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Beethoven: Symphony No. 8 in F Major, Op. 93 & R. Strauss: E
$20.99CDSOMM Recordings
Feb 20, 2026SOMM-BEECHAM 33 -
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Lehár: Das Land De Lächelns / Schirmer, Et Al
After Franz Lehár’s initial success with Die lustige Witwe in 1905 – an operetta that harked back to the jolly 19th century works of Johann Strauss II, Millöcker and Suppé – he gradually changed direction. For him there were to be new dramaturgical models including the “lyric operetta” where the focus is on the ‘inner world of the figures’ as Doris Sennefelder puts it in her perspective building notes to this issue. Paganini, Der Zarewitsch and Friederike are all in this mould and in Das Land des Lächelns a further aspect comes to the fore, the cultural clash between East and West. The Viennese Lisa falls in love with the Chinese Prince Sou-Chong but she can’t accept the demands of Chinese values. As in every operetta of the traditional kind act 2 ends in bitter conflict. So does Die lustige Witwe but there everything is sorted out in the third act as Hanna and Danilo dance away to eternal happiness – or so we believe. In Das Land des Lächelns the conflict is resolved insofar as Sou-Chong allows Lisa to leave China and return to Vienna. He displays some humanity after all but this does not really lead to increased understanding.
The Chinese or ‘Oriental’ setting was by no means unique to opera and operetta of the late 19th and the early 20th century. Massenet’s Le roi de Lahore and Delibes’ Lakmé are well-known examples. Mascagni’s Iris and Puccini’s Madama Butterfly are others and even Gilbert and Sullivan went Asian in The Mikado. Later Lehár and Puccini actually worked in parallel on Chinese projects, Puccini with Turandot and Lehár with Die gelbe Jacke which was premiered in 1923. It was later revised and presented in new guise in 1929 with Richard Tauber in the main lead. Then it was a tremendous success. This was Das Land des Lächelns.
There is no denying that Lehár was a tremendously skilful composer. The Chinese allusions in the score are no less striking than corresponding music in Turandot. The procession with chorus at the beginning of act 2 could just as well have been written by Puccini. It is followed by a highly attractive Chinese ballet suite. Towards the end of the act the wedding procession is colourful and powerful, also incorporating quotations from Sou-Chong’s first act song Von Apfelblüten einen Kranz.
This recording is the fourth of a Lehár operetta from CPO to have come my way the last couple of years and it is in the main very successful. Ulf Schirmer, who also conducted Schön ist die Welt (review), secures excellent playing from the Munich Radio Orchestra. His choices of tempo seem unerringly right. He is very close to Otto Ackermann in the historical 1953 recording now on Naxos (review) and that is my benchmark. The long overture, with quotations from the music that follows, very clearly prepares the listener for a largely serious, even tragic play and the ballet suite in act 2 is excellently played. The chorus is also splendid. For once in a recording with spoken dialogue between the musical numbers the balance is such that one need not turn up the volume every time to hear the dialogue properly. Recorded at three live performances the technicians have succeeded in finding the best of both worlds and there is hardly any evidence of an audience. There is quite a lot of dialogue but it is separately tracked and for repeated listening this leaves the choice open for those who want to hear only the music numbers.
There is a delightful but small-voiced second couple with Julia Bauer’s Mi, who sings a charming dancing song in act 2, and Alexander Kaimbacher’s Gustl, who is agreeably lyrical in the duet with Mi in the same act. Finnish soprano Camilla Nylund as Lisa is a bit uneven and her uppermost notes tend to be rather hard and strained. She can also be lyrically appealing, not least in duet, and in the dark-tinted and operatic finale to act 2 she delivers strong dramatic singing. Prince Sou-Chong is sung by Polish tenor Piotr Beczala and he is plainly superb with a good ring in the more outgoing music. Most of all though he impresses through delicious lyric singing with carefully judged nuances that cannot be taken for granted in operetta.
I have complained in the past about sloppy presentation from CPO but in this respect they have made amends. They give us both a detailed track-list and a fairly good synopsis in three languages. I still think that a full libretto would be useful – even for German speakers.
I am not fully au fait with all existing alternative versions. Ackermann’s recording, mentioned above, with Schwarzkopf, Gedda, Loose and Kunz is a classic and at Naxos price unbeatable. Gedda’s stereo remake with Anneliese Rothenberger as Lisa is a splendid alternative and EMI’s third offer, Boskovsky’s recording with Jerusalem and Helen Donath, also has much to commend it. Robert Stolz with Rudolf Schock and Margit Schramm will certainly give pleasure, though I haven’t heard it, but for a brand new recording in excellent sound and a Sou-Chong to challenge even the great tenors on the other sets, this is well worth consideration.
-- Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International
Ravel: La Valse / Oramo, Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra
Maurice Ravel composed many works which stand as classics for both solo piano and for orchestra. On this disc, all except one work were first conceived for piano, which raises the question how it is possible to transfer such pianistic music to the orchestra without making it sound like a mere ‘colorized’ version. Ravel’s orchestral writing was the result of a long apprenticeship and careful study. Although his skills as an orchestrator are much admired today, his ability to coax new sounds out of the orchestra wasn't always appreciated in his own time, however – in 1907 the critic Pierre Lalo complained that ‘in Ravel’s orchestra, no instrument retains its natural sound…’!
Among the works performed here by Sakari Oramo and the Royal Stockholm Philharmonic Orchestra are some of Ravel’s earliest compositions, including the much-loved Pavane pour une infante défunte, but the album closes with a later work: La Valse, written in 1920 as one of only four works by Ravel originally conceived for orchestra. The idea of composing a tribute to Johann Strauss had pursued Ravel since 1906, but it took a commission from Sergei Diaghilev of the Ballets Russes for him to return to the project. When Diaghilev found it unsuited for ballet, Ravel gave it the subtitle ‘choreographic poem’. It was premiered in concert in 1920 and enjoyed immediate success.
