On this second disc of the Emperor Quartet’s survey of Britten’s music for string quartet, Alla Marcia appears as an interlude between the first and last of Britten’s three published string quartets. The first disc in this series of three was released in 2010, and included a performance of the Second String Quartet described as “stupendous” in Classic FM Magazine and “magnificent” in Scherzo, while a Fono Forum reviewer likened it to “an entire cosmos of colours and nuances.”

Perhaps the best Hovhaness instalment so far from Naxos.

Naxos are moving with implacable determination around the towering edifice that is the Hovhaness catalogue. Disc after disc is added to their catalogue and discoveries are being made at every turn. This latest volume, set in the context of their American Classics series continues the track record established by: 8.559294 (Symphony 60; Guitar Concerto 1), 8.559207 (Symphonies 4, 20, 53) and 8.559128 (Cello Concerto, Symphony 22).

As is evident from the Saxophone Concerto Hovhaness can be unpredictable and so he proves here. The wonderfully titled Fanfare for the New Atlantis is more of a tone poem with aspects of fanfare in-built. His regal and confident brass writing has the trappings of antiquity - a touch of the Gabriellis - but there is also a sense of modernity, of prayer and of invocation. The most stately aspects of the fanfares at 5:10 recall the striding brass writing in Vaughan Williams' Pilgrim's Progress. The origin of the piece seems unknown though it may have some connection with the Francis Bacon Society which believes that Shakespeare was Bacon's pen-name. Hovhaness was a member of the Society. Amongst Bacon's writings is The New Atlantis. In any event this Fanfare defies clichés you may have absorbed from knowing the examples by Bliss, Walton and Benjamin. This fanfare is recorded, as are all three works, with lavish resonance yet with no loss in definition.

The Guitar Concerto No. 2 was commissioned by Narciso Yepes who gave the work its premiere at the Granada Festival in 1990, five years after its completion. This may have been delayed by the tragic death of Yepes' son in the year in which the concerto was completed. There were no other performances after the premiere. Javier Calderón who commissioned the First Guitar Concerto plays it here although David Leisner made the first recording of the guitar concerto (Naxos 8.559294). The Concerto No. 2 is in four movements. The first is an andante which is delicate, stately and Moorish in character. The allegro giusto recalls the Ravel string quartet in its pizzicato and Rodrigo's Aranjuez in the guitar writing. The andante misterioso makes use of the composer's trademark in surging and searching unison strings alternating with guitar solo. The two commune in invocation and response. The final adagio, allegro giusto combines the sinuous North African arcana of the first movement with a delicate heel-and-toe dance (2:06) over pizzicato. It will have most listeners wanting to play this piece again and again.

In the Loon Lake Symphony Hovhaness looks back in the first movement (Prelude) through the hybrid Celtic-Oriental cor anglais melody to holidays in New Hampshire. We should remember that Hovhaness spent time at his uncle's New Hampshire farm. The commission for this work came in 1987 from the New Hampshire Music Festival. The opulent yet understated carpet of the orchestra comprises a delicate interplay of harp, bells, and pizzicato strings murmuring and strumming. The contemplative and partially Debussian second and last movement includes an Andante misterioso which seems to wander in a trance through those countryside memories. The sound of the loon is quoted in this evocative movement (4:30 and 15:03). The co-commissioner of the Symphony was the Loon Preservation Society. The dialogue of woodwind and the steady dripping of harp hold the attention. The flute and oboe have a louche and jazzy character (12:46) over a pizzicato string backdrop. This develops into an episode which has the clarinet singing a Holstian melody which has something of the greensward about it (14:10). The rhapsodic curl of the woodwind solos resonates with Vaughan Williams - this time the Antarctica rather than the Tallis Fantasia. This is a most beautiful and naturally eloquent symphony. The grand Purcellian statements which are a Hovhaness watermark are here added silver livery by the harp’s expressive endowment. Over this grandeur the trumpet cries out in a further evocation of the loon.

The notes are helpful and specific - always valuable with Hovhaness – and add to the delights of this fine disc.

Naxos are in their element with the Hovhaness symphonies. Don't stop now; of a total of 67 there are plenty of unrecorded symphonies to tackle.

I cannot over-emphasise how attractive this music is. Hovhaness wrote in the 1960s of the importance of identifying our own kind of beauty. These three works bear him out completely.

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

Bernstein?s Serenade for solo violin, strings, harp, and percussion was inspired by Plato?s Symposium and the composer described it as a ?series of related statements in praise of love.? This is the only performance I know which treats it that way, rather than as a snazzy solo concerto. It?s partly to do with conductor Marin Alsop?s measured approach to tempo: the work bounces along, but the syncopated rhythms never race out of control, and moments of excitement are never whipped up in order to generate a buzz. It?s also partly to do with the soloist. Philippe Quint?s smooth-toned violin persuades and cajoles: there are flights of fancy, but there is also reasoned argument. In short, this really does sound like a group of articulate protagonists in intellectual parlay (a situation Bernstein himself loved to be in). Marin Alsop was a protegee of the composer, and here she salutes his memory by taking the program of the Serenade seriously. The aforementioned sections of the Bournemouth orchestra are disciplined and tight.


The ballet score, Facsimile , perhaps needs to be drawn out of its shell a little more; it is the least flashy of Bernstein?s early concert works. Alsop and the orchestra do it justice, but this is one of those rare cases where only the composer (on Sony and Deutsche Grammophon) can bring it to shining life. Jerome Robbins?s ballet was set to a nihilistic scenario of ?post war malaise and the spiritual vacuum of modern man,? to quote the notes. (I thought the post-war era was optimistic! Robbins should have been around now.) The music is, likewise, a little gray, though Bernstein?s natural ebullience peeps through whenever it can. In any case, the playful moments need to be more playful, the dramatic fortes a little more dramatic than they are allowed to be here. The prominent piano part is nicely integrated into the orchestral fabric in this spacious recording.


