Search results: Search results
183 results
Products
Reger: 3 Suites for Viola Solo / Sanzò
Max Reger (1873–1916) is noted for his devotion to Johann Sebastian Bach. His 3 Suites for Viola Solo Op. 131d – completed a year before his death – belong to a collection of works with an ancient feel in the style of Bach, which also comprises music for solo violin, for two violins and for cello. The three solo viola suites all emphasize the polyphonic nature of an instrument that to this day is still considered monodic.
Henri Vieuxtemps (1820–1881) was a key exponent of the Franco-Belgian school of advanced virtuoso violin technique and a contributor to the founding of the Russian school. His Capriccio per viola sola, Op. 55 begins with the instruction Lento, con molta espressione, a character that pervades the entire work. It is packed with rapid virtuosic passages that are challenging both for the left hand and the bow, maintaining a constant dialogue across a range of timbres.
In the 1970s, following years of avant-garde experimentation, the Polish composer Krzysztof Penderecki (1933–2020) returned to a more ‘classic’ style, with conventional notation and melodies or small melodic intervals at the heart of his works. This is true of his Cadenza for Solo Viola, written in 1984. It is considered a piece in its own right, despite close links with the Viola Concerto written a year earlier.
Benjamin Britten (1913–1976) composed his Elegy for solo viola in 1930. Discovered only after his death, it can be seen as a youthful musical reflection and commentary on his miserable boarding school experience.
The Élégie for solo viola by Igor Stravinsky (1882–1971), composed in 1944, arguably has the structure of a two-part invention, divided up into exposition, fugue and recapitulation, and the various stages highlight the instrument’s polyphony with echoes of Bach.
Zemlinsky: Eine florentinische Tragodie / Albrecht, Netherlands Philharmonic
Reger: Die Cellosuiten
Bachiana - A Solo Cello Fantasy / Topalovic
Meditation: Kora & Cello / Burtin, Marcinkowska
The Meditation collection was created to feature famous classical melodies in an original dialogue between two distinctive instruments. These beautiful recordings will encourage a sense of calmness and serenity during meditation. This edition combining kora & cello is one fo the top five best sellers from the Meditation collection. Some of the timeless titles on this recording include "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring" by Bach, "Sarabande" from Suite in D minor by Handel, and the traditional Irish tune "Londonderry Air" (Danny Boy).
Gaspar Cassado - Bach: 6 Suites For Solo Cello
Mstislav Rostropovich - The Indomitable Bow
The Indomitable Bow is a unique portrait of Mstislav Rostropovich, a formidable personality as well as a complex, deeply political musician constantly engaged in a whirlwind of activities. Including unreleased documents, archive films, interviews and concert performances from this key figure of the 20th century, The Indomitable Bow is a remarkable testimony of the life and work of the legendary ‘Slava’. Mstislav Rostropovich remains one of the greatest cellists of the twentieth century. In addition to his lauded interpretations and impeccable technique, he was well known for inspiring and commissioning new works, which grew the cello repertoire more than any other cellist before or since. In fact, he inspired and premiered more than one hundred pieces, and formed long-standing partnerships with composers including Shostakovich, Prokofiev, Messiaen, Penderecki, Bernstein, and Britten, to name a few.
-----
REVIEW:
“Your Indomitable Bow” is a phrase addressed to Mstislav Rostropovich by Alexander Solzhenitysn, in reference to the help and shelter given in dark times to the writer, at some risk, by the musician. It is a reminder that Rostropovich – or Slava as he was affectionately known – had public and political roles during the cold war, and that he used his eminence in Soviet artistic life for selfless aims, which led to his eventual expulsion. Bruno Monsaingeon’s outstanding film deals with this theme alongside the remarkable musical career. It is thus a comprehensive portrait of Rostropovich, whose large and generous personality comes across in each of his many roles – cellist, piano accompanist, conductor, teacher, and collaborator with the great composers of his era. He emerges as a key cultural figure of the 20th century.
The research behind this production was doubtless exemplary, but it also benefitted from some good fortune, as we learn from the filmmaker’s booklet notes. Bruno Monsaingeon knew the cellist, who in 2000 gave him “a whole trunkful of film material about him…containing a number of treasures”. From that and other sources, such as unreleased documents, archive films, new interviews, and filmed concert performances, a compelling narrative has been put together. One element of almost any documentary though is completely absent. There is no commentary or narration by the director or anyone else. Every scene throughout the film is simply left to speak for itself, but so skilful is the editing that we do not miss the customary unseen narrator. Perhaps a viewer who barely knew who the subject would get a bit lost at points, but that is hardly a typical viewer of such a film. The voice of an unseen Sviatoslav Richter contributes a couple of sentences about his (ambiguous) relationship to the cellist, but it is clear that that is just a small part of building the picture.
The composers we see and hear, and from whom Rostropovich inspired or commissioned major works, are mainly Prokofiev, Shostakovich and Dutilleux. Britten, though seen conducting a couple of times, does not get much of a look-in despite the five substantial works he wrote for the cellist, which made England Rostropovich’s most productive foreign destination musically, and the main omission from the story line in the film. But there is so much here to be grateful for. Solzhenitsyn’s widow, and the next generation, Solzhenitysn’s son and Rostropovich’s daughters, offer important insights in interview – and there is a 40-minute extra film, which expands on their recollections of the experiences of those two giant artists. There is also some gripping detail about life under the regime.
Rostropovich’s wife, Galina Vishnevskaya, is seen in archive interviews and in filmed recitals, with Rostropovich accompanying. She is the butt of one of Slava’s better jokes. When asked what voice type his wife’s soprano is, lyric or dramatic, he replies, “In the theatre, lyric; at home, dramatic.” She in turn is no shrinking violet and has some amusing things to say about their domestic and musical arguments. Whether quarrelling at home, or taking on the Soviet state, it is the artist himself who comes across as indomitable as much as his bow. There is always the famous charm and wit. The overwhelming impression is of a great musician who was also a great man.
