The first volume in this project, undertaken with missionary zeal by both singer and pianist, to rescue Medtner’s song output from obscurity, was met with enthusiasm in the Dutch press. ‘The melancholy, autumnal atmosphere evokes Tsarist Russia, of which the once Uzbek but long Dutch-resident Ekaterina Levental has perfectly captured the spirit. Her smooth singing is a joy to listen to.’ (Opus Klassiek) Nikolai Medtner (1880-1951) was a Russian (with German roots) who lived outside the Soviet Union from 1921 and lived in London from 1936 until his death. He was a good friend of Rachmaninov and composed in a related style, with a hint of Scriabin here and there. His work dates from ‘the long 19th century’, ignoring the current of contemporary modernism; he continued to compose in a late romantic, tonal style until his last breath. Yet his music sings with its own voice. Medtner, a considerable virtuoso, wrote sonatas and concertos that place great demands on the pianist, at first glance rhapsodic in form but hiding considerable formal sophistication. Seventy years and more after his death, Medtner no longer seems behind the times; his music may be enjoyed on its own terms, and a renaissance in his appreciation began around 30 years ago, but it was focused on the big sonatas and concertos. The pronounced narrative character of his music is perhaps best appreciated in the shorter piano pieces such as the Skazki ('fairy tales'). It is these pieces to which Medtner’s songs are most related.

End of the opera. 12 November 1918 (on the day of the declaration of the German-Austrian Republic and the union with the German Reich!). This sentence was written by Schreker at the close of the manuscript full score. The call for the dissolution of the Habsburg Empire and for unification with Germany was a genuine republican position and supported by all political parties.

The piano works of Alexander Scriabin, gathered on the newest release by Konstantin Semilakov, allow us to trace the development of his musical language through the chronological order of their composition. Starting from an early phase influenced by 19th century music, it gradually reveals a groundbreaking harmonic system that is no longer based on major-minor tonal connections. Born in Riga in 1984, pianist Konstantin Semilakovs is laureate of the First Prize of the International Piano Competition in Porto, Portugal and prizewinner of the Competition for Young Pianists Ettlingen, Germany. Since 2018 he is appointed professor of piano at the University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna. He is passionate about researching the phenomenon of 'colour' in the classical piano repertoire and synaesthetic performing of works by the composers Olivier Messiaen and Alexander Scriabin.

Mathis der Maler is the central composition of Paul Hindemith’s output for music theater. The reception began with its successful premiere of a symphony of three orchestral parts from the opera, in March of 1934 in Berlin. That was still before the composer was attacked in the National-Socialist press which prompted a defense of Furtwängler’s in a newspaper article titled “The Hindemith Case”. The opera wasn’t premiered until May 1938, in Zurich, where the Hindemith’s had emigrated to, before moving on to the United States. Much as Mathis, who found his political engagement in the Peasant’s War and his calling to paint solely for the glory of God to collide with the expectation to positions himself on religious matters during the Reformation, Hindemith found himself torn between his refusal to propagate for the Nazis, his urge to follow his inner voice, and the demand that he position himself against the regime. These highly acclaimed performances from 2012 at Theater an der Wien with Opera Star Roland Koch in the title role is finally now available as an album release.

REVIEW:

Hindemith wrote his own libretto for Mathis, an exploration of the clash between artists’ responsibility to their art and to the social and political issues of their time. The production is full of telling detail, with the climactic fourth scene depicting the Peasants’ Revolt itself, and Mathis’s vision in the sixth especially vivid. All the protagonists are portrayed with touching truthfulness too. Wolfgang Koch is the conflicted, all-too-human painter, Kurt Streit the cardinal Albrecht von Brandenburg, Franz Grundheber the Protestant Riedlinger and Manuela Uhl his daughter Ursula, with whom Mathis is in love. It’s superbly conducted by Bertrand de Billy, making the most of the opera’s visionary moments, and doing his best with its occasional longueurs.

– Guardian (UK)

The Avalon String Quartet, “a remarkably fine ensemble” (The Strad), makes its Cedille Records debut with an irresistible and richly varied program of captivating works by Claude Debussy, Benjamin Britten, Osvaldo Golijov, and rising American composer Stacy Garrop. The ensemble presents the world-premiere recording of Garrop’s String Quartet No. 4: Illuminations, a tantalizing, Pictures at an Exhibition-style tour of spectacular illustrations from an ornate medieval manuscript. Debussy’s lush, exotic String Quartet in G minor unfolds through iridescent quasi-orchestral textures. Golijov’s lyrical, deeply moving Tenebrae (Latin for “shadows”), written for the Kronos Quartet, pays tender tribute to the earth, depicted in its remote celestial beauty, haunted by undertones of human discord. Britten’s youthful, energetic Three Divertimenti and Alla Marcia are alluring, rarely recorded studies in inventiveness and perpetual motion.

The Avalon is quartet-in-residence at the Northern Illinois University School of Music. “…an ensemble that invites you — ears, mind, and spirit — into its music.” (Chicago Tribune)

REVIEW:

The folks at Cedille seem to have mastered the art of putting together classical music collections that make good musical sense. Debussy’s String Quartet is, of course, standard fare, and it usually appears in tandem with the Ravel and something else French. Not here. Instead, we have two Britten rarities, the entertaining Three Divertimenti and the lone Alla Marcia (the first of the Divertimenti is also a march, so you can see the logic), a self-described “Pictures at an Exhibition” type piece by Stacy Garrop, and a moving conclusion in the form of Osvaldo Golijov’s single-movement Tenebrae. The entire program provides consistently interesting and entertaining continuous listening, and the sonics are drop-dead gorgeous.