Facsimile is an exception to my theory (which I?m sticking to) that, generally, Bernstein?s music speaks for itself and it?s musicality suffers when points are over-emphasized or climaxes inflated. The late Divertimento (written for the centenary of the Boston SO) provides a good example. Once more, Alsop reins in the highjinks and as a result, the piece seems more substantial and less ?occasional? than usual. These works are available in the composer?s recordings and many other fine interpretations exist (such as Hilary Hahn?s dazzling Serenade, with David Zinman conducting the Baltimore SO on Sony?if it?s still around) but Naxos gives us more than mere bargain-basement versions. These are smart, sharply realized, well-recorded performances.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

In 1971, Einojuhani Rautavaara was asked to compose a Finnish Orthodox church service, an all-night vigil similar to that of Rachmaninov, comprising Vespers as well as Matins. Soon after the first performance he reshaped the music into what we now know as Vigilia, a concert version forming a musical whole. As his inspiration, Rautavaara has himself described a visit to the Valamo monastery in the middle of Lake Ladoga in 1939: ‘The bells began to ring, low-pitched booms and higher, shrill clinks: the world was filled with sounds and colors…’ The music is marked by dark colors, the heady smell of incense and the crepuscular church lit only by small candles. Divided into two parts, Vespers and Matins, the 70-minute work consists of 34 sections, and features prominent parts for a bass and a tenor soloist, as well as a number of solo voices emerging from the mixed choir. The work is enriched by the constantly changing combinations of choir and soloists, the perspective shifting from the personal to the universal.

It is here performed by the 21-strong Helsinki Chamber Choir, under its artistic director Nils Schweckendiek – a team that has made several recordings for BIS in recent years. These include Riemuitkaamme!, a Christmas album (‘Schweckendiek’s immaculately blended singers make a glorious noise’, The Arts Desk), as well as a two-album survey of the choral works of Finnish modernist Erik Bergman (‘The Helsinki choir produces a radiant sound throughout’, Choir & Organ).

All of these works predate Aaron Copland's populist American ballets, but they reveal perhaps even more tellingly just what a talented and individual voice he had right from the start. The most important piece here is the Short Symphony (a.k.a. Symphony No. 2), a stunning essay in rhythmic lyricism that was considered all but unplayable when written in 1933--so much so that Copland rewrote it as a sextet. This performance hasn't quite the sharpness and sizzle of the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra recording for DG, but the Bournemouth Symphony under Marin Alsop shows itself more than capable of mastering the music's intricacies.

The other two performances are even finer. Alsop catches the bittersweet lyricism of the First Symphony's outer movements very affectingly, while the whirlwind central scherzo is dazzling. The same observation holds true of the Dance Symphony, which works its way to a fine frenzy in a finale that strikingly anticipates the mature composer of the 1940s. Copland's bright, open textures come across well in the problematic acoustic of the Poole concert hall; this is one of Naxos' better recordings from this locale, graced with some really impressive bass sonorities. This is an intelligently planned and impressively executed disc.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Every note is taken seriously and every bar is chock-full of ‘pizzazz’

This, at least for me, is possibly the ‘best’ of the three Naxos CDs of Leroy Anderson’s music released to date. But that is simply because it has my favourite Anderson piece on it – the Serenata. Here is a miniature that conjures up the summer sunshine in Majorca or the Costa del Sol. But not just sunshine – there is quite definitely a beautiful senorita with smouldering eyes, blatantly portrayed by the ‘major’ key part of this piece ... But there are other reasons why this CD is ‘top of the pops.’ For example, it would be a stern person indeed who did not laugh out loud at the antics of the ‘band’ in the 1947 arrangement of Old MacDonald had a Farm – complete with a battery of animal noises, Surely a piece like this would bring the Albert Hall down on the ‘Last Night’?

The CD opens with a rather fun pre-war work - the Harvard Sketches which supposedly describes the antics of the students. The number opens quite innocuously with an impression of the Lowell House Bells, yet soon there is a change of mood when a clarinet strikes up a jaunty tune in Harvard Square. As it is a ‘freshman,’ I guess he does not realise this is ‘not appropriate music’ for the old Alma Mater. There are lots of ‘wrong’ notes! The silence of the Widener Reading Room is presented in a quiet reflective mood – only to be interrupted by strange noises representing chattering and of course the librarian ‘rapping the desk for silence.’ Harvard Sketches ends with a Confetti Dance. Surely the listener cannot help but be reminded of Charles Ives in this piece.

Melody on Two Notes is quite simply lovely. The tune is, based on the notes G and D but is presented in such a way that interest is never lost. However, it is the harmonies and the orchestration that bring character to this work. Alas, it is painfully short.

Mother’s Whistler, from 1940 and the Penny Whistle Song written eleven years later are typical Anderson numbers. The former was lost to the world until it was discovered in the Boston Pops library – this is its first recording. Apparently the composer was not happy with the piece. Look out for the barking dog! The Penny Whistle Song is really a quiet piece with a catchy tune; it is well-described as ‘happy go lucky.’

The Phantom Regiment is supposed to ‘depict a nameless body of soldiers marching into and then trotting across the scene – before marching away.’ It is interesting balance of military march and up tempo quick step. I guess that Plink, Plank, Plunk needs little introduction save to say that it has an infectious tune that stays in my brain for days after hearing it! It was written as a ‘sequel’ to the equally memorable Jazz Pizzicato. Anderson composed Promenade whilst he was still in the Army – and this is certainly obvious in the military atmosphere of this tune. It is no amble in ‘Central Park before Dark’ but is much more West Point on a passing-out parade day. The Sandpaper Ballet is one of those pieces that every one knows but can never quite put their finger on. I guess it is the rubbing of the various grades of sandpaper replicating the old ‘soft shoe shuffle’ that gives the game away – but just try to recall the title the next time you hear this piece! The Saraband is my least favourite number in this collection – however I know that Anderson’s ‘take’ on the baroque dance –for example, suddenly doubling the speed of the music - is popular in many quarters.

