It is a trite assumption that by association with Krzysztof Penderecki's Polish identity, a performance of his work by a Polish conductor and orchestra suggests itself to be naturally definitive. In this case however, it may be true. As a former student of Penderecki's, Antoni Wit brings authoritative insight to his direction of the National Polish Radio Symphony Orchestra on this three volume set of Penderecki's orchestral works. The pieces are not presented chronologically. Instead, each disc pairs earlier and later works, which provides a good comparison of the composer's earliest groundbreaking work to his later neo-romantic symphonies.
The first volume is an interesting mix of music, matching the retrospective Third Symphony with earlier and more innovative works such as 'Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima,' 'Flourescences,' and 'De Natura Sonoris 2.' These are pieces of great sonic and formal experimentation. 'Threnody' uses microtonal wails in the strings to deeply disturbing but beautiful effect. In 'Flourescences,' Penderecki uses percussion and polyrhythm sculpturally as much as to define rhythm. Strange metallic rumbling, a typewriter, and droning glissandi in the strings add to the atmosphere of a world where sounds, not pitch or harmony, govern form.
REVIEWS:
American Record Guide (5-6/00, pp.165-66) - Recommended.

The last stop on a long journey, here is the third and final installment of a warmly received Langgaard cycle undertaken by violinist Gunvor Sihm and pianist Berit Johansen Tange. The present volume includes the violin sonatas Nos. 2 and 3 - highly accomplished works with strong individual features - and two single-movement pieces composed by Langgaard the precocious teenager: the charming Aubade written on a summer holiday with his parents, and the dark-colored Night Watchman's Song. Gunvor Sihm trained at the Royal Danish Academy of Music, from where she graduated in 2014 under Professor Serguei Azizian. Before that Gunvor studied 2 years at San Francisco Conservatory of Music with Ian Swensen. Gunvor Sihm has won several prizes, among others the prestigious Van Hauen's Music Prize 2011, the Eigil Harby Foundation's scholarship in 2015 and Gladsaxe Music Prize 2018. From 2011-15 Gunvor played in the 1st violins of Copenhagen Phil, until she won the position as 2nd Concertmaster for the 2nd violins of the Danish National Symphony Orchestra. Gunvor was a soloist with among others Odense Symphony Orchestra, Aarhus Symphony Orchestra, Tivoli Copenhagen Phil, Danish National Chamber Orchestra and, on several occasions, Copenhagen Phil. With Nightingale String Quartet Gunvor Sihm has recorded the complete string quartets by Rued Langgaard for Dacapo.

VAUGHAN WILLIAMS Symphony No. 8. Job • Adrian Boult, cond; London PO • ICA ICAD 5037 (DVD: 73:05) Live: London 12/10/1972

To my knowledge, this is the first time this entire concert has been issued intact. Previously the Eighth Symphony appeared on a DVD (now out of print) with a performance from a concert eight months earlier of the Beethoven Violin Concerto with these same forces and violinist Nathan Milstein. That disc was given a very tepid review by Jerry Dubins in Fanfare 31: 1, criticizing the Beethoven as “off skew” due to intonation lapses by Milstein and lack of proper synchronization between the audio and visual tracks, and a “solid but less than rafter-ringing” rendition of the Eighth Symphony. Here the symphony opens the concert, given to mark the centenary of the composer’s birth. While I would agree that it does not equal Boult’s own studio recording with the same orchestra for EMI made almost four years before, it is still an estimable reading in Boult’s distinctive style, which in this particular work is far more low-key and introspective than in the hands of some other conductors. A significant factor in the lesser degree of impact is the recorded perspective, which is rather distant; even turning up the volume knob on my stereo receiver could not give it a presence equal to the studio version. A remarkable feature is that this performance differs notably in conception from that set down by EMI, as can be seen by the respective timings—11:09, 3:55, 8:35, and 4:44 for the studio account versus 10:44, 4:11, 7:26, and 5:47 here, with the 10:44 of the first movement including almost a minute of introductory applause. The change in proportions—significantly faster in the first and third movements, and markedly slower in the fourth—gives the piece a rather different feel, though even after several hearings I am not sure how to describe it, as the variations between the two do not follow a consistent pattern. That there is a substantial difference is a sufficient point of interest in and of itself for admirers of this conductor’s art.

With Job the competition between the 1970 EMI studio version and this live performance is much closer; the overall timings and conceptions of the two are virtually identical, and here the live performance has more presence. This video version does offer one advantage its studio counterpart lacks; at the start of each section, it displays for several seconds the corresponding (and striking) drawings from William Blake’s Illustrations of the Book of Job that inspired the composer. Boult had a unique and authoritative association with this work; in 1934 the composer dedicated the work to him, and he made four studio recordings of it before any other conductor made even one. That alone would make this an invaluable historical document; that value is increased by the fact that, apart from the aforementioned Beethoven concerto and a Beethoven romance for violin and orchestra with Yehudi Menuhin, this disc contains what are to my knowledge the only commercially released filmed performances of the man who ranks alongside Thomas Beecham as one of the two greatest British conductors of the last century.

