Includes work(s) for piano by Bohuslav Martinu. Soloist: Giorgio Koukl.

Not to be missed.

The Naxos roster of fine discs with vocal and other music by Olivier Messiaen is now graced with Harawi, one of the composer’s central works for voice, and the earlier Trois Mélodies, written when the composer was only 22.

Trois Mélodies is Messiaen’s musical response to the death of his mother three years previously, and is full of tender melodic expression and, aside from a passionate climax in the first Pourquoi? and the opening of the last La fiancée perdue, restrained tonalities and dynamics in the piano. The texts of the outer songs were written by Messiaen himself, and the central song is on a poem by his mother. In the booklet notes David McCleery points out the influence of Debussy in Messiaen’s earlier pieces. The pianistic techniques indeed resonate with a longer tradition of French song which also includes composers such as Fauré. Messiaen’s own compositional language is by no means fully formed here, but these beautiful songs are a perfect precursor to one of the most potent song-cycles of the 20 ^th century.

My experiences with Harawi began on the 10th of May 1990, when I had the privilege of seeing it performed live at the IJsbreker in Amsterdam by Yumi Nara and Jay Gottlieb. Their recording appears on the Deutsche Grammophon ‘Complete Edition’, though I am not sure if this is the same version as that with the Accord label, on which I turned out to be less keen than the live performance. Hetna Regitze Bruun and Kristoffer Hyldig are a powerful duo, and Hyldig certainly pulls no punches. Bruun’s voice is recorded if anything with marginally less presence than the piano, but isn’t swamped even through some of the richer textures in the accompaniment, and the balance leaves room for her own dynamic range to reach its full potential without pushing the recording equipment beyond its limits. Listen to the demanding Adieu on track 10 to hear the soprano voice arc over the resonance of the piano in hair-raising style. 
Harawi is a strange mixture of Messiaen’s extravagantly perfumed tonalities, and the Peruvian traditional music which has its visual expression in the striking cover to the published songs. The cycle is part of Messiaen’s ‘Tristan trilogy’, whose members further include the Turangalila-symphonie and Cinq Rechants. The vocal writing occasionally forays into regions unfamiliar to the generally romantic feel of these ‘songs of love and death’, with repetitious, almost instrumental statements such as the Doundou tchil of the fourth song, intended to represent the ankle-bells worn by Peruvian dancers. Messiaen doesn’t stray too far beyond his own more usual idiom however, and gems such as Amour oiseu d’étoile always bring us back to the composer’s familiar sublime magic. The composer’s own texts are not given in the booklet, but almost more usefully, Erik Christensen provides a description and narrative context for each song.

This is a mighty song-cycle, and requires commanding performances from the musicians. The duo in this recording not only rise to the challenge, but excel in communicating its extremes of content, from vast landscape and fauna to folkloristic legend, and more importantly of human emotion. Hetna Regitze Bruun’s range and expressive power is remarkable, and only the coloratura turns which occur in the Répétition planétaire seemed as if they might have been a little less stiff. Harawi is a confrontation, an assault on the senses - involving and rewarding in equal measure, but an exhausting labyrinth nonetheless. Naxos has brought us a world class recording of this seminal vocal repertoire, and at bargain price this is a release not to be missed by Messiaen collectors.

-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International 

William Alwyn's Fourth Symphony is an epilogue to his first three, conceived as a cycle. It's a tough work, its Romanticism tempered by an edgy modernism. Interest is added by a powerful rhythmic pulse (especially the first movement with its throbbing drums and the hard-driving Scherzo), blazing trumpet climaxes, brilliant orchestration, and a sense of gravity. David Lloyd-Jones and his orchestra bring all of these elements to the fore in an interpretation bristling with energy, including a fast-paced headlong dive into the Scherzo that adds to the excitement. In effect, the conductor's energetic pace tightens the work and takes some of the gloss off its Romanticism. Not that he short-changes the lyrical sections; moments of repose are strategically placed within the work. The last movement is, in the composer's words, "a calm epilogue", and Lloyd-Jones gives such important sections their full due. He knows that Alwyn dared to write long-lined melodies at a time when the music establishment frowned on anything hummable, and there's plenty of poetry in this three-movement symphony.