Of Sleigh Ride I need say little – save it is one of the most Christmassy pieces I know of. It makes me dream of the deep snow that we had way back in 1963! Other well-known tunes include The Typewriter with its ‘Oh, so obvious’ sound effect – yet it still makes people smile when they hear it for the umpteenth time. And then there is the Trumpeter’s Lullaby which was composed as a ‘show piece’ for the Boston Pops lead trumpet player – Roger Voisin. The Syncopated Clock was used as a theme tune for the CBS-TVs ‘The Late Show’ and became a ‘household’ jingle. It does not need a listener to be a genius to deduce that Anderson will make the clock ‘tick’ both on and off beat! This is a great tune to wrap up the CD.

However there are two other works that deserve mention. In fact, the Suite of Carols for Brass Choir is the longest work on this disc. Of course, it is the wrong time of year for listening to this kind of music - as it is for the Sleigh Ride - but it was well worth hearing. Leroy Anderson wrote three ‘carol’ suites for a special ‘Holiday’ season album – one for strings, one for winds and the present Suite. Rarely for the composer, this music is almost entirely devoid of the usual ‘fingerprints.’ They are actually well-written, neo-classical arrangements and should be listened to as such. The carols selected include:- In Dulci Jubilo: Lo, How a Rose E'er Blooming: I Saw Three Ships: From Heaven High I Come to You; We Three Kings of Orient are and March of the Kings.

And last, but not least, is the arrangement of George Gershwin’s Wintergreen for President. This is a number from the show Of thee I sing which is set in the White House! This is one of the composer’s earliest pieces – but certainly deserves our attention with its ‘bustling manner’.

It is self-evident that Leonard Slatkin and the ‘band’ enjoy themselves playing this music. There is, I guess, an ever-present danger that players could be condescending to Anderson’s music when they have perhaps been wrestling with Mahler, Boulez or Pärt. However, in this recording, every note is taken seriously and every bar is chock-full of ‘pizzazz’.

A great disc – and I am looking forward to what I imagine will be the fourth and final CD?

-- John France, MusicWeb International

Also available - Leroy Anderson: Orchestral Music Vol 1
Jeffrey Biegel's rendition of the terrific Piano Concerto is the best yet. The playing by the BBC Concert Orchestra is relaxed and charming. Under Slatkin's baton the melodies flow effortlessly, and clearly a good time was had by all. -- ClassicsToday.com

Also available - Leroy Anderson: Orchestral Music Vol 2
If you enjoyed Vol. 1 in this ongoing series of Leroy Anderson's warm and beautifully crafted orchestral works, then you'll surely want this release as well. The performances are just as fine, and once again we get several important premieres. Anderson's brand of melodious charm is timeless. -- ClassicsToday.com

Less than three years have passed since Yevgeny Sudbin's remarkable début on disc: a Scarlatti recital which caused reviewers to compare the then 25-year4 old pianist favourably to Horowitz and Pletnev. The following Rachamninov disc cause Piano Magazine (UK) to describe him as 'a major world-class artist'. The latest offering - an intriguing double-bill of Tchaikovsky's and Medtner's First Piano Concertos - was released previously this year, earning him an 'Editor's Choice' in the Gramophone. The grounds for that distinction, as given in the magazine, are certainly just as apt for the present Scriabin recital: 'Yevgeny Sudbin's performance here fairly explodes with imagination, feeling and desire. Here, one feels, is a pianist hungry to test himself intellectually and emotionally as well as technically.'

Some of the most important and beautiful a cappella works of well-known 'names' Barber, Bernstein and Copland are here set alongside two quite extraordinary slightly less known composers. Irving Fine was an exact contemporary of Copland's and, although born a decade after the great master, he died some years before him. His music is a revelation - always vivid in expression and ever faithful to these extraordinary Ben Johnson poems. Del Tredici's 'Acrostic Song' is glorious, pure, unadulterated 'schmaltz'.

Frank Martin was arguably Switzerland’s greatest composer.  His shimmering Mass for Double Choir, completed in 1926 as ‘an affair between God and himself’, is one of the finest settings of the 20th century, yet it had to wait forty-one years to be shared with others in its first performance. This collection of his choral music also includes his cantata for Switzerland’s National Day and the Ode to Music, along with some charming part-songs. Eclectic and technically superb these pieces display a style that is serenely individual.

SHOSTAKOVICH String Quartets: Nos. 1–4. PROKOFIEV String Quartet No. 2 • Pacifica Qrt • ÇEDILLE 30 (2 CDs: 129:17)

Sooner or later, most contributors to this journal are bound to receive letters from disgruntled readers and the occasional colleague complaining about what they perceive to be an unfairly negative review, or even an unfairly positive one. But I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever been chided by a colleague as I was by Peter J. Rabinowitz in Fanfare 35:4 for submitting an enthusiastic review that wasn’t enthusiastic enough. In a second-opinion follow-up to my review of Volume 1 of the Pacifica Quartet’s new Shostakovich cycle, Rabinowitz took exception to my “Goldilocks” analogy in which I stated that the Pacifica’s performances struck me as “j-u-s-t right.”

Although I never got to review the Pacifica’s complete Mendelssohn quartets, they showed up on a couple of Want Lists, and in a number of reviews of Mendelssohn quartet recordings by other ensembles, I’ve repeatedly singled out the Pacifica’s version as equaling, if not surpassing, the Emerson’s set. So, as a rejoinder to Rabinowitz, let me just say for the record that I agree with him that the Pacifica’s Shostakovich is not “middle of the road,” and by “j-u-s-t right” I didn’t mean to imply that the ensemble’s performances straddled the fence or clung to the median strip running down the center of the highway. There is no better string quartet on the scene today than the Pacifica. In terms of technical precision and keenness of musical insight, the Pacifica is the true inheritor of the Emerson’s crown and, in warmth of tone and emotional responsiveness, I often find the Pacifica superior to the Emerson.

