Because John Adams' small yet substantial solo and duo piano output, succinctly described by my colleague Victor Carr Jr, has been so well served on disc, each new release necessarily becomes more vulnerable to comparison. Fortunately, pianist Ralph van Raat displays an innate affinity for the composer's idioms, be it China Gates' lyric beauty, Phrygian Gates' stamina-testing epic sprawl, or American Berserk's thorny, Ives-inspired ragtime allusions. Next to Gloria Cheng's chamber-like refinement and Emanuele Arciuli's extraordinary variety of color and touch, van Raat treats Phrygian Gates as an out-and-out virtuoso vehicle, with plenty of paragraphic sweep and brawny, roof-raising climaxes. Relate Cheng to Kempff, Arciuli to Michelangeli, and van Raat to Gilels, and you'll get my point.

Hallelujah Junction, with Maarten van Veen at the second piano, splits the difference between the aggressive, generously pedaled Andrew Russo/James Ehnes (Black Box) and the much leaner, crystal-clear Rolf Hind/Nicolas Hodges (Nonesuch) recordings. The ethereal impression van Raat conveys in China Gates' opening pages may have something to do with Naxos' slightly distant pickup, in contrast to the full-bodied detail BIS provides Jenny Lin's marvelous interpretation. Although I have yet to meet a China Gates recording I didn't like, on Nonesuch Nicolas Hodges' basic fast tempo and easily lilting inner rhythms appeal to me most of all.

To sum up, you can't go wrong with van Raat's strong performances, plus Naxos' modest cost and decent sonics. Just be aware that the more expensive Nonesuch reference compilation duplicates this repertoire in better sound, and adds a splendid performance of Road Games for violin and piano.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Recording information: St. John's Church, Elora, Ontario, Canada (01/25/2006-01/28/2006).

I sat down to type up this review late on the evening of Tuesday 1 June 2010. Halfway through doing so, wanting to check a date, I went to the website devoted to Benjamin Lees, where I was faced with the following announcement: “IT IS WITH PROFOUND SADNESS THAT THE FAMILY ANNOUNCES THE PASSING OF COMPOSER BENJAMIN LEES ON MAY 31, 2010”. This review - written on the day after the composer’s death - necessarily becomes more of a memorial than I intended it to be when I sat down to put it together.
 
Lees was born in China, brought up and educated in California. From 1949 to 1954 he studied with George Antheil who acted as a largely unpaid tutor out of respect for Lees’ abilities. From the mid-1950s onwards his works began to be performed quite widely and by distinguished performers, without his ever perhaps becoming a ‘major’ figure in American music. A Guggenheim fellowship enabled him to spend much of his time in Europe in the second half of the 1950s. Never a composer who aspired to be thought of as especially ‘American’, these European years were important for Lees, years when he could evolve his own voice without direct involvement in the style wars of American music. Prokofiev, Bartók and Shostakovich became important exemplars for Lees.
 
In a 1987 interview with Bruce Duffie, when the interviewer enquired “in a great number of your own works, you have used the traditional approach - Slonimsky calls it accessibility - which makes your music attractive to conductors and soloists.  Is this something you have consciously built in to your pieces, or is this an outgrowth of what you wanted to write innately?”, Lees answered as follows: “The accessibility, I suppose, comes from something that George Antheil told me when I was studying with him.  He put it very succinctly, and it was one of those catch words which stuck in the memory.  He said, “Music must have a face.  A theme must have a face, something which is really recognizable, both to you and to the listener.”  And again, it matters not what style a person writes in, but it cannot simply be amorphous.  It cannot be really formless and it cannot be merely notes spinning”. Certainly Lees’ music never seeks to exclude listeners, or to make their life needlessly difficult by the flaunting of the composer’s ‘cleverness’. Nor, on the other hand, does he write down, or write to please some lowest common denominator of taste and demand. Like any substantial composer, Lees seems always to have been true to himself, to have been serenely unworried, so far as one can judge, by matters of mere fashion or popularity. Honesty, indeed, has always struck me as one of the hallmarks of his work, a directness of communication. It seems appropriate that he should once have said that “there are two kinds of composers. One is the intellectual and the other is visceral. I fall into the latter category. If my stomach doesn’t tighten at an idea, then it’s not the right idea.”
 
Most attention - and perhaps rightly so - has been paid to Lees’ orchestral works, not least his five symphonies. But, as this disc demonstrates well and clearly, he also had plenty to say in that other ‘classical’ form - the string quartet, of which he wrote six. This rewarding Naxos disc contains three of them in fine performances by the Cypress Quartet, for whom the fifth and the sixth were written.
 
The Cypress Quartet begin their programme with Lees’ first quartet, written in 1952, and premiered the following year in Los Angles - and in 1954 played in New York by the Budapest Quartet. In three movements (moderato-adagietto-allegro vivo) it has an appealing grace, at its most obvious in the adagietto, a lovely moment that exudes a simplicity - created by considerable art - and only slightly troubled lyricism that has a more or less pastoral quality. In the movement that precedes it some crisp and dynamic writing alternates with more reflective passages. In the last movement - essentially a rondo - the writing is engagingly animated, seeming to speak out of a mind full of ideas and eagerness. A quartet well worth hearing - especially when so well performed - but not yet fully embodying the composer’s mature voice.
 