The Sinfonietta is symphonic in scope, ambitious in its materials, and usually lasts about 25 minutes (close to 23 on this disc). It opens with an unforgettably dynamic passage for cellos and basses that recalls Bartók, then alternates the vigorous and the lyric with Romantic fervor. The gentle Adagio embeds a quote from Alban Berg's Lulu, another composer Alwyn admired and refers to when he writes "... any composer who is honest acknowledges the debt he owes to genius."


The final movement is a complex fugue followed by a peaceful ending, as if to bring rest to the preceding turbulence. Lloyd-Jones is only a couple of minutes faster than his rivals on disc, but it all comes out of the last two movements, producing a more flowing Adagio and a finale that doesn't lose its clarity because of the swifter speeds. Oddly enough, the opening of the work, electrifying in Alwyn's own account, is a bit tamer here.


In general, Alwyn's the best conductor of his own music on disc, but his Lyrita recordings are hard to find. Lloyd-Jones' series of the five symphonies, of which this is the concluding volume, is an excellent alternative. The engineering on this disc has a split personality due to different dates, producers, and engineers. The Symphony is acceptable but a touch opaque; the Sinfonietta has more presence, better dynamics, and a stronger bass. If you are unfamiliar with Alwyn, try this disc--the music, performances, and price make it an unbeatable buy.
--Dan Davis, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

"...For Bridge enthusiasts there is no competition to this recording, which is therefore valuable in its own right."

The three composers represented on this compilation have little in common with each other apart from their nationality and the fact that they were largely neglected during the latter part of their lives and after their deaths. Of the three, Parry always kept a foothold on the repertory because of his choral music - although much of this substantial body of work remains unrecorded to this day - but the English Suite was a posthumous work edited after the composer’s death for performance by his pupil Emily Daymond and not performed until four years after his death, in a Prom outing after which it promptly sank without trace. Some of the ideas in the music date back to Parry’s heyday in 1894 but Daymond did her mentor no favours when she suggested that two of the seven movements of the suite could be omitted if the Suite was thought to be too long, and here the Caprice movement is indeed not given – as it was in Boult’s earlier 1971 recording for Lyrita. The work is hardly over-extended at under twenty minutes, and there would have been plenty of room for the additional movement. The later recordings in the catalogue, conducted by Richard Hickox and Adrian Leaper, also include the work complete and under the circumstances there seems little to recommend this cut version under Boughton unless the other works on the disc appeal.

Like Parry’s Suite, Finzi’s Eclogue was not published or performed until after the composer’s death, and the title was supplied by his editors. It was originally written in the 1920s as the slow movement of a piano concerto, but was revised some twenty years later to the form we now know. The first recording was made in 1977 under the indefatigable Vernon Handley and Peter Katin, but since then there have been a number of others. Martin Jones gives a very cool reading which emphasises the almost neo-classical style of the writing; one can imagine the work being played with more heated romantic fervour, but it nevertheless reveals all its crystalline beauty in this reading and the playing of the strings is beautifully refined. This is probably the best track on the disc; but the greater part of the collection really rests on the shoulders of Frank Bridge.

After his death, Bridge was even more neglected than Parry or Finzi; indeed, for many years he was only remembered for the fact that he had supplied the theme for Britten’s Variations, and there were more recordings of that piece in the catalogues than of any of Bridge’s own orchestral music. Britten himself recorded Sir Roger de Coverley with the English Chamber Orchestra in 1969 in the Snape Maltings, and the larger body of strings he employed made a more positive impression than Boughton manages here. It was not until Sir Charles Groves devoted a whole EMI LP to the orchestral music of Bridge in 1976 that the revival of the composer’s fortunes may be said to have been safely launched. Groves could sometimes be a rather stolid and sober conductor, but at his best he was capable of producing some superb performances – his recording of Delius’s Koanga remains unchallenged in the catalogue to this day, and his Bridge compilation was another of the highlights of his recorded repertoire. He included Cherry ripe and the Lament in his compilation, and two years later Boult gave us première recordings of Rosemary and Sally in our Alley; but this Nimbus disc was - so far as I can tell - the first to include recordings of the Canzonetta and the Irish melody. Indeed this remains the only available recording of the latter work in its orchestral form, since it was not even included in Hickox’s otherwise comprehensive survey of Bridge’s orchestral music for Chandos; the other recordings in the current catalogue are of the original string quartet version.