The film quality itself is excellent for its vintage; images and colors are as sharp and clear as the analog film technology of the periods allows, and there are no signs of film deterioration. Camerawork is discreet, appropriate in focus, and free from the jittery itch of some current film producers to jump about every few seconds. Boult himself, 83 at the time, comes on stage slowly but not at all stiffly. Like Charles Munch he favors a fishing-pole length baton, but unlike the French maestro his movements are restrained, economical, and graceful rather than feverishly energetic, the very image of English patrician nobility. But do not mistake a lack of theatrical demonstrativeness for artistic dullness; this is music-making of great integrity and conviction. To fans of Vaughan Williams and Boult alike, this release is unhesitatingly recommended, particularly for the fine account of Job.

FANFARE: James A. Altena

Hans Gal (1890-1987) wrote extensively for the viola, first as a major composer in the German-speaking world in the 1920s and '30s, and then as a leading cultural figure in post-War Edinburgh, where he had taken refuge after the Nazis seized power in his native Austria. This second volume of his music for viola spans four decades, with four trios from before and after that dislocation, each with it's own background, sound-world and personality, although they are unified by Gal's gift for melody, counterpoint and poised, elegant chamber writing.

Whether in his original home of Vienna, as a conservatoire director in Mainz, or as an emigre in Edinburgh, where he became one of the mainstays of musical life, Hans Gal (1890-1987) championed choral singing as a way of directly involving people in making music: he founded and conducted a number of choirs and provided an extensive output of choral compositions. This third album of his choral music offers a vivid cross-section of music for chamber choir, featuring mixed voices, women's voices and male-voice choir, a cappella, with solo soprano, with piano and with chamber accompaniment.

This fifth volume of the orchestral works of the late-Romantic Swiss composer Richard Flury (1896-1967) brings two works deeply bound up with his native Solothurn, in the north-west of the country. His Fastnachts-Sinfonie, or 'Carnival Symphony', is an expansive symphonic poem predicated on local legend and folk tradition, embracing both frolic and feeling. The Third Symphony - in which one can hear traces of Bruckner, and Richard Strauss - celebrates the rolling hills and endless skies of the Bucheggberg, where he loved to go walking, and where, the freewheeling music would suggest, his heart found freedom.

Following their first album for Linn (Dvorák: Legends Op. 59, Czech Suite Op. 39), the WDR Sinfonieorchester and Cristian Măcelaru pursue the same folk vein with two orchestral works by Béla Bartók. Based on a rather childish tale (prince, princess, fairies, and of course a happy ending!), the music of the ballet The Wooden Prince – recorded in full here – has all the ingredients of a masterpiece: masterful scoring for large forces, use of musical themes, an effortless amalgam of folk and late-Romantic elements.

Composed in 1923 to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the merging of the towns of Buda and Pest – alongside commissions by Ernö Dohnányi and Zoltán Kodály – the century-old Dance Suite is a six-movement work that has become one of Bartók’s best known compositions. Born in Timișoara, a short distance from Hungary, Măcelaru can boast an unparalleled understanding of Bartók, as evident here.

REVIEW:

For overall quality Măcelaru rivals Mälkki, and comparing the two readings episode by episode, one is as likely as the other to convey a little more mood and color. But neither really has the freshness of discovery and excitement heard in Boulez’s first account on Sony, and neither of the two orchestras, the WDR Symphony and Helsinki Philharmonic, approaches Boulez’s spectacular results with the New York Philharmonic.

Măcelaru is up against it again in the Dance Suite, which has had outstanding recordings from Fricsay, Boulez, Solti, and Iván Fischer, among others. Less raw than Solti, Măcelaru shows himself a master of the score in a reading that crackles with aliveness and presence. He gets animated playing from the Cologne musicians, and you quickly forget that they are not on a par with eminent ensembles in this music.

I was captivated from start to finish, and more importantly, I got a bead on Măcelaru beyond my only other exposure to him, in the Shostakovich piano concertos. There’s no reason not to give this release the same enthusiastic praise that has become the norm for Măcelaru. The recorded sound is full, vivid, and lifelike.

-- Fanfare

Benjamin Britten’s comic opera, which is gently laced with moments of farce, is a jocular parody on life in East Suffolk at the turn of the 20th century. Albert Herring is a quaint, nostalgic journey to a bygone England and the journey has come full circle back to Glyndebourne where this piece was premiered in 1947. The ensuing antics are brilliantly characterised by a strong British cast in this production, which is infused with freshness and limitless charm. Expertly conducted by Bernard Haitink, this archive recording showcases some of Britain’s finest singers in this landmark production by Peter Hall.

Young violinist Gabriela Balcerek, only just at the beginning of her career, confirms her great talent and natural musicality with her already second album recorded with the Sinfonia Viva orchestra. The repertoire of the album consists of stylistically diverse pieces, from Romanticism to the present; moreover, they represent the most famous violin and chamber miniatures. These are compositions by Polish and foreign composers, in which stylized folklore is intertwined with truly Romantic passion. Arranged by Tomasz Radziwonowicz for solo violin and string orchestra, they gained a new, fresh sound, in which the dense harmonic structure and parts of individual instruments approached as if they were solo instruments draw attention. Young violinist Gabriela Balcerek, only just at the beginning of her career, confirms her great talent and natural musicality with her already second album recorded with the ensemble. This is a cheerful album, at which the listener will smile more than once, following it's title. The joy of love, but also of youth and of celebrating music among artists who share energy and passion, can be heard in every sound.

