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Zemlinsky: Eine florentinische Tragodie / Albrecht, Netherlands Philharmonic
PENTATONE · Jun 2024CD$19.99 -
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SaleBach, Cassadó, Fabregas, Marais & Migo: The Voice of Casals / Morelló Ros
IBS Classical · May 2023CD$17.99$13.99 -
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![Mstislav Rostropovich - The Indomitable Bow [Blu-ray]](//arkivmusic.com/cdn/shop/files/3844016_c401923b-642d-4113-85c2-8d5e9040ce85.jpg?v=1786837248&width=400)
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SaleSaint-Saens: Works for Cello & Orchestra / Schwabe, Soustrot, Malmo Symphony
Naxos · Oct 2017CD$19.99$13.99 -
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Shostakovich: Cello Concertos 1 & 2 / Dindo, Noseda, Danish National Symphony
Chandos · Jan 2012SACD$21.99
Cello Solo Journey / Luciano Tarantino
Brilliant Classics
CD
$6.99
$13.99
Save 50%
Aug 02, 2019
When the Catalan cellist Pablo Casals revived the solo suites of Bach in the first decades of the last century, he reminded both audiences and composers of the huge potential of his instrument to hold the stage in its own right, no less than a violin or a piano. Inspired by his charisma, and that of his successors such as Tortelier and Rostropovich, many modern composers have followed Bach’s example. The Italian cellist presents music by ten of them on this exciting debut album for Brilliant Classics. Tortelier and Rostropovich are represented by their own, little-known but highly imaginative works – a Circus Suite and an innocently titled but fearsomely challenging study respectively. Carter Brey, the principal cellist of the New York Philharmonic, has also written for the instrument with inside knowledge, in a tango of big, seductive gestures preceded on Tarantino’s album by Latin-themed showpieces from Albeniz, Piazzolla and Rogerio y Taguell. Each half of the album is brought to a reflective close with a soliloquy by the modern Italian composer Giovanni Sollima. The cello’s melancholy moods are further explored by Ilse de Ziah and Sebastian Diezig, but Tarantino has chosen and ordered his repertoire to display the cello’s expressive range to its fullest. Mixing familiar and little-known composers, it’s a perfect introduction to the ever-expanding universe of solo cello music beyond Bach. Born in 1977, Luciano Tarantino is a performer and teacher with his origins in Puglia, in the far south of Italy. He has played with many of today’s greatest conductors and founded a music festival in the region of his birth. On this recording he plays a fine 1736 cello by Antonio Testore.
Zemlinsky: Eine florentinische Tragodie / Albrecht, Netherlands Philharmonic
PENTATONE
CD
$19.99
Jun 14, 2024
Dutch National Opera presents Alexander von Zemlinsky's Eine florentinische Tragodie (1917), with Marc Albrecht conducting the Netherlands Philharmonic Orchestra and Ausrine Stundyte (Bianca), Nikolai Schukoff (Guido Bardi) and John Lundgren (Simone) as soloists. Eine florentinische Tragodie (1917) fully adheres to George Bernard Shaw's famous dictum that every opera is "when a tenor and soprano want to make love, but are prevented from doing so by a baritone". Yet Zemlinsky's piece presents this core narrative in it's most condensed form, and it's conclusion is one of the most original and enigmatic in opera history. This suspenseful, opulent score is in good hands with Marc Albrecht and the Netherlands Philharmonic Orchestra, whose proficiency in late-Romantic repertoire was crowned with a 2021 Opus Klassik Award for their recording of Zemlinsky's symphonic poem Die Seejungfrau. The three soloists are all seasoned in Wagnerian and late-Romantic repertoire, having appeared on the world's greatest opera stages. Oper! Magazine has crowned Dutch National Opera as Opera House of the Year 2024, an accolade that the company also received from the International Opera Awards in 2016. To emphasise the continuous transcendence of a life, Lilja builds a solid sense of identity for each suite. The cello is embraced by the sonic world like an individual by the universe. Lilja's playing has influences from the span of 300 years of existence of the suites, evolving from the simplicity of the 1st suite to almost Romantic in the 6th. His interpretation is inspired by Bach's rhythmical ideas that expand suite by suite and, as life throughout the years, become more complex and multilayered. After years of pioneering cello artistry in rock and electronic music, as well as composing for various projects, Lilja returns to his classical roots. With Six Shades of Bach, he presents a first of a kind crossover work, contributing to dialogues about the cello suites and survival of classical music. Max Lilja makes his Pentatone debut.