In terms of performances Boughton’s readings of Bridge are fine, but these are not by and large Bridge’s greatest works; indeed many of them are transcriptions for string orchestra of pieces that Bridge originally wrote for smaller forces, and many of them fall close to the category of ‘light music’ – if any music by Bridge could be so described. Boughton is just a little slower than his competitors Boult or Groves - to the advantage of the heartfelt Lament - but the differences in interpretation are minimal. The most substantial work here, There is a willow grows aslant a brook, is however something different again. This meditation on the death of Ophelia (in Hamlet) is one of Bridge’s most impassioned later works, and in terms of length and content it can hardly be categorised as a miniature. This is the only work on this disc which includes wind instruments, and it is also clearly the most ‘modern’ composition here; Boughton gives the music plenty of atmosphere. But there are many other recordings of this piece, and some of these - not least Hickox - give the music more substance.

The real attraction for Bridge completists - who will in any event presumably already possess all the Hickox recordings - is the orchestral version of the Irish Melody, which contains yet another arrangement of the (London)derry Air to set beside those of Grainger and Harty. It is quite a bit less conventional than the setting by Harty, but decidedly less so than some of the sometimes bizarrely chromatic versions in which Grainger indulged himself. Then again, this is not really a conventionally Irish tune; it fits no known Irish metre, and its history might lead to some suspicion as to whether it is really a traditional Irish melody at all. It was first published in 1855 (without words) and was supplied to George Petrie by Jane Ross who had arranged it herself for piano and merely stated that it was “very old”. However later researchers failed to uncover any trace of its origins, or any Gaelic words; the first poet to supply lyrics was Percival Graves for an 1882 setting by Stanford. Apparently Jane Ross, who was a conscientious collector of folk-songs, may have heard the song in Donegal - where her brother was a fisherman - rather than Derry itself. There remains a suspicion that she may actually have written the melody herself – perhaps more likely than an alternative explanation which attributes the tune to the fairies. Bridge’s arrangement is the central section of a piece that is quite substantial in length and depth; he adds a double-bass part to the original quartet version. One could imagine the work might be more effective with more players; the cellos at 1.32 and 2.16 sound rather thinner than ideal. For Bridge enthusiasts there is no competition to this recording, which is therefore valuable in its own right.

The recorded sound throughout is natural, and nicely resonant without being overblown.

- Paul Corfield Godfrey, MusicWeb International

Franz Schmidt was an inconsistent composer, and his Variations on a Hussar's Song is an odd work. The best thing about it is the song; the variations are nothing special. It's a jolly, diatonic tune that Schmidt decorates with increasingly ugly chromatic doodads as the music proceeds. A note in the score makes a special point of the fact that the composer uses no divisi strings at any point, as if this matters. Still, this is a good performance; it may be that the first trumpet fails to assert himself ideally, and the percussion is a touch recessed, but the work's 28 minutes pass pleasantly enough.

The symphony, on the other hand, is a masterpiece, and it has been well treated on disc. Mehta's Vienna Philharmonic recording remains the benchmark, and if you want modern sound, Kreizberg's (PentaTone) also is quite good. So is this one. To be sure, the Malmö strings haven't the weight and richness of the Vienna Philharmonic, but the performance is very well paced and the Naxos engineers see to it that textures remain clean and clear (the harp is particularly well caught). Given the fact that the Variations constitute a genuine rarity, and you may well enjoy that work more than I did, this release is certainly recommendable as a supplement to the Mehta recording of the symphony.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

Classical Music

Includes work(s) for pno by Federico Mompou. Soloist: Martin Jones.

Classical Music

Raphael Wallfisch recorded the First Cello Concerto for Chandos, one of the very first CD releases on that label, coupled with the Barber Concerto. It was a good performance, but it pales in comparison with his remake here. This set offers what is, hands down, the finest pairing of the two Shostakovich Cello Concertos since Heinrich Schiff and the composer's son--with all due respect to Rostropovich--set the modern standard in this music (on Philips). The First Concerto comes across with positively frightening intensity, a product not just of Wallfisch's strong projection of the solo, but also owing much to the take-no-prisoners accompaniments of Martyn Brabbins and the BBC Symphony. Just listen to the interplay between Wallfisch and the sneering, threatening woodwind section--it's what this music is all about.