The two ‘late’ quartets give us that voice in abundance. The four movements of the fifth quartet (measured - arioso - quick, quiet - explosive) form a musical argument of considerable density, marked both by striking moments and a sense of larger design. The writing for cello at the opening of the first movement, and the ensuing dialogue with the other instruments is one of those striking moments. Another comes in the second movement when an aggressive intervention by the cello disrupts the meditative conversation of the two violins. The more one listens, the more such moments one discovers. The third movement is a miniature delight (it lasts less than two minutes), music of evanescent beauty. The contrast with the fourth movement could hardly be more marked - full as it is of musical contention and turbulence, of assertion and annoyed counter-assertion, a conflict not so much resolved as serving to fuel a still angry ending.
 
Where the sixth quartet is concerned the composer’s markings for its four movements say most of what the mere reviewer might want to say about the work: “measured, dolorous - calm, steady - quiet, eerie - unhurried”. And they are! The use pizzicato passages is a particular feature of this quartet - notably at moments in the first and third movements. Without any wilful oddity or eccentricity, Lees creates some fresh and interesting effects at more than one point in this quartet. To say that one can ‘hear’ his respect for Bartók and Shostakovich is not, repeat not, to belittle his work as derivative. It is merely to recognise that, like 99% (or more!) of all artists, Lees was not a toweringly inventive figure. He was a highly accomplished craftsman who had listened to, and learned from, the music of the past and the present; a composer who refused to be merely modish or to chase the fashionable at the cost of fidelity to what he felt to be right for him.
 
It is, I hope, timely to celebrate Lees’ achievement, immediately after his death. Not a composer of spectacular fame, he worked with a seriousness and truth that some more famous fall short of.
 
-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International

Margaret Brouwer (born in 1940) is head of the composition department at the Cleveland Institute of Music. Based on this excellent new Naxos recording, she has an individual voice with a fine ear for orchestral colors. Her 2002 Concerto for Evelyn Glennie? Aurolucent Circles ?is immediately arresting, with its powerfully phrased opening voiced in the lower strings. The evocative entrance of Glennie in its potent mystery reminded me of some of Holst?s outer and more arcane planets. This is appropriate, as the concerto?s first movement is titled ?Floating in Dark Space.? Besides virtuoso passages for the soloist accompanied by full orchestra, the work has strongly contrasting sections employing two concertino groups which show off the very fine first-desk players in the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic. Glennie?s solos cover a kaleidoscopic range of percussion instruments and colors. The second movement, ?Stardust,? takes those colors and plays them about the stage, drifting and more often sweeping through various sections of the orchestra. The final movement, ?Cycles and Dances,? continues the notion of motion about and through the orchestra in a frenetic dance interrupted by lower brass?a favorite gesture of Brouwer?s. Glennie is the star around which all this revolves. The recording of the concerto (and the remainder of the disc as well) is both exciting and detailed, with a convincing sense of space around the instruments.


Mandala was inspired by a Tibetan sand painting and a Dutch psalm melody (Psalm XCI in the Dutch Reformed hymnal.) The trombone intoning the Psalm tune could equally be playing a version of the Buddhist om. Adding to this interesting musical-cultural mix are musicians whispering barely audible bits of random text, always with the ever-present Psalm never far from the surface. Whether this adds up to a work that will stand up to repeated hearing remains to be seen: I have a strong feeling it well may.


Pulse is an accessible and attractive score with an unexpectedly melismatic theme heard mainly from the winds and then the solo violin. As someone who usually appreciates the elegiac mood, I was looking forward to hearing Remembrance, dating from 1996 and the earliest score on the recording. It is affirmative rather than mournful, but perhaps somewhat long for its material.


Brouwer?s musical commentary on the rapid pace of 21st century life is expressed in the disc?s final work SIZZLE . Three trombones and a horn play a similar role here as in Mandela : they stand apart in time and space, representing different currents in a fast moving stream.


Gerard Schwarz?s performance of all these works is authoritative and convincing. He is ably abetted by his orchestra and the fine production and engineering.


FANFARE: Michael Fine

Edward MacDowell (1860-1908), an exact contemporary of Gustav Mahler, was widely considered the most important American composer of his day-a time when American music was based primarily on European models. Antonin Dvorák called on American composers to turn to indigenous sources, such as Negro spirituals and Indian tribal music, for inspiration. MacDowell flatly rejected this, commenting, What Negro melodies have to do with Americanism remains a mystery to me." Thus, in the Piano Concerto No. 1 we hear the comfortable old echoes of the Grieg A minor and, in the finale, Dvorák's own concerto. MacDowell's second concerto displays a noticeably higher degree of originality, though here too the European influence is clear, in this case Saint-Saëns. The dark and portentous opening creates a mood of anticipation before the piano enters to launch the drama of the first movement. The finale is brisk and exciting, with some wonderfully bravura piano writing, with which soloist Stephen Prutsman unreservedly flaunts his brilliant technique. He's just as fine in the brief Witches' Dance, which is rather tame and far less spooky than we have come to expect after the likes of Berlioz. The soothing sounds of MacDowell's gentle Romance for Cello and Orchestra close this interesting program. As on many other Naxos recordings, the National Symphony Orchestra of Ireland (led here by Arthur Fagen) delivers performances of international caliber. Fine sound, too." - ClassicsToday.com (Victor Carr, Jr.), January 15, 2001

All this music needs loving care and I can hardly imagine it played with greater warmth or affection than by James Barbagallo. The recordings are as natural as the performances ...I can hardly wait for a second volume.
- Gramophone