That said, there is not the slightest doubt in my mind that once the Pacifica has completed its Shostakovich cycle it will be among the top two or three to have, those others being the aforesaid Emerson and what some consider to be the definitive Fitzwilliam. With this release of Volume 2, the Pacifica has now crossed the ocean more than halfway. Eight of the 15 quartets have now been committed to disc—Nos. 5–8 in Volume 1, and now Nos. 1–4 here. And as in the previous volume, the MO is to include another roughly contemporaneous string quartet by another Russian composer. In Volume 1 it was Miaskovsky; here it’s Prokofiev.

Shostakovich’s quartets span a period of 36 years; the first was written in 1938, the last in 1974. The four quartets heard here are the composer’s earliest, though in the overall chronology of his works, you could say that he got a relatively late start in the quartet-writing business. He’d already written his first five symphonies by 1937, before his first quartet was even a twinkle in his ear.

As he is quoted in Shostakovich: A Life Remembered , it was the composer’s intention to write 24 quartets following a cyclic progression of major and minor keys. Unlike Bach, however, who proceeded through the keys by semitone, or Chopin, who in his 24 preludes proceeded via the Circle of Fifths, Shostakovich adopted a unique scheme of his own. He proceeds—at least in the 15 quartets he managed to write—more or less by submediants (by sixths). The first six quartets, all in major, follow the pattern. C, A, F, D, B?, G—A being a sixth above C, F being a sixth above A, and so on. But then something goes askew with the plan. No. 7 should have been in E?, but instead Shostakovich throws a monkeywrench into the works by giving us a quartet in F?-Minor. No. 8 returns to the pattern with C Minor, which would have been the submediant of No. 7 if No. 7 had followed the plan and been in E?. Another deviation comes with No. 10, which is also in the “wrong” key from what it should be, but the pattern resumes once again with No. 11.

In a fascinating analysis of the quartets (quartets.de/index.html), one Ian Strachan explains that “the insertion of F?-Minor and the effective rotation of E? sharp major [ sic ] and C minor were done so that quartet number nine would be written in E?-Major and quartet number 16 in B Major. By doing so Shostakovich would ensure that his initials (DSCH) were used as the keys in quartets whose number are a perfect square (D Major: quartet number four or 2 squared; S, in the German notation or E?-Major in the English: quartet number nine or 3 squared; C Major: quartet number one or 1 squared; and H or B Major in the English notation as quartet number 16, or 4 squared). So it seems that Shostakovich, a tonal composer who delighted in keeping detailed numerical records of football scores, indulged in numerical as well as musical ciphers.”

In a way, I suppose, this tends to reinforce something I’ve said before about Shostakovich’s quartets, not that they’re all alike, but that there’s a prevailing sense of continuity in the musical discourse that makes them seem like one cogent and coherent conversation from beginning to end, which, of course, could be advanced as an argument for listening to them in order. Still, the above bit of clever mathematical manipulation presumes the existence of a 16th which was never written, as well as the continuation of the pattern all the way through to a nonexistent final 24th quartet. You’ve got to love stuff like this; it can be so earnest in its pursuit of the Delphic. Or, as the oracle once said, “Pi are square, cake are round.”

Nonetheless, I would urge you to visit the website because it goes way beyond the tortured math I’ve touched on here. It also provides a detailed history, description, and analysis of every single quartet.

The First Quartet, for the most part, is a bouncy, one might almost say joyful, thing. The coruscating harmonies, rhythmic ostinatos, and pervasive gloom we often associate with Shostakovich’s music are saved for the later quartets.

The austerity and menace begin to creep in as early as the Second Quartet. The Soviet victory over Hitler’s army was near in the early fall of 1944 when Shostakovich composed the work, practically in the same breath as his famous E-Minor Piano Trio, but he wasn’t in a celebratory mood. There’s a Russianness or East European Jewishness to the melodic and harmonic material, which often sounds like it’s derived from folk songs and klezmer dances soured and bent out of shape by Shostakovich’s parodying techniques.

Superficially, the Third Quartet (1946) bears some resemblance to the First Quartet in its opening swagger and jaunty Haydnesque character, but it’s a cheerfulness colored by disappointment and disillusion. The piece was written on the eve that ushered in the dark days of the Zhdanov denouncement and the targeting of Soviet artists and intellectuals. Shostakovich’s state of mind is reflected in the fact that the Third Quartet is the only work he wrote during this year.

The Fourth Quartet (1949) ran into resistance for other reasons and of a different sort. Characterized as another of his “Jewish” works—though not Jewish, Shostakovich was drawn to Jewish musical and cultural themes throughout his life—the Fourth Quartet appeared at exactly the time that the Cold War was heating up, anti-Semitism was once again on the rise (if it had ever abated), and Stalin was gleefully engaged in another round of persecution and purges. The horror is made manifest in the leering danse macabre of the concluding Allegretto, one of the standout movements in the entire quartet cycle.

For Prokofiev the string quartet plays a far less central role in his output; he wrote only two, the first in 1930, and the second, included in the present set, in 1941. Writing string quartets was not a particularly self-motivated or self-fulfilling effort for him, and this, his second go at the medium, was apparently not even his idea. Having been sent to a Soviet outpost presumed safe from Germany’s invading forces, Prokofiev was encouraged to write a string quartet based on the Kabardino-Balkar folk themes common to the North Caucasus region to which he and other artists had been evacuated. He seems to have warmed to the idea, producing a fine example of abstract music inspired by authentic folk elements.

In every single movement of Shostakovich’s quartets and in the Prokofiev, the Pacifica Quartet penetrates to the very heart and soul of the music. What stands out—matters of technical precision and ensemble blending and balance are givens—is the way in which the players probe for and reveal amazing details even in passages that, superficially, may seem to present relatively flat surfaces unlikely to yield much in the way of dimensionality, such as the Adagio of the Third Quartet. But under inspection of the Pacifica’s microscope, the music displays a topography filled with hidden peaks and valleys. It’s this intellectual curiosity to explore, wedded to largesse of emotional expressivity that makes these performances special.