At the opening of the second movement, Wallfisch adopts a dusky, gamba-like sonority: think of Dowland's Lachrymae. The instrument truly seems to weep through the music, while the finale acquires an extra degree of bitter edge by being played very rhythmically, but not too quickly. Wallfisch really comes into his own in the cadenza, holding the entire movement together through perfect timing and a wide range of tone colors and dynamics. It's a great performance, as is that of the comparatively neglected Second Concerto.

Again we find soloist, conductor, and orchestra keenly attuned to the music's overt emotionalism. In the first movement, Wallfisch and Brabbins subtly characterize both the first and second subjects, preventing any hint of monotonous sameness in the exposition section. The development rises to a splendidly impassioned climax, followed by a ghostly coda that never drags.

In the central scherzo, once again a comparatively deliberate tempo combines with punchy rhythms to the music's expressive advantage, while the lengthy half-sweet, half-grotesque variation-finale never has been so colorfully projected. This is such a beautiful work; only the fact that it ends quietly and mysteriously conspires to keep it in the shadow of the First Concerto. In some ways it's even more melodically appealing, and this is a performance that captures its wide-ranging expression as well or better than any other.

The inclusion of the Cello Sonata and the cello arrangement of the late Viola Sonata, along with two miscellaneous short pieces, completes a package offering all of Shostakovich's music featuring solo cello. In the chamber works, John York is the sensitive piano accompanist, and both he and Wallfisch offer excellent interpretations of both large works. The finale of the Viola/Cello Sonata is particularly well held-together, with the youthful freshness of the earlier "true" Cello Sonata enthusiastically captured.

The engineering in the concertos is absolutely outstanding: balances between cello and orchestra are perfectly judged, but the microphones still capture a tremendous amount of ear-catching detail. Obviously a great deal of credit for this has to go to Brabbins and the orchestra, who offer none of that generic, lazy professionalism so common today. These performances display an idiomatic style of a kind that you seldom find even inside Russia today (witness Pletnev's often bland Russian National Orchestra, or Gergiev's mediocre Kirov band). The result is an absolutely irresistible set that no fan of Shostakovich will want to miss.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

"I’m convinced that Perlemuter’s Ravel is the best of him in [his] Nimbus recordings, more even than the raft of Chopin performances. Miroirs is a delight; Noctuelles is full of evocative precision, and the poetic sensitivity he evinces is propelled with unselfconscious control in these early, 1973 recordings made in the studio. Textual control radiates outwards from these traversals. As for Gaspard there’s a total lack of fuss in Ondine – but the avoidance of artifice is a function of the poetic hauteur that gives such meaning to his playing. His Sonatine is crisp, the Valses animated by an especially witty Vif whilst Le Tombeau de Couperin moves with grace and deft accentuation, a notch slower than the BBC 1970 broadcast that has circulated. Seeking an analogue, this is the kind of pointillist playing George Copeland brought to Debussy, in contradistinction to Gieseking’s Turneresque wash; both wonderful but both very different. Perlemuter’s Ravel is a breath of fresh air."

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

Classical Music

Classical Music

Reflecting Hungary’s troubled times following the Soviet suppression of the 1956 Hungarian Uprising, Lajtha’s last two symphonies are deeply emotional and dramatic works ranging from tragic intensity to optimism. Whereas the Eighth Symphony was aptly described by the composer’s wife as ‘a tragedy without consolation,’ the emotional power and the melodic beauty of the Ninth Symphony evoke suffering, happiness and hope. A huge success at its 1963 Parisian premiere, the work was acclaimed by the critic Claude Rostand as ‘the one that convinced us that Laszlo Lajtha was truly one of the greatest symphonic composers of the 20th century.’ The city of Pecs, in the South East of Hungary, is an important cultural center, with a symphony orchestra that continues a tradition of some two and a half centuries. After its reorganization in 1984, the Pecs Symphony Orchestra undertook a series of important concert tours abroad with performances throughout Europe and worked with a number of distinguished conductors. Orchestral repertoire was broadened particularly under the English conductor Howard Williams from 1989, with an increased attention to contemporary music. In 1993 Nicolas Pasquet, winner of the 1987 Besancon competition, was appointed chief conductor. The orchestra now performs as the Pannon Philharmonic Orchestra.