So, for that matter, is the playing of the Avalon String Quartet. The group’s corporate sonority is warm and mellow, but with just a touch of “rosin” in the tone. They attack rhythmic moments such as the scherzo of the Debussy, the Burlesque and the marches in the Britten pieces, and Garrop’s musically impossibly named “Mouth of Hell” with plenty of guts and precision, but no unpleasant hardness in the tone. The slow music is simply luminous. I am not generally a fan of pseudo-religious programmatic stuff such as Garrop offers here, but it’s awfully well done, and the booklet provides well-produced, full-color reproductions of the illustrations from the late medieval Book of Hours that Garrop took as her inspiration. They are exquisite, as is much of Garrop’s writing more generally.

Here, in short, is another excellent program that chamber music fans looking to venture off the beaten path will surely relish.

- ClassicsToday.com (10/10)

Havergal Brian's late creativity is almost unparalleled in musical history- in the last two decades of his life he wrote 25 symphonies. No. 7, the last of his truly large-scale symphonies, was inspired by Goethe's autobiographical account of his time as a student in Strasbourg. Symphony No. 16 is a tough single-movement work, evoking Ancient Greece and the savagery of the Persian Wars. In bright contrast The Tinker's Wedding is a sparkling comedy overture based on the play by J.M. Synge. The New Russia State Symphony Orchestra was founded in 1990. In 2002 Yuri Bashmet became it's director, opening a new chapter in it's history and bringing his own inimitable manner of interpretation, whereby each concert evokes the feeling that the music is being created anew.

Classical Music

After their acclaimed recording of Schubert’s Die schöne Müllerin, Ian Bostridge and Saskia Giorgini present a program of rarely-recorded songs by Ottorino Respighi. This selection of songs demonstrates Respighi’s stylistic versatility and broad literary inspiration, from settings of Ada Negri’s compact verses to florid, Symbolist d’Annunzio poems as well as folk melodies, including Scottish songs. Respighi’s Liriche unveil a fascinating, little-known Italian branch of musical Impressionism. What binds them together is a longing for a past still so close, but at the same time inevitably gone. Ian Bostridge is one of the most celebrated tenors and lied interpreters of his generation. His PENTATONE recording of Schubert’s Winterreise (2019) was crowned with the ICMA Vocal Music Award 2020. He continues his congenial collaboration with pianist Saskia Giorgini on PENTATONE.

REVIEW:

How does the hackneyed phrase go, “Don’t yuck my yum”? So if you are into the somewhat terse, easy-listening-averse ways of Ottorino Respighi’s art songs, or simply want to discover the composer at the opposite end from the lush bombast of Pini di Roma, by all means, the Ian Bostridge recording (with Saskia Giorgini as accompanist) on Pentatone is a find: Rare morsels, carefully selected, very artfully and meticulously done, with perhaps just a hair too much of studied artistry, on the label where major-label artists go to record what’s dear to their hearts after they’ve run out of Schubert.

Bostridge is ever free of bluster but also does not appear to be as prone to hyper-enunciating as he sometimes does in German, or pecking at select phrases like a hen with an appetite. There’s a bit of 20th-century French mélodie in several of Respighi’s songs, not limited to the three included here that are set to French poetry: In the pointillism of “Egle” for example, or in the lulling lyricism of “Crepuscolo” (both part of Deità silvane). The brittle fragility of Quattro Liriche’s “La naiade” is impressive; the selections “O falce di luna” and “Notte” from Sei Liriche P90 and P97, respectively, listened to with relaxed care and giving them some time, begin to blossom like a budding flower cut and placed in a glass on the window sill.

The four Scottish songs are neat, especially for anyone who cares about the Haydn (or the lesser Beethoven) versions of these, and how they are similar (or different) in flavor and interpretation–although Bostridge really goes for the Scottish like the Alexander Brother Highland Lads with a touch of Groundskeeper Willie (from The Simpsons). A niche recommendation of the first order.

-- ClassicsToday.com (Jens F. Laurson)

R. STRAUSS Violin Sonata, Op. 18. RESPIGHI Violin Sonata in b. Six Pieces: Melodia; Valse caressante; Serenata • Tasmin Little (vn); Piers Lane (pn) • CHANDOS 10749 (65:50)

Violinist Tasmin Little has amassed a very respectable discography on a number of different labels, though of late, she seems to have settled in as one of Chandos’s house artists. Her recent recording of Delius’s Violin Concerto received an urgent recommendation from me in 35:4, so I really looked forward to receiving her latest release of these two late romantic sonatas.


On the surface, Richard Strauss and Respighi may not seem to have a lot in common, but their respective violin sonatas have been paired on disc before, notably by Kyung-Wha Chung and Krystian Zimerman for Deutsche Grammophon and by Frank Almond and William Wolfram for Avie. Strauss composed his sonata in 1887 at the age of 23. It’s an inspired outpouring of youth hardly recognizable as music by the composer that Strauss would become. Respighi’s B-Minor Sonata—an earlier sonata in D Minor dates from the composer’s teens—was written in 1917, exactly 30 years later than Strauss’s sonata, by a more mature composer of 38.


Strauss’s sonata will no doubt be permanently associated with Heifetz, not because he championed it and twice recorded it, but because of his callous and stubborn determination to perform the piece in 1953 before an Israeli audience that still considered Strauss a Nazi collaborator and whose emotions were still raw from the Holocaust. That little stunt nearly cost Heifetz his career when an assailant attacked him outside his hotel, striking his right arm with an iron bar. While I don’t condone the death threats and violence against him, I understand the intensity of feelings that were aroused. Heifetz had no one to blame but himself for his own arrogance and intractable insensitivity. He canceled his last concert and departed Israel post haste, not to return there again until 1970.