Apart from the marvellous film itself, there are those very valuable extras. In addition to the bonus of family recollections mainly concerning Solzhenitsyn, we have films of three previously unreleased performances. Rostropovich plays the Sarabande from Bach’s 2nd Suite, and the closing variations and coda of Tchaikovsky’s Rococo Variations with the Boston Symphony and Ozawa. Yet perhaps the best of all is the film of a 1974 UNESCO Paris concert of Beethoven’s Archduke Trio in which the cellist is joined by Yehudi Menuhin and Wilhelm Kempff. Three elder statesmen of their instruments from three countries playing one of the greatest of piano trios live - that is quite some “extra”.
It was a couple of years later that I met him. I was a hanger-on at an LSO rehearsal that he was conducting. I took the chance to offer him to sign my much-loved recording of him in the Britten cello suites 1 and 2 and he did. Emboldened, I asked him, “when will you record the Third Suite, maestro?” “Not now, later,” he said, and disappeared. (Bruno Monsaingeon’s research has not discovered this important cultural exchange so I mention it here.) Rostropovich did never record the Third Suite, alas. Not long before this episode, he had taken the arm of Peter Pears at Britten’s funeral. That Third Suite is based on the Kontakion, the Russian Hymn for the Departed. Perhaps he could never quite face it and did not need insensitive hangers-on with their LPs coming up to him after a rehearsal.
Discussing his dual role of conductor and cellist with Herbert von Karajan on the film Rostropovich says, “when I conduct I am happy, but the audience is not; when I play the audience is happy, but I am not.” Karajan replies, “so you must play and conduct, so that everyone is happy”. I can’t imagine anyone being less than happy after watching this highly recommended, indeed already prize-winning, film. It is one of the best films about a musician that even Bruno Monsaingeon has ever given us.
– MusicWeb International (Roy Westbrook)
Weinberg: Cello Sonatas / Yablonsky, Liu
Mstislav Rostropovich - The Indomitable Bow [Blu-ray]
Also available on standard DVD
The Indomitable Bow is a unique portrait of Mstislav Rostropovich, a formidable personality as well as a complex, deeply political musician constantly engaged in a whirlwind of activities. Including unreleased documents, archive films, interviews and concert performances from this key figure of the 20th century, The Indomitable Bow is a remarkable testimony of the life and work of the legendary ‘Slava’. Mstislav Rostropovich remains one of the greatest cellists of the twentieth century. In addition to his lauded interpretations and impeccable technique, he was well known for inspiring and commissioning new works, which grew the cello repertoire more than any other cellist before or since. In fact, he inspired and premiered more than one hundred pieces, and formed long-standing partnerships with composers including Shostakovich, Prokofiev, Messiaen, Penderecki, Bernstein, and Britten, to name a few.
-----
REVIEW:
“Your Indomitable Bow” is a phrase addressed to Mstislav Rostropovich by Alexander Solzhenitysn, in reference to the help and shelter given in dark times to the writer, at some risk, by the musician. It is a reminder that Rostropovich – or Slava as he was affectionately known – had public and political roles during the cold war, and that he used his eminence in Soviet artistic life for selfless aims, which led to his eventual expulsion. Bruno Monsaingeon’s outstanding film deals with this theme alongside the remarkable musical career. It is thus a comprehensive portrait of Rostropovich, whose large and generous personality comes across in each of his many roles – cellist, piano accompanist, conductor, teacher, and collaborator with the great composers of his era. He emerges as a key cultural figure of the 20th century.
The research behind this production was doubtless exemplary, but it also benefitted from some good fortune, as we learn from the filmmaker’s booklet notes. Bruno Monsaingeon knew the cellist, who in 2000 gave him “a whole trunkful of film material about him…containing a number of treasures”. From that and other sources, such as unreleased documents, archive films, new interviews, and filmed concert performances, a compelling narrative has been put together. One element of almost any documentary though is completely absent. There is no commentary or narration by the director or anyone else. Every scene throughout the film is simply left to speak for itself, but so skilful is the editing that we do not miss the customary unseen narrator. Perhaps a viewer who barely knew who the subject would get a bit lost at points, but that is hardly a typical viewer of such a film. The voice of an unseen Sviatoslav Richter contributes a couple of sentences about his (ambiguous) relationship to the cellist, but it is clear that that is just a small part of building the picture.
The composers we see and hear, and from whom Rostropovich inspired or commissioned major works, are mainly Prokofiev, Shostakovich and Dutilleux. Britten, though seen conducting a couple of times, does not get much of a look-in despite the five substantial works he wrote for the cellist, which made England Rostropovich’s most productive foreign destination musically, and the main omission from the story line in the film. But there is so much here to be grateful for. Solzhenitsyn’s widow, and the next generation, Solzhenitysn’s son and Rostropovich’s daughters, offer important insights in interview – and there is a 40-minute extra film, which expands on their recollections of the experiences of those two giant artists. There is also some gripping detail about life under the regime.
Rostropovich’s wife, Galina Vishnevskaya, is seen in archive interviews and in filmed recitals, with Rostropovich accompanying. She is the butt of one of Slava’s better jokes. When asked what voice type his wife’s soprano is, lyric or dramatic, he replies, “In the theatre, lyric; at home, dramatic.” She in turn is no shrinking violet and has some amusing things to say about their domestic and musical arguments. Whether quarrelling at home, or taking on the Soviet state, it is the artist himself who comes across as indomitable as much as his bow. There is always the famous charm and wit. The overwhelming impression is of a great musician who was also a great man.
Apart from the marvellous film itself, there are those very valuable extras. In addition to the bonus of family recollections mainly concerning Solzhenitsyn, we have films of three previously unreleased performances. Rostropovich plays the Sarabande from Bach’s 2nd Suite, and the closing variations and coda of Tchaikovsky’s Rococo Variations with the Boston Symphony and Ozawa. Yet perhaps the best of all is the film of a 1974 UNESCO Paris concert of Beethoven’s Archduke Trio in which the cellist is joined by Yehudi Menuhin and Wilhelm Kempff. Three elder statesmen of their instruments from three countries playing one of the greatest of piano trios live - that is quite some “extra”.