Barbagallo is every bit the piano-bard that MacDowell could have wished for...the recording communicating, however, the energy and range Barbagallo can deliver in person. I could listen to this fine player in just about any repertory he chooses
- American Record Guide

One of the most important contributions Edward MacDowell made to American music was his reputation: born in New York City, trained in Paris and Vienna, he was the first Native-American composer to win respect in Europe. Among his supporters were Grieg and Liszt, and while MacDowell's music is frequently compared to the Norwegian master's for its lyricism and use of folk melodies--heard in miniatures such as the 'Forgotten Fairy Tales'--there is also strong affinity to the Faustian heroics of Liszt, as evidenced by the Piano Sonata No. 4, the 'Keltic.'
James Barbagallo has the full measure of the sonata, reveling in its dash and fire, and is quite fluent in the legerdemain of the 'Twelve Virtuoso Studies' as well as the rustic reveries of the 'Fairy Tales' or the Six Heine Poems. The young American pianist was well into a series of the complete MacDowell piano music at the time of his sudden death from a heart attack in 1996, but this disc serves as a powerful reminder of his accomplishment.

MACDOWELL: Second Modern Suite / Etude de Concert / 12 Etude

I'll say one thing: Naxos gives great notes. Reacting against Dvorák's suggestion that American composers look to Negro Spirituals and other ethnic music for inspiration, Edward MacDowell retorted:


"Purely national music has no place in art. What Negro melodies have to do with Americanism still remains a mystery to me. Why cover a beautiful thought with the badge of slavery rather than with the stern but at least manly and free rudeness of the North American Indian...? What we must arrive at is the youthful optimistic vitality and the undaunted tenacity of spirit that characterizes the American Man."


So speaks the true voice of the oppressor. Really, a nicer guy never got run over by a horse-drawn cab. Still, this little extract teaches us two useful lessons. First, what a composer says about music in general doesn't necessarily have anything to do with what he actually writes. After all, "youthful optimistic vitality" and "undaunted tenacity of spirit" are about the last qualities that come to mind when listening to the pieces on this disc--more like faux Mendelssohn with a Liszt spritzer. Second, the fact that a composer may not be particularly agreeable, or even especially intelligent, doesn't detract from the purely musical value of his output (if any, of course).


MacDowell's two suites for orchestra have waited a long time to appear on CD, and the fact that they may not be all that audacious or exciting does not detract from their considerable charm, attractive fund of melody, and apt scoring. Takuo Yuasa and the Ulster Orchestra lavish genuine care on these pieces, playing with real dedication and more than enough sympathy to justify the composer's pride in the Indian Suite's "Dirge" as one of his finest achievements. The Second Suite is, in fact, a very substantial work that does not deserve its obscurity. And yet we have to wonder just what a composer whose music was approvingly described in his own lifetime as "agreeably free of the fevers of sex" could make of Hamlet & Ophelia; and whatever the music's qualities, let us just say that it fully lives up (if that's the word) to MacDowell's chaste reputation. As noted, Naxos' documentation is exceptional, and the sound fine.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

We start with a pretty conventional three-movement, neo-Romantic Violin Concerto, written in 1940. The conductor’s program notes equate it with Bruch, but it’s not that old fashioned; there are hints of Bloch as well. Still, I find the opening Allegro too predictable and, at 14 minutes, too long. The Bruch connection could be some actual quotations in the violin part, but there are also some original ideas presented. McKay’s music is strongest, and most original, in his slow movements; he had a gift for the long melody and knew exactly what to do with one. Right from the opening note, the Andante quasi adagio rings true. Even the solo part changes instantly: the ultra-conventional figurations and filigree of the first movement give way to a soaring, wide-ranging line, which shares and exchanges ideas with solo woodwinds. Did the soloist feel the same way? His earlier cadenzas sound uncommitted; now he is all heart and beauty. A happy, lively finale also makes more use of winds than did the opening movement, and the solo line becomes more brilliant. One can’t help liking it.

The Suite on 16th-Century Hymn Tunes (an homage to one Louis Bourgeois) relapses into convention, recalling Vaughan Williams without matching him. It was written for organ in 1945, scored for strings shortly thereafter, and rescored for two string orchestras in 1962, the version heard here. A celesta joins in the fourth (Choeur céleste) of five movements; the work’s slow movement, it again stands out. A cogent listener (she doesn’t like being identified as my wife) thought the piece might be William Boyce, and English for sure. The Sinfonietta (1942) is a surprise: romantic excess has abdicated in favor of sharp, clean harmonies and rhythms. McKay has jumped a musical generation in the two years since the Violin Concerto; he seems as much at home in what was a very modern idiom for its day as he was in the earlier style. An Allegro . . . con brio (he writes verbose movement indications) has bite and wit; the Moderato pastorale makes varying use of a ripe oboe tune, enriching a nearly 10-minute movement at every turn. The colorfully scored finale, Allegro . . . molto, is brilliant fun.

Song over the Great Plains (1953) is a serious 14-minute tone poem, looking backward to Howard Hanson from McKay’s days at the Eastman School. Rich, mildly dissonant harmonies and heavy-duty scoring dominate, as trombones prevail. There is an occasional piano obbligato, played by Ludmilla Kovaleva, which serves primarily as respite from the tense atmosphere. The whole is not quite convincing, running just a touch too close to Hollywood. On another day, I might fall for it. All the performances are expert and seem sympathetic; the recordings are satisfactory.