The shame of it all is that Strauss’s sonata was written half a century before Hitler rose to power, and the piece is a passionate and deeply touching reflection of the late 19th-century German musical culture in which Strauss came of age. Unsurprisingly, Liszt and Wagner, both recently dead, appear as frequent ghosts throughout the sonata’s pages, but another guest one meets, less frequently perhaps but still very much alive when Strauss wrote the piece, is Brahms.


Respighi is not an easy composer to categorize. Some see him, as they see Strauss, Puccini, Rachmaninoff, and Sibelius as manifestations of a resistant strain of late romanticism that persisted well into the 20th century, while others have referred to Respighi as an Impressionist. I think one could support either view. There’s no question but that Respighi’s sonata is the more modern of the two works on the disc, at least in terms of its approach to harmony and tonality, but it remains an essentially romantic work in its gestural language—i.e., in its sweeping vistas and appeal to the emotions, both public and private.


The last time I reviewed a recording of Strauss’s violin sonata was in 32:3. That Atma CD also contained violin and piano works by Elgar and Ravel in performances by Jonathan Crow and Paul Stewart which I called “a desideratum of indescribably beautiful music matched by indescribably beautiful playing.” Pardon the pun, but Tasmin Little brings more than a little of Crow’s eloquent and elegant playing to the Strauss, but I would also have to say that in some of the sonata’s more technically taxing passages, she can sound ever so slightly flustered; and while the notes never actually get away from her, one senses she’s making an effort to stay on top of them. Next to Crow’s Strauss, another performance I’ve long liked is that by Dmitri Sitkovetsky on Virgin Classics. He has the technical chops to pull it off smoothly, but I don’t find him quite as emotionally engaged as either Crow or Little. Whatever the reason, Respighi’s sonata seems to suit Little a little better, both technically and temperamentally. Her performance of the piece is lithe and fully responsive to the score’s rapidly shifting moods and colors. In my opinion, it easily outclasses Tanja Becker-Bender on Hyperion, whose reading I find somewhat flighty and rudderless.


Overall, this has to be rated a very fine effort, and not just by Little, but also by Piers Lane who partners her most excellently on the piano, and by Chandos, which provides its usual deep and vivid sound. This may not be the absolute best Strauss out there, but it’s definitely among the very best of the Respighis, and the extra three encores from Respighi’s Six Pieces for Violin and Piano make for a most enriching program. Easily recommended.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

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Chandos have prided themselves on having a deep and long-term available back catalogue. Though distantly separated in time the present CD can be seen as an adjunct to two of the grand Chandos series of the 1980s and 1990s. The first was the Respighi orchestral music edition built around the Edward Downes BBCPO symphonies and concertos but supplemented by earlier discs conducted by Geoffrey Simon - still truly splendid - and later ones from Hickox and Noseda. The Downes and Simon discs would shine anew if issued in a box or boxes. The second comprised the half dozen discs they issued in the 1980s golden days of Järvi conducting the then SNO in the major orchestral works of Richard Strauss.

These two violin and piano works have previously appeared - although separately - on Chandos. There were in fact two CDs of the Strauss Sonata – one from Lydia Mordkovitch and the other from Sasha Rozhdestvensky. It comes as no surprise that the Respighi was also recorded by Mordkovitch. She contributed so much to the label that I have every reason to expect that, one of these days, there will be a complete Mordkovitch Chandos Edition. It’s certainly deserved – at least as much as a Takako Nishizaki edition for Naxos.

Little and Lane’s Strauss Sonata is flooded with melodic light and surges and muses with all the eruptive and serenading romance of the same composer’s Don Juan. Both Tasmin Little and Piers Lane are obviously up for it and flatter the 1887 Strauss with a most inward reading which makes it appear a greater work than perhaps it is. The stormy romance of the outer movements of the 1917 Respighi Sonata is emphasised by the utterly peaceful and romantically centred Sargasso calm of the Andante second movement. It stands head and shoulders above the other sonata movements on this disc, masterfully treading that febrile line between poetry and self-conscious sentimentality. Both Little and Lane have every right to be proud of their achievement here. Speaking of that mood we have three movements from the salon-destined and designed Sei Pezzi. I lament that the other three Kreislerian movements were not included – there was space. A puzzling and regretted omission.

With thanks to Chandos for commissioning a liner-note from the inspired Jessica Duchen. Such a fine writer and one whose Korngold book (Phaidon Press) has been unjustly eclipsed by the ‘major definitive biography’. The Duchen is much more than a valid alternative. Indeed, Korngold is a far from irrelevant comparison in the company of the two composers so nobly represented on this disc.

– Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

Herbert Howells' style, immediately recognizable for it's long melodic lines, rhapsodic nature and rich harmonies, defined the sound of English cathedral music in the 20th century. His studies in London imbued his works with sophistication and a French influence, which were intertwined with a nostalgic 'heartache' for the 'real Gloucestershire,' as can be heard in String Quartet No. 3. The charming little character stories in 'Lady Audrey's Suite' tell of countryside and church, while the Piano Quartet in A minor is dedicated "To the Hill at Chosen and Ivor Gurney who knows it," portraying a favorite local vantage point at different seasons as well as poignantly remembering a lost friendship.

A highly decorated composer in Soviet Russia, Reinhold Gli�re maintained a low political profile and a conservative but astonishingly inventive melodic style. His interest in national harmonies and folk-music emerges in the Twelve Album Leaves, and his remarkably important contribution to cello repertoire is demonstrated both in his mastery of small forms in the Duets Op 39, and a unique ability to create orchestral sonorities in the Duets Op 53, a rare example of an original cycle for the delightful combination of two cellos.