The Second Symphony of the Swiss composer Richard Flury (1896-1967) is deeply bound up with his personal life. In 1932 his first marriage broke up, and his wife and four children left Solothurn in the north to settle in Ticino, in the south. Through visits to his family in Lugano Flury grew to know the area well, so much so that he decided to celebrate their new surroundings in his Second Symphony, the movements of which are based on the carillon of the Flury family's local church and three Ticino folksongs. Structurally, the work belongs to the Brucknerian tradition, but it also has points of contact with the orchestral nature-painting of Flury's good friend Joseph Marx. The landscape of the Poeme nocturne is an interior one: it is an expansive dream-fantasy of occasionally violent passions, a worthy cousin of Richard Strauss' tone-poems.

Ferenc Farkas (1905-2000) is often viewed as a gifted miniaturist, sifting through Baroque and popular Hungarian sources to produce glittering orchestral dances of infectious energy. That Farkas does indeed exist, as in the suite from the ballet The Sly Students, but this album also shows an entirely different side to his musical personality. His Preludio e Fuga finds him experimenting with dodecaphony - but he offered a caution: 'In the twelve-tone theme of the fugue, I did not use Schoenberg's orthodox model but a softer form, more euphoric, with a rounder and more attractive sonority - I am thinking of works by Luigi Dallapiccola or [...] Frank Martin'. His only symphony was a victim of Communist orthodoxy, so severely criticised at Party meetings that Farkas shelved the score. This first complete recording reveals a work that is both big-boned and big-hearted - one of the finest of all Hungarian symphonies.

BERNARD HAITINK conducts: SHOSTAKOVICH: SYMPHONY No. 15 in A major op. 141. The Dutch conductor Bernard Haitink and the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra enjoyed a long and intensive artistic collaboration, which came to an abrupt end with Haitink's death in October 2021. BR-KLASSIK now presents outstanding and previously unreleased live recordings of their concerts from past years. This recording of Shostakovich's Fifteenth Symphony documents a concert given in February 2015 in Munich's Philharmonie i'm Gasteig. Haitink first conducted a Munich subscription concert in 1958, and from then on was a regular guest with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra - either in the Herkulessaal of the Residenz or in the Philharmonie i'm Gasteig. This congenial collaboration lasted for more than six decades. The orchestra musicians and singers enjoyed working with him just as much as the BR sound engineers. As an interpreter of the symphonic repertoire, and especially that of the German-Austrian Late Romantic period, Haitink was held in high esteem throughout the world. With him, the symphonies of Dmitri Shostakovich were always in the best of hands. Haitink's driving principle was to make the sound architecture of a musical composition, with it's complex interweaving, transparently audible; extreme sensitivity of sound was combined with a clearly structured interpretation of the score. As the last symphony in the oeuvre of the Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich, the Fifteenth is a kind of symphonic conclusion. Although the composer set out to write a "happy symphony" and this epithet has since become commonplace, everything cheerful in it has a dimension that is exaggerated into the bizarre and grotesque. The work also contains musical references, for example to Rossini's "William Tell" overture, Wagner's "The Ring of the Nibelung" (the so-called "fate motif") and "Tristan and Isolde", and Alban Berg's "Wozzeck". Quotations from Shostakovich's own earlier works also appear. The symphony was composed in 1971 in Repino, a suburb of St Petersburg. The world premiere took place on January 8, 1972, under the baton of the composer's son Maxim.

The Dutch conductor Bernard Haitink and the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra were linked by a long and intensive artistic collaboration, brought to an abrupt end by his death in October 2021. BR-KLASSIK now presents outstanding and as yet unreleased live recordings of concerts from the past years. This recording of Mahler's Seventh Symphony documents concerts from February 2011 in Munich.

As an interpreter of the symphonic repertoire, and especially that of the German-Austrian late Romantic period, Haitink was held in high esteem worldwide. With him, the symphonies of Gustav Mahler were always in the best of hands. His driving principle was to take the sound architecture of a musical composition with its many-layered interweavings and render it transparently audible; extreme sensitivity of sound was paired with a clearly structured interpretation of the score.

A valid recording of Mahler's Seventh Symphony places the highest demands on the skills of the conductor as well as on the virtuosity of each individual orchestral musician. Only under such circumstances can the highly complex individual voices merge to form a magnificent whole – an undertaking that achieves breathtaking effects time and again. A conductor is required here who unites the ensemble of individual, soloist-level musicians with an overarching musical concept. With its two grotesque "night musics", its sounds of nature, naïve folk motifs and intoxicating orchestral tutti, the Seventh Symphony is highly typical of Mahler's unique sound world.