J.S. Bach: Toccata, Partita & Suites for Solo Violin - Metam
Arcana
CD
$15.99
$20.99
Save 25%
Apr 04, 2025
Though naturally closely associated with the organ and harpsichord, Bach had a special relationship with the violin, his father's instrument, throughout his life. Moreover, we know that he was a highly skilled player, performing regularly at the court of Weimar, and probably also at Kothen and Leipzig. He wrote and transcribed concertos and sonatas for violin, but above all created the unprecedented collection of Sonatas and Partitas for solo instrument. And it is precisely for this vehicle of pure virtuosity that Marco Serino's new project offers four masterpieces, only one of which - the Partita No. 2, the most ambitious work in the group - has survived in a version for violin. Both the first two Suites for cello and the Toccata and Fugue BWV 565, however, already boast an important tradition of violin transcriptions. Pervaded by the virtual polyphony so characteristic of the celebrated Sei solo, these extraordinary pieces, which are presented from a different perspective than usual, celebrate this art of transformation pursued by the artists of the Baroque as an ideal of continuous and fruitful metamorphosis.
Bach, Cassadó, Fabregas, Marais & Migo: The Voice of Casals / Morelló Ros
IBS Classical
CD
$13.99
$17.99
Save 20%
May 19, 2023
The cellist Roger Morelló has intercalated three sarabands from the Suites for Cello Solo by Johann Sebastian Bach. The first is the one included in the Suite No. 1, whose prelude served as primary material for the work by Marc Migó. The second saraband that appears is the one from the Suite No. 2, which is in the key of D minor, and the third is the E flat major saraband. Along with these pieces, we encounter the Suite for Cello Solo by Gaspar Cassadó – a renowned Casals pupil and one of the most legendary violoncellists of the twentieth century as well as a composer. Along with this piece, Morelló has added his cello arrangement of an original work for viola da gamba from Les voix humaines by Marin Marais, which is the piece that lends this album its title. Side by side with these historical references that have become timeless, Roger Morelló includes two contemporary works. One of them is formed by the Variations on the name of Casals by Marc Migó, a work commissioned by Morelló himself, to whom it is also dedicated. The other contemporary composition that Morelló wanted to include on this album is a work that he commissioned from Elisenda Fábregas, who in turn dedicated it to him. It has Catalan dances as its title and consists of four dances.
Various: Christoph Croisé - The Solo Album / Croisé
Avie Records
CD
$9.99
$19.99
Save 50%
Aug 27, 2021
| Modernism. Multiculturism. Multi-tuning. Lockdown. These are among the elements that bind the works on The Solo Album by award winning cellist Christoph Croisé, who took the opportunity of 2020’s coronavirus isolation to work intensively on a variety of solo works and also turn his hand to composition. At the heart of the album is Hungarian composer Zoltán Kodály’s epic Sonata, the first major work for solo cello after the suites by Johann Sebastian Bach which were written two centuries earlier. The virtuosity demands of the soloist re-tuning two of the cello’s strings, double-stop trills and simultaneous bowed and plucked passages, all of which Christoph dispatches with aplomb. Framing Kodály’s Sonata are works by two compatriots, György Ligeti’s two-movement Sonata which draws inspiration from Béla Bartók, and the more recent Stonehenge by cellist, composer and pop-music producer Péter Pejtsik which includes intimations of electric guitar. A “sandwich filler” is Christophe’s first composition for solo cello, Spring Promenade, which is infused with boogie-woogie, reggae, swing and techno. He took inspiration from Sicilian composer-cello virtuoso Giovanni Sollima whose Concerto Rotondo incorporates electronics and extended techniques. Closing out the album, Sollima’s short work Alone gives way to the album’s “encore”, the exuberant Some like to show it off by Croatian cellist-composer Thomas Buritch. |
Bach: Sonatas For Viola Da Gamba / Bylsma, Van Asperen
Sony Masterworks
CD
$17.99
Jul 09, 2009
Bylsma draws a ravishing sound from his instrument often with profoundly affecting results. He is a veritable poet and van Asperen provides a sensitive, tasteful partnership
For many years Bach's three sonatas for viola da gamba and concertante harpsichord have been regarded by cellists as fair game. Now, the Dutch virtuoso cellist Anner Bylsma takes up the challenge not with a baroque or modern instrument but with a violoncello piccolo, an instrument for which Bach showed some fondness in his Leipzig cantatas. There was probably no standard violoncello piccolo in Bach's day but we might say that in general it was smaller than a cello with a fifth string which widened upwards its tessitura. Bylsma's instrument dates from c. 1700. Banished, too, in these interesting experiments is the harpsichord for which a pleasingly bright chamber organ has been substituted.