PENDERECKI Piano Concerto, “Resurrection.” Flute Concerto • Barry Douglas (pn); ?ukasz D?ugosz (fl); Antoni Wit, cond; Warsaw PO • NAXOS 8.572696 (60:30)

It is fascinating to trace the development of Penderecki’s compositional style, as he seems to become more conservative the older he gets. The Piano Concerto, composed in 2001/02 and revised in 2007, is a work that the Penderecki of the 1960s and the Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima probably never dreamed of writing. In fact, nothing in Penderecki’s canon, not even his recent works, prepared me for this concerto. After several auditions, I’m not sure it’s even a successful work (I’ve seen the adjective “kitschy” applied to it), but if it’s not, it is, in today’s popular terminology, a hot mess, and a fascinating one at that.

In this work, Penderecki has channeled the romantic piano concerto. In the words of annotator Richard Whitehouse, it renews “Penderecki’s direct involvement with the ‘grand’ concerto tradition—notably of the Russian lineage that had its culmination in Rachmaninov and Prokofiev.” Granted, the work is not as lyrical as, for example, Rachmaninoff’s Second Piano Concerto, or even Prokofiev’s Third, but there’s no missing the size and the strength of the emotional gestures, and the respect for virtuosic display. For the first time ever (in my experience, anyway), Penderecki has even included passages that a reasonable person might describe as “pretty”—for example, at 2:30 into the second section, and that passage returns near the end. (The work is in 10 continuous sections, and Naxos has tracked them separately.) Granted, the concerto’s overall mood is more tense than pretty, and there are violent climaxes. I have to say, though, that the music that kept coming to mind as I heard this concerto was Bernard Herrmann’s Concerto Macabre, a work that he composed for the 1954 film noir Hangover Square—and I intend that as a compliment. “Resurrection,” the concerto’s subtitle might be understood as a Christian reference, but apparently it is not meant to be taken too literally. Whitehouse indicates, however, that a “plainsong-like idea (which was conceived in the aftermath of the 9/11 terrorist attack) . . . only gradually makes its way into the foreground before emerging at full strength during the climactic stages.” Barry Douglas, whose name now comes up less often than it did at the start of the CD era, plays the heck out of this 37-minute concerto, and does not stint on its steel, drama, and emotional power. The engineering, by the way, is outstanding—this is a sonic showpiece. I’d be interested to hear an earlier recording (on Dux), conducted by the composer, with pianist Beata Bili?ska.

The Flute Concerto dates from 1992, and is more in line with what we have come to expect from latter-day Penderecki. It is, in other words, an anticlimax to the piano concerto, but worthwhile nevertheless. Like the piano concerto, it is a single-movement work, but that single movement contains several clearly contrasted sections. If the piano concerto is unexpectedly emotional, the flute concerto is in keeping with the composer’s familiar style, which I would describe as intellectual and objective, gaining its interest from the way in which Penderecki develops his material, and creates interesting instrumental timbres. The word “eclectic” keeps coming up, which I suppose is another way of saying that the music is modern, but not too modern. It was composed for Jean-Pierre Rampal, who did record it, with the composer, for Sony, but I have not heard that version. There’s also another Dux disc, with the composer conducting, and flutist David Aguilar, but the version I know, also on Naxos, is with flutist Petri Alanko and the Tapiola Sinfonietta, conducted by Okko Kamu. Alanko and Kamu pare more than three minutes from the score’s total length. Their reading is more dramatic than the new one, and Alanko emphasizes the lyrical aspects of the music more than Dlugosz does, wherever he can. Compared to Wit, Kamu is more precise, and creates more focused sonorities with his ensemble, but I do like the lush sound that comes out of the Warsaw Philharmonic, and I feel that Wit is a superior story-teller to Kamu.

Although neither of these works is new to CD, the combination is unique, and the performances are very strong. I see no reason not to be enthusiastic about this release, and the piano concerto is growing on me. Let’s see if this makes it onto my Want List in the next issue!

FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle

The young Romanian violinist Ioana Cristina Goicea and her piano partner Andrei Banciu draw on the full range of their talents: on their debut album, they bring late Romantic music by Richard Strauss, Erich Wolfgang Korngold and the world premiere recording by Stan Golestan to life in full color. The two winners of the competition are perfectly attuned to each other. A technically flawless rendition serves as the basis of their interpretation and is exalted by the extraordinary artistic personality of the two Romanian musicians. The romantic exuberance creates goosebumps! Ioana Cristina Goicea is one of the outstanding violinists of her generation. She won First Prize at the 2017 Michael Hill International Violin Competition in New Zealand, with critics praising her passionate performance and describing her as "a new star in the musical firmament." In 2018 she won First Prize at the German Music Competition in Bonn and was a laureate of the International Violin Competition of Indianapolis. In 2019 she became a prize winner of the prestigious Queen Elisabeth Competition in Brussels. Born in 1985 in Timisoara (Romania), Andrei Banciu began studying the piano in his home town with Maria Bodo, later continuing in Berlin at the UdK (University of the Arts) under Prof. Klaus Hellwig and at the "Hanns Eisler" School of Music under Prof. Fabio Bidini.

Ferruccio Busoni was undoubtedly what can be termed a ‘child prodigy’. His maturity as a young pianist can only be indirectly evidenced by contemporary reports. But in his early compositions, his astonishing command of the meter can be assessed directly. In particular, he demonstrated a sure instinct for part writing and counterpoint, before he had received systematic teaching in these disciplines. Busoni connoisseurs will detect unexpected parallels to the works of his mature period; their germ cells, as it were. And the common music lover may find joy in a wealth of piano pieces, some of which at least need not shy any comparison with Schumann, Mendelssohn, Reinecke and Grieg.