I hope Rabinowitz takes this to be the fervently enthusiastic recommendation intended.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

The second CD in Pentatone’s dance music series lets you savor the vibrant, famous compositions from German-speaking countries, including works by Richard Strauss, Erich Wolfgang Korngold and Franz Schreker. +Connected by the power of music, inspired by the fin de siècle, this set glorifies the influential ballet/theatre/opera interwar period. +The Orchestre de la Suisse Romande is led by conductor Kazuki Yamada, the orchestra's Principal Guest Conductor since June 2010.

Gershwin: Rhapsody in Blue

Boris Giltburg, the Russian-born Israeli pianist who won the 2013 Queen Elisabeth Competition, is that genuine rarity: a pianist whose Rachmaninov is entirely idiomatic yet intensely personal in a way that yields fresh perspectives on this well traversed repertory.

His sense of rhythm is impeccable, with a chaste application of rubato that is organically derived from the life of the phrase. He is a master of the great surges and retractions of energy so specific to the composer. Giltburg’s pellucid sound is never forced; his large dynamic range has a soft spectrum, between mezzo-piano and ppp, which is infinitely calibrated and shaded. His eloquence derives from a poise and restraint that, while uniquely his own, is not unlike the aristocratic delivery that was the hallmark of Rachmaninov’s playing.

Without ostentation or fuss, he has examined these scores in every kind of light, lived with them and come up with a vision that, without being wilfully contrarian, is nevertheless something beyond received wisdom. I suspect that before long this vision will place him among the truly memorable Rachmaninov interpreters, an elect including Moiseiwitsch, Horowitz, Kappel, Richter and Cliburn. His originality stems from a convergence of heart and mind, served by immaculate technique and motivated by a deep and abiding love for one of the 20th century’s greatest composer-pianists.

– Gramophone

This recording brings together two undisputed 20th century masterpieces and one from the 21st, all of which share surprising stories of neglect. With its sublime Adagio, Rodrigo’s Concierto de Aranjuez has become a true phenomenon in the history of Western music, but like the original version of Frank Martin’s extraordinarily powerful Guitare it suffered disapproval from its dedicatee Andrés Segovia. Echoes of Rodrigo can be heard in the cinematic romanticism of Leo Brouwer’s Concierto de Benicàssim, described by the composer as “a panorama of my own ideas” and revived here by Miguel Trápaga a decade after its première.

SCHOENBERG String Trio, op. 45 1,2,3. 4 Pieces for Mixed Chorus, op. 27 5. 3 Satires for Mixed Chorus, op. 28 5. Septet-Suite, op. 29 1,3,4. Accompaniment to a Cinematographic Scene, op. 34 6 • 1 Rolf Schulte (vn); 2 Richard O’Neill (va); 3 Fred Sherry (vc); 4 Christopher Oldfather (pn); 4 Charles Neidich, Alan R. Kay (cl); 4 Michael Lowenstern (bs cl); 4 Toby Appel (va); 5 Simon Joly Chorale; Robert Craft, cond; 5 London Sinfonietta; 6 London SO • NAXOS 8557529 (79:12)


Robert Craft’s extensive new series of Schoenberg recordings continues apace with this release, Vol. 11 (for those who are keeping score at home). As indicated in my earlier review of his new version of Pelleas et Mélisande, this new series has far lusher, more reverberant sound than his earlier Columbia recordings, which obscures some detail even though it retains some of the old fire. I was very curious to hear this disc, however, as it contains works he did not previously record and indicates that his oeuvre will now include chamber pieces that don’t necessarily need a conductor, even though he is listed as such on the CD box and booklet.


Sixty years after his death, Schoenberg remains an acquired taste—to some, a taste they’d rather not acquire at all. The problem is not, and never was, that his music is completely inaccessible but that the rigorous rules of 12-tone music make it more of a mind game than an expressive device. Craft and the chamber musicians involved in the present release try to overcome this obstacle by infusing their performances with a goodly amount of real emotion. Despite their good intentions, however, the String Trio strikes me as overly busy and consistently neurotic. Atypical of Schoenberg, he published the trio with a detailed chart, measure by measure, of the form of the piece. Well, any music that needs that much explanation, even to the performers, isn’t going to do much to communicate to any but the most dedicated atonal buff.


On the other hand, the Four Pieces and Three Satires for mixed chorus are—for atonal music—quite a bit of fun to listen to. Here, Schoenberg breaks up the rhythmic patterns and, especially in the Four Pieces, produces some exceptionally fine choral writing. Most whimsical of all is the third Satire, “Der neue Klassizismus,” which keeps seesawing back and forth between 4/4 and 3/4, and even within the 3/4 time, fractions the beats to keep the listener off-balance. I loved it!


Also very playful, despite its density, is the Septet-Suite, which is very close in spirit and feeling to the Serenade (one of my personal favorite of all Schoenberg works, and to this day one of his most popular pieces). One thing that really makes this piece work, for me, is the sound quality. By switching recording venues to Master Sound Astoria Studios in New York, we are treated to absolutely superb sonics for such a chamber work, clear as a bell with only a bit of natural resonance. Would that the entire series was recorded this way. I’m not sure if Schoenberg indicated that the piano be somewhat recessed in volume, or if this was a decision by Craft or the musicians, but it works beautifully, making the instrument sound more like a xylophone in the way it fits into the musical texture. As the piano is pushed a bit back from the microphone, the bass clarinet is brought forward, and this, too, imparts a richness of balance to the sound texture that I find particularly warm and rewarding.