It was a couple of years later that I met him. I was a hanger-on at an LSO rehearsal that he was conducting. I took the chance to offer him to sign my much-loved recording of him in the Britten cello suites 1 and 2 and he did. Emboldened, I asked him, “when will you record the Third Suite, maestro?” “Not now, later,” he said, and disappeared. (Bruno Monsaingeon’s research has not discovered this important cultural exchange so I mention it here.) Rostropovich did never record the Third Suite, alas. Not long before this episode, he had taken the arm of Peter Pears at Britten’s funeral. That Third Suite is based on the Kontakion, the Russian Hymn for the Departed. Perhaps he could never quite face it and did not need insensitive hangers-on with their LPs coming up to him after a rehearsal.
Discussing his dual role of conductor and cellist with Herbert von Karajan on the film Rostropovich says, “when I conduct I am happy, but the audience is not; when I play the audience is happy, but I am not.” Karajan replies, “so you must play and conduct, so that everyone is happy”. I can’t imagine anyone being less than happy after watching this highly recommended, indeed already prize-winning, film. It is one of the best films about a musician that even Bruno Monsaingeon has ever given us.
– MusicWeb International (Roy Westbrook)
Solo Bach-Abel / Boulanger
Leonid Desyatnikov: The Leaden Echo
DESYATNIKOV Return 1. Du côté de chez Swan 2. Variations on the Obtaining of a Dwelling 3. Wie der alte Leiermann 4. The Leaden Echo 5. Moscow Nights: Theme 6 • 1 Dmitri Bulgakov (ob); 1 Anton Dressler (cl); 1,4,5,6 Roman Mints, 1,6 Anna Panina (vn); 1 Maxim Rysanov, 5 Serj Poltavsky (va); 1 Kristine Blaumane, 3 Boris Andrianov, 5 Evgeny Rumyantsev, 5 Petr Kondrashin (vc); 2,3 Alexei Goribol, 2 Leonid Desyatnikov, 4 Jacob Katsnelson (pn); 5 William Purefoy (ct); 5 Pavel Stepin (db); 5 Fedor Lednev, cond; 6 Homecoming Strings • QUARTZ QTZ 2087 (63:23 Text and Translation)
Don’t take this as gospel, but I remember reading some years ago that of all the musicians who ever lived, half are alive now. That must hold true for composers, too, because, despite my having heard music by more than 10,000 of them, here is yet another who is new to me. Leonid Desyatnikov is quite prolific, having written a symphony, four operas, several cantatas, as well as numerous vocal and instrumental compositions. He has also been quite active in the film world, where he has won several awards.
Desyatnikov seeks the impossible ideal of uniting ages, traditions, and cultures into an integral worldview. To that end, one hears influences from many musical traditions, some as far afield as those of India and Japan. He describes his style as “the emancipation of consonance, the transformation of the banal, minimalism with a human face.” I concur with this assessment, especially if he means by “minimalism with a human face” that his repetition stops well short of the ad nauseam repetition that curses most Minimalists. Desyatnikov knows the musically effective limits of repetition, and rarely exceeds those limits. As a consequence, I enjoyed this CD far more than most others that have even a hint of Minimalism attending them. He enjoys contrasting simple melodic lines with more static and dissonant interludes. There is often an icy “northern” feeling to his music that reminds me of the music of certain Finnish composers, such as Rautavaara and Sallinen. At other times, there is a sense of nostalgia, akin to a longing to return home. Indeed, mood-setting seems to be paramount in importance to this composer (surely a sine qua non for anyone writing film music).
The CD opens with one of Desyatnikov’s more recent (2006) works, Return. It is based upon several ostinati, and meshed with the melancholy that pervades much Russian and Soviet music. In this work, there is an evolution of thematic material toward a final statement based on gagaku , the ancient ceremonial music of Japan. This is done through expounding a particular note sequence in the tempered scale (via the Western oboe, clarinet, and strings) that finds its resolution in the untempered gagaku source.
Du côté de chez Swan for two pianos is based on “The Swan” from Saint-Saëns’s Carnival of the Animals. It begins with an ostinato in the upper register of one of the pianos, below which a series of rhythmically complex figures is heard. All of this gradually transmogrifies into the well-known tune. Thereafter, fragments of the tune or its accompaniment are heard in various guises, along with new material. The whole effect might be described as what one might obtain if one were to somehow assemble two different jigsaw puzzles together in a random fashion and view the resulting picture. The composer admits to “traces of fascination” with Ligeti, and indeed, the structure of the work does seem to owe something to the Austro-Hungarian master. I hasten to say that the piece works much better than my description might imply.
Variations on the Obtaining of a Dwelling for cello and piano is based, according to the notes, on the music of Joseph Haydn, specifically his “Farewell” Symphony. However, I also hear influence of Bach in this piece, especially in its opening, which evokes memories of his cello suites. Part of my perception might derive from the utterly pure sound and intonation produced by cellist Boris Andrianov, who approaches the work’s opening in a “period” performance style. Indeed, I would be delighted to hear this cellist perform the Bach solo suites. The simple, unaffected opening of the work eventually yields to more impassioned lines in the cello, culminating in some impressive climaxes, where the soloist floats on a sea of arpeggios. Along the way, the composer imitates the Indian tabla through pizzicati in the cello. The title of the piece suggests its program, that the composer has a place whence to go out into the world, and a place to come back home.
Wie der alte Leiermann was commissioned by Gidon Kremer for the Schubert Today project. Desyatnikov defines the genre of the piece as “not variations, not a fantasia, not a paraphrase. This is a commentary.” The commentary comes on the closing Lied of Schubert’s Winterreise, “Der Leiermann,” which is itself a static and rather proto-minimalist piece in its masterly depiction of the chill of winter. The composer invites the auditors of this piece to guess his reference therein “to Kremer’s exclusive repertoire.” I have no idea to what in particular he is referring here, but I can tell you that there are strong overtones of the D-Minor Partita of Bach, even down to the opening triad of its famous Chaconne. However, I cannot imagine that anyone could claim the Bach sonatas and partitas as his “exclusive repertoire.” I certainly don’t believe that Kremer would, despite the fact that his recording of these works ranks among the best.
The Leaden Echo is a product of 1991. It is a setting for countertenor and instruments of the eponymous poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins, and is dedicated to the St. Petersburg art scholar Arkady Ippolitov. Employing simple melodic lines and static underpinnings, the work maintains a Pre-Raphaelite aestheticism with its cult of beauty. Soloist William Purefoy has a beautiful vocal instrument, although it has more of a mezzo-soprano quality than what I usually envision to be the countertenor sound.