October 29, 1923 - a date steeped in history. In the midst of a year of political and economic crisis, the age of public radio in Germany was ushered in with the first broadcast of the "Berliner Funkstunde", from the attic of an office building on Potsdamer Platz. The composers assembled on this album not only profited from these developments, but also, in part, actively shaped them.

The composer Ernst Toch experienced the crisis year of 1923 in Mannheim, where his "Dance Suite" op. 30 was premiered on with great success. In this work, Toch was able to realize his interest in cross-disciplinary collaboration and new forms of expression. His imaginative use of instruments is one of the most fascinating aspects of the suite.

The "Frauentanz" for soprano, flute, viola, clarinet, horn and bassoon op. 10 by Kurt Weill, written in the summer of 1923, reflects the interest in chamber music line-ups typical of the time. The decisive factor was not only a new ideal of sound and expression, but also the experience that in times of crisis, pieces with small ensembles had better chances of being performed.

Ernst Krenek had found essential impulses for his work in Berlin; when the crisis came to a head in the summer of 1923 he composed the "Three Mixed Choirs" a cappella op. 22 on poems by Matthias Claudius. Krenek designed these folksong-like works written by a lyricist from the epoch of Empfindsamkeit as parables.

For the festive concert celebrating the 50th anniversary of the unification of the cities of Buda and Pest to form the capital and residence city of Budapest in the autumn of 1923, Béla Bartók created his "Dance Suite" for orchestra - a "rather touchy issue", as the internationalist-minded composer explained in a private note.

REVIEWS:

Given [the events of 1923 in central Europe], you might imagine a CD of mostly German music entitled 1923: Wild Sound of the 1920s might sound a bit, well, wild. Far from it. If anything, it shows the opposite: surrounded by violence and the threat of chaos, the four composers represented here by works they composed in 1923 responded by raising their art to the nth degree of refinement and subtlety. Take Ernst Krenek, a composer who nowadays is remembered for a smash hit opera about a Black jazz musician, and for writing later in life some of the most fearsomely intellectualized, complex works in the entire history of music. He’s represented on this disc by three settings for choir of the 18th-century poet Matthias Claudius, of a ravishing otherworldly beauty caught to perfection in these performances.

Kurt Weill, known to the world for his bitingly satirical music dramas, appears as the composer of seven exquisitely allusive, bittersweet songs based on medieval German poems. Ernst Toch’s Dance Suite is a brilliantly imagined set of six “character” pieces for just a handful of instruments, with titles like The Red Whirling Dance and Idyll. Standing somewhat to one side of all this German romantic/modernist intensity and compression is the Dance Suite by the Hungarian composer Béla Bartók, with its rumbustious evocations of Balkan and North African Music.

The occasional whiff of expressionist harshness or a gently satirical distortion of a waltz shows these composers were not completely cocooned in their composing studios. They were alert to the jarring, shifting currents outside. But what the CD reveals most strongly is how much these composers were focused on their own internal, imaginative world – and how much they cared about craftsmanship. Every bar in all four pieces is exquisitely made, and that quality is caught in the performances, which are all of enormous refinement.

-- The Telegraph

The year 1923 was a year of crisis in Germany; inflation was heating up and far right-wing parties were jockeying for power. In October, the first broadcast of public radio in Germany took place from the “Berliner Funkstunde” station on Potsdamer Platz. This provocative new disc from the Choir and Symphony of Bavarian Radio includes four works written a hundred years ago by a group of innovative composers who all made use of the new, disruptive technology of radio.

Kurt Weill’s Frauentanz is a suite of seven medieval songs, scored for soprano, flute, viola, clarinet, horn and bassoon. Weill helped to create the familiar soundtrack for Weimar Berlin, and this performance by Anna-Maria Palii and the fine instrumentalists of the Bayerischen Rundfunks orchestra provides the authentic feel of a society that was becoming increasingly decadent and hysterical in 1923 and beyond.

Ernst Toch’s Dance Suite is another clever and imaginative piece with interesting orchestration: flute, clarinet, violin, viola, double bass and percussion. The Berlin sound is also evident here, something a bit harsh and raw, in contrast with the softer-focused, more lyrical and pastoral modernism of Paris.

The Ernst Krenek work is a bit of a surprise: his 3 Choruses for a cappella choir . The ‘antique’ sound of these pieces remind me of two of my favorite works: Vaughan Williams’ G minor Mass, from 1921, and Heitor Villa-Lobos’s Missa São Sebastião, from 1937. All three provide old wine in new bottles: ancient cadences with a modernist twist.

The final work on the disc is probably the best known: Bela Bartok’s Dance Suite for Orchestra. This is an orchestral showpiece, a kind of try-out for his Concerto for Orchestra written more than two decades later. Both pieces treat orchestral instruments in a solistic, virtuosic way. The source material might be folkloric, but this is definitely written in a modernist idiom.

Inflation, far right-wing agitation, disruptive technology: yes, we’re talking about 1923, not 2023. And the music on this disc is as fresh and forward-looking as some of the best music written today.

-- Music for Several Instruments (Dean Frey)

Named Gramophone Magazine Editor's Choice for December 2022!