James H. North, FANFARE

Robert Muczynski, born in 1929, has been sparsely represented on recordings since the early days of the LP. The 35 movements of various works on the disc average under two minutes each; he is obviously terse-he tosses an attractive idea out and then goes on to the next thing. His mid-20th-century idiom is consistently engaging, and he writes very well for winds. The brief Movements for Wind Quintet is gorgeous. Hawley plays strongly in every work (joined briefly by her former teacher Rampal in a work for duets), and the composer is still a very adept pianist.

Includes work(s) by Arnold Rosner. Ensemble: Ukrainian National Symphony Orchestra. Conductor: John McLaughlin Williams.

More cool stuff from Australia! The Queensland seaside city of Townsville deserves a lot of credit for sponsoring both the 1999 Australian Festival of Chamber Music and this recording, particularly as the artistic results certainly reveal a high level of talent on offer. Walter Piston's chamber output, not to mention the rest of his music, seems to be doing better Down Under than here in his native land, a national disgrace for which there is simply no excuse. The Flute Quintet in particular is a certified masterpiece of poised, mellifluous ensemble writing notable for the way in which Piston keeps all five players on an equal musical footing, steadfastly refusing to write a "concerto for flute and string quartet". The Piano Quintet has more bravura but no less melodic appeal, while the two late works, though tougher in fiber, are no less rewarding or expertly crafted. Both demonstrate that Piston's characteristic stylistic fingerprints--the lyrically expansive, moderately paced opening movements, lightning-quick scherzos, probing adagios, and rhythmically buoyant, "American-sounding" finales--were capable of endless development and permutation within the context of a personal, highly disciplined, but never static musical language. As noted above, the performances are all very fine, particularly the liquid flute playing of Olga Shylayeva, and it's interesting to see Naxos house conductor Theodore Kuchar among the violas. An important contribution to Piston's discography and American music in general. Buy two and give one to a friend. --David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Walter Piston's lovely Fourth Symphony certainly deserves greater exposure than it gets, and there's no reason why it shouldn't be popular. It begins with a lovely, pastoral opening that leads to a rambunctious scherzo with some elegant waltz music interludes. The slow movement is one of the composer's finest: it builds to a superb climax of Brucknerian intensity, while the amiable finale closes the work in high spirits. Really, what's not to like? This is the work's only stereo recording (Ormandy's is screechy mono, but wonderful all the same), and it's a very fine one. Schwarz keeps rhythms crisp in the fast movements, and phrases the "Comtemplativo" very broadly and affectingly, with some excellent solo work from the winds of the Seattle Symphony.


The couplings are also very well done, the Capriccio's naturally dry string textures and bracing harmonic idiom providing an excellent stylistic foil to the solo harp. Three New England Sketches, one of Piston's very few "titled" works, also has impressive atmosphere, though Slatkin's out of print version on RCA was better still. No matter: these are fine performances very well recorded, and deserve your attention. Thanks to Naxos for keeping them in the catalog (and to the Seattle Symphony, which understood the necessity of not leaving the master tapes to molder in some closet or basement storage room once Delos deleted the original issues).
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

In case you missed this recording of Walter Piston works when it was first released by Delos in 1993 (under the title "The Incredible Walter Piston"), now's your chance to hear it again in the same sound and at a lower price. As part of its acclaimed "American Classics" series, Naxos has licensed several previously issued recordings by the Seattle Symphony as part of a new collaboration to bring these performances back into circulation. Nothing has changed, except that the source tapes were re-mastered by Albert G. Swanson, the former associate engineer to John Eargle on the original recording made more than 10 years ago. The new sonic treatment offers little other than to preserve the slight predominance in the bass and the dark hues of the winds. The liner notes by Steven Lowe are neatly parsed and edited from Shirley Fleming's first edition text.


Listeners new to Piston's music would do well to audition this disc, as it includes a nice cross-section of the composer's output, from his first published work (Suite for Orchestra) to his last (Concerto for String Quartet). In between and opening this disc is the delightful ballet suite to The Incredible Flutist, a piece that features a slithering tango, a lusty Spanish waltz, and a spirited Circus March that concludes with a barking dog (a real one named Nori!). This quirky work--a sort of cross between Petrushka and Parade--alone belies the academic patina that has plagued Piston's name for decades. The fact that he wrote the leading textbook on orchestration should lead more people to think that maybe he actually knew something about it.


The dynamic Suite will excite anybody who loves Bartók, full as it is with resounding canonic brass fanfares, pounding percussion (watch out for the bass drum in the third movement), and chattering strings. Piston also had a flair for elegiac melodies, as evidenced by his soulful English horn writing (a bit aridly played and closely miked in this performance) in the Fantasy for English horn, harp, & strings, and by the slow, calmer parts for string quartet in the Concerto (especially the quixotic concluding viola solo).