Balancing the opening work on the CD, the closing main theme from the film Moscow Nights evokes a sense of nostalgia and melancholy throughout its brief duration.
All the performances on this disc are exemplary and present the music in splendid fashion. Leonid Desyatnikov has something remarkable to say in his music, and I hope that many will afford themselves the opportunity to hear him say it.
FANFARE: David DeBoor Canfield
Mikis Theodorakis: Rhapsody For Cello; Rhapsody For Guitar
Saint-Saens: Works for Cello & Orchestra / Schwabe, Soustrot, Malmo Symphony

Composed during a period of social readjustment in post-war France, the First Cello Concerto marked Saint-Saens’ acceptance as a composer among the establishment, and has long been one of his most admired works. Recognition for the fiendishly technical Second Cello Concerto took longer, although its tranquil central movement contains one of the most sublime melodies Saint-Saens ever wrote. The supremely famous Le Cygne appears alongside the less well-known Bach-inspired Suite in D minor, and with the inclusion of the Romance this programme contains Saint-Saens’ complete works for cello and orchestra.
Bach: A Violoncello Senza Basso, Chapter 2 / Galligioni
Francesco Galligioni obtained a Diploma in cello at the C. Pollini Conservatoire in Padua under G. Chiampan, then he then studied with Franco Maggio Ormezowski at both the Accademia Nazionale di S. Cecilia in Rome and at the A. Toscanini Foundation in Parma in the courses for soloists and orchestra leaders. He has taken part in courses specializing in baroque cello held by W. Vestidello and G. Nasillo, and worked with famous soloists and conductors (Anner Bylsma, Giuliano Carmignola, Cecilia Bartoli, Max Emmanuel Cencic, Magdalena Kozena, Sergio Azzolini, Sara Mingardo, Victoria Mullova, Angelika Kirschlagher, Andrea Marcon, Federico Guglielmo, Sir J. E. Gardiner, Diego Fasolis, Pedro Halffter, Bob Van Asperen, Michael Radulescu, Gustav Leonhardt, Christopher Hogwood), both in concert performances and recordings. On his latest release he plays the Suites No. 4 and 5 by Johann Sebastian Bach.
Shostakovich: Cello Concertos 1 & 2 / Dindo, Noseda, Danish National Symphony
SHOSTAKOVICH Cello Concertos: No. 1; No. 2 • Enrico Dindo (vc); Gianandrea Noseda, cond; Danish Natl SO • CHANDOS 5093 (SACD: 60:13)
So many cello concerti, so little time. With dozens of competing versions of these two interpretively rich, emotionally ripe scores—the majority of them first-class accounts that come critically recommended, if with some reservations—it’s cost- and time-prohibitive to be familiar with them all. Mørk? Maslennikov? Müller-Schott? What’s a conscientious reviewer to do? Well, yours truly is tempted to fall back on the tried-and-true, which, after all, is tried and true for good reason. That means Mstislav Rostropovich. Of his several recordings, I opt for the mid-’60s performances powerfully conducted by David Oistrakh, not easy to find but most recently sighted on the Yedang Classics label. The sound is a little rough, but no one matches Rostropovich’s passion and profundity in this music.
Nevertheless, that said, there’s always room for a convincing alternative approach, and Enrico Dindo’s is some distance from that of Rostropovich. Though he’s apparently recorded programs of Beethoven and Bach, only a 1998 release of the Brahms cello sonatas is currently listed in the Fanfare Archive. Michael Jameson called it “satisfying” ( Fanfare 21: 6), and tellingly described Dindo’s point of view as one of “letting the music (rather than any gesture intended to propel a subjective vision of the text) speak for itself.” I find that to be an accurate characterization of his approach to Shostakovich as well. Dindo’s tone is silky and sinewy, and he definitely has the chops to respond to everything Shostakovich asks for—from the buoyant rhythms of the First Concerto to the sustained introspection of the Second. He favors fast, clean lines in the First Concerto, which emphasize its satiric edge in ways reminiscent of the composer’s earlier, youthful impulsiveness (despite the fact that it was written in his 53rd year), though neither slighting, nor exaggerating, the second movement’s elegiac lyricism. In the darker Second Concerto, he adopts an appropriately serious demeanor, providing a consistent, fluid line that lacks Rostropovich’s bite, but allows the music to sing its own eloquent, if dolorous, song. In this his resembles Heinrich Schiff’s attentive, persuasive 1984 performance (Philips), although Schiff benefited from Maxim Shostakovich’s strong, emphatically pointed accompaniment, whereby Gianandrea Noseda, following Dindo’s lead, particularly in the Second Concerto provides ever-so-slightly less dramatic, albeit scrupulously detailed, support.
I suspect these are performances that will retain their interest over time. Add Enrico Dindo’s name to the list of recommended cellists in this significant repertoire.
FANFARE: Art Lange
---------
These two concertos form a pairing which is logical and convenient but by no means ubiquitous. The Cello Concerto No. 1 is the more widely recorded of the two, with impressive accounts from the likes of Han-Na Chang, and the more enduring dedicatee’s version, Mstislav Rostropovich with Eugene Ormandy in 1959 and now available on Sony Classical. One of the best discs of these two works is with Rafa? Kwiatkowski on the Dux label. Aside from Peter Wispelwey’s recording of the Cello Concerto No. 2 along with Britten’s Third Suite on Challenge Classics, there doesn’t seem to be much choice in this repertoire when it comes to SACD recordings, so this Chandos release enters the market with a useful USP.