So far, so good, perhaps, but I am much less happy with some of the arguments put forward by Bylsma to justify his approach. One such is simply that Bach "ceased writing works explicitly for the gamba in the second half of his life, specifying other instruments instead"—a poor argument at the best of times but in this case without substance since it is very likely that at least one of the gamba sonatas does belong to the second part of Bach's life. Furthermore, the categorical assertion given here that the three works were written in COthen in 1720 has long been invalid. Bylsma's belief that Bach's versions for gamba and harpsichord— admittedly only one of them has survived in autograph—work less well than the solution offered here is, at least questionable. In addition, he adds, "compared to the gamba, the cello piccolo is better suited to play sonatas, as it is a member of the violin family". At that point I decided to close the booklet and just listen to the performances. They are, as we might expect from such an accomplished artist, very good indeed. Bylsma draws a ravishing sound from his instrument often with profoundly affecting results. They are, however, quite at variance with those which Bach intended, for not only is the instrumentation different but so, too, is the pitch. Little of the eloquence in Bach's writing in point of fact is lost but the colours are brighter and our senses respond accordingly. Not everything comes over with equal conviction and I found, for example, the beautiful opening Adagio of the too often underrated D major Sonata disappointing in its jerky, almost perfunctory progress.
Having so far done little but protest I am inclined to end on a positive note. These experiments, and that is what they are, have considerable charm in the hands of such gifted players as these; and, in addition a recording of one of J.C.F. Bach's two cello sonatas is welcome. It is lightweight but effectively written and delightfully performed music. Bylsma is a veritable poet and I know I shall want to hear the sound of his playing on this disc from time to time. Bob van Asperen provides a sensitive, tasteful partnership and the recorded sound is excellent. An unusual issue.
-- Gramophone [3/1991]
For many years Bach's three sonatas for viola da gamba and concertante harpsichord have been regarded by cellists as fair game. Now, the Dutch virtuoso cellist Anner Bylsma takes up the challenge not with a baroque or modern instrument but with a violoncello piccolo, an instrument for which Bach showed some fondness in his Leipzig cantatas. There was probably no standard violoncello piccolo in Bach's day but we might say that in general it was smaller than a cello with a fifth string which widened upwards its tessitura. Bylsma's instrument dates from c. 1700. Banished, too, in these interesting experiments is the harpsichord for which a pleasingly bright chamber organ has been substituted.
So far, so good, perhaps, but I am much less happy with some of the arguments put forward by Bylsma to justify his approach. One such is simply that Bach "ceased writing works explicitly for the gamba in the second half of his life, specifying other instruments instead"—a poor argument at the best of times but in this case without substance since it is very likely that at least one of the gamba sonatas does belong to the second part of Bach's life. Furthermore, the categorical assertion given here that the three works were written in COthen in 1720 has long been invalid. Bylsma's belief that Bach's versions for gamba and harpsichord— admittedly only one of them has survived in autograph—work less well than the solution offered here is, at least questionable. In addition, he adds, "compared to the gamba, the cello piccolo is better suited to play sonatas, as it is a member of the violin family". At that point I decided to close the booklet and just listen to the performances. They are, as we might expect from such an accomplished artist, very good indeed. Bylsma draws a ravishing sound from his instrument often with profoundly affecting results. They are, however, quite at variance with those which Bach intended, for not only is the instrumentation different but so, too, is the pitch. Little of the eloquence in Bach's writing in point of fact is lost but the colours are brighter and our senses respond accordingly. Not everything comes over with equal conviction and I found, for example, the beautiful opening Adagio of the too often underrated D major Sonata disappointing in its jerky, almost perfunctory progress.