REVIEW:
The ostensible title of this disc is “La Valse,” which is actually the least interesting performance on it. Oramo delivers a quick, lithe and lean interpretation of a work that ought to sound like a decadent, high cholesterol indulgence that explodes in a giant orchestral aneurism at the end. Here, he leaves the music no room to increase in urgency through the apocalyptic closing pages, although the playing is excellent and the sonics, as usual, first class. No, the real treat here is Le Tombeau de Couperin, here given with the two movements of the piano original that Ravel left off the orchestral version (Fugue and Toccata) very idiomatically arranged by Kenneth Hesketh. I particularly like Oramo’s decision not to take the opening too quickly, so that we get to savor the melody as well as Ravel’s gorgeous harmonies. It’s a splendid performance all around.
After Le Tombeau, the highlight of the program must be Une barque sur l’océan, still something of a rarity (even the score used to be hard to find), and I suppose a work that seems to fail next to Debussy’s La mer. The truth is that it’s a totally different beast, mostly dark and mysterious, and that’s just how Oramo plays it. The remaining works are mostly good. The inevitable Pavane for a Dead Princess and the Minuet antique are unkillable, but Alborada del gracioso needs more swagger towards the end. Why doesn’t Oramo give the trombones a chance to inject a little healthy vulgarity into the concluding bars? Of course, it’s not as if we’re short of worthy alternatives in most of this music, but the excellence (and novelty) of Le Tombeau and Une barque make this release impossible to dismiss.
-- ClassicsToday.com (David Hurwitz)
Kálmán: Die Csárdásfürstin / Bonynge, Et Al
As the important, influential Viennese operetta Die Csárdásfürstin has not been captured on many complete recorded versions, it’s particularly nice to welcome this beguiling new one...The music very craftily fuses Vienna with Budapest in a way that hadn’t been heard since Johann Strauss’s 1885 Zigeunerbaron, and was not heard again until Kálmán’s own Gräfin Mariza in 1924...Operetta maven Richard Bonynge has a close connection with Kálmán, having conducted this score in Australia and elsewhere. His enthusiasm for its riches is manifest in this robust yet finely-detailed recording, in which the vaguely klezmer-like Gypsy string and wind underpinnings come through clearly, as played by the Slovak Radio orchestra, which gets the hot-pepper and tokay accentuation stylishly right...Yvonne Kenny sings prettily as Sylva Varescu...Mojca Erdmann is a delightful Countess Stasi...Naxos adds some Kálmán extras at the end and includes a brief speaking cameo by the composer’s daughter, Yvonne." -- Opera News, April 2005
This is by no means the first good recording of Emmerich Kálmán’s operetta masterpiece The Gypsy Princess. That honor probably goes to the classic EMI, with Anneliese Rothenberger and Nicolai Gedda...But if you are fond of the Viennese operetta idiom and you don’t know this work or lack a recording of it, this new set is a must.
One of its attributes is the sound quality—and while I don’t have four-channel sound, I do have both two and three-channel setups, and in both of those incarnations this hybrid SACD was a stunning audio achievement. Even played as a standard two-channel CD the sound is warm, richly colored, highly detailed without ever seeming clinical. Naxos indicates that this disc contains three versions of the same music: a 5.1 multichannel DSD surround-sound version, a two-channel DSD version, and a standard two-channel stereo version.
It is, however, musical qualities that most strongly recommend this set, and chief among those is Richard Bonynge’s conducting. I should make clear that I have never been a Bonynge enthusiast, and find that in the classic bel canto operas he recorded with his wife Joan Sutherland his conducting lacked incisiveness, rhythmic spine, and momentum. For that very reason, this performance is astonishing—those are precisely the qualities he brings to Kálmán’s delightful score, along with an affectionate warmth that is in evidence from the first notes of the Prelude. It is hard to imagine a more engaging and involving performance of the score than Bonynge gives here. The two leads, Yvonne Kenny and Michael Roider, sound as if they were born to sing this music, even though one of them (Kenny) is Australian. Roider, born in Salzburg, has a lovely lyric tenor voice and the style in his blood. Kenny’s lyric soprano has long been known to us in Mozart and other “serious” repertoire, but she shows a lovely comedic flair and a natural feel for the line of Kálmán’s music. The rest of the cast is splendid, and the entire thing is a treat. It has the feel of a real performance, despite being a studio recording (made in 2002). The second disc is filled with orchestral excerpts from other Kálmán works, which are well worth hearing, and are conducted with the same skill.
Naxos should have gone to the expense of supplying a full libretto. Their detailed synopsis is very helpful, and probably enough for a work that doesn’t deal in dramatic complexity, but we still miss some of the wit and some of the charm of the piece without having a full text available. Nonetheless, this is a highly recommendable set.
Henry Fogel, FANFARE
Johann & Carl Stamitz / Hall, Camerata Chicago, Et Al
Includes work(s) by Carl Stamitz. Conductor: Drostan Hall.