But Craft, and Naxos, save the best piece for last. Despite the over-reverberant, almost goopy ambience, Accompaniment to a Cinematographic Scene is an absolute masterpiece that morphs and grows and moves with a real Viennese rhythmic lilt despite its dense scoring and atonal structure. Craft explains the reason: The earlier of the nine episodes are written in somewhat slower tempos that build gradually toward the ninth and last, “Catastrophe.” I would, however, also give a large amount of credit for the work’s success to Craft’s wonderful sense of proportion and the way he builds and releases tension.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Although Herbert Howells is known chiefly for his large body of church music, arguably the finest by any English composer of the twentieth century, he also wrote major choral, orchestral and chamber works.

Originally released by Collins Classics as part of it's English Songs Series, this recording offers a fascinating selection of the 72 solo songs Holst wrote across his entire compositional career.

Mahler, G.: Symphony No. 10 (Wheeler, 1966 version)

Alberto Ginastera (1916-1983) is a distinctive voice in twentieth-century classical music, and together with the master of the tango, Astor Piazzolla, he is the towering musical figure of Argentina. Born in Buenos Aires of an Italian mother and a Catalonian father, Ginastera is a complex composer and personality, shaped by the traditional folk culture and history of his native country and by impulses from the world at large, during a time of radical upheavals in the realm of Western classical music. The Harp Concerto was commissioned in 1956 by Edna Phillips. The work was not premiered until 1965, and then it was the Spanish harpist Nicanor Zabaleta. When the concerto first appeared, it became a brilliant addition to the harp literature and twentieth-century instrumental concertos. Variaciones concertantes was completed more than ten years earlier and was premiered in Buenos Aires in 1953. The music is an irresistible combination of orchestral timbres and virtuosity communicating directly with the listener, especially as regards the entertainment aspect inherent in virtuosic orchestral sound and a demanding soloist performance.

Without doubt this is one of the finest all-round achievements by Naxos.

At the risk of courting the charge of hyperbole I would venture this CD as one of the most significant Shostakovich releases in recent years. Fine though the award-laden Petrenko symphony cycle undoubtedly is, let's be honest we already know that is an extraordinary group of works and most have received superb performances before. The score presented here is as significant as it is relatively unknown and this new recording can lay fair claim to being definitive. My reasoning runs as follows; Shostakovich was one of the most important Soviet composers. The Soviet Union was the first state to recognise the power of cinema to influence mass mood and opinion. In the late 1920s the cultural elite of the Soviet Union were still being empowered by the state to produce work that was radical and revolutionary. Exploring utopian ideals and cinema was regarded as being at the forefront of the new radical arts. In the era of Silent Cinema the dedicated film-score was still comparatively new and as such had to carry the dramatic and emotional non-visual weight of the story. Shostakovich had first-hand practical experience of playing for film - this gave him a practitioner’s insight into what would ‘work’ that was simply not part of the skill set of any composer before or probably since. As the liner accurately points out - for all the deprivation and residual violence abroad in the new Soviet State this was an age of idealism and hope. Shostakovich had yet to have his idealistic vision of communism curdled by the cynical realities of living in a totalitarian state. He poured into this score the best that the idiom would allow.
 
Whether measured by the yardstick of the history of cinema, the Soviet Union or simply as part of the Shostakovich oeuvre this is an important release. Add to that the fact that this recording offers the most complete, skilfully reconstructed and authentic - as far as it uses the original 14 player line-up - rendition of the score yet made. It becomes a compulsory purchase. This is the third release of Shostakovich film scores conducted by Mark Fitz-Gerald. Very fine indeed though the previous two have been I consider this the best so far. Not that the earlier issues lacked for anything in terms of performing or interpretative quality - simply that this work is more significant than the others on just about every level. Its importance is reflected in the fact that elements of the score have been recorded several times in the past although only the - also fine - version from James Judd on Capriccio with the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra comes close to matching the actual quantity of music recorded. The next most extended sequence - from Valeri Polyansky and his Russian State Symphony Orchestra on Chandos (CHAN 9600) - contains some 44 minutes of the score - less than half of Fitz-Gerald’s epic traversal. A pithier selection is offered by Gennady Rohzdestvensky (Russian Disc RDCD11064). This was my introduction to this score in its original Melodiya LP version (later reissued as ASD3381) and I still enjoy its ribald cabaret character. My sole observation of this new Naxos performance - and it is an observation not a quibble - is that the chamber scale and super-refined quality of the playing fractionally detracts from the pure theatre of the work. When I was a student at the Guildhall School of Music in London - around 1983 I guess - they staged a viewing of this score accompanied by one of the college orchestras. To this day the power of the film and accompanying score lives with me. I strongly suggest that any readers who ever have the opportunity to see this performed live should leap at the chance. It is a magnificent piece of work and one that shows how even at the tender age of 23 Shostakovich understood the compelling power of the moving image. The very valid argument advanced by Fitz-Gerald for using chamber scale forces is that these are the maximum resources that Shostakovich would have had for the premiere. My counter-argument is that every silent movie score would be written with a degree of inherent elasticity. I find it hard to imagine for a moment that Shostakovich would not have preferred more players at the premiere - certainly many of the dramatic passages in the score do not sound as though they are intended for such a chamber group. That being said, Shostakovich was commissioned to provide a smaller orchestration suitable for use in the bulk of Soviet cinemas. Indeed reluctant musical directors often reverted to using generic music when the film was shown rather than attempting the complexities of this new score.
 
Every other recording has opted for a full standard orchestra. Although I do naturally veer towards the bigger sound the more I hear this performance the more I realise that this is a score full of proper music of considerable range and power. Initial impressions are of a riot of colour and witty referencing of popular period tunes from the Marseillaise to Offenbach. The New Babylon of the title refers to a department store which in turn is a metaphor for the decadent Paris pre the Franco-Prussian War of 1870. The ensuing uprising and short-lived Paris Commune provided the early Soviet State with a historic precedent for their own revolution. Lessons learnt from the failure of the Commune influenced the thinking of both Marx and Lenin. Musical experts differ on whether Shostakovich used these melodies because they embodied all things despicably bourgeois or simply because they are rather good tunes. I tend towards the latter opinion - any young composer who can choose as his first dramatic work a setting of Gogol - The Nose - with its dyspeptic view of authority and institutions is not going to become a star-struck-slogan-wielding-party-line-puller two opus numbers later. At the heart of Shostakovich’s abiding genius is the acidic cynicism that clots and curdles even his most superficially benign music.
 