Having so far done little but protest I am inclined to end on a positive note. These experiments, and that is what they are, have considerable charm in the hands of such gifted players as these; and, in addition a recording of one of J.C.F. Bach's two cello sonatas is welcome. It is lightweight but effectively written and delightfully performed music. Bylsma is a veritable poet and I know I shall want to hear the sound of his playing on this disc from time to time. Bob van Asperen provides a sensitive, tasteful partnership and the recorded sound is excellent. An unusual issue.
-- Gramophone [3/1991]
Reger: 3 Suites for Viola Solo / Sanzò
Brilliant Classics
CD
$10.99
$13.99
Save 20%
Jan 05, 2024
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.
Reger: Die Cellosuiten
Genuin
CD
$20.99
Jan 03, 2025
On his new GENUIN album, cellist Christian Erben, a member of the renowned Gewandhaus Orchestra, presents one of the most intriguing oeuvres for his instrument from the 20th century: Max Reger's three suites for solo cello. Baroque grandeur and intellectual depth, late-Romantic harmony, and masterful counterpoint: no one had explored the soloistic possibilities of perhaps the most human of all instruments as comprehensively since Johann Sebastian Bach as Max Reger did. Christian Erben delves into the immense suites down to the finest detail and brings their tonal intricacies to light!
Bachiana - A Solo Cello Fantasy / Topalovic
Haenssler Classic
CD
$20.99
Jan 07, 2022
Ana Topalovic is a visual synaesthete. For her, music has colors and shapes. This phenomenon opens up a new dimension of sound perfection for Ana, and with this ability she is able to search for concealed connections. For this album, Ana has selected five contemporary female composers who she feels provide a complementary synaesthetic connection to the individual movements of Bach's Suite No. 1. A very profound and intimate interpretation of her music has been created, thanks to years of close cooperation between Ana Topalovic, Doina Rotaru, Johanna Doderer and Gabriele Proy, as well as extensive experience with the music of Kaija Saariaho. Ana's breathtaking musical performance of Johann Sebastian Bach's Suite No. 1 leads the listener through the fantastic, playful, virtuosic and sensual world of modern music like a common thread or a friendly tour guide. Her interpretation lives in its own unique and extraordinary world, satisfying our need to connect the unknown with the known. The familiar sound of the cello shines in surprising ways, and its hidden depths are revealed, bringing its best qualities to the fore.
Weinberg: Cello Sonatas / Yablonsky, Liu
Naxos
CD
$9.99
$19.99
Save 50%
Mar 30, 2010
.Born in Warsaw but forced to flee to Minsk and then Tashkent before finally settling in Moscow, Mieczyslaw Weinberg was, as Shostakovich remarked, ‘one of the most outstanding composers of the present day’ and a close friend of the older composer. His Cello Sonatas, the second of which was composed for Rostropovich, make masterful use of the cello’s expressive capabilities, while his sonatas for solo cello have been likened in importance to the suites of J.S. Bach. The first and third of these in particular, dedicated to Rostropovich, are significant contributions to the instrument’s repertoire.
Mstislav Rostropovich - The Indomitable Bow
Naxos AudioVisual
DVD
$27.99
Dec 07, 2018
Also available on Blu-ray
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.
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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)
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)
![Mstislav Rostropovich - The Indomitable Bow [Blu-ray]](http://arkivmusic.com/cdn/shop/files/3844016_c401923b-642d-4113-85c2-8d5e9040ce85.jpg?v=1786837248&width=800)
Mstislav Rostropovich - The Indomitable Bow [Blu-ray]
Naxos AudioVisual
Blu-Ray
$30.99
Dec 07, 2018
This Blu-ray Disc is only playable on Blu-ray Disc players and not compatible with standard DVD players.