Ernst: Complete Music Vol 3 / Sherban Lupu, Ian Hobson
ERNST Introduction and Fantasy on Le Quattour Favori by F. Halévy , Op. 6. Élégie , Op. 10. Introduction, Variations, and Finale on a Waltz by Charles Shunke and Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst, Op. 26. Hungarian Airs, Op. 22. HELLER and ERNST Pensées fugitives , 7-12. OSBORNE and ERNST Souvenirs of La Juive • Sherban Lupu (vn); Ian Hobson (pn) • TOCCATA 0163 (80:55)
Toccata’s series, Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst: Complete Music , continues with its third volume, comprising two sets of variations, the once famous but now at least familiar Élégie , the second half of Pensées fugitives (the first half having appeared in the series’s first volume), an opera fantasy, and the formidable Airs hongrois variés (here with a cadenza by Arthur Hartmann), all played, once again, by violinist Sherban Lupu and pianist Ian Hobson. The first work in the collection bears the title Introduction et Variations Brillantes en form de Fantaisie pour le violon sur le Quatuor favori de Ludovic de F. Halévy and consists of a set of four variations on a theme from Halévy’s opera Ludovic (according to the notes, Halévy completed the work begun by Ferdinand Hérold). As in the earlier volumes, Lupu produces a slightly acidulous tone, but he wields it suggestively, leaping with great effect into the higher registers in the introduction and playing with the pathos and drama the music, as well as the composer’s reputation, demands. As in the other volumes, Toccata has provided separate tracks for each section—the introduction, theme, variations, and concluding passages—so that reader-listeners can follow the highly detailed—and highly informative—booklet notes by Ernst’s biographer, Mark Rowe. In the variations, Lupu communicates the brilliance and aplomb (listen to his strutting staccato double-stops sprinkled with pizzicatos or the transcendentally difficult finale) that must have made such a strong impression on Ernst’s listeners (he seemed to have known—and been admired by—virtually everybody, including Liszt, with whom he played Beethoven’s “Kreutzer” Sonata, Joachim, Berlioz, Mendelssohn, Robert and Clara Schumann, Paganini, Brahms, Wieniawski, and Charles Hallé, while the perceptive 19th-century violin historian, the Rev. H. R. Haweis, identified him as the greatest of all the violinists he’d heard).
The notes relate the hyper-romantic story of the Élégie sur la mort d’un objet chéri , which Ernst composed upon learning of the death of a young woman with whom he had fallen in love years earlier. Lupu creates the violinistic equivalent of a sob—many times over—in his heartfelt performance of this piece, which includes Louis Spohr’s characteristically chromatic introduction—the practice of including, which Rowe traces to Joachim and August Wilhelmj. Compare this deeply moving reading to the blander but still affecting one by Ingolf Turban (without Spohr’s introduction, on Claves CD 50-9613, Fanfare 20:6), the rich-toned but again less electifying one by Ilya Grubert (with Spohr’s introduction but also with some heavy breathing that doesn’t really help make Ernst’s mournful point—Hyperion 67619, Fanfare 31: 6), and Grubert’s similar reading with orchestra (without Spohr’s introduction but with the weight of the orchestra to give it ballast, which Steven E. Ritter reviewed in Fanfare 30:5 and I reviewed in Fanfare 31:1—Naxos 8.557565), and it becomes clear how much more pathos Lupu wrings from the piece. The notes give the next work the title, Introduction, Variations et Final, Dialogués, & Concertans sur une Valse favorite pour Piano et Violin par Charles Schunke et H. W. Ernst , and the work, with its showy pianism, recalls the Thème Allemande Varié , also by the two in collaboration, which appears in the series’ first volume. In this case, they’ve embellished in four variations a waltz by Johann Strauss, Sr., creating from it a highly entertaining, rhythmically vibrant pastiche that relies for its effect more heavily on pianistic than on violinistic brilliance. Hobson meets the challenge, as does Lupu—handily in both cases (and the violin part’s not at all easy, even if it’s overshadowed by the piano).
The Pensées fugitives include a Rêverie, Un Caprice, Inquiétude, Prière pendant l’orage, Intermezzo , and a Thème original de H. W. Ernst , with a variation and finale. (The identification of Ernst must have been necessary because Ernst published these pieces with pianist Stephen Heller—and though Ernst wasn’t their sole composer, he did give performances of them.) In the Rêverie, Lupu plays some portamentos that will strike many listeners as old-fashioned, but will seem to others the most effective way in which to heighten the expressivity—which they do. The Caprice doesn’t suggest the difficulty of Paganini’s works by the same name, but communicates the joviality and indeterminacy at the title’s root (a leaping goat?). The restless Inquiétude gives way to the moving Prière, to which, according to the notes, a storm serves as the background. Lupu and Hobson capture the prayer’s urgency as effectively as they do the storm’s tumultuousness. The Intermezzo, more playful, nevertheless reflects darker Affekten in its accompaniment, at least in Hobson’s performance. The theme and variations doesn’t empty Ernst’s bag of tricks as do the other works, but the variations seem strongly characterized, in the drawing-room manner, and the duo digs the marrow out of each of these moods and posturings. The booklet notes give the epigraphs printed with these pieces and descriptions of each.
Lupu and Hobson make Souvenirs de l’Opéra La Juive de F. Halevy [sic] pour Piano et Violon Concertants Composés par Osborne et Ernst , another collaboration—this time with George Osborne, according to the notes, an Irish pianist—sound quintessentially operatic, in each of its two sections. The intensity of these movements, and their performances, gives way to the breathtaking swagger of the Hungarian Airs , which Rowe identifies as one of Wieniawski’s favorite warhorses and even cites as an influence (in its rising 10th) on Edward Elgar’s Violin Concerto. Ruggiero Ricci recorded this piece twice, mounting its technical challenges with more breathtaking panache (if greater recklessness) than does Lupu, although Ricci doesn’t capture to a significantly greater degree its ethnic coloring or the affecting lyricism of its second theme, in which, once again, Lupu seems almost to sob. And Hartmann’s brilliant and commanding cadenza fits the work hand-in-glove.
For those who haven’t yet discovered the riches of Toccata’s series, this third volume might be as good a place as any to begin—but surely not to end. There’s a diamond in every sock drawer—almost, in fact, in every sock. The volumes of this series ought to pass directly through the Want List into the Hall of Fame, but it may be good for readers to learn of them more expeditiously among the pages of ordinary reviews. But the usual precautions ought to apply: Not recommended for those with heart problems, and so forth. They’re that exciting.