Fitz-Gerald conducts the Basel Sinfonietta and they prove to be stunningly fine collaborators. The scoring is for a string quartet plus bass, a woodwind quintet and a brass group of a second horn, two trumpets - although the second is there simply to relieve the work-load on the first player rather than having an independent part - and a trombone. The line-up is completed by a piano and three percussion. Again this number allows for ease of changes rather than necessity. The use of this essentially chamber ensemble creates an aural world that instantly delineates the composer's deft scoring. For the first time I heard a positively Gallic wit at work, very much along the lines of Ibert's Divertissement although, as always with Shostakovich, you feel a bleak cold despair might be lingering in the shadows. The spirit of "eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die" clouds the celebrations. Another fascinating characteristic is developed here by the composer. In collaboration with the film-makers Shostakovich chose not to "illustrate the frame". When critics wish to deride a work the ultimate insult is to say its sounds like film music. This is a short-hand for saying it treats emotions/ideas/situations in an obvious and direct manner - in other words it illustrates the frame. Shostakovich does the reverse - if the image is happy, the music is sad, epic - petty. Its a crazy almost anarchic ploy but one that makes for an extraordinarily powerful juxtaposition of sight and sound. The problem we have here is that we are divorced from the image and wonderful though that is it cannot be anything less than a fraction of the whole.
 
Across the two discs the music is presented as a continuous flow of music as it occurred in each of the film's eight reels. The abiding impression is of a kaleidoscopic riot of sounds and impressions, fragments of musical stories, passing characters and changing mood. There is a hedonistic delight in the sheer indulgence of influence and pastiche. No real surprise to read that the original score quickly fell into disuse - it was both too hard for the average cinema player and too subversive for musicians brought up on a diet of illustrative generic music and excerpted 'classics'. From a historical perspective the quite remarkable thing is that as late as his Op.145 - his Suite on verses by Michaelangelo Shostakovich was applying exactly the same principle of contrast. There a verse with the slightly daunting title Immortality is set to an accompaniment of a piccolo whistling a tune any paperboy would be proud of. Back with New Babylon Fitz-Gerald has more practical experience of conducting this score in context with the film than any other person. This deep knowledge converts into a performance that is perfectly paced and remarkably finds a unity, a through-line in the midst of the mayhem. Allied to the virtuosic playing of his Swiss Orchestra and you will appreciate the level of achievement. The superlatives do not stop there. The engineering is first rate. The sound is quite close, certainly very detailed but it treads the tricky narrow line between large chamber group or small orchestra. The scale of the group is very effectively caught allowing the intimate passages to beguile while the bigger sequences have an impressive impact. Yes I do miss the sheer extra weight that Judd is able to deploy or the uniquely sly and sarcastic Rozhdestvensky. I repeat, the more I listened the more I was converted to the style of this version.

The booklet is surely Naxos' finest yet. Once one gets past the obligatory I-need-to-get-my-eyes-tested minute font this is packed with fascinating information, film stills and even a facsimile page of the original score. Fitz-Gerald has had to reconstruct the final part of the final reel because late in the film's production the ending changed turning the original bleak ending into something more positive. Fascinatingly we have two essays by Shostakovich scholars which give different interpretations for this change. One by David Robinson feels the changes were artistically driven whilst the other by John Riley cites political expediency. Both are full of fascinating insights. Riley provides a detailed synopsis and the notes are completed by an article by Fitz-Gerald outlining the long overdue restoration and reappraisal of this very important score. Don’t listen to this score expecting the profundity of the composer’s greatest work - that was never the remit here. Treated as a musico-social document - as well as containing much wonderfully entertaining music - this is a magnificent achievement from all concerned from composer to performers and the production team.

Curiously for a disc that is literally definitive it does not make me want to throw away either of the two other versions I cherish. Both Judd and Rozhdestvensky in their very differing ways offer valid alternative insights into this box of delights of a score. Judd with his full orchestra gains in impact during the set-piece sequences whilst Rozhdestvensky benefits from an authentically edgy Russian sound and gleeful eccentricity that is quite wonderful. The extra music that has been constructed to cover the discarded ending is effective and suitable but you will have made your mind up about this score and the performance way before that final sequence is reached. Fitz-Gerald achieves an ideal balance with his super-slick players able to slip from queasy waltz to buffoon’s gallop or poignant interlude in an instant. Remarkable results are achieved by ensembles these days in hot-house conditions of read/record. However when you hear a well rehearsed, convincingly argued performance of music with which the players are familiar the benefits are both obvious and great.

Without doubt this is one of the finest all-round achievements by Naxos. 

– Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International

Elisa Tomellini began her piano studies at age five. She went on to graduate from the Conservatory of Milan. Tomellini has been touted as a real and authentic piano virtuosi, and this album presents her as an artist with a brilliant future. Included on this disc is Rachmaninov's Moments Musicaux op. 16. This is known as one of the most difficult works of Rachmaninov repertoire, but Tomellini performs with fluency and spontaneity that makes the difficulties of the piece seem to disappear. Rounding out the album are works by Piazzolla, which are performed here with exuberance and poeticism. Tomellini transcribed and arranged these pieces herself.

This disc collects three of Leonard Bernstein’s very few examples of chamber music. Although written at the onset of his career, the Piano Trio and the Violin Sonata (both student works) and the Clarinet Sonata (here arranged for violin by William Terwilliger) confirm his prowess in a genre to which he simply never had time to return. Rounding out the disc are songs from three of his theatre works, including ‘My House’ from Peter Pan, ‘Take Care of this House’ from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and four songs from the acclaimed madcap operetta Candide, all idiomatically arranged by Eric Stern.

