'The American Album' by the Cypress String Quartet is a stunning appreciation of the American musical spirit from 1893-1936, headlined by Czech composer Antonin Dvorak’s “American” Quartet, with works by Charles Griffes, Samuel Barber - his Quartet, Op.11 includes the famous “Adagio” - and contemporary composer Kevin Puts.

HANDEL Six Trio Sonatas, op. 2. Passacaille, op. 5/4 • The Brook Street Band (period instruments) • AVIE 2282 (69:49)


Handel’s music is always such a joy to listen to, I’m not sure how much we should trouble ourselves over how his works are identified or numbered in the listings. But just to clarify what’s on this disc, the updated or modern version of the Händel-Gesellschaft catalog places these sonatas in Volume XXVII, headed “Kammermusik: Sonate da Camera.” Falling under this heading are four subheadings or Parts, of which op. 2 is consigned to Part III: Nine Sonatas for Two Violins, Continuo, and Bass, as follows: B Minor, op. 2/1 (HWV 386b); G Minor, op. 2/2 (HWV 387); B? Major, op. 2/3 (HWV 388); F Major, op. 2/4 (HWV 389); G Minor, op. 2/5 (HWV 390a); G Minor, op. 2/6 (HWV 391).


But that’s only six. The Händel-Gesellschaft catalog places nine sonatas in this grouping. So what gives? Well, here’s the scoop: op. 2/1 (HWV 386b) turns up in an alternate version as HWV 386a, but in C Minor instead of B Minor, my guess is to accommodate performance on flute in place of violin. There’s an HWV 392 in G Minor, which was not published in the original op. 2 set of six sonatas, and which is considered spurious by some Handel scholars. And finally, there’s a Sonata in E Major listed as op. 2/9 (HWV 394), again not published as part of the original set. But when the set was first published in 1733, they appeared in print as “IX Sonatas or Trios for Two Violins, Flutes, or Hoboys with a Thorough Bass for the Harpischor [sic] or Violoncello.”


The Brook Street Band gives us the standard six listed in the first paragraph above, including as a bonus, the Passacaille, which I headlined as coming from op. 5/4, but which Handel actually made use of in a number of different works. I can’t be sure why the players have ordered the sonatas on the disc as they have—Nos. 3, 2, 4, 5, 1, and 6—but a good guess would be to avoid the adjacency of minor-key sonatas, three of which are in G Minor. One other note: Though the Händel-Gesellschaft catalog places these sonatas under the category of “Kammermusik: Sonate da Camera,” all but one of these sonatas are of the chiesa (church) type, meaning they’re in four movements that follow a slow-fast-slow-fast layout. The exception, No. 4 in F Major, adds a fifth movement, an additional Allegro , at the end.


Since the original printing indicates that these sonatas or trios may be played by two violins, flutes, or oboes, The Brook Street Band, named, by the way, for Handel’s London residence, divides the pieces up accordingly; however, the ensemble, as it’s constituted, is oboe-less. Members are Rachel Harris and Farran Scott, Baroque violins; Lisete da Silva, flute and recorder; Tatty Theo, Baroque cello; and Carolyn Gibley, harpsichord.


Despite the 1733 publication date, it’s believed Handel composed these trio sonatas as early as 1722. Consider, though, that by then he was a well-established opera composer in London. Some of his most important operas date from this period— Ottone, Flavio, Giulio Cesare, Tamerlano , and Rodelinda were all composed between 1722 and 1725. I mention this because the slow movements of these trios are emotively expressive in much the same way as Handel’s arias are in his operas of these years, gorgeous cantilenas spun out with affective lyrical beauty. In contrast, the fast-paced movements anticipate the vivacious, energetic drive to come in the later organ concertos and concerti grossi. They’re full of spirited invention, and performed here by The Brook Street Band with lots of spring and bounce, along with some delightfully spontaneous-sounding embellishments added for good measure.


There is competition in these works, and it’s not insignificant, from groups like Sonnerie with Monica Huggett, and the Academy of Ancient Music, led by Richard Egarr. I have Sonnerie’s recording on Avie, and have been very happy with it. But The Brook Street Band’s playing strikes me as sounding freer, more natural, and less constrained. Perhaps the word I’m looking for is less studied. In any case, these are wonderful performances of uplifting music beautifully recorded. What more could you want? Very strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

VIVALDI L’Incoronazione di Dario , RV 719: Sinfonia; Ferri, ceppi, sangue, morte; Sentiro fra ramo. Arsilda, RV 700: Io sento in questo seno. Motezuma, RV 723: Quel rossor, ch’in volto miri; In mezzo alla procella. Violin Concertos: in D, RV 208, “Grosso Mogul”; in B?, RV 367; in C, RV 191 • Adrian Chandler (vn, cond); Sally Bruce-Payne (mez); La Serenissima (period instruments) • AVIE 2287 (76:16 Text and Translation)


Avie’s release of a program of Vivaldi’s music bears the subtitle “A Tale of Two Seasons,” with the two seasons represented by concertos and arias from 1717 and 1733. Adrian Chandler’s thorough and perceptive booklet notes give an account of the music, the culture that gave rise to it, and the changes the intervening 16 years wrought on Vivaldi’s style in both opera and concerto.