FANFARE: Robert Maxham
Strauss: Centenary Celebration / Georgiadis, Czech Chamber Philharmonic
Throughout his life, Eduard Strauss's compositions were unfavorably compared with those by his elder brothers, Johann II and Josef, yet many of his works, especially those dating from the 1870's and 1880's, easily stand comparison with those crafted by his two famous siblings. Moreover, in two particular dance genres - the quick polka and the galop - Eduard was in a class of his own. As the Strauss authority Professor Franz Mailer stated: ''Posterity must make restitution to Eduard Strauss.'' It is to be hoped that, at the very least, this present recording will encourage a reassessment of ''handsome Edi's'' unique musical genius.
Humperdinck: Music for the Stage / Salvi, Malmo Opera Orchestra
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REVIEWS:
These incidental scores are a real find. They show that Humperdinck was far more than a one work wonder and is surely overlooked among the large number of turn-of-the-century composers who were able to turn out such highly melodic scores. The one real rarity here is the suite arranged from Das Wunder – the first full-colour silent film, made in 1912.
– Lark Reviews
Think of Humperdinck and Hänsel und Gretel immediately springs to mind, and if you dig a little bit deeper, Königskinder. Of course, he was far more prolific than that, and clearly had a rare talent for melody, vocal setting and orchestration. He is regarded as being a disciple of Wagner rather than a composer who forged a unique path, although I was interested to discover that he was the first composer to use Sprechgesang - a vocal technique halfway between singing and speaking, in Königskinder.
This most welcome, well-filled CD gives us a broad cross-section of his music for the stage. It starts with the prelude to Act II of the unknown opera Die Heirat wider Willen (The Forced Marriage), which opens with huge Wagnerian chords leading to more complex passages which quieten to harp chords then return to the opening. It is highly effective, and is probably the most instantly impactive music on the disc.
It is followed by his incidental music to the play Der Kaufman von Venedig (The Merchant of Venice). There are seven sections, the longest being the accompaniment to Act V Scene 1, “The moon shines bright: in such a night as this, When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees”.
At over ten minutes, it is as long as the previous six episodes put together, and, perhaps unsurprisingly given the word painting to inspire him, Humperdinck produces some magical orchestral effects, employing the harp lavishly to illustrate the moon (with a gentle horn accompanying the harp); the same combination is used at the outset, as the lovers begin their conversation. It is the sort of luscious orchestral sound which lulls one into floating along with it. There are vocal parts in the earlier sections, nicely sung by the tenor, soprano and contralto. The next longest scene at just under four minutes is the masked procession. Once again, the composer uses the harp quite prominently when the music quietens. As with all such incidental music, very short sections (three of the seven are each under one minute) can lead to a rather bitty impression, but Humperdinck manages to keep one’s interest - for example, the Casket Song (soprano, chorus, orchestra and harp again) is a 2:45 highlight.
Das Wunder (The Wonder), is music he composed for a British silent film from 1912 made in colour(!). It was presented at the Royal Opera House in 1912, the film being projected on to a screen with the full orchestra and chorus accompanying. The suite here begins with a prelude for solo organ, leading into a Procession and Children’s Dance, which begins with grand pageantry then quietens down for a rustic dance. The longest sections are the last two, the March of the Army and the Death Motif and the Christmas Scene and Finale. The first is quite memorable with flutes, piccolos, fifes and drums, leading to portentous brass chords for the Death Motif. The Christmas music and finale form a much more serene, ten-minute affair, with the orchestra producing a chiming effect for Christmas bells without orchestral bells being employed. I don’t think that the whole piece shows Humperdinck at his most memorable, but it is enjoyable, nonetheless.
Die Wallfahrt nach Kevlaar – Ballade (The Pilgrimage to Kevlaar) is a setting of three poems by Heinrich Heine, and Humperdinck uses soprano, tenor and chorus with orchestra. The songs tell of a journey made by a mother and her sick son to the shrine of The Virgin Mary at Kevelaer. The first song – At the Window stands the Mother - is a 3’30” narrative between soprano and tenor with the chorus commenting leading to an impressive, very Wagnerian crescendo, followed by the soloists combining with the chorus in a long, sustained note at the end. The second song, at just over seven minutes, depicts the visit to the shrine with a processional quality which slowly gathers strength. The tenor sings some very passionate music, somewhat reminiscent of Tanhauser’s Rome Narration, in which the boy and his mother are described. The last section at 4’33” – The Sick Son and the Mother – describes the death of the child, and, as one might expect, is duly solemn. The horn accompanies the soprano in dramatic declamation as the boy dies, and the chorus provide a swelling epilogue, with the soprano and harp softening things in a brief threnody at the very end. The work is set in a most sympathetic manner by Humperdinck.
The CD ends with his incidental music to Aristophanes’ Lysistrata. The composer tries to capture the antique nature of the play through his instrumentation, but even so we can hear Tristan during an extended cor-anglais solo. It is an attractive short suite.
As I mentioned at the outset, I have found this CD to be a welcome issue, and the last three items are all world premiere recordings. The booklet is informative about the composer and the music, and although texts to the sung parts are not provided, they are available from the Naxos website.
The performances are excellent in every respect, as we have come to expect from Malmö, and the recording is well balanced and natural.
– MusicWeb International (Jim Westhead)
Strauss: Lieder
J. Strauss Jr. Edition Vol 11 / Alfred Walter, Et Al
Brahms: Piano Concerto No 1; Strauss: Burleske / Szell, Serkin
Serkin is said to have disliked recording and his legacy is mixed, technically and artistically. Yet, at best, his driving energy, his fierce intelligence, his quick mind, and (until comparatively recently) his unfailing lucidity of touch often produced recordings that do that rare thing: they transcend the medium.