Francis Poulenc is not an easy composer to relate to. Not the man himself perhaps- though possibly that too- but his music. It is somehow dated. Here is a composer who produced his best works, all more or less completely tonal, at a time when Arnold Schoenberg was writing twelve-tone music and Poulenc's countrymen Oliver Messiaen and Pierre Boulez were into innovative rhythms, scales and techniques to lift the music out of the realm of subjective emotionalism. This release features three concertos by Francis Poulenc. The Concerto for Organ, Strings and Timpani (1938) is considered to be the most popular and, perhaps, the most serious. The Piano Concerto (1949), a light concerto a wellspring of musical ideas, more or less brutally juxtaposed. The Concerto for Two Pianos and Orchestra (1932) lies perhaps somewhere between these two.

RACHMANINOFF The Isle of the Dead. Symphony No. 1 • Leonard Slatkin, cond; Detroit SO • NAXOS 8.573234 (66:20)

Leonard Slatkin and his marvelous Detroit Symphony complete their superb Rachmaninoff symphony cycle with a spectacular First Symphony. Slatkin’s interpretations of the Second and Third symphonies were straightforward, powerful, and no-nonsense, focusing on the structure of both works and downplaying their emotional excesses. Here he takes a similar approach with the First Symphony and it pays off in huge dividends.

The first movement’s introduction is grimly menacing and Slatkin makes the allegro proper’s somewhat patchwork structure seem more cohesive than it really is, with deftly chosen tempos, forward moving rhythms, and seamless transitions. The Scherzo has an infectious swagger and Slatkin paces the Larghetto appropriately—well, larghetto (i.,e., not too slow)—so as to keep the music moving along and avoid languishing on the movement’s excessive melancholy. The Finale can often sound like a hodgepodge of discarded sketches of Rimsky-Korsakov, but Slatkin does as well as anyone at molding the seemingly unrelated episodic sections into a convincing unified statement. The performance here is extremely compelling and boasts an especially powerful and ominous coda. The trombones really have a field day. All in all, this is a great performance of a work difficult to pull off, one that can stand alongside the standard-setting versions by André Previn (London Symphony Orchestra, EMI 64530) and Vladimir Ashkenazy (Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra, Decca/London 448116 and 455798).

Rachmaninoff composed his symphonic poem The Isle of the Dead after viewing Arnold Böcklin’s painting of the same title in 1907. Considering the composer’s obsession with his own death, it is easy to understand how he would have been moved to compose a work inspired by this painting. Here Slatkin once again refuses to allow the music to wallow in its own mannerisms, choosing to make the most of its rhythmic momentum. In the opening, one can really feel the quintuple meter, so vividly depicting the gentle yet portentous sound of the oars as Charon, the ferryman, rows his boat with its newly deceased passengers across the River Styx. Throughout the work, Slatkin highlights the contrast between passages of ominous foreboding and those of serene tranquility perhaps more effectively than anyone before him. The climaxes are truly shattering, with snarling brass and pounding bass drum. Each successive statement of the Dies Irae becomes increasingly eerie. The cumulative effect is absolutely bone-chilling.

The city of Detroit may have seen better days, but the same cannot be said of its magnificent orchestra. After suffering its own financial woes a few years ago, the DSO has come back with a vengeance, sounding stronger than ever. Credit must be given to what is obviously a very productive partnership with its music director. I hope we can look forward to more Rachmaninoff from this team: say, the piano concertos and Paganini Rhapsody. Highly recommended, especially at Naxos’s budget-friendly price.

FANFARE: Merlin Patterson

Classical Music

It was a pivotal meeting in the mid-1920s that marked the beginning of an enduring musical and personal friendship between Alexandre Tansman and the Spanish virtuoso guitarist Andres Segovia. Tansman’s legacy for the instrument ranges over a 57-year period, inaugurated by a dazzling Mazurka and represents Segovia’s ‘most advanced commitment to modern music.’ This first volume presents suites and dances inspired by Italy, Poland and Eastern Europe, and includes Suite in modo polonico, heard here in its original version, not the Segovia-authorized collage. Andrea De Vitis has meticulously researched the original manuscripts to resolve any doubts and omissions in published editions.

Classical Music

Richard Strauss: Der Rosenkavalier, Op. 59, TrV 227 (Live)

The Oslo Philharmonic and Vasily Petrenko present the first of a new series of recordings of Richard Strauss' orchestral music. This first release features the great tone poems "Also Sprach Zarathustra" and "Ein Heldenleben," both works the Oslo Philharmonic has a long history of performing at home and abroad. Vasily Petrenko, chief conductor of the Oslo Philharmonic since 2013, exploits the special intensity of the orchestra's string sound and it's magnificent wind and brass sections to full effect in this thrillingly virtuosic music. Vasily Petrenko is one of the most significant and galvanizing musicians alive, and has won numerous accolades for his recordings of Russian repertoire, including two Gramophone awards. With the Oslo Philharmonic, he has recorded works by Shostakovich, Szymanowski, Strauss and Prokofiev, as well as a major cycle of orchestral works by Alexander Scriabin. The Oslo Philharmonic was born in 1919 and over the next half-century, the orchestra's reputation grew steadily. In 1979, it changed forever with the arrival of a young Latvian arriving in Norway, Mariss Jansons, who transformed it to rival the great Philharmonics of Vienna, Berlin and New York.

Frank Bridge is today recognized as one of the most gifted figures in British musical life before World War I. His Piano Quintet, a work of personal significance prompted by the absence of his fiancee, is notable for its passionate, lyrical, and forceful language, the Rachmaninov-like technical demands of the piano part calling for a virtuoso pianist. Debussy described Cyril Scott's exotic harmonic language as "an intoxication for the ear", and the First Piano Quintet is a multi-faceted work that mirrors Scott's flamboyant public persona while maintaining a genuinely poetic inner beauty.