For the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra, the performances on November 26 and 27, 2021 in the Isarphilharmonie marked the beginning of a new chapter in its Mahler interpretation: with its designated new principal conductor Simon Rattle, the orchestra is now headed by a Mahler admirer every bit as ardent as his predecessors Mariss Jansons, Lorin Maazel, and Rafael Kubelík. The musicians dedicated the benefit concert on November 26 to the memory of conductor Bernard Haitink, who died in October 2021 and was associated with the renowned orchestra for 61 years. The very long silence after the final chord was one of those “goosebumps moments” that one goes to concerts for – and for which music is made in the first place.

Gustav Mahler’s Ninth Symphony, in particular, is understood as the composer’s reaction to a heart ailment that was diagnosed shortly before he wrote the first drafts in the summer of 1908. He was in deep despair, but still scarcely aware of how few years he actually had left to live. With Mahler, it was always in and through music that he tried to come to terms with his life experiences and such topics as farewell, the meaning of existence, death, redemption, life after death and love. He wrote his Ninth Symphony in Dobbiaco, in a kind of creative frenzy, between 1909 and 1910. Its premiere took place in Vienna on June 26, 1912, when the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra performed the work under Bruno Walter. Mahler did not witness the premiere of his last completed work – he had already died on May 18, 1911.

REVIEW:

I would rank Rattle's performance here with the best of the competition and would add that even the classic recordings of Bernstein, Giulini, and Karajan have no significant advantage over Rattle's. In the end Rattle would be my top choice among newer versions and probably the equal of the classic performances on disc.

-- MusicWeb International (Robert Cummings)

If he has always shown very sensitive affinities with Symphony No. 9, Simon Rattle delivers his most accomplished recording to the Bavarian Radio. Recorded live between November 24 and 27, 2021, at the Isarphilharmonie im Gasteig in Munich by Winfried Messmer, [this] powerful orchestral mass presents both great volume and precise definition of timbre and range.

-- Diapason (citation for a Diapason d'or)

The Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra and its designated principal conductor dedicated one of the two concerts used for this recording to the conductor Bernard Haitink, who died in October 2021. It is a great tribute to this outstanding Mahler conductor, and Rattle once again proves what a major Mahler interpreter he is as well.

Right in the first movement, he succeeds in drawing the whole Mahler world in its gripping originality with magnificent breath. Rising and collapse are always close together, and the exciting alternation between tension and release is maintained throughout the symphony. At the same time, this reading is not lacking in sensuality. There is both lyrical beauty, full of abyss, and the light-hearted (and artfully illuminated) play of sound and movement. The three-movement back-and-forth of emotions leads to the Adagio finale, which Rattle conducts thoughtfully and in moderate tempo. The music dies away in a deeply moving 24 minutes with nostalgia, sadness and also some thoughts of hope.

The orchestra is brilliantly disposed and fascinates with both differentiated coloration and the greatest possible transparency. Under Rattle’s direction, Mahler, the orchestral musicians, and he himself merge into a single instrument.

-- Pizzicato

Superbly played and recorded, from November last year (Isarphilharmonie im Gasteig), a memorial concert for Bernard Haitink, Sir Simon’s third recording (following Birmingham and Vienna, both EMI/Warner) of Mahler Nine sports a first movement, if not without a few cosmetic touches, that is a flowing and feisty affair, defiant, better to be alive than not, with impassioned fortissimos, and only in the concluding few minutes does the music issue calmness as well as bittersweet sentiments, although it seems too sudden as well as much too soon – bearing in mind how the Symphony will end, spare and fading to nothingness. The second movement, with its competing waltz and ländler, has its tempo contrasts well-managed, but is perhaps a little too manicured – it needs to be rougher, more rustic and pesante. Poker-faced sophistication suits the ensuing ‘Rondo-Burleske’, its counterpoint wonderfully clear (antiphonal violins swirl either side of the podium) albeit greater bite is sometimes required, and it’s a surprise that Rattle doesn’t linger more in the central section (his is a tempo-related ‘trio’), and the conclusion is thrillingly fast and rendered with A+ virtuosity – the abyss awaits. The final Adagio follows more or less attacca (I can vouch for such a joining from an LSO concert years ago) and is a dignified if intense leave-taking, powerful (vibrant strings, eloquent woodwinds) and ethereal, with a cathartic climax and a hypnotically controlled paring down of resources as expression becomes more and more off the radar.

-- Colin's Column

Increasingly, Shostakovich's music is captivating people all over the world and appealing to their deepest emotions. Almost like no other, it bears witness to a traumatic political epoch while remaining a timeless expression of existential human feeling and experience. For me personally, said conductor Mariss Jansons, who died two years ago, "Shostakovich is one of the most serious and sincere composers of them all." Shostakovich's (first) piano concerto features impressive pianistic virtuosity, bold experimentation, satire, and caricatures of different musical styles. The composer wrote it in the summer of 1933, only a few weeks after the completion of his opera " Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk". He himself called it a "mocking challenge to the conservative-serious character of the classical concert attitude". This concerto in particular demonstrates the immense versatility and magnificent talent of the still carefree 26-year-old Shostakovich. He blends a wealth of musical thoughts and ideas into a colorful and fascinating kaleidoscope. Despite the wealth of different stimuli, the concerto does not seem chaotic or overloaded: the young composer effortlessly maintains the balance.