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)
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)
![Mstislav Rostropovich - The Indomitable Bow [Blu-ray]](http://arkivmusic.com/cdn/shop/files/3844016_c401923b-642d-4113-85c2-8d5e9040ce85.jpg?v=1786837248&width=400)
TETZLAFF PLAYS BACH & ENCKE
CAvi-music
CD
$19.99
Oct 18, 2019
Tanja Tetzlaff writes: "We come to hear Bach's works differently because Encke's unfamiliar sonorities startle and disturb us. Inserted between the suites, Encke's pieces open up an entirely different world of sound. With his two pieces, Encke builds bridges among the three suites and refers to them directly in his music. I find that the two works are quite different in character: Cracks is loud and noise- fragile, as well- whereas Clouds is more melodious at the onset... Both pieces feature powerful, incredible drama within a small space. Both pieces are threatening, but also gorgeous. While you are out on the thin, dangerous ice, you can survive if you manage to enter into the right sort of vibration. You can go on gliding in that beautiful ice-skating rhythm without falling through..."
Leonid Desyatnikov: The Leaden Echo
Quartz Music
CD
$18.99
Jan 01, 2011
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
Wergo
CD
$20.99
Jan 05, 2007
When considering the reception and public perception of the music of Mikis Theodorakis, a strange contrast becomes evident:
Those interested in music know many of the Greek composer’s songs, sometimes without even knowing that a certain melody was written by him, since a considerable number of his songs have been disseminated in many different variations and arrangements. Singers from many countries have often made Theodorakis’s songs their own using new texts, some of which bear no relationship to the content of the original but contributed to their fame nonetheless.
The situation looks quite different, however, with Theodorakis’s symphonic works. Even those who are active in the world of music often do not know a single symphonic work by Theodorakis; some are not even aware that he has produced a considerable symphonic oeuvre.
The two rhapsodies on the present CD are easy to understand, making them good examples of the musical facture that derives from Theodorakis’s basic aesthetic stance. The rhapsodies have many things in common, including that they emerged from earlier works with the same melodic material. This procedure is characteristic of Theodorakis as well as the continuation of a procedure that can be found throughout the history of music. Recall the common multiple uses of their own musical material in the works of Johann Sebastian Bach or Beethoven’s Violin Concerto in D Major, Op. 61, which the composer himself reworked into an alternative or second version for piano and orchestra as Op. 61a.
The Rhapsody for Violoncello and Orchestra AST was written during the last six weeks of 1996 and was premiered in Munich in October 1998. The melodies are already found in the song cycle Ta lirikotera of 1994/95, which was released as a CD in 1996 under the title Poetica, and Ta prosopa tu iliu (The faces of the sun) of 1986.
The nine movements bear the names of the nine muses, daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, whom Hesiod called the tutelary goddesses of the arts and assigned them to particular spheres of the arts. Their more widely known Latin names and attributes are, in the order of the movements of the rhapsody:
1 Clio (history)
2 Erato (love poetry)
3 Thalia (comedy)
4 Calliope (epic poetry, philosophy and science)
5 Euterpe (flute playing and singing)
6 Urania (astronomy and didactic writing)
7 Terpsichore (dance and light entertainment)
8 Melpomene (tragedy and elegy)
9 Polyhymnia (sacred poetry, pantomime, and serious song)
The Rhapsody for Guitar and Orchestra AST also has a precursor. In Athens in March 1967 Theodorakis wrote seven songs on texts from Federico Garcia Lorca’s Romencero gitano, published in 1928. These eighteen gypsy romances helped Garcia Lorca achieve his fame in Spain. His decidedly anti-Franco, leftist stance, in which Theodorakis no doubt saw parallels to his own positions, and his homosexuality caused him to be so hated by the reactionary forces that he was shot by the Falangists on August 18 or 19, 1938, just a few days before the civil war began. Theodorakis’s seven songs after Lorca were premiered in Rome in 1970 by Maria Farantouri under the direction of the composer. A version for alto and guitar was recorded by Maria Farantouri and John Williams in 1971 and only recently by the baritone Peter Goedhart and the guitarist Wim Spruijt with Garcia Lorca’s original Spanish text. Theodorakis’s second version with six songs is entitled Concert for Guitar (Lorcaand was commissioned by the Komische Oper of East Berlin. The premiere, with Maria Farantouri (alto), Kostas Kotsiolis (guitar), and members of the Rundfunkchor Berlin and the Orchester der Komischen Oper under Rolf Reuter was in September 1983.
Finally, the composer arranged the work for guitar and symphony orchestra in the mid-1990s and premiered this version in Munich in October 1998. Theodorakis wanted to offer the guitarist an instrumental work well suited to the instrument and with the guitar dominating from start to finish. The melodic material is primarily assigned to the orchestra.