Enrico Dindo won the Rostropovich Cello Competition in 1997 and has been performing widely since, also making recordings which have included Bach’s Suites and Vivaldi Concertos on Italian Decca. His playing here is remarkably rich, obtaining deep and richly expressive tones from a Rogeri instrument from 1717. The cello sound is forward, bordering on the surrealist as with so many concerto recordings these days, but not intolerably massive in relation to the orchestra. In fact this is one of the genuine strengths of this recording, with masses of colour and detail from a very powerful sounding Danish National Symphony Orchestra. The opening of the Cello Concerto No. 1 throws down the gauntlet in this regard, the double-bassoon sounding like you’ve never heard it in any other recording; dug into with such gusto that you’d expect the floor to shake and the keys to be shaken off by the vibrations. The excitement in the playing is in its shaping and development, building stirring structures rather than hitting us constantly with masses of relentless intensity. The horn-calls are also marvellous in this first Allegretto, woodwinds competing with the soloist through grating dissonance and dramatic release. Perhaps the strings could have had more presence to make the whole thing a tad more credible. They should come into their own in that most gorgeous and moving of Shostakovich statements, the central Moderato. Even here though, the first horn entry far outweighs the texture of the entire body of strings. Behind the soloist they do seem to be rather at a disadvantage in the balance. Just taking one comparison, that with Thorleif Thedéen and James DePreist on the BIS label, the balance brings the strings that much more into the picture. This allows a more equal interaction which can carry greater emotional heft. Thedéen is a little more heart-on-sleeve than Dindo, with a tighter vibrato and a more vocal way of expressing the melodic lines. I wouldn’t swap this BIS disc for the Chandos one now, but still find it has a good deal to offer.
Whether or not you find the recorded balance a problem, Enrico Dindo’s solo lines carry so much emotional strength that you will find yourself gripped from beginning to end. One of my old favourites for these pieces is from Truls Mørk with the London Philharmonic and Mariss Jansons on the Virgin Classics label. Certain aspects of Noseda’s approach do remind me of the Jansons recording, but I have to admit that Dindo gets as much and more out of the music than almost any rival I can name. Like the texture in the inky lines of a Ralph Steadman drawing, Dindo delights in thickening and thinning sustained notes so that we are constantly in a state of awe and expectation, even when Shostakovich is in passages of transition. Listen in the Moderato to the general sonic picture at about 7:00 and on though: the intensity of the upper strings in the orchestra is almost entirely absent, which undermines at least some of that good work. Dindo’s expressive playing gives the impression of space, but Noseda’s tempi are generally a tad more brisk and compact than many. Jansons takes 12:32 with this Moderato for instance, compared to Noseda’s 10:50.
The rough peasant feel in the final movement of this first concerto is something to relish; the aural glue not quite holding together as the winds advance in the balance and give us a kick from time to time. It has an undeniable grip and snatch flowing from Noseda’s treatment, an uncompromising approach which drags us along mercilessly and never lets go.
Shostakovich’s Cello Concerto No. 2 is dark from the outset, the mood superbly set through the solo cello and lower strings in the opening bars. The imagination is teased by fragmentary moments of brooding beauty, such as the repeated double-stop gesture at around 4 minutes in. This is a bleak landscape and the kind of inner journey which can lead you to places both moving and disturbing. Dindo speaks emotively, the sighing downward gestures weighed with tears, the parlando moments confiding and gruff by turns. Shostakovich’s score in the first movement is as hard as nails, and the players nail it firmly. The bass drum thwacks from around 9:20 are an audiophile treat as well.
The acoustic space is emphasised in the open textures of the opening to the central Allegretto, and the sense of volume in the 5.0 SACD surround mix is very tactile indeed. Listen to the laughing winds from about 2:30: the playing is not only needle sharp, but is also filled with personality and character throughout. The theatricality of the opening to the final Allegretto has rarely been so sharply observed, and you expect an announcement from a melodramatic actor as much as you do the entry of the cello. Those ‘nice’ tunes as they arrive are all the more earth-shatteringly emotive for these extremes of contrast. Little operatic touches and that late-Shostakovich sense of a fatefully ticking time-bomb make the whole thing as touching and filled with narrative import as I can ever remember hearing.
Chandos easily replaces its earlier release of this repertoire with Frans Helmerson and the Russian State Symphony Orchestra on CHAN 10040. This has some lovely playing and a decent concert hall balance, but with somewhat rough-and-ready qualities from the orchestra in some of the more technically demanding passages. Fans of these two concertos simply must have this recording from Dindo/Noseda. The cover photo of Red Square is strikingly atmospheric, and there are good booklet notes and pictures inside as well. Despite my reservations about the string balance which admittedly affects the scoring of the first concerto more than the second, this is a must-have and a life-changer for Shostakovich fans.
-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International
Bach, Britten & Kodály: In Memoriam II - The Scordatura Album / Wispelwey
“This Scordatura Album is the second In Memoriam album in honour of my son Dorian. It features two illustrious masterpieces written for cello in alternative, darker tunings: the Bach Suite with the top string lowered by a whole tone and the Kodály Sonata with the two bottom strings lowered by a semitone. Both pieces are fierce, resilient and profound and although painted in dark colours, they comfort us with their show of sheer musical power and luminous inventiveness.” Stark statement of repertoire filled with personal significance and universal beauty. Unparalleled preformance of Kodály's sonata for cello solo. Pieter combines intense energy and emotional connection in his interpretation of the pieces.
Bach: Cantatas Vol 3 / Gardiner, English Baroque Soloists

Some hallmark performances in this array of Trinity cantatas
As ever, John Eliot Gardiner’s magnificent Bach Cantatas series eschews the big-boned, monumental approach to this composer of yesteryear. Here, in a really tremendous volume, is spiritual reflection paced to the fast-moving ebb and flow of life today. As such, it always feels relevant and vital. And much of that stems from the fact that Gardiner’s players and singers sound so utterly involved through every bar. Even if it doesn’t approach the polish of some versions, and one or two of the singers are not quite of the vocal quality of rivals, still they perform as if in response to some higher call. Among conductors, of course, few rank higher than Gardiner. And, as ever, the tempi and textures are warm and above all channel a sense of the humane. Woven into the whole are countless magical virtuoso moments – these may be great shared experiences, but the space for individual expression constantly keeps it personal. When the big collective moments do arrive, as at the end of Ich ruf zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, they do so with great force. And, as the marvellous Monteverdi Choir beseech Jesus for mercy, for the strength to resist temptation, there is no question as to the cumulative power of these readings.
-- Gramophone [5/2008]
This indispensable series goes from strength to strength.