Marin Alsop’s Prokofiev cycle with the São Paulo Symphony began disappointingly with the Fifth, improved dramatically with the Fourth, and now hits its stride with the Second. Composed, allegedly, with “steel and iron,” or “fire and ice,” or “potassium chloride and sodium bicarbonate,” or whatever, I suspect this work would receive greater respect had it been written by Shostakovich, whose early idiom it somewhat resembles. The major difference is that Shostakovich had the great good fortune to be persecuted by Stalin for his youthful transgressions, while Prokofiev had the sense to get the hell out of Dodge and return much later, a “reformed” man.

Also, no one ever chastised Honegger for cribbing the opening of the first movement in his own “Liturgique” Symphony a couple of decades afterwards. The truth is that the music is really much less nasty than its reputation would suggest, and the first movement, while certainly noisy, actually contains a number of distinctive and appealing musical ideas. So, for that matter, does the concluding second movement, a theme followed by six highly inventive variations. Without minimizing the music’s violent energy, Alsop plays the piece with a vivid sense of its long melodic lines. The first movement, in particular, has plenty of excitement but also a certain lyrical emphasis that gives the music something to be excited about. It’s very convincing.

As for the Classical Symphony, well, just about everyone does it well, and while I can imagine a first movement with a touch more snap to its rhythms, the performance picks up steam as it goes, culminating in a delightfully crisp account of the finale. The early tone poem “Dreams” drifts about prettily for ten minutes, sounding like Debussy or Scriabin or basically anyone but Prokofiev. Does it deserve greater exposure? Perhaps not, but this lovely performance makes as strong a case for it as you might imagine possible. Vivid sonics make this the best release in this series so far.

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The Ballets Russes was a series of ballet events held in Paris between 1909 and 1929, founded by the Russian impresario Serge Diaghilev. The series Diaghilev - Les ballets russes, which has been supported for man years now by SWR, has committed itself to presenting all of the works composed for and by this series.

Bartok: Piano Music, Vol. 3: Out of Doors - Ten Easy Pieces

The idea of arranging Janacek's two string quartets for string orchestra has implicated two different approaches for me. The first is timbral: while the quartets' ever-changing dramatics make it challenging to ''resonate'' with the solo instruments in a string quartet, the collective sound of the orchestra adds a new dimension to the music. The other approach was to incorporate Leo Tolstoy's novella The Kreutzer Sonata into Janacek's music of the same name, and thereby introduce a new form of drama. In his quartet, Janacek does not follow the storyline of Tolstoy's novella as closely as Arnold Schoenberg once did with his musical setting of Richard Dehmel's poem, Verklarte Nacht. However Janacek's writing brings on intense emotions with strong linguistic and theatrical gestures, which, in my opinion, would be further reinforced in direct connection with the novella. Tentatively, we introduced a selection of quotes from the novella in our concerts and this eventually led to the idea of developing a radio drama performance. In this arrangement, the quartet's four movements are performed in their entirety, ''strategically'' positioned in four crucial points in the story, while parts of the music also serve as a dramatic foundation for the text. In the process of text adaptation, the novella's plot and emotional aspects were given priority over its philosophical considerations.

With the war raging in Europe, and a mere five days after the D-Day invasion which precipitated the eventual end of the conflagration in the European theater, this performance on a much smaller, less consequential but on its own terms no less historic theater stage in Vienna of Richard Strauss’ Ariadne auf Naxos was given and recorded. Despite the troubling facts that orbit these wartime performances more generally, for those who know operatic history, the singing cast, including Irmgard Seefried, Paul Schöffler, Max Lorenz and Maria Reining is truly a legendary one, as is the conductor Karl Böhm.

Lovely rich, dark tone, exquisite enunciation … glorious songs brilliantly performed.

Roderick Williams has already recorded the Finzi song-cycles I Said to Love, Let Us Garlands Bring, and Before and After Summer on Naxos. Here he continues the sterling work.