Piston's orchestral expertise finds expression in the superbly crafted choral works that close this disc, works that are as buoyant as they are mysterious--and unforgettable. Of course, there are other superlative performances of these individual works (Bernstein's Incredible Flutist on Sony), but Schwarz's surveys remain essential listening for both lovers and newcomers to this great American composer.
--Michael Liebowitz, ClassicsToday.com

Walter Piston was one of the more influential American musicians of the twentieth century. For nearly four decades he was a mainstay of the Harvard Music Department, authoring a series of widely used textbooks and teaching generations of composers. Like many Americans who went to Paris in the 1920s he fell under the influence of Stravinsky and neoclassicism and it was that aesthetic that prevailed at Harvard and in Piston's own composition.
Piston worked in all the formal genres, leaving a substantial legacy of quartets, symphonies and concertos. His two violin concertos are among his most important works and Naxos has provided an invaluable service by placing both on one disc, along with the later Fantasia, as part of their American Classics series. The performances by erstwhile prodigy James Buswell are strong, he is able to get inside these cerebral scores and light the fires within. Theodore Kuchar and the Ukraine National Symphony lend solid support and the recording is first rate.

Alexandra Hawley and Jeffrey McFadden offer a wonderfully eclectic program for flute and guitar. If you haven't heard this combination of instruments before, on the evidence presented here you'll very likely agree that it's a most musically rewarding pairing. The flute's smooth timbre ideally complements the guitar's non-legato and softly percussive tone quality--aspects put to good use in Robert Beaser's Mountain Songs, where McFadden's rustic, folksy picking and strumming is tempered by Hawley's serenely floating melodies. Joan Tower's quasi-impressionistic Snow Dreams initially conjures up idyllic, pastoral images before the composer's spiky harmonic style slightly sharpens the music's edges. Likewise, Lowell Liebermann's Sonata for Flute opens with a blissfully ruminative Nocturne, an atmosphere that dissipates immediately with the start of the nervously dancing Allegro finale.


Based on Mexican folk tunes, Terry Riley's Cantos Desiertos features delightfully stirring dances rendered with the aid of percussion. Finally, Peter Schickele's Windows offers a neo-Renaissance Pavane and a songful Cantilena before charging into an all-out strum-fest for the closing Refrain. Hawley and McFadden play beautifully, sounding convincingly at home in all of the varying styles and modes presented by this unusual mix of composers. Naxos' engineering gives listeners a realistic sense of the recording venue. This is one of those discs you just put in your player and totally enjoy.
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

Compositions for piano have held a prominent position throughout George Rochberg’s long career. The earliest works on this recording, the Twelve Bagatelles, are fully-formed lyrical pieces each of which, despite its brevity, is a complete and fully evolved story. His Three Elegiac Pieces comprise a distinct set with a clear emotional progression. Sonata Seria (composed in 1948, revised during the mid-1950s and published in 1998) is an overpoweringly intense tour de force.

The notes to this recording make much of George Rochberg's braveness in the early 1960s in turning his back on strict academic serialism and atonality. Instead he dared to evolve a more nuanced, eclectic, personal style of expression in which tonal and atonal elements rub shoulders in a way that often comes across as sounding simply Romantic, in the best sense of the term. Without diminishing that achievement, in this less doctrinaire time the more important question is simple: How good is the music? We've been unable to answer this question because, aside from his string quartets, very few recordings have given us the chance to judge for ourselves. So this Naxos release is extremely important in that for many record collectors it will represent a first encounter with this seminal figure in 20th century American music--and it's magnificent.


The Fifth Symphony contains elements that many will find familiar: clear references to the finale of Mahler's Ninth and the Largo of Shostakovich's Fifth, aggressively virtuosic brass writing (it was a Chicago Symphony commission), a compelling mixture of dissonance and consonance, and an overtly emotional program apposing music of aggression with passages of sadness and consolation. It's all organized in a single movement whose multiple sections offer a gripping but easy-to-follow pattern of tension and release. To call the work a masterpiece doesn't begin to suggest its immediacy and impact: the symphony simply "goes" with the inevitability of fate itself, and its 28 minutes seem to pass by in a flash. Christopher Lyndon-Gee and the Saarbrücken orchestra give the music all of the intensity and passion that it needs, and they're marvelously well recorded too.


Black Sounds dates from 1965, and as the title suggests it's a darker, more abrasive work than the symphony. Inspired by the death of the composer's friend Edgard Varèse, the music pays respectful homage without ever descending to mere imitation. In particular, the scoring for 12 winds and brass, piano, celesta, and four percussionists clearly brings Varèse to mind, as does the music's violence and boundless energy. Standing at the opposite end of the harmonic spectrum, the gorgeously tonal Transcendental Variations for string orchestra consists of a reworking of the central movement of Rochberg's Third String Quartet, the breakthrough work in his mature style. Like the symphony, both works receive committed and compelling performances from Lyndon-Gee and his German forces.


Naxos has done some yeoman work in its American Classics series, but it's hard not to acclaim this release as one of the most important yet, not just for the excellence of its performances, the fine sonics, or even the marvelous music itself, but also in the human sense of doing some justice at last to a courageous composer whose importance is generally acknowledged but far too seldom confirmed by actual performance of his music. If this disc leads to further interest in Rochberg, then it will have achieved a greater purpose beyond gratifying a limited number of modern music enthusiasts. In the meantime, by all means, buy this and be gratified! [8/2/2003]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

CASCARINO Pygmalion. Portrait of Galatea. Blades of Grass. 1 Prospice. Meditation and Elegy. The Acadian Land • JoAnn Falletta, cond; Geoffrey Deemer (Eh); Philadelphia Philharmonia • NAXOS 8.559266 (76:02)


Here we go again. A good man spends his life writing music for the love of it, putting bread on the table by teaching harmony and counterpoint at a small local institution. During his lifetime, he gets a few performances, writes a bassoon sonata that’s a modest hit among bassoonists, and then spends 25 years writing an opera, which gets two performances. The good man dies at 80, unknown outside of local musical circles. A few years after his death, his music is finally recorded.