This is the release in the series for which I’ve been waiting most keenly. That’s because it includes a concert which I was lucky enough to attend. In July 2000, as part of the Cheltenham Music Festival, Sir John led his pilgrims into the magnificent medieval surroundings of Tewkesbury Abbey for a late Sunday afternoon concert. I was among the capacity audience, accompanied by two Bach-loving friends, both of whom have since died. I’m sure they would have shared my pleasure at reliving the event through the medium of CD. I had completely forgotten that the previous evening Gardiner and the Pilgrims had been at London’s Royal Albert Hall when they’d performed two of these cantatas as part of a Henry Wood Promenade Concert. Sir John comments how pleased they all were to get back to the more intimate feel of a Pilgrimage concert.
Proceedings at Tewkesbury began with BWV 24. The cantata opens with the words “Ein ungefärbt Gemüte von deutscher Treu und Güte macht uns vor Gott und Menschen schön.” (“An unstained mind of German truth and goodness makes us beloved of God and men.”) There’s a calm assurance and confidence about the music to which Bach sets this very Lutheran sentiment. The stately aria that results is sung with great poise by Nathalie Stutzmann. Later there’s a vigorous chorus, which is far from easy to pull off – and which gave even Gardiner’s forces a little trouble in rehearsal, we are told. In performance, however, it’s completely successful. The other especially persuasive feature of this cantata is the plangent tone that Paul Agnew brings to the tenor aria, ‘Treu und Wahrheit sei der Grund’. His approach is ideally suited to the music.
Alfred Dürr states that when Bach first performed BWV 24 in Leipzig he had, on the preceding three Sundays, given the Leipzig congregations much longer and more elaborate bi-partite cantatas, BWV 75, 76 and 21. In order to keep his offering for the Fourth Sunday after Trinity in similar scale he performed two cantatas that day, one either side of the sermon, and the second cantata was BWV 185. This is a much earlier piece but one that contains a good deal of admirable music. It opens with a lovely soprano/tenor duet and here we find the voices of Magdalena Kožená and Paul Agnew intertwining languorously. Miss Kožená’s tone is particularly melting. Added interest comes from Bach’s use of a clarion, which, as Gardiner puts it, we hear “hovering above the two amorous vocal lines.” Further into the cantata there’s another treat in the form of the alto aria ‘Sei bemüht in dieser Zeit’. It’s an enchanting aria and, as Gardiner says, Nathalie Stutzmann’s “sumptuous yet transparent contralto seemed just right for this aria, especially in the glowing afternoon light of Tewkesbury Abbey.” Later comes a bass aria but I’m afraid I don’t find Bach’s music all that appealing on this occasion, nor is the timbre of Nicholas Teste’s voice as ingratiating as I’d like.
The final Tewkesbury offering is BWV 177. This cantata is based on a hymn and Bach, setting five verses, eschews recitative. There’s a substantial and elaborate opening chorus in which the Monteverdi Choir excels. In the alto aria Nathalie Stutzmann once again produces beautifully communicative singing. Her aria is sparsely accompanied by continuo only. The soprano aria is a more elaborate affair with a very decorated vocal line. Magdalena Kožená gives it a fine, fluent reading. The remaining aria is for tenor and it’s mainly jaunty in tone. Agnew sings excellently. Of special note in this aria is the chattering double obbligato, provided by a violin and a bucolic, soft-grained bassoon.
The next stop on the journey was a city with very direct Bachian links. Mühlhausen was the city where Bach worked for just a year (1708-08) before moving on to Weimar, though he appears to have maintained cordial links with Mühlhausen after his departure.
Only two cantatas for the Fifth Sunday after Trinity have come down to us. This relative paucity gave Gardiner the chance to perform at Mühlhausen two highly appropriate cantatas, written for the city but for other occasions. BWV 71 was composed for the inauguration of the town council in February 1708. The splendour of this civic occasion prompted Bach to write for pretty extravagant forces. Four solo voices (SATB) are augmented by an optional ripieno choir (also SATB) and no less than four separate instrumental choirs are specified: three trumpets and drums; two recorders and cello; two oboes and bassoon; two violins, viola, and violone. However, Gardiner points out that the cantata has its weaknesses and he says that it is “somewhat disjointed and short-winded”, a verdict from which it is hard to dissent. However, he very rightly singles out for praise the penultimate movement, the chorus ‘Du wollest dem Feinde” The gentle, expressive music in this movement is a cut above the rest of the score. As Dürr comments, it’s “the most original and captivating movement in the whole cantata.” It’s splendidly done here.
Gardiner fields a strong team of soloists, who blend together most effectively in the third movement, a quartet. This concert introduces us to a soloist not previously encountered on the Pilgrimage, the South African tenor Kobie van Rensburg. His voice was completely new to me but he makes a most favourable impression with a strong, ringing tone and clear articulation and diction. This is heard to good advantage almost immediately in the aria ‘Ich bin nun achtzig Jahr’.
The next cantata, BWV 131 is a much stronger and more rounded composition. Perhaps it helps that Bach had a much more unified text to set in the shape of verses from Psalm 130. The opening chorus is quite superb. The keenly felt slow music with which it opens is most eloquently performed and no less impressive is the account of the lighter, more rapid music that follows. Gardiner dovetails the contrasting textures of solo quartet and main choir most effectively. The fugal chorus, ‘Ich harre des Herrn’, is marvellously balanced, both in musical and emotional terms. I enjoyed van Rensburg’s shaping of the long expressive lines in the following aria, ‘Meine Seele wartet auf den Herrn von einer’ and the impressive chorus with which the cantata ends is splendidly articulated by all concerned. This whole performance is a tremendous success.
Then we hear two later cantatas, specifically written for the Fifth Sunday, where the Gospel for the day tells the story of Peter fishing all night without success yet, letting out his net one more time at the command of Jesus, he then hauls in a munificent catch (Luke, chapter 5 vv1-11). First comes BWV 93. The libretto avoids a specific reference to the gospel story until the tenor recitative (movement V). The extended opening chorus incorporates important contributions from the quartet of soloists. Kobie van Rensburg again attracts favourable attention in his aria ‘Man halte nur ein wenig stille’ (‘Remain silent for a while’). This aria is well described by Gardiner as an “elegant passepied” and I appreciate the touch of steel at the heart of van Rensburg’s plangent voice. Later, he has an important recitative and it’s good to find that he can bring a sense of drama and some effective word painting to a passage such as this. I also liked very much the alert, bright singing of Joanne Lunn in her aria ‘Ich will auf den Herren schaun’, where the oboe obbligato is an equal source of delight.