English solo song is a deceptive genre. Although the songs often appear simple, in actual fact they are not easy to pull off effectively. For them to work, every nuance must be brought out, every slightly inflection must be spot-on, every word invested with the right emotion. Williams is no stranger to English solo song and always gets to the heart of the work. Here he is, as always, beautifully sympathetic, awake to all nuances of the text – listen to wonderful shades of light and dark in When I set out for Lyonesse, to the poignancy in Lizbie Brown and the chilling intensity in Clock of the Years. He demonstrates excellent versatility – from the rumbustious Rollicum-Rorum, scintillatingly performed – through to the intense and serious (Ode on the Rejection of St. Cecilia), or the beautifully tender – The Birthnight.

This is the only version of By Footpath and Stile currently available. It was Finzi’s earliest Hardy setting, written in 1921-22, and was later withdrawn by the composer, whose plans to revise it were not fully seen through. The work was abandoned until Finzi’s friend, the composer Howard Ferguson edited it for republication. Although not as convincing as Finzi’s later Hardy settings, it nonetheless demonstrates the composer in the process of finding his own “voice”. The songs are deftly crafted, and often deeply moving. It is scored for string quartet accompaniment, sensitively performed here by the Sacconi Quartet.

Williams has a lovely rich, dark tone, and exquisite enunciation that facilitates his excellent communication of the words and the meaning. He is well accompanied by Iain Burnside. Glorious songs, and brilliantly performed.

-- Em Marshall, MusicWeb International

Holst's The Planets received it's first public performance in 1919, and with it Holst achieved the first real success of his career. It is a remarkably effective work, very varied and brilliantly scored for the orchestra, with the character of each of the seven movements suggested by the astrological properties given to the various planets of the solar system. The new eighth movement, Pluto, was commissioned from Colin Matthews, as an 'appendix' to the Suite, the planet Pluto having been discovered on a few years before Holst's death. The Mystic Trumpeter is one of the most neglected of Holst's major works. The several influences on the work, notably that of Wagner, are welded by Holst's passionate feeling for Whitman's words into an integrated and convincing whole whose vitality and exuberance have few parallels in British music of the period.

The sensible and sophisticated pianist Rossella Spinosa faces the arduous task of performing the music of Giacinto Scelsi, a very special composer that grew within the Parisian scene influenced by Debussy, the generation of the Eighties, the Dodecafonia of the German school, and the esotericism of Skriabin, reaching (after traveling to the east in India and Tibet) his very personal idea of global spherical sound. So Scelsi became the interpreter of a new concept of sound that transcends the formal architecture almost renouncing to making music, becoming a link between the earthly world and cosmic forces. The result is music demanding great sensitivity and particular mood by both the performer and the listener, to whom is requested a total and religious immersion in the sound and vibrations of the world of Giacinto Scelsi. Rossella Spinosa holds degrees in piano, harpsichord, composition, and law. She also graduated with highest marks in Musicology. She is a winner of numerous national and international piano competitions, and has performed in the most prestigious halls in Italy and abroad.

Alfred Hill was the doyen of Australasian composers, and his exploration of the string quartet demonstrates the range of his imagination. Both the Tenth and Eleventh quartets were written in 1935, but they offer richly differing affiliations.

This disc was one of Ian Lace’s Recommended Original Film Score Recordings when first issued at full price as Marco Polo 8.223314. Here it resurfaces at upper bargain price.

Khachaturian, like many another composer, major and lesser, in Soviet Russia, turned his hand to the cinema and did so pretty extensively. This was a great leveller, a ready source of income and a means of reaching out to mass audiences across the Union. The pity is that we see so few of those films. If we think at all about them we much more readily accept seeing them written off as the work of political hacks. The composer’s first effort – of eighteen - was the film Pepo written for the Armenian Film Board a few years before his First Symphony (1934). His last film dated from 1960.

Here are suites assembled from the music for two of Khachaturian’s cinema scores. They are played for all they are worth. Adherents of this composer and of twentieth century music of the USSR will want to hear how he fared in dealing with the silver screen.