Romeo Cascarino was a fine but almost completely unknown midcentury American composer in the great Copland-Barber-Bernstein tradition who wrote delicious music obviously meant to be enjoyed rather than edified. His inspirations may be a little musty (Greek mythology, 19th-century romantic poetry) but they provide ample raw material for rich music that runs the emotional gamut from, say, C to V. (The wildest extremes are absent from his gracious music.) He’s not Beethoven, but by not trying to be profound, he manages to avoid writing the kind of pedantic, grey music that makes the music of many midcentury Americans more dutiful than beautiful. The music on this CD is beautiful from beginning to end, some of it exceptionally so. Its clarity, wit, and unabashed lyricism put me in mind of Francis Poulenc, although the sound is more 1950s Leonard Bernstein (including the more symphonic theater music), with a splash of the more overt populism of some Copland or, say, Morton Gould. Some of it is so tasty I found myself listening to it two or three times in one sitting.


Tom DiNardo’s brisk, informative notes include a rather concise biography of Cascarino in which even the high points are modest. Born in Philadelphia (in the venerable Italian community of “South Philly”), he was an autodidact. At 17, he “was invited to Tanglewood after Aaron Copland looked at some of his early works.” (Just looked at? This is where the standard issue composer bio says “was impressed by.”) In 1945, while still in the army, he won a prize in the George Gershwin Memorial Contest. (I assume that had it been first prize, it would have been so mentioned.) This was a small contest sponsored by two Jewish organizations, although later winners included Peter Mennin and Harold Shapero. A 1947 Bassoon Sonata for (hometown) Philadelphia Orchestra bassoonist Sol Schoenbach once circulated on a Columbia recording, and he received two Guggenheim Fellowships. He refused commercial music work, and remained loyal to a low-paying local college despite having better offers. His first orchestral score, the ballet Prospice —which, along with everything else on this CD except for Pygmalion , is recorded here for the first time—was only ever performed in a two-piano arrangement. The later Pygmalion was “intended” for a ballet, with a libretto that “would appeal to a choreographer like Anthony Tudor, whom [Cascarino] greatly admired.” This reads like a composer whose dreams exceeded his grasp. Cascarino was evidently not naive about this, however; as DiNardo points out, Cascarino described himself as “an idealist, which for me is a realist who’s learned what to live for.” But the whole story seems rather sad.


Well, happily both pieces are much, much better works than their performance history intimates. Why any conductor who saw this appealing, lively, vividly drawn, and wonderfully scored music would not want to perform it is beyond me. Pygmalion is, indeed, the pick of the litter, as its prior recording suggests, although it appears to have been an extremely modest recording from the 1950s or 1960s, based on a fuzzy photo of its cover that I found somewhere in the musty corners of the Internet. No performers were indicated. The rich harmony, tidy orchestration, and stateliness of this music remind me of a John Ireland work. Portrait of Galatea is intended to be more impressionistic, and it is more loosely constructed and not as memorable. Prospice is based on a stiffly proud Browning poem, and is appropriately inspirational.


Cascarino was also commissioned by what DiNardo terms the “Benjamin Tranquil Music Project” which elsewhere is termed the Benjamin Award for Tranquil Music. In either version, it sounds like a parody, but the resulting work, The Acadian Land (based on Longfellow) is, for me, the other high point of this CD. It holds up well after many playings.


Alas, there’s nothing from Cascarino’s magnum opus , the opera William Penn, based on the life of the Quaker statesman who established Pennsylvania and founded Philadelphia. Cascarino worked on this from 1950 until 1975, and it was finally staged for two performances at the venerable Academy of Music, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Tom DiNardo (who doesn’t credit himself in his booklet notes). Evidently, this CD, too, owes its existence in part to DiNardo’s efforts. (Listed as executive producer, he’s also the music critic for Philly’s “second” newspaper, which doesn’t give him as much space as he deserves.)


This CD makes me want to hear more of Cascarino’s music. According to DiNardo, the composer’s output is small. His dates are 1922–2002, but the music on this CD is mainly for orchestra or chamber orchestra, and spans the years 1945–1960. (The Meditation and Elegy was written for piano in his teens and transcribed for string orchestra in 2000 by one of his pupils.) Did he write any other orchestral music after 1960, or did the opera take up all his energy? Did he write anything after completing the opera in 1975? Is there any chamber music besides the Bassoon Sonata? I wish the booklet notes provided more information. And there’s no further information online. I guess I’ll just have to check out Cascarino’s childhood haunt (and mine), the music division of the Free Library of Philadelphia, whose Fleisher Collection is the world’s largest orchestral lending library and holds Cascarino’s scores. Regional orchestra conductors: hint hint.


It remains only to praise enterprising conductor JoAnn Falletta for shaping immaculate performances. The orchestra of record is the “Philadelphia Philharmonia” which, as a lifelong Philadelphian, I’d never heard of until I read the note in the booklet that reveals its secret identity as the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia, a venerable local organization not to be confused with the Philadelphia Virtuosi Chamber Orchestra (which also has done a couple of CDs for Naxos) or the late Philadelphia Chamber Symphony (which did some lovely LPs for RCA in the 1960s). Even though it’s a major part of Philadelphia’s musical life, the COP has evidently never recorded under its own name. Why they didn’t take credit for this CD is beyond me. Except for a couple of minor trumpet slips, the playing is quite fine. The recorded sound is decent, with good orchestral balances. And thank you to Naxos for making it possible for this lovely music to be heard by millions worldwide, even if the composer didn’t live to see it happen.