Solo Bach-Abel / Boulanger
Alpha
CD
$26.99
Jan 28, 2022
This is Lucile Boulanger’s first solo recital. The French gambist, universally praised for her natural and moving playing – BBC Music Magazine even described her as ‘the Jacqueline du Pré of the viola da gamba’ – juxtaposes Bach with Carl Friedrich Abel, a great master of the bass viol and a close friend of the Bach family. Although Johann Sebastian never wrote for solo viola da gamba, we know that he transcribed many of his works for other instruments. So Lucile Boulanger has chosen, for example, to transcribe three dances from the Sixth Suite, ‘because it sounds particularly good on the viol, being written for five-stringed cello (a step towards the six or seven strings of the viol?). It is in D, the viol key par excellence, and its style, already somewhat galant, is reminiscent of Abel… This album gives me the opportunity to showcase the viol as both a melodic instrument – with the grain of the bow, the fragility of tone – and a polyphonic one.’
Saint-Saens: Works for Cello & Orchestra / Schwabe, Soustrot, Malmo Symphony
Naxos
CD
$13.99
$19.99
Save 30%
Oct 13, 2017
Listen to the Naxos Podcast to learn more about this release
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.
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.
Telemann: Paris Quartets, Vol. 2 - Nouveaux Quatuors
SOMM Recordings
CD
$37.99
Oct 16, 2026
In celebration of the 25th-anniversary of London Handel Players in 2025, SOMM Recordings released Telemann 'Paris' Quartets, Volume 1 [SOMMCD 0698]. Critics lauded the album for it's deep affection and impeccable musicianship, with Gramophone highlighting flautist Rachel Brown's 'easy agility' and the group's rich, inviting tone; and BBC Music Magazine praising their attention to subtle, expressive details. Now, SOMM is releasing Telemann 'Paris' Quartets, Volume 2 with LHP, featuring once again leading period-instrument specialists Rachel Brown flute; Adrian Butterfield violin; Gavin Kibble viola da gamba; Sarah McMahon cello; and Silas Wollston harpsichord. In 1737, Georg Philipp Telemann paid a long-awaited celebrity visit to Paris at the invitation of four prominent French musicians: flute virtuoso Michel Blavet; Franco-Italian violinist Jean-Pierre Guignon; viol player Jean-Baptiste Forqueray the younger, and an unidentified cellist-harpsichordist known in the historical records as Prince edouard. In preparation for this visit and in admiration of the musicians, Telemann had composed six Quadri, for flute, violin, viola da gamba or cello, and continuo. Telemann was one of the first great self-publishers, and his publication of the Quadri was such a success that the Parisian publisher Le Clerc brought out an edition without the composer's permission. This, finally, was the spur for Telemann to take an eight month leave of absence from his full schedule in Hamburg to visit Paris. While there, he composed a second set of quartets-the six Nouveaux Quatuors recorded here. It was in the second half of the twentieth century that the editors of the Telemann Musikalische Werke collectively named these two sets of quartets the 'Paris quartets.' Like the earlier set of Quadri, the six Nouveaux Quatuors are scored for flute, violin, viola da gamba, and continuo, with an optional adaptation of the gamba part for cello. The set comprises six suites, each with six or seven movements, and Telemann exploits countless ways of combining the instruments to create a huge variety of textures. All twelve quartets were played during Telemann's Parisian visit by the four musicians who had invited him, with the composer himself at the harpsichord. Paris was taken by storm, and news of the quartets spread throughout Europe, with subscribers to the publication including musicians like Charpentier, Mondonville, Fasch, Pisendel-and a certain Mr Bach of Leipzig. Telemann's sojourn in Paris left a lasting impression on him. Two years after returning to Hamburg, he reported on the effect of his quartets: 'The admirable performances of these quartets would be worth describing were it possible for words to be found to do them justice. In short, they procured for me in a very little time an almost universal renown and increased esteem.'
Shostakovich: Cello Concertos 1 & 2 / Dindo, Noseda, Danish National Symphony
Chandos
SACD
$21.99
Jan 31, 2012
A must-have and a life-changer for Shostakovich fans.
3563930.az_SHOSTAKOVICH_Cello_Concertos_1.html
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
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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
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
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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