The program opens with the brief Sinfonia from L’Incoronazione di Dario , with the first movement exuding the ensemble’s crisp energy, the second comprising a flowing Andante , and the third, Presto , exhibiting chunky élan in this reading (Chandler notes that the designation refers to the movement’s “verve” rather than its speed). For the program, Chandler and the ensemble have adopted A = 440, representing then Venice’s higher pitch.


Chandler notes that Vivaldi’s arias from the early years don’t usually last as long as those from his later periods. Accordingly, the three from the 1717 portion of the program occupy only about 12 minutes in total. Sally Bruce-Payne appears as the mellifluous but dramatic soloist in the two arias from L’Incoronazione di Dario , (the vigorous Ferri, ceppi, sangue, morte and Sentiro fra ramo , the latter featuring dialogues with a solo violin and with strings), sandwiching in between the alternately flowing (voice) and agitated (orchestra) aria Io sento in questo seno from Arsilda.


The first “season” closes with the familiar Concerto, “Grosso Mogul,” which Chandler suggests had been written for performance during an opera on the subject of India’s Mogul. Chandler, playing a violin made in 1981, “after Amati,” by Rowland Ross, brings a flash of virtuosity to the solo part—especially the stunning extended cadenzas of the first and third movements, which he adapted mostly from a German source—in his view the unadulterated form of the work—as well as from Vivaldi’s manuscript.


To open the second “season,” Chandler plays a Violin Concerto (RV 367) that he identifies as a theatrical work written in the 1730s (and gives his reasons for believing so, in view of the general difficulty of dating Vivaldi’s concertos). Chandler also notes that by the 1730s, Vivaldi gave greater prominence to the solos, reducing the length of the ritornellos. In the first movement of RV 367, Chandler takes advantage not only of the flowing melody of the tuttis, but also of some dialogue between the upper parts and the bass as well.


The arias—for this season, “Quel rossor, ch’in volto miri” and the exciting and considerably more agitated “In mezzo alla procella,” making reference to a storm at sea, with both calling forth thrillingly dramatic readings from Sally Bruce-Payne—come from Motezuma , written, according to Chandler, for Angiola Zanucchi in the role of Ramiro, brother of Fernando, general of the Spanish army.


The Violin Concerto, RV 191, brings the program to a close. Similarities exist between this work and the Concerto, RV 367—a sort of melodiousness coupled with high-octane virtuosity, and Chandler effectively combines these manners. He notes that Vivaldi by this time had expanded his repertoire of bowings, and these surpass in their variety those found in more familiar works, like those in op. 8 from 1725. The Finale displays a wider range of rhythmic motives than many listeners may associate with Vivaldi, which also provides a strong contrast with his earlier works. Giuliano Carmignola and Andrea Marcon included this Concerto in a collection of Vivaldi’s late concertos with the Venice Baroque Orchestra (Sony 89362, Fanfare 25:2). Both ensembles play with electrifying crisp energy, but Chandler brings out the passagework’s lyricism; Carmignola, hissing and spitting, trains a laser to reflect its diamond-like brilliance.


La Serenissima gives in this program a fuller representation of Vivaldi as a musician and composer than could any that focused exclusively on his vocal or instrumental works. It should appeal to specialists and, because of its combination of breadth and focus, also to more general listeners. Very strongly recommended to all sorts of collectors.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Following five critically acclaimed and immensely popular recordings for AVIE, the Brook Street Band embarks on their most ambitious project to date: a recording with the estimable student Choir of the Queen’s College, Oxford, that pairs — for the first time ever — the two settings of the Dixit Dominus written by Alessandro Scarlatti and George Frideric Handel. On this recording the massed forces are joined by five of Britain’s brightest young singers: soprano Elin Manahan Thomas, mezzo-sopranos Esther Brazil and Sally Bruce-Payne, tenor Guy Cutting, and bass-baritone Matthew Brook.