Finally comes BWV 88. This opens with a pretty unusual bass aria. At the start the libretto refers to God sending fishermen (“Behold, I will send out many fishermen, says the Lord”) and Bach responds with a wonderfully easeful, lilting barcarolle in 6/8 time. The grateful, elevated vocal line is meat and drink to Peter Harvey, who delivers it quite beautifully. Abruptly the mood changes (“And thereafter I will send out many hunters”), the pace quickens appreciably and Bach deploys, in Gardiner’s words, “a rampaging pair of high horns” in the orchestra. Harvey is impressive throughout.
There’s another chance to enjoy van Rensburg’s singing in this cantata. He makes a very good job of the aria ‘Nein, Gott ist allezeit geflissen’ (No, God is always eager that we be on the right path’) Later Joanne Lunn and William Towers blend most effectively in their duet. Gardiner tells us that the audience for this concert was “attentive and rapturous even by the standards of this pilgrimage” and no wonder, for on the evidence of these recordings the good people of Mühlhausen were treated to a splendid and most stimulating concert.
Yet again the standard of performance in these recordings is extremely high and the music is wonderful. Bach’s stream of invention and inspiration is a never-ending source of wonder. I’m also filled with renewed admiration for Sir John, who seems to have an inexhaustible capacity to say something fresh about this marvellous music each time he picks up either his pen to write the notes or his baton to direct the performances. This indispensable series goes from strength to strength.
-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International
A Celebration - Perkinson: Grass, Etc / Freeman, Et Al
This posthumous anthology consisting of selections from 50 years of work by composer Coleridge-Taylor Perkinson (1932?2004) includes six world premieres?that is to say, it took 50 years for this man?s lifetime output to be recognized. Perhaps that is not so shocking. After all, how easy was it for a black man in the 1950s to obtain a bachelor?s and master?s degree from Manhattan School of Music, and compose his first major work at the age of 22 within the confines of a segregated society? But Perkinson, the namesake of black British composer Samuel Coleridge-Taylor (1875?1912), didn?t consider himself generically a black composer. Whether or not he allowed himself to be typecast as an ethnic artist, Perkinson?s interpretation of white, WASP, and Western musical convention is spiked with vintage blues and jazz. His music is, therefore, in an uncanny and paradoxical way, the reverse of the cultural plundering associated with Gershwin?s and Dvo?ák?s musical appropriations. Consequently, if Perkinson?s music isn?t especially innovative, we shouldn?t be surprised that a victim of discrimination and ghettoization would not choose to further isolate himself by throwing 12-tone rows into the mix. After all, experimentation is the spawn of prosperity, not the privilege of the hardship.
Perkinson?s Sinfonietta No. 1 for strings, composed in 1955, might have been considered, if composed by a young Caucasian, the work of a wunderkind. The precocious piece is an homage to Bach, and throughout his life Perkinson returned to fugal writing as a religious rite of appreciation for the German master. Two years later, Perkinson began to infiltrate into his technique the echoes of his ancestor slaves. Quartet No. 1 , based on ?Calvary? (Negro Spiritual) weaves together the dualism of his segregated world into one lucid harmonious dream.
The next selection on the disc was composed 20 years later. One wonders what happened in the intervening years, though we know that Perkinson had the opportunity to work with Leonard Bernstein, Max Roach, Alvin Ailey, Jerome Robbins, Marvin Gaye, and Harry Belafonte. He also co-founded and conducted the Symphony of the New World. Blue/s Forms for solo violin (1972) is a deep reverie of black experience as seen through the filter of Paganiniesque writing. Sanford Allen plays it with tender feeling. Equally luscious is Lamentations, a black/folk song suite for solo cello, played by Tahirah Whittington.
Just before his death, Perkinson composed the last selection on the disc, Movement for String Trio. It is a profoundly sweet, sad, Barberesque self-requiem for a man who should have been heard, and one hopes will be heard now?though he won?t be here to enjoy the long overdue recognition.
FANFARE: David Wolman
Cellobration / Amit Peled, Eliza Ching
CELLOBRATION • Amit Peled (vc); Eliza Ching (pn) • CENTAUR 3047 (59:30)
MENDELSSOHN On Wings of Song , op. 34/2. DAVIDOFF At the Fountain, op. 20/2. ECCLES Cello Sonata in g. GRANADOS Spanish Dance, op. 37/No. 5, “Andaluza” (“Playera”). FAURÉ Elégie. LIGETI Sonata for Solo Cello . BACH Pastorella in F. GLAZUNOV Chant du Ménéstrel. F. COUPERIN Pièces en Concert. CASALS Song of the Birds
Here is a collection of works for cello and piano both familiar and unfamiliar. Among the familiar are Fauré’s popular Élégie —albeit better known in its orchestral setting—transcribed for cello and piano, and Mendelssohn’s On Wings of Song , originally an actual song for voice and piano, that has been arranged and transcribed many times (Liszt and Heifetz both had a crack at it). In the unfamiliar category are a cello sonata by the virtually unknown Henry Eccles (1670–1742)—an English Baroque musician who ended up a member of Louis XIV’s King’s Band—and practically everything else on the disc, which though well known to cellists and often recorded, are not your usual fare on recital programs, except perhaps as encore pieces.
The Israeli-born Amit Peled plays a c.1689 cello by Andrea Guarneri, updated and fitted to modern standards. This, as far as I can tell, is only Peled’s second CD; the first, released in 2009 (Centaur 2988) was titled The Jewish Soul , and consisted of Jewish themed works, though not all necessarily by Jewish composers. For example, it included Bruch’s ubiquitous Kol Nidrei.