These five works, from three different stages of Hans G�l's long life (1890-1987), all show his consummate craftsmanship but are otherwise quite different in character. The passionate Piano Quartet (1914), downstream from Brahms and Dvor�k, brings the grand gestures of Romanticism into the early twentieth century. The 1935 Sonatina in F major for violin and piano, recently rediscovered, and the three Sonatinas from 1956 put a premium on textural clarity and lyrical approachability; here the contrapuntal ingenuity, ceaseless thematic development, harmonic freedom and rhythmic unpredictability of G�l's language animate the music from within. Newcastle-born pianist Sarah Beth Briggs was a finalist in the BBC Young Musician competition at the age of eleven and studied with Denis Matthews and Edith Fischer. Katalin Kertesz is the leader of the Kertesz Quartet, with which she recently recorded the four string quartets by the nineteenth century Czech composer heinrich Wenzel Veit. Nichola Blakey, viola, enjoys a busy freelance career, giving performances across the UK. Cressida Nash, cello, is a founding member of Musicians South West.

Legendary tango performer and composer Astor Piazzolla gained experience of jazz in New York and classical form and technique through studies with Alberto Ginastera. His work lends itself perfectly to arrangement for all kinds of ensemble, and this is the first recording with solo trombone. These popular pieces showcase the stunning playing of multi-award winning soloist Achilles Liarmakopoulos in a variety of moods, including the famous Oblivion, and Le Grand Tango, a virtuoso show-stopper originally written for cellist Mstislav Rostropovich.

'I haven't sat right through a CD of tangos until this one. Greek trombonist Achilles Liarmakopoulos, who plays with Canadian Brass, is an astonishing player, a musician of extraordinary subtlety and understatement. With the sweetest, most seductive tone imaginable, he glides through the Piazzolla classics, including the full Histoire du Tango, all three movements of the beautiful Serie del Angel, Michelangelo, Oblivion and a heart-wrenching, soulful rendition of Soledad. His group, including the great bandoneon player Hector del Curto, is superlative. An outstanding disc.' (Herald Scotland)

Here’s a welcome reissue from Marco Polo, now on the less expensive Naxos line. László Lajtha (1892-1963) was the major 20th century Hungarian symphonist. He had the good fortune to be picked up by an important publisher early on (Leduc), but suffered from being largely out of favor with the Communist regime for most of his career. He wrote major works in all the traditional forms, in a style recognizably personal and immediately appealing, but without pandering. Aesthetically (as Leduc recognized) his voice was audibly French in orientation, and if I had to categorize him I might say that he was a sort of Hungarian Martinu. The melos of Hungarian folk music underlies much of his thematic substance, but the translucent textures and colorful orchestration have an impressionistic tinge.

All of this is quite evident in the First Symphony, a pithy work in three movements that consistently captivates the ear. In memoriam is a big, powerful funeral march that takes a few minutes to get going, but once it does, proceeds memorably. Its central climaxes are aptly harrowing. The early Suite for Orchestra has four movements, including a parodistic Marche burlesque and an equally ironic Can-Can conclusion. Its Valse lente third movement is lovely, as are these performances. The Pécs Symphony Orchestral plays well for conductor Nicolás Parquet, and they are also naturally recorded in a warm, open acoustic. If you missed this series the first time around, grab these reissues as they come.

– ClassicsToday (David Hurwitz)

The Jasper String Quartet writes of their new release: “This Album marks the culmination of our decade-long journey with Aaron Jay Kernis’ music for string quartet. From the moment we put bow to string for Aaron’s Second Quartet, we realized his special voice and our connection to his music’s ability to capture both the complexity of the world and the simplicity of a moment. This depth fascinated us, inspired our playing and prompted us to dream of commissioning Aaron’s 3rd Quartet. Six years later, after performing and recording his first two Quartets and organizing the commission, we received the first movement of his Third Quartet “River”. As the movements accumulated in our inbox, so did our sense of excitement and dread. It was clear that this piece surpassed its two preceding quartets in complexity and difficulty. The route forward was clear enough, but still daunting. Practice, rehearse, repeat. Through the spring and into the summer the piece started to take shape. Coalescing first a little at a time - glimmers of cleverness, brilliance, atmosphere amid the musical and technical challenges. As those moments grew to sections and then movements that began to make sense, we started to build them into the larger arc. The quartet is subtitled “River”, an analogy for the constancy of change in our lives. The music too is constantly evolving, from moment to moment never predictable, never repeating itself. The flow of ideas isn’t one but four-dimensional, swirling constantly backward and forward in time and space. Yet there is a calculation of purpose, a consideration of form and care to structure that keeps the music grounded and allows a story to build out of the organic chaos…”

Many violinists could become envious of this fabulous musician's recording of two solo sonatas each by Paul Hindemith and Gunther Raphael. Above all, none of them will probably ever achieve such a sonorous sound... Demanding, sensuous music of the twentieth century, compellingly interpreted!

SCHOENBERG Verklärte Nacht 1. String Quartet No. 1. Four Canons • Fred Sherry Str Qrt & 1 Sxt • NAXOS 8.557534 (77:33)


Schoenberg’s Verklärte Nacht is sometimes paired on records with his String Trio, op. 45, an excellent work but one from a much later period, when the composer had already become firmly entrenched in his 12-tone rut. Here, it is very sensibly coupled with the First String Quartet of 1904–05, an excellent work which, though atonal in places, still has many features akin to his late tonal period. Indeed, there is much in the Quartet that, although unmistakably Schoenbergian, might have been influenced to some extent by the experiments of Bartók. I also found it fascinating that both of these early works were premiered by Arnold Rosé’s famous string quartet (obviously with two extra players in the case of Verklärte Nacht ) at the instigation of Gustav Mahler.


One of the features of this First Quartet which is so different from later Schoenberg is its strong rhythmic sense. Yes, there are indeed passages where the rhythm becomes fragmented and even somewhat obscured, but by and large the music is propelled by an almost ferocious forward momentum, quite different from the rhythmically ambiguous and amorphous music of his maturity. The liner notes indicate some of the varied emotions that the composer attributed to the first movement:


(1) a) Revolt, Defiance; b) Longing; c) Rapture.