FANFARE: Eric J. Bruskin

This is a very easy call: marvelous music, exceptional performances, top-notch engineering--it all adds up to the strongest possible recommendation. Pilgrims is a lovely, lyrical work for string orchestra that makes an attractive disc-opener, but the two concertos are the standout items. Both are written as suites of brief movements, avoiding traditional forms. They actually resemble song-cycles more than anything else, and given Rorem's acknowledged mastery of that medium, not to mention the relationship between the concerto idea and vocal music generally, it's obvious that he is in his element.


The Flute Concerto is a world premiere. It was composed in 2002 for Jeffrey Khaner, and it's an exceptionally fine piece, beautiful to listen to and (evidently) quite grateful to play. We seem to be enjoying a bonanza of fine modern flute concertos, what with this work and the numerous pieces written for Sharon Bezaly as well. At about 30 minutes, it's a substantial piece, and Rorem's orchestration is beautifully calculated to give the soloist maximum opporunity for display, without the orchestra ever sounding excessively inhibited. Best of all, the thematic material really is memorable.

The same virtues characterize the Violin Concerto (1985), which was recorded previously by Bernstein and Gidon Kremer. Frankly, Philippe Quint plays better, with more attractive tone, and Serebrier offers a very fine account of the accompaniment. Rorem's orchestral music doesn't get the same amount of attention as his songs, but like the French music that he so admires, it allies expressive directness to a keen sense of instrumental color and superior craftsmanship. As a supplement to Serebrier's superb recording of the composer's three symphonies for Naxos, this disc is a must for collectors. [5/19/2006]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Better late than never, these Rorem premieres are irresistible

How remarkable that two such delectable concertos should be receiving their world premieres on disc. Unapologetically romantic and accessible, those qualities may well have mitigated against acceptance among the industry’s fashion-mongers. The Second Piano Concerto (1951) was written for Julius Katchen (also the dedicatee of Rorem’s attractive Second Piano Sonata) and was given its first performance by that superb pianist in 1954. Since then it has lain dormant until its present revival by Simon Mulligan whose brilliance, ideally matched by José Serebrier, is worthy of Katchen himself. Here, the ghosts of Ravel, Françaix, Gershwin, Stravinsky and, most of all, Poulenc, jostle for attention. Yet Rorem’s idiom is as personal as it is chic. The final pages of the central “Quiet and Sad” movement, where the piano weaves intricate tracery round the orchestral theme, may owe much to the Adagio assai from Ravel’s G major Concerto but it maintains its own character. The finale, “Real Fast”, is an irresistible tour de force played up to the hilt by Mulligan.

In the Cello Concerto Rorem happily eschews a conventional form, giving programmatic subtitles to each section. These range from “Curtain Raise” to “Adrift”, offering Wen-Sinn Yang a rich opportunity, whether playing primus inter pares or revelling in Rorem’s alternating nostalgia and effervescence. Finely recorded, it’s a clear winner for the Naxos American Classics series.

-- Bryce Morrison, Gramophone [12/2007]

Naxos' ongoing series of Ned Rorem orchestral music recordings offers well-deserved recognition to a major American composer. This latest release is no less rewarding than the prior issues. The Second Piano Concerto dates from 1951 and shows the young composer writing with tremendous gusto. A large work (34 minutes) in the traditional three movements, its scoring is both vivid and at times a touch dense and "over the top", while the work's melodic generosity and rhythmic drive are undeniably infectious; its neglect must be counted a major mystery. Conductor José Serebrier's notes make much of the music's "American" qualities, particularly in the finale, but I was much more forcibly struck by Rorem's much-advertised love of French music. Whatever the answer to the "influence" question, this concerto is without doubt a major statement, and it's very impressively performed by Simon Mulligan, Serebrier, and the orchestra, who let the music speak with all of its delicious formal (in the first-movement cadenza) and textural excess.

Rorem's Cello Concerto dates from 2002, and like many of his late orchestra works it abandons traditional form in favor of a series of brief movements given cute names that may or may not have anything significant to do with their musical content. Frankly, I find this habit unnecessarily coy and distracting, but others may simply be intrigued; and if the listener's curiosity, once aroused, leads to giving the music more concentrated attention, then it's all to the good.

The sequence of eight movements is laid out for maximum contrast, and I particularly enjoyed the seventh, a characterful waltz. Indeed, Rorem is such a fine melodist when he wants to be that you have to wonder why he feels the need to venture into more aggressively "modern" territory now and then. Perhaps he's working a little bit too hard at being a "serious" composer. Never mind: this is a fine work, also strongly played by cellist Wen-Sinn Yang. Naxos' engineers have judged the balances very accurately between both soloists and the orchestra, while the occasional opacity at the climaxes of the piano concerto seems more a function of the heavy scoring than a suggestion of technical inadequacy. A fine disc.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This album was nominated for the 2004 Grammy Awards for Best Classical
Album and Best Orchestral Performance.