One such recording is his 1968 Cleveland account of Brahms's D minor Piano Concerto which Sony have recently reissued...coupled with another Serkin speciality, Richard Strauss's Burleske for piano and orchestra. Serkin "at the peak of his form, emotionally, intellectually, and technically" is how Trevor Harvey described the performance in these columns in May 1969 and I wouldn't disagree with that. From the piano's first entry it is evident that we are in the presence of a musical plain-dealer who is something more besides. The touch is plain but never monochrome, resolute but never harsh. There are miracles of dynamic shading yet dynamic changes that are elementally swift and steep. Above all, there is a revelatory way with rhythm, full of potency and drive in quicker music, and turning the more reflective passages into slow sustained acts of transcendental enquiry. As a reading this has something of Arrau's weight and profundity (Philips D 420 702-2PSL, 11/87) matched to Curzon's lyricism and sense of forward drive (Decca D 417 641-2DH, 10/87, also conducted by Szell). It is not better than either but it has some of the best qualities of both. There are those, it must be said, who are distracted by Serkin's stamping pedalwork and by breathing that has Serkin, like Arrau, cross-hatching the lie of a phrase with his own peculiar form of musical emphysema. Such things don't worry me unduly. You can't expect a man to go up the north face of the Eiger, silently, in carpet-slippers; and, in the slow movement, I find the counterpointing of Serkin's stressful breathing, with the sublimely conjured and spun melody that floats from it, to be a moving re-enactment of the composer's own recalcitrance in the face of the brute marble out of which this concerto is sculpted.
Szell and the Cleveland Orchestra are, needless to say, superb accompanists, and the sound is excellent in an appropriately forthright way, with pianissimos that are not so much pianissimo as properly hushed and innig. I don't agree with the reviewer who found Serkin's account of the Strauss Burleske to be lacking in poetry. Rather, it glints; it is sharp and witty. Above all, the performance redeems the work from its principal failing: the sense it can give of being marginally but fatally over length... [I]f you want a truly worthy memorial of this great pianist from the current batch, there is absolutely no doubt that the Brahms/Strauss disc is the one to have.
-- Gramophone [7/1991]
J. Strauss Jr.: 100 Most Famous Waltzes, Etc Vol 3
J. Strauss Jr. Edition Vol 50 / Christian Pollack, Et Al
J. Strauss Jr. Edition Vol 51 / Jerome Cohen, Et Al
American Classics - Sousa "On Stage" / Brion, Razumovsky SO
Fuchs: Serenades Nos. 1 & 2 / Christian Ludwig, Cologne Chamber Orchestra

Robert Fuchs (1847-1927) is best known today as the composition teacher of Mahler, Sibelius, Enesco, Korngold, Schreker, Zemlinsky, and just about everyone else who happened to be at the Vienna Conservatory from the late 19th century onward. As a composer he earned the respect of Brahms, probably because Brahms didn't feel threatened by him, and was totally forgotten after his death. During his lifetime he was best known for his string serenades, two of which feature on this recording, along with the late (and quite substantial) Andante and Capriccio Op. 63.
Let's get straight to the point: the music is wonderful--gracious, tuneful, not a note too long, and an unalloyed delight from first note to last. Yes, it's not "heavy" or "serious", but really, who cares? If you like Dvorák's or Tchaikovsky's string serenades, or Grieg's Holberg Suite, or Sibelius' Valse triste, then you are going to love this disc. The performances are perfect: flowing, rhythmically clean and snappy, immaculately tuned, and affectionately phrased. It just doesn't get any better, and the sonics are pristine. The Viennese, of course, have always been suckers for light music, but that only made them particularly discerning. They went crazy for Fuchs. Check out this disc and find out why.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
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FUCHS Serenades: No. 1 in D; No. 2 in C. Andante grazioso and Capriccio • Christian Ludwig, cond; Cologne CO • NAXOS 8.572222 (53:52)
His friends called him “Serenaden-Fuchs” (Serenading Fox), a pun on his name, while the sparingly complimentary Brahms praised him as a “splendid musician.” He was Robert Fuchs (1847–1927), an Austrian composer and professor of theory and composition at the Vienna Conservatory whose students comprised an extraordinary roll-call of up-and-coming talents: Enescu, Korngold, Mahler, Melartin, Sibelius, Schmidt, Schreker, Wolf, and Zemlinsky.
As a musical genre the serenade found itself largely neglected after Mozart, at least until Brahms revived it with his two symphonic-scaled serenades in the late 1850s. Despite Mozart’s lending a greater gravity to the form, especially with his so-called “Gran Partita,” the genre continued to carry the stigma of its 18th-century antecedent as a type of lightweight, summer’s eve, al fresco entertainment, at a time when Austro-German Romanticism in particular saw itself as cultural custodian of the serious and the profound. Thus, even after Brahms’s two mid 19th-century examples, it would be another 25 years before composers would enrich the repertoire with serenades that, in content and dimensions, resembled symphonies or symphonic suites in all but name.
When Fuchs came to compose his First Serenade in 1874, his main models were the two efforts by Brahms and the three serenades by Robert Volkmann (1869–70). But by the time he got around to composing his fifth and final serenade in 1894, many masterly and magnificent serenades had already made their way into the world: Dvo?ák (1878), Tchaikovsky (1880), Strauss (1882), Wolf (1887), Suk (1892), and Elgar (1892), and not long after, Reinecke (1898); Dohnányi (1902), Sinding (1902 and 1909), Reger (several between 1904 and 1906), and Stenhammar (1913) would add to the growing list.