Shostakovich performed a similar balancing act between creative work and conformity to the state in his Ninth Symphony, which premiered on November 3, 1945. Instead of the expected heroic, regime-conformist orchestral thunder along the lines of his Seventh Symphony, the "Leningrad”, the music heard here was playful, without pathos, somewhat witty, full of allusions – yet something did not seem quite right. This musical conundrum, full of ironic refractions and caricatures of melodramatic and triumphant music, was recognized by the censors as a masquerade, yet one that was not easily decipherable. Shostakovich had mocked Stalin without the latter noticing.

"Increasingly, Shostakovich's music is captivating people all over the world and appealing to their deepest emotions. Almost like no other, it bears witness to a traumatic political epoch while remaining a timeless expression of existential human feeling and experience. For me personally," said conductor Mariss Jansons, who died two years ago, "Shostakovich is one of the most serious and sincere composers of them all." Now BR-KLASSIK is releasing two more outstanding performances by this important Soviet-Russian composer: his impressive Concerto for Piano, Trumpet and String Orchestra, and his Ninth Symphony - performed live by the Symphonieorchester des Bayerischen Rundfunks under its long-time principal conductor Mariss Jansons.

Shostakovich's (first) piano concerto features impressive pianistic virtuosity, bold experimentation, satire, and caricatures of different musical styles. The composer wrote it in the summer of 1933, only a few weeks after the completion of his opera "Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk". This concerto in particular demonstrates the immense versatility and magnificent talent of the still carefree 26-year-old Shostakovich. He blends a wealth of musical thoughts and ideas into a colorful and fascinating kaleidoscope. Despite the wealth of different stimuli, the concerto does not seem chaotic or overloaded: the young composer effortlessly maintains the balance. Shostakovich performed a similar balancing act between creative work and conformity to the state in his Ninth Symphony, which premiered on November 3, 1945. Instead of the expected heroic, regime-conformist orchestral thunder along the lines of his Seventh Symphony, the "Leningrad”, the music heard here was playful, without pathos, somewhat witty, full of allusions – yet something did not seem quite right. This musical conundrum, full of ironic refractions and caricatures of melodramatic and triumphant music, was recognized by the censors as a masquerade, yet one that was not easily decipherable.

REVIEW:

I don’t think of any first-rate recording as needless, and this release, despite its short timing, features two excellent performances, even though Yefim Bronfman already has a recording of Shostakovich’s Piano Concerto No. 1 on Sony. That version, from 1999 with Esa-Pekka Salonen and the LA Phil, is nimble and quick, and it finds Bronfman more scintillating than he is in Munich in 2012.

The new Symphony No. 9, BRSO version is a live account from Vienna’s Musikverein in 2011, and in every way it is splendid. Superb recorded sound captures every detail and instrumental color in the score, and the orchestra shows off its world-class status. Jansons’s touch is light and lively, giving the symphony an irresistible buoyancy.

Thanks to some highly individual solo playing from the BRSO’s first desks, which expressively ranges from soulful melancholy to dizzying brilliance, this concert performance displays great emotional variety, including wit and suspense. I can warmly recommend it as one of Jansons’s best efforts in Shostakovich, and you can bypass the stingy timing of the CD by resorting to digital downloads and streams.

This CD is extracted from BR Klassik’s 68-disc Jansons Edition. Final applause is briefly included.

-- Fanfare

Vienna was in the grip of serious political unrest that forced many of it's artists into exile when Erich Wolfgang Korngold (1897-1957) composed his Second String Quartet in 1933, first performed the following year in the Austrian capital. In it he celebrated, before it faded away, the vitality of a musical school of which Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) had been one of the founders more than a century and a half earlier, and which Anton Webern (1883-1945) had helped to usher into modernity. It is this lineage that the musicians of the Quatuor Herm�s (the Herm�s String Quartet) highlight through a twilight-tinged programme in which each work bears witness to a fascinating narrative power and could be understood as an expression of a farewell.

Like Chopin before him, and even more closely Scriabin, Rachmaninoff yielded to the temptation of writing his 24 Preludes, assembling this emblematic number in three stages. It began with a youthful work: the famous Prelude in C-sharp minor. From this root, music deeply anchored in Russian soil, imbued with the Slavic soul to which the composer, later exiled, would remain forever attached, there would spring, a decade later, the Opus 23 set, followed seven years on by Opus 32. These Preludes are like images in an album that Jean-Baptiste Fonlupt invites us to leaf through, sonic paintings whose authentic colours of memory he poetically restores. Far from his native land, which he left for good, Rachmaninoff would never write this way again.

Ciocarlia: Did you say The Lark? The Romanian lark - aside from being gentle, is also the musical symbol of the Romanian people through it's famously beloved folk song. In this album, with the fragrance of childhood memories, pianist Dana Ciocarlie invites the listener on a journey through all the regions of Romania, each with it's distinctive rhythms. Composers such as Enescu, Bartok, Lipatti, and Paul Constantinescu, under her fingers, inspire a desire to sing and dance with irresistible joy and a touch of nostalgia, like larks soaring straight towards the sun.