Classical Music

A VIOLIN’S LIFE: Music for the Lipi?ski Stradivari • Frank Almond (vn); William Wolfram (pn) • AVIE 2279 (67:37)


TARTINI (arr. Kreisler) The Devil’s Trill. RÖNTGEN Violin Sonata No. 2. LIPI?SKI Caprice, op. 29/3. SCHUMANN Violin Sonata No. 2 in d


Frank Almond pays tribute to the 1715 Lipi?ski Stradivari in a release that includes selections by composers who either owned it or had a connection to it. He’s provided a note on the privilege of playing on it, and violin maker John Dilworth has contributed the notes on the violin itself and on the program.


Almond and pianist William Wolfram begin with Tartini’s Sonata in G Minor, known by the title “The Devil’s Trill” because of a difficult double-stopped trill in the last movement (Fritz Kreisler’s ingenious cadenza for it came much later). Almond doesn’t play Tartini’s original double stops in the first movement (which he takes rather briskly) but does include some appropriate ornamentation in his sprightly reading of the second (and in the slow introduction to the third as well). He veils the devil’s trill itself with a sulfurous haze, more atmospheric than the suggestions of heavy breathing that accompany the movement; at the end he plays a shortened version of Kreisler’s cadenza. It’s a capable—even stirring—performance, but violin aficionados will perhaps be more intrigued by hearing it played on Tartini’s violin than charmed by this particular performance of it.


According to Dilworth’s account of the violin’s history, Julius Röntgen inherited the instrument from his father, Engelbert, concertmaster of Leipzig’s Gewandhaus Orchestra. The composer’s Violin Sonata No. 2 allows Almond to explore the violin’s entire range in its three movements, soaring in the melodious Allegro non troppo into the instrument’s silvery upper registers but also thundering, along with Wolfram, in its climactic passages. The brief middle movement, Con animazione , serves as a sprightly transition to the more substantial Finale, Agitato , to which the duo imparts a stormy urgency and which displays the reedy strength of the violin’s lower registers (as well as the piano’s own steely power, which the duo holds well in check—or, at least, in balance).


The inclusion of one of Karol Lipi?ski’s Three Caprices, op. 29/3, may be particularly appropriate because Lipi?ski, a follower of Paganini, also owned the instrument. Many may feel that Lipi?ski’s Caprices (for solo violin), short as those may be, outstay their welcome even in capable performances like Almond’s and represent the kind of gratuitous difficulties that Paganini’s own Caprices (or Heinrich Wilhelm Ernst’s, for that matter) transcend.


According to Dilworth’s note, Lipi?ski served as concertmaster of the Dresden orchestra while Schumann resided in Leipzig. Almond and Wolfram offer an urgent performance of the composer’s Second Sonata, although passages, in the first movement, at least in the violin part, sound more awkward than perhaps they need to. That sense of almost strenuous urgency continues into the second movement and beyond.


Several tributes like this one have been paid to great violins—well, almost like this one, for the program’s don’t focus on previous owners of the instrument (except in the case of Paganini, who owned the Cannon and made it famous). As in the case of Dynamic’s tribute to David Oistrakh’s violin, the Conte de Fontana Stradivari from 1702 ( The Violin of David Oistrakh , Dynamic 389, Fanfare 26:5), the recorded sound can be frustratingly insufficient. A similar difficulty seems to beset Avie’s release: If the violin’s the thing, then we should hear the violin in state-of-the-art recorded sound; and while Avie has hardly employed antiquated recording techniques, it’s to be presumed, the results make the violin seem a bit muffled and not particularly diamond-like in the middle. But, with Dilworth’s engaging notes (and Almond’s) and the generally stylish and affable performances, violin aficionados should still find it irresistible. Others may not share their enthusiasm. Recommended, therefore, to principally collectors of programs played on famous violins—not a small segment of the violin-loving population.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Classical Music

This brand-new recording of Orfeo lacks thrills and grand vocal displays, and the results are beautiful indeed. Purposely eschewing what opera turned into within a half-century of this, the purported first entirely extant opera, Andrew Parrott, with 40 years of experience and scholarship under his belt, has opted to present a “favola in musica” rather than the later notation, a “dramma per musica”. The distinction is one of size, scope, and focus.

The performances that were given of Orfeo at the court of Mantua were neither fully-staged nor opulent; there is mention of a “curtain” but the room itself was salon-sized and the purpose of the event was to appreciate the combination of poetry and music. There were no singing stars; the purpose of the show was not virtuosity. It was an experiment for the heightening of the text by music.