If the serenades had been Fuchs’s only contribution to music, it might explain why he virtually vanished from the mainstream almost immediately after his death, even though he’d been highly regarded in his own day. But the fact is that Fuchs worked in all the major musical media and his output, which included symphonies, concertos, a large volume of chamber works, three masses, and two operas, was considerable and diverse. And all of it—at least the works I’ve heard—is nothing but expertly crafted and melodically inspired.
Of Fuchs’s five serenades, the first three are scored for strings only and the fourth adds only two horns to the string ensemble. In the string-only pieces, however, textural richness is achieved through division of parts, so that for much of the time we are hearing six or even seven voices. Sometimes the violas play divided parts; other times, first or second violins are divided; and still other times violins and violas are divided at the same time. This lends both breadth and depth to the writing, allowing for greater fullness and luminosity to the sound as well as greater flexibility to the interplay of voices as they overlap and weave around each other.
As I said, if the serenades were Fuchs’s sole contribution to music, his disappearance from the scene might not be so surprising, for I will be the first to admit that these are not the stuff great reputations are made of. They were popular in their day precisely because they were the popular music of the day. As one listens to these serenades, especially their fast-paced movements, it’s easy to discern how Fuchs’s style was influenced by the polkas and quadrilles of Johann Strauss Jr., another composer, by the way, much admired by Brahms. So associating Fuchs with this type of crowd-pleasing entertainment music is not to denigrate him as a composer. His symphonies, concertos, and chamber works tell us that he was a man of both talent and substance. His serenades are tuneful, occasionally touching, and always enjoyable, reminding me in ways of some of Grieg’s orchestral music, like the Lyric Suite.
In checking all of the usual mail-order sources, I was surprised to find no complete collection of Fuchs’s five serenades. In fact, you would have to hunt down some fairly obscure labels featuring some fairly provincial ensembles to find recordings of Nos. 3 and 5, not to mention other versions besides this one of Nos. 1 and 2. And I had no luck at all finding even a single recording of No. 4. I guess I hadn’t realized when I began this review just how far Fuchs’s serenades had fallen on hard times, for the rest of his output in general is reasonably well represented on disc.
The Andante grazioso and Capriccio that concludes the disc is no insignificant filler. At 17 and a half minutes, it’s longer than the Serenade No. 2, and, written in 1900, it’s a work postdating the last of the composer’s serenades. Harmonically more advanced and complex, and emotionally darker than the serenades, the piece, suggests note author Anthony Short, is an example of Fuchs the teacher being influenced by his students, namely Sibelius.
One can only hope that this new recording of the first two serenades with the Cologne Chamber Orchestra directed by Christian Ludwig is the first in a survey that will bring us the remaining three, for in every respect the performances and recording are excellent. Strongly recommended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Love, Passion & Deceit - Rossini, Mozart, Strauss / Glyndebourne Festival
Die Fledermaus:
When a director and a production team have a concept for an opera production that alters the composer-librettist’s original vision, the results can vary from imaginative to hubristic expressions of a director trying to be unique—or just unusual. The concepts that work best are the ones that retain the integrity of the opera. Such is the case with this DVD of Die Fledermaus derived from performances at Glyndebourne. The action has been moved into the early 20th century, art deco simplicity has replaced 19th-century fussiness. The score remains intact, but the dialogue is new—yet it remains quite faithful to the story line. It was adapted by Stephen Lawless and Daniel Dooner, written in English, and then translated into German by Johanna Mayr. Purists are not likely to be offended by Glyndebourne’s updated Die Fledermaus, and most viewers will probably greatly enjoy this production.
The cast is a talented ensemble that excels not only as musicians but actors as well. Thomas Allen and Pamela Armstrong are wonderful as the Eisensteins. Their comic timing creates characterizations that are in equal measure sophisticated and droll. The act-II seduction with the watch is terrific. Lyubov Petrova makes the most out of Adele, the chambermaid with a mind of her own. Håkan Hagegård is an especially genial Dr. Falke, with intriguing glimpses of the anger prompting the Revenge of the Bat. Pär Lindskog makes a suitably lecherous Afredo. Special kudos to Malena Ernman in the trouser role of Prince Orlofsky. She does a convincing male impersonation complete with bushy mustache.
Udo Samel has the non-singing role of Frosch, the jailer. Frequently the role is assigned to the comedian of the day who pads the third act with a monologue of trademark shtick or topical humor. Mr. Samel introduces himself as Frosch — James Frosch. He admits his banter is intended to cover a scene change; however, this interplay with the audience has been edited from the operetta and appears as part of the Extras.
The biggest liability of Die Fledermaus is the third act. The first act lays the groundwork for the disguises and intrigues in act II. The third act serves as the dénouement, the unmasking after the splashy second-act party...Happily, this Glyndebourne production keeps affairs moving along nicely. The cast maintains the energy level from the first two acts. Quite a feat, since it appears the entire performance was done without intermissions.
Scene designer Benoit Dugardyn has created a clever set on a revolving stage...in this case the set is interesting and adapts quite well to the scenic demands of each act. A rather nifty scene change transforms the Eisenstein home into the Orlofsky ballroom. During the second act, the set frequently revolves, adding interesting dimensions and scenic interest.
Acts I and II and the Entr’acte to act III are on the first disc, act III is on the second disc, along with a number of interesting extra features and interviews. A compliment is due to television director Francesca Kemp and television producer Ross MacGibbon for the excellent transference of a stage production to home video. This video is respectful of the stage production without gimmicky distractions. There is very much a sense of being in the theater while watching....the new Glyndebourne production makes any evening New Years Eve.
