding.
Swiss-born violinist Mirjam Tschopp certainly plays it as if she does, in a performance imbued with commitment, technical flair, and earnest musicianship. Here is still another extremely talented violinist with much to say to the world, yet I’ve never encountered her before. Curious to know what else this outstanding musician has recorded, I checked what there might be on ArkivMusic. My search turned up just two items from the past 11 years, both by composers even more obscure than Klughardt (Barry Brenesal warmly praised her account of Saygun’s Violin Concerto in Fanfare 29:2).
The Third Symphony, too, will bring much joy to listeners in search of traditional, four-movement Romantic symphonies, this one composed in 1879. Its key of D Major (like the Violin Concerto) almost guarantees that it is going to be an affirmative, joyful work, and that it certainly is. Its opening may bring to mind the opening of the finale of Brahms’s Second Symphony. The historian Hermann Kretzschmar described the third movement as being “like a merry ballad telling of olden times, of the mighty deeds of knights and heroes, of tournaments and courtly quests, of escapades and adventures.” If this begins to sound like Bruckner’s Fourth, you’re not far off, at least in spirit.
The Anhalt Philharmonic of Dessau is a first-class ensemble with a long history (the extensive bio traces its origins back to the mid 18th century). Conductor Golo Berg ensures clean, crisp rhythms, forward drive without force, and fine balance, resulting in performances of almost irresistible attractiveness. Ronald Müller’s fine program notes tell you everything you always wanted to know about Klughardt’s Violin Concerto and Third Symphony. This disc is definitely headed for my year-end Want List.
FANFARE: Robert Markow
Smyth: The Prison / Burton, Brailey, Blachly, Experiential Orchestra
The 2020 GRAMMY Award winner for Best Classical Solo Vocal Performance, honoring Sarah Brailey and Dashon Burton!
August 18th marks the 100th anniversary of the 19th Constitutional Amendment, granting women in the US the right to vote. A fitting time then for our release of the World Premier Recording of Ethel Smyth’s late masterpiece The Prison. Smyth left home at nineteen to study composition in Leipzig. In the company of Clara Schumann and her teacher Heinrich von Herzogenberg, she met and won the admiration of composers such as Tchaikovsky, Brahms, Dvorák, and Grieg. Smyth was the first woman to have an opera performed at the Met, in 1903. (The second was Kaija Saariaho, whose L'Amour de loin appeared there in 2016!) Smyth later became central to the Suffragette movement in England, writing the March of the Women. Her gender politics and sexuality were cause for attacks by critics, and she famously went to prison herself for throwing a stone through an MP’s window. Composed in 1930 and premiered in 1931 in Edinburgh’s Usher Hall, The Prison is a Symphony in two parts, ‘Close on Freedom’ and ‘The Deliverance’, set for soprano and bass-baritone soloists, chorus, and full orchestra. The text is taken from a philosophical work by Henry Bennet Brewster and concerns the writings of a prisoner in solitary confinement, his reflections on life and his preparations for death.
REVIEWS:
Ethyl Smyh's late work, The Prison (1929-30), is uncategorizable. The 64-minute “vocal symphony” for bass-baritone (The Prisoner) and soprano (his Soul), with chorus (philosophical commentary) is in two parts: Close To Freedom and The Deliverance. The heavy-ish text, by Smyth’s dear friend (and perhaps lover, though her relationships tended otherwise to be lesbian) Henry Bennet Brewster centers on the gloomy ruminations of a prisoner considering the end of his life, and his soul, which is guiding him toward peace. In Part 1, He, for instance speaks of his anxiety and inability to sleep, and wonders about immortality and if he will be emancipated; in Part 2, the Soul tells him the end of his struggle is near and he learns to “disband his ego”. The chorus has a further calming effect: immortality is everywhere, human passions remain. He finally finds peace. As you can see, a regular Offenbachian satire–not.
From the very opening moments – “I awoke in the middle of the night” – the mood is weighty with disquiet. The bass-baritone voice of Dashon Burton has both substance and gentleness, his attention to the text that of a Lieder singer. Violin and harp circle his words. Sarah Brailey’s Soul, from the start, sings with subtlety and a type of fleeting loveliness. She opens the second part with a solo on the words “the struggle is over”, intoning much of her words on one note while first a trio of winds, then a solo violin, then the full body of strings and chorus–all pianissimo–join her above and below. Chant? Hymn? Both, really. Smyth layers the orchestra; a brass choir during a passage about immortality makes a grand effect. Later, a painfully beautiful pastoral section precedes the Prisoner’s feeling of metaphysical freedom.