(2) a) Dejection; Despair; Fear of being engulfed; unaccustomed feelings of love, desire to be wholly absorbed.


   b) Comfort, Relief (She and He).


   c) New outbreak; Dejection, Despair; and


   d) Transition to


(3) Struggle of all the motives with the determination to begin a new life,


   e) Mild disagreement.


Well, that’s quite an emotional gamut to run, and I find it a little strange … well, OK, really strange … that a composer who plunges headlong emotionally into “Revolt, Defiance, Dejection, Despair” ends up the movement with “mild disagreement”! But hey, that was Arnie Schoenberg, a bit of an odd duck to say the least.


The Fred Sherry Quartet plays this music with incredible energy and passionate emotional commitment, which is really the only way to play Schoenberg. I’ve always found it a bit odd that a composer so closely identified with what you would certainly identify as a cerebral reorganization of music (the 12-tone system) was normally a composer of extremely strong emotions in music. There is scarcely a Schoenberg score, with the possible exception of Pierrot Lunaire (which was, after all, a special case and a bit of a one-off), that does not suck the listener into the vortex of extremely strong emotions. I must, however, be honest and say that, to my ears the somewhat jumbled juxtaposition of themes in the last movement left a bad impression on me.


Verklärte Nacht, like the composer’s early orchestral score Pelleas und Melisande, is so well known nowadays—and generally well-liked—that it seems incredible that it should have caused such a scandal when it was first premiered, in 1903. However, as the composer himself admitted, it soon became very successful, and ironically it was used as a club to hit the composer over the head with when his more outré pieces became known. Here the Sherry Quartet is expanded with the addition of second violist Yura Lee and second cellist Michael Nicolas. Their treatment of this score is rather more abrasive, less plush than one hears, for instance, from the Juilliard String Quartet with special guests Walter Trampler and Yo-Yo Ma on Sony Classical, where the late Romantic elements of the score are emphasized. Here, one hears the harshness of some of the dissonances much more clearly because the playing, for the most part, has a very sharp profile with strongly-accented rhythms. It’s so rare to hear an original interpretation of this piece, however, that one listens eagerly to every change of key and color in this performance; the end result is remarkable and rewarding, particularly in the extraordinarily dark colors they are able to produce in it.


The Four Canons are really excellent music, and are hereby recommended to those who feel that Schoenberg completely “abandoned” his earlier compositional style once he turned to the 12-tone system. The CD box insert denotes that they were composed between 1905 and 1949, but that apparently applies to the complete group of 30 Canons from which these were selected; the four given here were all completed during his mature period: Canon XIX in March 1934, Canon XXV in 1938, Canon XXVII in June 1943, and Canon XXVIII in March 1945. The music, despite its modernist harmonic touches, is quite understandable in terms of its construction and development. In other words, it is still rather accessible when compared to such works as Moses und Aron or A Survivor from Warsaw. I really enjoyed these pieces and the Sherry Quartet’s performances of them.


As a final word, I must ask why an album by the Fred Sherry Quartet and Sextet is identified on the packaging as being part of the Robert Craft Collection . I certainly understand Craft’s recent connection with Naxos and appreciate the fact that they have bought and reissued several of his recordings from the 1990s in addition to putting out new ones, but since he didn’t conduct the Sextet in this performance of Verklärte Nacht, why is it part of “his” collection? Why not, more sensibly, The Schoenberg Collection ? Inquiring minds want to know!


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Hartmut Haenchen was born in Dresden in 1943 and from the moment of his 1971 Carl Maria von Weber Competition victory onward, he has been a force of nature in the classical music world. These Mahler recordings are being released to commemorate Haenchen's seventieth birthday and a rich career conducting orchestras and opera companies worldwide.

This album is the first to present an entire program of works by Debussy and Ravel, the greatest exponents of Impressionism in music, transcribed for two guitars. The arrangements bring new life to the rich canvas of sonorities and complex harmonies in these popular works. The reflective atmosphere in Debussy's famous Clair de lune and special upper-harmonic effects in La plus que lente contrast with the "merry romp" of the Golliwog's Cakewalk and Ravel's nod to Schubert in the Valses nobles et sentimentales.

Classical Music

HINDEMITH Konzertmusik for Piano, Brass, and Two Harps, op. 49. The Four Temperaments. Piano Music with Orchestra (for Piano Left Hand), op. 29. Kammermusik No. 2 for Piano, Quartet, and Brass, op. 36/1. Piano Concerto • Idil Biret (pn); Toshiyuki Shimada, cond; Yale SO • NAXOS 8.573201-02 (2 CDs: 136:15)


Idil Biret will be no stranger to readers; as one of Naxos’s most reliable house artists, she has recorded vast amounts of the piano repertoire for the label. The works on this two-CD set, however, may not be as familiar as she is. With the exception of The Four Temperaments , which has gained somewhat of a foothold on record and as a concert work—Hindemith was originally commissioned by George Balanchine in 1940 to produce a score for a ballet—the other four works on these discs may be new to all but those who are Hindemith devotees.


The title of the album, The Complete Piano Concertos , stretches the definition a bit of what constitutes a concerto, but Hindemith’s habit of writing for unusual combinations of instruments and setting them in somewhat unorthodox forms can make classifying his works subject to interpretation.


The program opens with the Konzertmusik for Piano, Brass, and Two Harps, commissioned by Elizabeth Coolidge Sprague and composed in 1930. The brass instruments called for in the “Brass” of the work’s title are four horns, three trumpets, two trombones, and tuba. In four movements, the piece is best described as being in Hindemith’s neobaroque style.