The “discovery” on this new disc is the Eccles sonata. Very little is known about this obscure violinist/composer, other than that he was born in England, was the elder brother to a more successful sibling John, whose success over his own he resented. Peeved by his perceived neglect, he moved to Paris, where he got himself hired on at the King’s court. What music he did write was either adapted from works by the Italian composer Giuseppe Valentini (1681–1753) or heavily influenced by them. In 1732, Eccles published 12 sonatas for gamba and figured bass; but according to the booklet note, the G-Minor Sonata given on the present CD is a transcription from an earlier set of violin sonatas. It takes the form of a typical sonata da chiesa (slow, fast, slow, fast), and considering its model, the piece, not surprisingly, is in an Italian style similar to what you would expect to hear from Vivaldi. What is perhaps surprising is that for a composer as virtually unknown as Eccles, there are five listed recordings of this sonata, going all the way back to a 1930 violin version played by Jacques Thibaud.
Latvian-born and Russian-trained, Carl (Karl) Davidoff (1838–89) was one of the great cello virtuosos of the 19th century. Tchaikovsky hailed Davidoff as “the tsar of cellists,” and the two men were friends and associates through their mutual connection to the St. Petersburg Conservatory. Davidoff’s At the Fountain is a popular encore piece that has had several recordings, including ones by Pieter Wispelwey, Miklós Perényi, and Jan Vogler. How would I describe the piece? A Flight of the Honeybee for cello: a nice little A-B-A form in which the bee leaves the hive and busily buzzes about to gather nectar and pollinate the petals (A), tarries momentarily to make love to a flower (B), and assisted by a tailwind returns home to the hive faster than it left (A).
From the 12 Spanish Dances by Enrique Granados, Peled plays a cello arrangement of the most popular number in the set, the No. 5. Titled Andaluza in the composer’s original version for piano, the piece has alternately come to be called Playera . It can be heard on some 140 recordings in arrangements for guitar, violin, voice, and in its original piano version, including by the composer himself. Nor does Peled have the field all to himself on cello. The piece has been recorded by Alban Gerhardt and Jamie Walton. One can easily appreciate the great popularity of the piece. Its guitar-like strumming accompaniment provides the underpinning for an alluring melody in the style of a seguidilla, a folksong or dance of Castillian origin. Bizet drew upon the seguidilla for his aria “Près des ramparts de Séville” in Carmen.
György Ligeti’s Sonata for Cello Solo has also received its fair share of recordings, one of which in particular, with Matt Haimovitz on Deutsche Grammophon, is especially noteworthy. Not unlike Paul Kletzki, the Jewish-Hungarian Ligeti (1923–2006) also suffered at the hands of both the Nazis and the Soviet Communists. The sonata heard here did not receive its first performance until 1983, but it’s an early work dating from the composer’s Hungarian period. In only two movements, its first was written in 1948, when Ligeti was 25; its second movement, five years later in 1953. The piece is clearly influenced by Bartók and Kodály. Glissando chords and pizzicato punctuate a melancholy “Dialogo,” marked adagio , followed by a moto perpetuo Capriccio, marked presto con slancio , a real test of the player’s mettle.
Bach’s F-Major Pastorella was originally composed as a four-movement suite for organ. Only its opening movement is heard here, but Bach recycled its concluding Gigue as the closing movement to the Brandenburg Concerto No. 3. According to the booklet note, this arrangement by Pablo Casals, in a handwritten score, was acquired by the Beaux Arts Trio’s cellist, Bernard Greenhouse, and from him passed to Peled.
Glazunov’s Chant du Ménéstrel (Troubadour’s Song) is almost as popular, if you count numbers of recordings, as the Granados Playera . Frankly, it’s little more than a sentimental salon piece that happens to have been made famous by Beatrice Harrison, the British cellist who had the distinction of being Elgar’s handpicked player to make the official HMV recording of the composer’s Cello Concerto under his direction.
When it comes to the Couperin Pièces en Concert , I wish I could cite its provenance definitively, but unfortunately, neither the CD’s track listing nor the booklet note identifies the specific set of suites whence it comes. Even more curiously, other recordings of the work, as well as other references to it, are equally silent on the subject. Finally, by searching for a combination of Couperin and Bazelaire, the work’s arranger, I hit upon a program note from the 2002 Tyalgum (New South Wales) Festival that asserts that Bazelaire’s arrangement is a mixed-movement compilation drawn from Couperin’s Nouveaux Concerts published in 1724.
If you check ArkivMusic’s listing for the Casals piece under its English title, Song of the Birds , you will find only this one recording by Peled. But there are a couple of others listed under its Spanish title, El Cant dels Ocells . I’d have expected more, including one by the renowned cellist himself. The piece is an arrangement of a traditional Catalan folk song, which embodies, in Peled’s words, “a spiritual communication.”
I’ve said nothing about the Mendelssohn or Fauré pieces because they’re so well known there’s nothing to say.
By all evidence, Amit Peled is a superb cellist. His technical prowess in the Davidoff and Ligeti vouchsafe that; and his tone, of pellucid purity, gleams with a glint of gold in the slow, lyrical numbers. As an introduction to the artistry of this fine up-and-coming young artist, this album showcases his versatility in a wide range of repertoire. But now that Peled has produced two CDs of what are essentially arrangements, encore pieces, and lighter fare—except for the Eccles and Ligeti sonatas—I look forward to hearing him in some of the more substantial repertoire for his instrument. Pianist Eliza Ching has a somewhat lesser role to play in some of these numbers, but she carries out her role as accompanist admirably. Recorded sound is excellent. Recommended for an hour’s worth of canapés to whet the appetite; now bring on the main course.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
Hommage A Zuzana Ruzickova
J. S. Bach – Chromatic Fantasia and Fugue in D minor, BWV 903, French Suite No. 5 in G major, BWV 816, Concerto for Harpsichord No. 9 in G major, Op. 4 No. 1, BWV 980 Domenico Scarlatti – Sonatas (selection)* Manuel de Falla – Concerto for Harpsichord, Flute, Oboe, Clarinet, Violin and Cello * Viktor Kalabis – Sei invenzioni canonici per cembalo, Op. 20 * Francis Poulenc – Concert champêtre – Concerto for Harpsichord and Orchestra * Jan Rychlík – Hommaggi gravicembalistici for Harpsichord * Bohuslav Martin? – Concerto for Harpsichord and Small Orchestra, H 246 * First time on CD