Are 'hits' exclusively associated with modern pop music? Popular successes have roots much deeper in the history of music, spanning various genres and contexts, including music created and shared in private settings, such as homes, as well as in street performances. Certain compositions' extraordinary popularity is attested by widely distributed, copied, and repeatedly republished scores. The innumerable arrangements for other instruments also attest to the extent of the phenomenon. Following the success of their 2002 album Dvorak (LDV101), and once again in association with the Czech instrumental arranger Jiri Kabat, the Talich Quartet invites us to explore Mitteleuropa's folk repertoire. An invitation to dance. Irresistible!

Gustav Mahler's Sixth Symphony is perhaps the darkest work he ever wrote-it's nickname is "The Tragic." And there is something almost destructive about the final movement. "But strangely enough," says Simon Rattle, "it is also a very classical symphony. Yes, it is extreme, but for long stretches it is less wild than other works of his-although of course it does convey a harrowing message. But it's like a lot of great works: there are always different ways of reading them. I've been conducting the Sixth for forty years now, and over time I've come to realise that it also contains hope." Mahler composed his Sixth Symphony during the summers of 1903 and 1904 at his "composer's cottage" in Maiernigg, near Klagenfurt. At the Vienna performance in 1907 (the third under his baton), he called it the "Tragic Symphony"-a nickname that soon became the stuff of legend. In particular, the darkness and devastating hopelessness of the finale-written at a time when he was at the high point of his life, both professionally and personally-are puzzling. Even his wife Alma could not quite explain the contradiction. As always, it was in and through music that Mahler came to terms with his experiences, exploring themes such as farewell, the meaning of existence, death, redemption, the afterlife, and love. More than other Mahler works, the Sixth Symphony is committed to "classical" symphonic form: it is in four movements and has no vocal parts. Despite all the liberties it takes, the opening movement follows sonata form. The Andante draws on the rondo form, as do the Scherzo and the Finale. Very unusually, even the Scherzo has march-like features and seems like a parodistic paraphrase of the opening, with a change of perspective. The march, which sets the tone from the very first note of the first movement, plays a major role.

Is there a more singular composer than Alexander Nikolayevich Skrjabin (1872-1915)? Light years away from those of his Russian contemporaries, his original trajectory is that of an incandescent comet in the musical firmament of his time, whose thousands of lumens are suddenly extinguished at it's zenith... all because of the ridiculous insect bite to which he succumbed. An exalted Icarus, captivated by the infinite and yearning for mystical ecstasy, traces his first steps within the legacy of Fryderyck Chopin (1810-1849). His youthful works, bearing in their refined lines the seeds of his boundless creativity, find under Clement Lefebvre's touch an expressive power and a poetic motion of rare elegance.

What made Mariss Jansons different from many of his colleagues? What was the key to his success? And most importantly, after all his artistic experiences, what brought about his maturity and artistic completion In addition to his own willpower and his work ethic, his extraordinary musical life was determined by many factors; they included an open-minded and supportive environment, and an orchestra of outstanding musicians. One important aspect was certainly the fact that Jansons despised any kind of routine. Even when rehearsing Beethoven's Eroica for the umpteenth time, he was always inspired anew by the work - discovering the as yet undiscovered. Routine would have prevented any change in his perspective, and hampered his enthusiasm. Moreover there was Jansons' meticulous and analytical approach to his work, which started long before he mounted the podium. He began by reading biographical information on the composer, scholarly information on the work, texts about its era and its milieu - everything he could lay his hands on. During rehearsals, he then passed on his profound knowledge and his resulting interpretive approach to the musicians. Jansons considered it his task, as early as the first rehearsal, to bring all the musicians up to the same level of knowledge. He wanted them to understand his thought processes, to recognise the explained concept behind the work and, ideally, to be able to feel the same way during their performance as he did on the podium. In the concerts, this synchronous implementation by one hundred musicians of the musical content of a work and of the concept inherent in it duly brought about that incredible pull that almost all of Janson's interpretations exert(ed) on his listeners. In addition to this collective aspect of everyone pulling together, Jansons also worked on the sound that is genuine for each composer. In this regard, for instance, he condemned accusations of kitsch where Tchaikovsky's music was concerned. He was aware of the danger of music being played too sweetly. For him, it was simply Tchaikovsky played wrongly, and was like pouring "sugar into honey". It meant a lot to Jansons to bring out the emotions in Tchaikovsky's Sixth Symphony, of course - the emotional drama, the tragedy, the depression - but he would never force, exaggerate or emphasise them merely for the sake of effect. When the Sixth is performed as sensitively as it is by Jansons, Tchaikovsky's music acquires its true depth of meaning. "A conductor," said Mariss Jansons, "is like a director on the podium" – he analyses, stages and interprets the work. This principle, resulting from his opera conducting, was one that he transferred to the many levels of meaning in symphonic music, and here he developed a kind of directorial concept with precise approaches to interpretation. Works such as Stravinsky's Petrushka or Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique were primarily suited to this, because as programme music they sparked the visual imagination and demanded a certain musical "realism". He wanted the fairground music in Petrushka to sound shrill and out of tune, and asked the musicians to have the courage to articulate their part in just the same manner, rather than trimming it to the expectations of high culture. The contrabassoon was to play roughly, even vulgarly. Jansons was against any attempt to make the music sound pleasant here – he wanted the orchestral barrel-organ to sound out of tune, and the symphonically portrayed drunken passer-by to sound very drunk indeed. Similarly, in Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique, the March to the Scaffold passes us by as a musically realistic nightmare, gripping right to the end – when the head of the executed man, severed by the guillotine, falls very audibly to the ground. Jansons also worked especially intensively on modifying the sound of the strings, above all when a phrase had to assume a subtle and psychologically important function. He differentiated playing styles very precisely in individual passages - rough, melancholy, brisk, cynical, gloating, whispering, giggling or radiant – and here he particularly influenced the bow stroke, the pressure on the string and the stroke length.