While much of it is gripping, its slow pacing and didacticism can dehumanize the story that the Prisoner and Soul are stuck in. The Prisoner’s “prison”, both metaphorical and real, is presented with such humanity and openness by Burton that his eventual spiritual freedom makes a glorious sound, despite–rather than due to–the orchestrally and chorally weighted underpinnings. Some Elgar shows up, and is not very welcome.
The performance, I suspect, could not be bettered. The New York City-based Experiential Orchestra and Chorus both perform with luscious tone and poise. James Blachly’s leadership brings the work’s lyricism to the forefront; it would be easy to over-emphasize passages but he works best within the dramatic arc of the narrative. Much of The Prison is gorgeous and unexpected – who does Smyth sound like? And while some moments seem inert, they are few and far between.
– ClassicsToday.com (10/10; Robert Levine)
Smyth’s haunting music, given here in conductor James Blachly’s new edition, is beautifully constructed and highly evocative (with quotes or allusions to earlier Smyth scores). Her orchestration is limpid and masterly, rendered lovingly here by Blachly with the Experiential Orchestra. The choral contribution is relatively minor, the focus rightly on the two soloists, but again superbly performed. The only miscalculation is Smyth’s use of ‘The Last Post’ in the concluding pages, adding a martial resonance that may jar to modern ears; to Smyth, a major-general’s daughter, it may just have been an echo of (her) youth which she wanted at this point. Magnificent sound from Chandos, too. Very strongly recommended.
– Gramophone
Chopin: Piano Concertos / Shura Cherkassky
CHOPIN Piano Concertos: Nos. 1; 1 2 2 • Shura Cherkassky (pn); 1 Christopher Adey, cond; 2 Richard Hickox, cond; 1 BBC Scottish SO. 2 BBC SO • ICA CLASSICS 5085 (75:22) Live: Glasgow 1 12/3/1981; 2 London 8/30/1983
Shura Cherkassky, according to the liner notes, was sometimes a difficult man to accompany, as he would often change his mind on phrasing or tempos between the final rehearsal and the concert; thus, annotator Robert Orledge says, “some conductors were reluctant to appear with him,” citing as an example the sudden rush with which he plays the final section of the Second Concerto. I can see where this would be a problem. I recall a live performance I attended by a famous American pianist where, suddenly, the keyboardist rushed forward and left the orchestra behind, and I learned later that he did not rehearse the work that way. The difference, if I may say so, is that Cherkassky usually had good taste while the American pianist I heard usually played with poor style regardless of his tempo choices.
Well, as Cherkassky once said to me, “Some people like my playing and some don’t, but at least no one can say that I’m boring.” True enough. Yet I was beginning to doubt that this would be that fine a disc as the First Concerto started up. Conductor Adey plays it very slowly, with lots of romantic gush and goo, and moreover the first minute or so suffers from what is probably a crumply original tape. I was not expecting much. But then Cherkassky entered, and his bracing interpretation of the opening phrases acted like a wake-up call for the orchestra. (Having heard Cherkassky three times in person, twice with an orchestra and once in recital, and also being familiar with many of his recordings, I just don’t see that he would have wanted this concerto played so slowly to begin with. It just wasn’t in his nature, thus I believe that he bristled at Adey’s tempos in both the rehearsal and performance.) From this point on—thankfully—it is the pianist who leads the orchestra, forcing Adey to pick up his tempo or be left behind. One is immediately caught up in the excitement, which despite a sensitively shaped second movement continues on through to the end.
With the Second Concerto, we enter an entirely different world. Richard Hickox was one of the great, underrated conductors of his generation, a man who viewed music as dramatic expression and molded his performances that way. From the very first note, Hickox is on edge, and I mean that almost literally…he makes Chopin’s orchestration sound almost like Beethoven or Schumann, full of drama and bringing out all sorts of inner voices with tremendous clarity. The switch from Adey to Hickox is almost as dramatic as if one suddenly shifted from John Barbirolli to Igor Markevitch, but Cherkassky is entirely in his element. There’s a particularly delicious passage in the second movement when the piano’s descending chromatics clash on one note with the orchestra’s chord—exactly as written, but a detail that normally escapes one’s attention in most performances of the concerto. And Cherkassky’s last-movement cadenza is incendiary, as advertised. It’s a heck of a performance that keeps you on the edge of your seat. Cherkassky’s changes to the text of the score are certainly evident but, like Glenn Gould, they generally enliven and enhance the music. Of course, that would probably keep this disc from being your first choice for recordings of the two concertos, but as a second recording it is definitely recommended.
FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley
Beethoven & Chopin & Schumann Piano Concerti
Includes work(s) for piano by Johann Sebastian Bach, Christoph W. Gluck, Camille Saint-Saëns, Johannes Brahms, Ludwig van Beethoven. Soloist: Guiomar Novaës.