With that in mind, this exquisite, delicate reading is a glorious alternative to, say, the Philip Pickett, René Jacobs, or Nikolaus Harnoncourt performances (let alone the heartbreaking Emmanuel Haim reading on Virgin), which are interested in Orfeo as a piece of theater, designed to “impress” and possibly stun. Parrott’s show places equal emphasis on the music and text—the words are delivered flawlessly, with strength where needed, but utterly devoid of melodrama. The drama is in the sadness of both words and music. It’s almost like Mozart in that respect: his operas rarely need to be “interpreted”; if the singers and players follow the music and text scrupulously, an effect will be made. It may not engender shock and awe, but the tale will be told, without over-emphasizing or exaggeration.

And that is what we get here. The first CD begins with the sound of a few people chattering, and the Gonzaga fanfare is first heard from a distance. Then it comes a bit closer—in a different key (this is not explained), which is a bit jarring but certainly makes us pay attention. The first voice we hear—La Musica—is that of countertenor David Hurley, perhaps the purest male adult voice I’ve ever heard (including Phillip Jaroussky’s). It is light as a feather, and music itself.

Charles Daniels is a wonderful Orfeo—sweet and gentle—and he handles the amazingly difficult “Possente spirto” and “Orfeo son io” in the third act beautifully, with every note clear and focused, but without any grandstanding. His legato (this entire performance is all about the unstoppability of music as exhibited by superb legato playing and singing from everyone) is a thing of wonder. Caronte, in the person of Curtis Streetman, also singing smoothly (and with a sensational trillo on the word “canto”), brings out some forte, impassioned pleading from Daniels’ Orefo—all the more effective since all else has been so understated.

Emily van Evera’s Messaggiera is a problem—her voice is too bright and she is too matter-of-fact for someone delivering such terrible news—but her Prosperina is so lovely that Christopher Purves’ Plutone must give in to her request. Faye Newton’s Eurydice is particularly effective in her final farewell, with its weird-and-weirder chromatic lines. Some might argue that the Infernal Spirits are not menacing enough; I would direct their attention to the accompaniment of the three trombones and two bass trombones, which add enough darkness to hide the sun. The only other concession to this being a staged work is the gradual disappearance of Apollo (finely sung by Guy Melc) and Orfeo near the opera’s close, since there is in fact a stage direction in the score that states that they “ascend”.

There are 29 instrumentalists, 14 of whom are string players; several of the singers play double roles. The harmonies in the choruses are spotless, with the men’s voices impeccably matched; this is some of the smoothest singing I’ve ever heard. Pitch is A=440 (most other recordings use A=465) which adds to the ease of production and mellow, sad telling of this well-known tale. The sound is pristine.

This may not be an only choice for a version of Orfeo; it’s an alternative, possibly thoroughly accurate reading of the favola. But its poetic approach is an ideal companion to the more aggressive, later 17th and early 18th century “operatic” readings mentioned above, with Haim’s probably first.

– Robert Levine, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

about the release In a short space of time Augustin Hadelich has become one of the most respected and admired violinists of his generation. Two critically acclaimed and Billboard Classical Chart-topping releases for AVIE, a string of major debuts with the likes of the New York Philharmonic, Boston Symphony, Cleveland Orchestra, Los Angeles Philharmonic, San Francisco, St. Louis and National Symphony Orchestras, multiple awards including an Avery Fisher Career Grant and Lincoln Center's Martin E. Segal Award, have resulted in major media coverage in The New Yorker, The New York Times, The Los Angeles Times, and Philadelphia Inquirer, among many others, and an ever-widening and adoring fan base. On Histoire du Tango, Augustin conjures a dark and sultry night of fiery, hot-blooded dancing. Partnered by award-winning Spanish guitarist Pablo Sáinz Villegas, Augustin traces the history of Argentina's national dance in Piazzola's title track, stirs up folk, gypsy and flamenco dances which inspired De Falla's Six Popular Spanish Songs, and tosses off a fusillade of pyrotechnics in works by the pinnacles of 19th-century violin performance, Paganini and Sarasate. critical acclaim for Augustin Hadelich "If a layer of surface noise were added to Augustin Hadelich's recent solo-violin recording on the Avie label, you might think you were hearing a virtuoso out of the Golden Age." - The New Yorker "behind Hadelich's talent was a molten intensity, a determination to explore the music's passionate, earthy sides with gritty articulation and tender lyricism." - Cleveland Plain Dealer "impressive -- intonation dead-on, with a luscious tone and an Old World grace that you don't hear very much from young violinists anymore." - Los Angeles Times "he easily confirmed his place on the shortlist of today's top violin virtuosos" - The Denver Post, on Augustin's New York Philharmonic debut at the Bravo! Vail Valley Music Festival