Symphonie gaspésienne: Champagne - Bartók - Kodály - Prévost

Repertoire for solo guitar has gained in depth and quality in recent decades, with acoustic and electronic techniques enjoying an ever more imaginative coexistence. Arturo Tallini's recital explores contrasting approaches for his instrument, beginning with the ostinato textures of Reich's Electric Counterpoint, an acknowledged classic in this field. Tallini's transcriptions of early piano works by Cage create a mood of reverie, while Carter's Changes forms a mercurial dialogue. James Dashow's iPiece fuses acoustic and electronic elements to stunning effect, while Arthur Kampela's Percussion Studies have proved pivotal in exploring new sounds for the guitar.

The 20th century saw an abundance of notable Russian cellists inspiring an extensive repertoire by Soviet composers. In the cello sonatas by Shostakovich and Prokofiev, both composers explore the rich and emotive timbre of the instrument with expressive subtleties and bittersweet emotions, alongside their typical touches of wit and irony. Internationally acclaimed pianist Evgeny Kissin has recently returned to composing, and his Cello Sonata is akin to a ballad in its restraint and introspection.

Check out this Naxos Live Q+A with the artists!

This album features some of the most beloved works from the piano repertoire, all united by a common theme of distant reminiscences of lost happiness-either directly expressed in the titles of the pieces or subtly woven into the music, as in Schubert's Sonata in A Major, written just months before his death. It is both a tribute to Beethoven's style and a quintessential example of Schubert's unique blend of intimate emotions, expressed through lyrical motifs. While the virtuosic pianism is never absent, it takes a back seat to the emotional depth and expressiveness at the heart of the work. The cycles of Leos Janacek were composed during the darkest period of his life. His On an Overgrown Path memorializes his daughter, who tragically passed away, while In the Mists with it's transparent texture and innovative harmonies captures the internal void and confusion of the composer. Schumann's Kinderszenen (Scenes from Childhood) evokes the perspective of an adult looking back with nostalgia, longing for the simplicity and innocence of childhood. The music, with it's straightforward and sometimes naive language, mirrors the idealized view of the past. Min Jung Lee, a versatile and sensitive artist, delivers a deeply evocative interpretation. In her delicate readings, she perfectly captures the essence of these compositions, painting a misty portrait of the personal experiences of the composers, transposed into musical form on the staff.

A Miniature Triptych is scored for brass quintet, consisting of two trumpets, horn, tenor trombone and tuba and is cast in three movements. The first, entitled 'Lost', is slow, ruminative and bathed in half-lights, with enigmatic melodic and harmonic shifts and dramatic use of muted trumpet and flutter-tongue effects. Appropriately, the movement ends on a question mark. It is followed by the tense and edgy 'Searching' central movement. The overall mood here is anxious and turbulent, with frequent shifts in tempo. A tender lyrical phrase tries to break through the relentless, repeated-note fanfares. Eventually, the songlike phrase triumphs and the movement ends quietly in a spirit of cautious optimism. 'Found' begins with a sombre, recitative-like trombone soliloquy, but the movement's main section is buoyant and ultimately affirmative. When Lloyd was asked about the intriguing titles for each of the three movements, his characteristically whimsical, throwaway response was, 'Well, it's a general sort of human situation isn't it? We're always being lost and, hopefully, we're being found'. Yet, the scope and seriousness of the music suggests something more resonant and the listener might agree with Donald Johns in his review of the score, when he remarked that the piece, 'features good, solid craftsmanship, and plenty of display opportunities for each instrument in the ensemble', going on to observe that a 'successful performance would require a mature group of experienced players'.

These two Tenth Symphonies represent powerful statements by composers undergoing the greatest of crises in their eventful lives. Gustav Mahler’s last and incomplete symphony was kept a secret by his widow Alma for many years after his death, the desperate scrawl of ‘Almschi!’ on its final page an outburst at her betrayal of their marriage. Shostakovich’s intense and deeply symbolic SymphonyNo.10, considered by many to be his finest, was kept hidden by the composer for fear of Soviet reprisals, and was only performed after Stalin’s death in 1953.