David L. Kirk, FANFARE
La cenerentola
This is a conventional production of La cenerentola in most respects. The stage sets are sparsely suggestive rather than literal and detailed, but sufficient. Costumes are excellent, and Peter Hall gets superior comic acting from his principals. Timing and definition of gesture are especially good, with Di Pasquale and Alberghini making the most of their respective parts, minus any distracting add-on gags that all too often disrupt both the work’s rhythm and audience’s attention.
I have one reservation concerning Hall’s production, however: his treatment of the concertato . This Italian operatic convention completely stops the action and allows all characters on stage to express their thoughts simultaneously; which in Rossini’s comic operas invariably means stupefaction and derision. Hall exchanges conventional lighting at these instances for blue scrims, and sets his performers moving and weaving about in odd, slow motion patterns. In theory, this is interesting; in practice, I admittedly found it hard not to laugh at something Hall intended to be taken earnestly. I could only recall Eugene O’Neill’s pretentious 1929 play, Strange Interlude , with its characters given to occasional zombie-like speeches out of time, revealing their thoughts; or to Groucho Marx’s satire on it in the 1930 movie, Animal Crackers : “I see figures . . . strange figures . . . weird figures . . . Steel 186, Anaconda 74, American Can 138 . . .”. Hall’s desire to gussy up each concertato (and there are several, if you count smaller sections of otherwise standard ensembles, as Hall does) with a psychological dimension definitely raised a specter, but I don’t think Rossini had bushy eyebrows, a moustache, and a cigar. It’s possible to work up an academic thesis about the depth and seriousness of anything meant humorously, and the liner notes accompanying this release strive earnestly to accomplish this. But sometimes the light is just that—all light, no shadows; and this composer wasn’t a post-modernist.
Like most other Rossini operas, for many years La cenerentola went unperformed because of changing public tastes that in turn led to an absence of singers who could handle the parts. This was a vicious circle—for a lack of appropriate voices meant a lack of productions, and the absence of productions meant no need to train the voices. What are Rossini voices? They require the same qualities that can be found in other bel canto music: great agility, firm breath support, good enunciation, proper score-reading habits, and schooling in style. All of these qualities can be found in varying degrees in the seven performers who take a major stage part in this La cenerentola . Please note this; because if you ever doubted we’re entering a renewed age of bel canto , then a Rossini production that can boast of three basses, a tenor, two sopranos, and a mezzo, all reasonably fluent in coloratura, is surely as good an indication as any. However, I will single out only Ruxandra Donose for praise. Hers is a dusky mezzo, even in coloration, volume, and support across the registers. The voice is able to handle exacting coloratura without any aspiration or evidence of strain. Her forthright, focused attack in her final aria (“Non più mesta”) brought memories of Marilyn Horne in the 1970s; and like Horne, Donose builds her part from the text, not by working around it. A young singer with little as yet on CD or DVD, she clearly bears watching.
Jurowski is incisive, and alert to his singers’ needs. Sound is available in LPCM stereo and surround sound, while the video is offered in 16:9 anamorphic. Finally, there are subtitles in English, French, German, Spanish, and Italian, as well as one of those bits-and-pieces interviews (entitled “Insights,” just in case you missed what it offered) that tries to sell a darker view of the opera. It doesn’t work, but it also doesn’t matter. This production of La cenerentola was a good one for Rossini, and the audience agreed. I think you will, too.
FANFARE: Barry Brenesal
Cosi Fan Tutte
Simply put, this widely praised Glyndebourne production is the Così we’ve been waiting for. Yes, there are plenty of alternatives. But little of the video competition has fared well on these pages. Sometimes the problems stem from the musical performance: the Pritchard-led Glyndebourne predecessor was dismissed as “largely routine” by David Kirk (29:5); the Östman was ruled out of court by Barry Brenesal, who said that the “conducting belonged to the then-new movement that found only three tempos in Mozart operas: fast, faster, fast forward” (30:4). Others were panned because of inadequate production values: Chereau’s “takes itself far too seriously,” according to Brian Robins (30:3); Bob Rose was less charitable still with Hermanns’ “simply rotten” production that, he said, “reveals the producers’ lack of understanding Mozart’s genius” (30:6). Only Muti’s Vienna production (Brenesal 32:3) and Harnoncourt’s from Zurich (Christopher Williams, 30:1) received passing grades.
So what makes this performance stand out? First, the singing of the young cast is uniformly excellent. Or perhaps not quite uniformly: as is the case with her new Susanna in Pappano’s Figaro , Miah Persson is even better than excellent, combining a gorgeous, flexible, and stunningly controlled voice (even in the most challenging coloratura passages) with her by-now familiar depth of dramatic insight. Just listen to (and watch) the solid scorn on “Come scoglio”—or, even better, the subtle variations in mood in her wrenching account of “Per pietà”—and you’ll understand why she’s my favorite Mozart soprano these days.
But the rest of the cast is nearly as good. Anke Vondung holds her own as Dorabella (certainly, a less rich part), and their voices blend extremely well. Topi Lehtipuu and Luca Pisaroni capture the emotional wobbles of the two self-deluded lovers—their ardor, their ungrounded confidence, their fury—with unerring security and luxurious tone. More than most performances, too, this one reveals a key social dynamic: the deception works in part because they’re so much sexier when their costumes allow them to abandon the constraining propriety imposed by the social conventions that normally govern their behavior. Ainhoa Garmendia is a pert, disdainful Despina who doesn’t over-camp the impersonations; and running the show tactfully is Nicholas Rivenq. An unusually attractive Don Alfonso, he’s younger and far more fit than most in this role (he looks as if he just came off the racquet-ball court), and he seems an intellectual without a trace of pedantry; you can really believe that he wants to educate these two naive friends. Iván Fischer conducts with more romantic flexibility than you often get with period-instrument orchestras—and balance (both among the singers and between stage and pit) is finely calibrated. Purely as an audio version, this would stand up to any I’ve heard.