Harking back to a golden era in recording, when the ensembles of the Eastman School of Music under the baton of the legendary Frederick Fennell made dozens of pioneering recordings for Mercury Living Presence, the Eastman Wind Ensemble celebrates its 60th anniversary with its first recording for AVIE Records featuring two seminal works by Stravinsky. The composer's music figured early on in the EWE's history - his Symphonies for Wind Instruments was performed in 1951 on a program conducted by Frederick Fennell that led to the establishment of the Eastman Wind Ensemble. And in 1966, at the age of 83, Stravinsky made his one and only visit to the Eastman School of Music, overseeing performances of several of his works. Under Mark Scatterday, who continues in the prestigious lineage as only the fourth conductor in the EWE's history, the superior student ensemble performs Stravinsky's Octet, while Eastman Virtuosi, made up of the Eastman School's renowned faculty members, turn in a devilishly fine rendition of A Soldier's Tale. Jan Opalach delivers an exceptionally nuanced narration as well as portraying the folk tale's two protagonists, Joseph the solider and the Devil. critical acclaim for Eastman Wind Ensemble and Eastman Virtuosi "sonorous recordings ... extraordinary depth" - Gramophone "insightful, interpretive, passionate readings" - The New York Times "America's premiere wind band" - Fanfare

Classical Music

SCHUMANN Piano Trio No. 2 in F, Op. 80. Kinderszenen , Op.15 1. Piano Quartet in E?, Op.47 2 • Benvenue Fp Tr; 1 Eric Zivian (fp); 2 Adam LaMotte (va) • AVIE 2272 (71:07)


In the second movement of the Piano Trio on this disc, violinist Monica Huggett does something remarkable for this modern age: She plays downward portamentos in her phrasing of the musical line. They are not as broadly accented as the portamentos one heard from Bronislaw Huberman, but they are a bit broader than those used by Emanuel Feuermann in the late 1930s and early ’40s. What this tells me is that Huggett, who prides herself on being a historically informed performer of classical music from two centuries (18th and 19th), is fully aware that portamento was used as an expressive device in this music, and that to eliminate it is incorrect. More to the point, the performance of the trio as a whole evinces a systemic approach to the music. One can also hear upward portamento in Huggett’s solo lines in the first movement of this trio. By leading the way stylistically, she encourages moments of rubato, sharp attacks and releases in the dramatic passages, and an overall feeling of involvement that is rare among many such groups nowadays.


Moreover, the trio’s choice of instruments also reflects an enlightened view of the music. No half-harpsichord-sounding fortepiano is involved here, but an instrument built by Franz Rausch in 1841. Huggett’s instrument is the oldest, being a violin of the Dutch Cuypers School c. 1770, while Tanya Tomkins’s cello was made by Joseph Panormo in London in 1811. Using instruments close in style to those used by Schumann makes an enormous difference. There is, in fact, very little difference in sound (though a less powerful sustain) between Eric Zivian’s fortepiano and a more modern instrument, and this added richness gives more body to the music. The incredible realism of the recorded sound (the microphones used are not identified, but the venue was Old St. Hilary’s Church in Tiburon, California) also assists greatly in both presence and in giving some natural “air” around the instruments.


Rather surprisingly, considering his superb attention to detail and his style which allows for several little rubato touches, I found Zivian’s interpretation of Kinderszenen somewhat less convincing. I’m not sure, in this case, if the fortepiano was recorded a bit too closely, lending a somewhat overloud aspect to certain movements, but in any case I didn’t feel that he captured the remarkable ambiance that one feels, for instance, in the performance by Clara Haskil. Listen, for example, to the famous “Träumerai”: tempo and phrasing are exactly right, but somehow the feeling is wrong—just a bit too “klunky.” (It could be that, in this case, the instrument’s lack of a larger frame and greater sustaining ability is to blame, rather than the player.)


Despite this slight disappointment, when they reach the Piano Quartet in E? (with guest violist LaMotte), they again play with that rare combination of elasticity and emotional involvement. Listening carefully, I think I know why the fortepiano sounds better in ensemble: The cello’s rich tone compensates somewhat for the slightly leaner, less sustained tone of the keyboard. But whatever the reason, there is no question but that both mood and structure never sound forced but, rather, “evolve” in the listening process. You almost feel privileged to be listening in on a performance this good. No matter when you play this disc, whether alone in the evening or with friends in the afternoon, you’ll be completely taken in and involved in the Benvenue Trio’s music-making. It is as if these musicians are not the ones communicating with you, but Robert Schumann himself.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Classical Music

Classical Music