The Battle of Stalingrad original score ran to some two hours. The titles give us some impression of what is featured in this suite: I. A City on the Volga - II. The Invasion; IIIa. Stalingrad in Flames; IIIb. The Enemy is doomed; IV. For our Motherland; To the Attack! - Eternal Glory to the Heroes; V. To Victory - VI. There is a Cliff on the Volga. Much of this is urgent and not specially subtle – then again this is not meant to be about subtlety. The music often has a furious seething energy typical of the militaristic bravado found in the music for the Roman legionaries in Spartacus. We also hear little half-echoes of The Great Gate of Kiev. There are some glowing interludes such as that to be found in the almost Bridge-like battlefield bleakness of tr. 3 and at the close of tr. 4 (Eternal Glory to the Heroes). There are also moments that seem to evoke the composer’s great ballets – especially Spartacus. The cheery brassy march that is To Victory is noticeably purged of the ferocity to be found in the turbulent flag-waving first movement. This could almost be a march by Arthur Bliss. There’s a brass band version of the suite on Lawo which Nick Barnard did not think much of.

Both Chandos and Capriccio have done extensive series of the film music of Shostakovich. No such thorough efforts have gone in Khachaturian’s direction. There has been this single disc from Naxos and some film suites from ASV. Indeed fifteen minutes of Loris Tjeknavorian’s take on The Battle of Stalingrad was issued on Alto. It was originally issued with the Second Symphony.

If the Stalingrad score’s gaudy virtues are embraced, often at the expense of the more understated and nuanced, Othello from 1955 is much more multi-faceted. This is as befits a presumably fairly classy Shakespeare film in a translation made by Boris Pasternak – he of Doctor Zhivago fame. The Prologue and Intermezzo is especially touching with a memorable tolling solo violin which returns in the finale. There’s also some extremely inventive writing in a mode recalling Prokofiev who had died two years before this film. The Desdemona Arioso is a swellingly emotional vocalise for soprano with orchestra with more than few links with the famous Adagio from Spartacus. The little Venice Nocturne (tr.4) is a lovely miniature, showing as does much of this score, that Khachaturian is much more than a peddler of crushingly loud music. The grey psychological aspects of Nocturnal Murder make way for the intensity of Othello’s Despair. The urgently rushing A Fit of Jealousy will have you thinking of the ruthlessly athletic music for Crassus in Spartacus. If Khachaturian indulges in a Hollywood-style choir in the Finale – well, why not, and it is by no means cheesy.

The recording is extremely good despite its 25 year vintage. The notes by the conductor are helpful in placing the score and the films from which this music is drawn.

I hope that at some time, in a world where there are seemingly hundreds of film channels, we will get to see these films.

There you have it: specialist territory maybe but two very welcome substantial suites from the world of Khachaturian’s film music.

– Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

A native of Cuba, Leo Brouwer is universally acknowledged as one of the most challenging and innovative of contemporary composers. This program brings the guitar into consort with the bandurria, a small lute dating from the 16th century and perennially popular in South America, the combination perfect for expressing the rustic rhythms of Cuban folk style in M�sica Incidental Campesina. This recording covers a kaleidoscopic range of techniques and emotions, from political martyrdom in Chile to the immense vistas of Brazil. The Sonata para Bandurria was composed for one of the virtuoso performers on this recording, Pedro Chamorro.

Richard Strauss: Salome, Op. 54, TrV 215 (Live)

Toru Takemitsu is widely regarded as the greatest Japanese composer of the 20th century. After the appearance of Folios in 1974 he was acknowledged as a formidable master of writing for the guitar, bringing to the instrument a sensibility and imaginative flair which have seldom been equalled. In the Woods was his final composition. Shin-ichi Fukada and Leo Brouwer were both close friends of Takemitsu, and this programme includes Brouwer’s two heartfelt homages in his memory.

Manuel Ponce is considered by numerous scholars to be the founding father of modern Mexican music. He devoted himself to composing for guitar after meeting Andres Segovia in 1923. Sonatina Meridional is reminiscent and lyrical, and is his response to Segovia’s appeal for a work “of purely Spanish character.” The two versions of Theme varie et Finale are recorded for the first time together on this album. The Andante that is also featured is from a manuscript that was lost in the Spanish Civil War. His final work for guitar, Variations on a Theme of Cabezon, is also featured.

This world premiere recording of Schmidt's Notre Dame is dominated not by Paris or Quasimodo, but by Esmeralda, played by Gwyneth Jones. She is the center of the stories which make up the plot and the Esmeralda motif is the principal theme of the opera.