The Theme with Four Variations for Piano and Strings, commonly referred to as just The Four Temperaments , though originally intended to be choreographed for a ballet, works well as a concert piece because essentially it can be seen as a four-movement symphony with an introduction. The introduction in this case is the statement of the theme. Four variations (movements) follow, each representing one of the four temperaments or medieval humors—black bile for the melancholic, blood for the sanguine, phlegm for the phlegmatic, and yellow bile for the choleric. The bodily fluids are enough to conjure a scene from the embalming room in a mortuary, but Hindemith’s music is full of life and gorgeous sonorities.


As mentioned above, this is the main work in which Biret and the Yale Symphony Orchestra’s strings run into some significant competition in the numbers game. Two versions that have been long on my shelf are those by Carol Rosenberger with the strings of the Royal Philharmonic on Delos and Howard Shelley with the strings of BBC Philharmonic on Chandos. Biret on the present recording acquits herself well in the solo piano part, but the string players of the Yale orchestra, an ensemble made up of the university’s undergraduate students don’t play with quite the coordination and richness of tone as do their professional counterparts across the Pond.


Hindemith, like Ravel, was commissioned to write a piano work for the left hand by Paul Wittgenstein, the pianist who lost his right arm in the First World War. Quite a few other composers were enlisted in the enterprise as well, including Britten, Kornold, Prokofiev, and Richard Strauss. They all complied, but Wittgenstein ended up not performing all the works he solicited. Hindemith’s contribution was Piano Music with Orchestra (for Piano Left Hand) composed in 1923. It has gained nowhere near the exposure of Ravel’s Concerto for the Left Hand; in fact, at the moment ArkivMusic lists only one other recording besides this one, a 2008 live performance by Leon Fleisher with the Curtis Symphony Orchestra led by Christoph Eschenbach.


The Hindemith is a captivating score with a perky, jazzy first movement; a catchy, ostinato-driven second movement that periodically lapses into march-like, military fanfares; a haunting third movement in which the piano and a solo English horn (then later a solo flute) engage in a long, slow, lonely dance; and a Finale that once again is in the composer’s best neobaroque style.


The Kammermusik No. 2, for Piano, Quartet, and Brass, is the second in a series of seven Kammermusik works Hindemith promised to deliver to conductor Hermann Scherchen, who took an interest in promoting new music by contemporary composers of the period. It’s a bit difficult to categorize these works, for no two of them are scored for the same combination of instruments, but all of them feature a solo instrument and a varied ensemble of 11 or more players. Because the solo instrument—whether piano, cello, violin, viola, viola d’amore, or organ—is treated as it would be in a concerto, the seven works are loosely classified as chamber concertos, but the number of instruments in the orchestra pushes the definition of “chamber.” To confuse matters further, sandwiched in between the first and third of these seven Kammermusik scores, is a lone stray, if you will, that goes by the title, Kleine Kammermusik , so-called because it is scored for wind quintet with no soloist; yet it’s sometimes lumped together with its larger-scaled Kammermusik cousins.


All together then there are eight of these works, but the only recorded version I’m aware of that includes the whole shebang—and it’s an outstanding one—is the two-disc set by Riccardo Chailly leading members of the Royal Concertgebouw on Decca. If one or more readers are wondering why I’m omitting the equally excellent set by Claudio Abbado with members of the Berlin Philharmonic on EMI, it’s because that set, as well as all the others listed, include only the seven Kammermusik entries. Abbado fills out his set leading violist Tabea Zimmermann in an incomparably beautiful performance of Hindemith’s Der Schwanendreher . But Chailly’s set, as far as I know, is unique in being the only one to include the lone Kleine Kammermusik score for wind quintet.


Perhaps it’s the other surveys that make more sense, because the Kleine Kammermusik is really a fish out of water that doesn’t go with the seven Kammermusik works. Still, it’s too delightful a piece to be without, and stand-alone recordings of it are mostly included on programs of wind quintet works by a mix of composers, though one, on Sony, does offer an all-Hindemith program of the composer’s other wind works.


Most of the Kammermusik scores fall into Hindemith’s neobaroque style, for which reason they have sometimes been branded the “ Brandenburg s of the 20th century.” I wouldn’t push that analogy too far, though, for it may be apt to the extent that the writing is contrapuntal in nature and that each concerto is scored for a different combination of instruments, but in harmonic, rhythmic, and textural makeup the music is very Modernistic. This is not the type of neobaroque treatment one hears in a work like Stravinsky’s Pulcinella , which really is based on late Baroque and very early Classical models.


Finally, we come to Hindemith’s formally titled Piano Concerto of 1945, premiered by George Szell, the Cleveland Orchestra, and the pianist for whom the piece was written, Jesús Maria Sanromá. Hindemith composed the Concerto while vacationing in Maine and Connecticut. Of the five works on the disc, this is the latest written and, frankly, if you’re not already familiar with the piece, it’s the one that’s likely to take three or four hearings before you warm to it. It’s not that its musical language is any more Modernistic or difficult to comprehend than what has gone before; rather, it’s that the work seems to proceed episodically, with sections following each other that don’t seem, on the surface at least, to relate. Thus, the logic of the score is elusive.


Current competition is slim, and what there is of it is mostly not very current, with a 1948 performance led by Sergiu Celibidache and a First Edition recording by the Louisville Orchestra led by Lawrence Leighton Smith. The most recent version—aside from the one at hand—is by Werner Andreas Albert leading the Frankfurt Radio Symphony Orchestra on CPO, and even that one dates back more than a decade.