RUSSELL: Rhapsody for Horn and Orchestra / Middle Earth

"These two symphonies - the fourth premiered in 1942 in Cleveland, the ninth in 1969 in Philadelphia - are full of arresting moments, both emotionally and in terms of orchestral effects. . . These pieces are layered with dark mysteries that make you want to hear them again and again. Also, the recording quality drawn from Seattle's Benaroya Hall is outstanding." - David Patrick Stearns, Philadelphia Inquirer, Sunday, May 29th, 2005

"...Though separated by decades, the two war symphonies are exceptional -- exemplary showcases of "The American Sound" in symphonic music (i.e. athletic, modal, spacious, dramatic, starkly songful). They are soundscapes full of mass sonority, vigor and seriousness. The performances and recordings are brand new and superb." - John Simon, Buffalo News, Sunday, May 22nd, 2005


Click Here for the complete Naxos American Classic Series

During his time William Schuman (1910?1992) was a notable part of American musical life, as a teacher, administrator, and composer. His legacy of musical compositions is significant and distinctive, and this release couples two striking examples of his art.


Symphony No. 7, premiered by Charles Munch and the Boston Symphony in 1960, is in four movements played continuously, beginning with a pregnant, sinewy, and dark, slow movement that is succeeded by a brief Scherzo that is typically pugnacious and characteristically scored, not least in the percussion. The slow mood returns for a radiant Cantabile intensamente that grows in emotion, and the symphony concludes with a propulsive finale that begins skittishly (reminding us of Copland and developing an exuberance that suggests Leonard Bernstein) and ends in thrilling clamor. Whether this lively movement is quite the expected corollary to what has gone before is a moot point, although there is no doubting the sheer quality of the music, and the uplift of the final measures.


Symphony No. 10, ?American Muse,? was first heard in Washington, DC, in 1976, Antal Dorati conducting the National Symphony Orchestra. Leonard Slatkin and the Chicago Symphony then took it up, and Slatkin recorded American Muse , dedicated ?to the country?s creative artists, past, present and future,? and other works of Schuman, for RCA with the Saint Louis Symphony in either 1991 or 1992 (RCA?s booklet doesn?t specify what was recorded when). It?s a great piece, the last of Schuman?s 10 symphonies (the first two were withdrawn by the composer), a vindication of writing real symphonic music, and begins with a sustained, brass dominated Con fuoco that is a virtuoso display of considerable import; a tidal wave of communication. The lengthy Larghissimo that follows is hauntingly beautiful, very personal, even private, but it steals to the listener?s heart, and the finale, having begun in exploratory fashion, is an optimistic summation.


Both Slatkin and Gerard Schwarz are deeply sympathetic conductors of Schuman?s music, but I imagine Slatkin?s version of ?American Muse? is now deleted. Schwarz?s leading of both symphonies is excellent; so, too, the sound quality; and the music is superb. With Schuman 4 and 9 already released from Seattle, one hopes the other four symphonies will follow. Very important.


FANFARE: Colin Anderson

The Violin Concerto is one of Schuman's most powerful works. Emotionally packed, it could almost be considered a symphony for violin and orchestra. Rather than "accompanying" the soloist in the classic tradition, the orchestra becomes a participant in the high drama. The work is indeed extremely theatrical, evoking powerful emotions in a highly charged romantic atmosphere. Schuman was a poet at heart. His earliest interests actually included the writing of poetry. The concerto has some of the most poetic music ever written by Schuman. The work underwent several transformations after each of the first performances. Schuman seemed unsatisfied with the form, eventually settling for the final version of two very large movements instead of the original three. The final version of the work was performed by Roman Totenberg at the Aspen Festival in Colorado in 1959. - Jose Serebrier

This selection was nominated for the 2001 Grammy Awards for "Best Orchestral Performance" and "Best Instrumental Soloist(s) Performance (with Orchestra)."

If you're encountering the late American, New York born composer Elie Siegmeister for the first time, skip the first five tracks for now. Cue up Track Six to his gritty, uncompromising 1964 Second Sonata. The one movement work commences with stabbing, isolated pitches. These work their way into petulant clusters and stark, flickering triads. Leaping rhythmic patterns forge a grim, motoric path of no return, on which teasing jazz flourishes and starburst, two-handed arpeggios provide breezy relief. Siegmeister's predilection for granitic sonorities and bleak lyricism informs both his early 1932 Theme & Variations and his notey, rigorous Third Sonata from 1979. Five movements from the 1985 suite "These Shores" depict a quintet of American writers, whose identities are difficult to decipher without a score card. Yet this composer could write simple, accessible music too. Turn now to the opening "Sunday in Brooklyn" suite, a five movement work laced with wistful tunes and gentle, wrong-note Gershwinisms. This is music that deserves to be played much more than it is. One regrets that the composer, who died in 1991, didn't live to hear pianist Kenneth Boulton's dynamically charged, fiercely committed, and brilliantly virtuosic performances. He would have been delighted.--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Commissioned by the National Symphony Orchestra of Washington DC, Roberto Sierra's Missa Latina "is remarkably organic in its expression: if it is music that sets out to be liked—perhaps loved—it is also a unified and, one suspects, deeply felt utterance of the heart...the Missa Latina will bring pleasure to a great many listeners. (Indeed, the ‘Sanctus’ could almost be turned into a pop song.)...I can't imagine anybody who starts listening to the Missa Latina wanting to turn it off before it is over."

- The Washington Post