Fortunately, Nicholas Hytner’s production is equally impressive—hardly a false step from beginning to end. In general, this staging takes the opera—arguably, Mozart’s most intellectually challenging—seriously. But the seriousness does not bring solemnity. Hytner may avoid extreme farce, but there’s plenty of wit, energy, and color throughout. More important, he doesn’t condescend to the characters: you can understand both why they’re so foolish and why they’re so torn, and the final shots (where the resolution is clearly only partial) create tremendous poignance. The sets and costumes—simple but far from austere—suggest the late 18th or early 19th century, without creating a very specific moment; and while the production doesn’t ostentatiously update the action, it stresses those aspects of character and situation that still ring true today. One point highlighted here is the bond between the sisters—indeed, one could argue that it’s really Dorabella who seduces Fiordiligi; and while there is nothing louche or tasteless in the presentation of their relationship, it’s obvious that they have a strong erotic link. Not that there’s any lack of heterosexual electricity—as a result, the final scene, where nearly every possible pairing seems highly charged, is as smoldering as any you’ll see. Yet aside from one or two moments, the sex is handled with tact: the performance is hardly prudish, but it’s never aggressive either.
The Blu-ray video quality is stunning: you can see each leaf on the salads that our heroines are eating in act I. The 5.0 channel PCM is excellent as well. And while the extras are nothing special, both the conductor and the director offer intelligent insights into the opera. Two numbers are omitted, No. 7 (the duet “Al fato dan legge”) and No. 24 (Ferrando’s “Ah, io veggio”), but that’s a minor issue. All in all, if this doesn’t make it to my next Want List, we’ve got quite a year in store for us.
FANFARE: Peter J. Rabinowitz
Strauss, Debussy & Ligeti: Orchestral Works / Nott, Orchestre de la Suisse Romande
This album presents extraordinary works of three twentieth-century composers with diverse cultural backgrounds, underlining the versatility and legacy of the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande in its centenary year. Richard Strauss’ Schlagobers (Whipped Cream, 1924) is a playful ballet set in a Viennese Konditorei, of which the orchestral suite is featured on this album. With its lively mix of Viennese waltzes and modern harmonies, light-versed tunes interspersed by sudden outbreaks of ravishing beauty, all brilliantly orchestrated, it can be considered a further exploration of the composer’s “Rosenkavalier style”. Claude Debussy is featured with Jeux, Poeme danse (1912), another piece created for a ballet performance, built around an erotic nocturnal search for a lost tennis ball that Pierre Boulez characterized as a “Prelude à-l’Apres-midi d’une Faune in sports clothes”. Debussy’s Jeux has been a major source of inspiration for post-war avantgarde composers such as Boulez and Stockhausen, and, therefore, the transition from Jeux to Gyorgi Ligeti’s Melodien, fur Orchester (1971) is not jarring. Melodien has the unmistakable mix of sensuous yet eerie soundscapes that makes most of Ligeti’s works so filmic and appealing. This album adds a significant chapter to the Pentatone discography of the Orchestre de la Suisse Romande, which already contains the complete Bruckner Symphonies with Marek Janowski, three dance-oriented albums with Kazuki Yamada, and concerto recordings with renowned soloists such as Arabella Steinbacher, Johannes Moser and Denis Kozhukhin. On this album, the OSR’s new chief conductor Jonathan Nott makes his Pentatone debut.
but I like to sing... / Carolyn Sampson & Joseph Middleton
After many acclaimed releases on BIS, most recently ‘Sounds and Sweet Airs – A Shakespeare Songbook’ (BIS-2653), Carolyn Sampson’s latest recital with Joseph Middleton lives up to its name: it is an eloquent testimony to the English soprano’s love of her art. This programme artfully blends well-known and lesser-known lieder by German and Austrian masters such as Schubert, Mendelssohn, Brahms, Richard Strauss and Hugo Wolf with French songs by Gounod, Poulenc and Franck, as well as works by Anglo-Saxon composers such as Hubert Parry, Samuel Barber and Ivor Gurney. Female composers are not forgotten, with rarely-performed songs by Rita Strohl based on slightly risqué poems by Pierre Louÿs, music by Cheryl Frances-Hoad, Kaija Saariaho – who has recently passed away – and Deborah Pritchard, whose song presented here was composed especially for Sampson. And while Leonard Bernstein’s comically cheeky song ‘I hate music’, appears to be a call not to let music take itself too seriously, Errollyn Wallen’s ‘Peace on Earth’, which concludes the album, invokes calm and encourages us to find peace, a message that seems more relevant today than ever.
Beethoven: Symphony No. 8 in F Major, Op. 93 & R. Strauss: E
Suppé: Overtures Vol 2 / Walter, Slovak State Po
As with the first volume, this second confirms not just the melodic invention of Suppe, but more particularly his astonishing rhythmic resource and vigour. Can any other composer's music have been so unremittingly exciting? Of course not all the overtures maintain quite the same consistency of invention as the very best. Yet there is always something at which to thrill, including a beautiful violin solo in the overture to Donna Juanita and a rousing conclusion to Dos Modell. A particular surprise comes with the overture to Der Kramer und sein Kommis, which turns out to be an only slightly varied version of the familiar Ein Morgen, ein Mittag, und ein Abend in Wien of seven months earlier. Sadly the point is lost on the author of the accompanying notes, as is the fact that the piece listed and described as the Fatinitza March is certainly not the familiar piece of that title. Whereas in Marco Polo's Johann Strauss Edition the conductor Alfred Walter failed to capture fully Strauss's more sensitive writing, he seems altogether better equipped for the brasher Suppe style. The result is exhilarating stuff indeed.
-- Gramophone [6/1995]