For Hindemith fans, this new Naxos collection of the composer’s complete works featuring a solo piano in combination with various instrumental ensembles will make an excellent addition to your collection, even if you already have some of these works on other recordings. For Hindemith novices and the curious, at Naxos’s bargain prices, this new two-disc set offers much very attractive and enjoyable music in excellent performances, and it may just inspire you to explore more of Hindemith’s output. Recommended.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Classical Music

“For a long time no child prodigy has appealed to us so sympathetically as the little Ferruccio Busoni. Precisely because he has so little of the child prodigy about him, but instead a lot of the good musician, both as a pianist and as a budding composer.” This is what Eduard Hanslick, the famous Vienna music critic, had to say in 1876 about the ten-year-old Ferruccio Busoni. Around this time Busoni had already composed many works – mostly for clarinet with other instruments, and all these works were very much born of the spirit of his father, who played the clarinet. In his time Ferdinando Busoni was a famous virtuoso and created a sensation as a traveling artist with opera fantasies and virtuoso showpieces.

Of his son’s two Violin Sonatas composed in 1889 and 1898, the op. 36a second sonata is to be regarded as an absolute key work. According to Busoni’s own testimony, it first delineated his unique character as a composer. The entire work is based on a Bach chorale, and it culminates in a magnificent variation movement on the same. However, his enormous public appeal and the admiration for his transcription technique made Busoni skeptical, and he thought that he had strayed onto conventional paths – which was not the case. The op. 29 first sonata is very much more conventional. Within its limits, very much in keeping with its composer’s life and times, the work today speaks unusually clearly to us, as an homage to Brahms, who supported Busoni, or as a link to the great pianist of those times, Anton Rubinstein, who himself published three violin sonatas.

The conductor Ulf Schirmer has a special knack for the light Muse – as his regular operetta performances with the Munich Radio Orchestra, many of them documented on cpo, have shown over the years. Munich was also the site of the 1906 premiere of Die vier Grobiane / I quatro rusteghi by Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari, a work answering to the description of a modern comic opera and displaying this composer’s typical combination of marvelously chatty parlando and charming melodicism. There are two sides to the conflict fueling the plot: four curmudgeonly husbands who believe that they can and should exercise absolute rule over their wives and children and female characters who engage in intrigues. The action of the opera is set in Venice and elaborates a source text by Carlo Goldoni (1760). The composer scores his points with a tone of considerable lightness, a small orchestral ensemble entrusted with the presentation of a famous intermezzo, and spirited melodies in part based on folk songs. The wealth of ideas developed in his harmonic scheme remaining within tonal limits is also surprising.

This release is the first of three discs devoted to the piano music of George Enescu. The works chosen for this first album are three significant pieces - Nocturne in D-Flat Major "Hommage a la Princesse Marie Cantacuzene", Pieces impromptues, and Piano Sonata No. 1 in F-Sharp Minor. Enescu’s Romanian influences show in these works, which feel strongly of Romanian folk music. Pianist Josu de Solaun performs these works.

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REVIEW:

His technique is excellent here. The concluding Sonata 1 is shot through with harmonic twists and driving rhythms, handled expertly.

– American Record Guide

FonoForum termed Vol. 1 in our series with Henri Marteau’s works for string quartet “a highly welcome addition to the as yet much too small Marteau discography.” At long last we now are following up with Vol. 2, which includes the Clarinet Quintet op. 13 ranking as his best-known work and the String Quartet No. 1. In his first quartet Marteau presents an ambitious work in which he explores how to bring his personal style into harmony with this genre. He draws on German and French Romantic tradition and on his great models from music history and experiments with compositional-technical forms and structural elements. To date, not a single renowned quartet ensemble has risen to the challenge of recording this work, and in the concert literature it is also practically not at all represented. It is hardly a coincidence that Marteau had the clarinet quintets of Mozart and Brahms very much in mind when he wrote his Clarinet Quintet op. 13. From the very beginning Mozart and Brahms played an important role in his career. Here too the Belgian clarinetist Jean-Michel Charlier and the Isasi Quartet show Marteau’s French and German sound worlds in perfect harmony.

This is probably the finest version of the Britten Piano Concerto available, notwithstanding Britten's own justly revered rendition with Sviatoslav Richter on Decca. Certainly that is a wonderful performance, one that no one who loves the work should miss. But many years have come and gone. Although I do not subscribe to automatic assumptions of musical "progress", and even if Joanna MacGregor is no Richter, she certainly knows this work and plays it beautifully, and in any case the qualities that she and Steuart Bedford bring to the piece are quite different from what we find on the composer's own recording. In particular, Richter and Britten treat the work more in the Romantic virtuoso tradition, with a clear spotlight on the soloist, with the orchestra in a decidedly accompanying role.


MacGregor and Bedford work more as equals. Bedford's snappier rhythms and lighter textures combine with a less prominent piano to create an elegant, neo-classical atmosphere that's equally in keeping with Britten's idiom, as well as with the work's suite-like construction and formal patterning. The fact that MacGregor isn't as powerful a solo personality when compared to Richter does not mean that she is any less in command of Britten's flashy keyboard writing. Her finger-work in the opening Toccata is dazzling, her rhythmic acuity clearly superior to Richter's, while her sensitivity in the third-movement Impromptu and her give-and-take with the instrumentalists of the English Chamber Orchestra are wholly winning. She also brings plenty of spirit and a real "kick" to the concluding march, aided in no small degree by Bedford's alertness and the absolutely first-class sonics.


You also get the concerto's original third movement, a Recitative and Aria, as a thoughtful appendix. Ondine's recording, featuring Ralf Gothoni, also includes this movement but foolishly puts it in the middle of the work, meaning you have to skip over it (or the Impromptu) so as not to get stuck with a spurious, five-movement conflation of both versions. The couplings, both rarities, are just as brilliantly played. The Johnson Over Jordan Suite is especially entertaining, particularly its jazzy centerpiece, The Spider and the Fly. In short, I couldn't be happier that Naxos has been reissuing these excellent Collins Classics Britten recordings. They were and remain marvelous, almost as interpretively commanding as the composer's own, and they deserve a long life. [4/11/2005]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com