"When the Wigmore Hall Live label released an archival recording of a 1998 recital by the great mezzo-soprano Lorraine Hunt Lieberson last year, it raised the hope of more such posthumous finds. And just as that hope had begun to fade, here comes another treasure, this one unearthed from the archives of Emmanuel Music in Boston.

As it happens, this release serves as tribute not only to Hunt Lieberson, who died in 2006, but also to her frequent close collaborator Craig Smith, the founder of Emmanuel Music, who died in November. And the material is choice: spacious arias from two Bach cantatas and extended excerpts from Handel’s oratorio “Hercules.”

The disc begins with a 1992 recording of the aria “Kommt ihr angefochtnen Sünder” from Bach’s Cantata No. 30: Something of a tease as the opening instrumental passage heightens the anticipation of Hunt Lieberson’s entrance, more than two minutes into the disc. But that glorious Voice, when it appears, meets every expectation.

The “Hercules” excerpts, from 1999, trace the travails of the hero’s wife, Dejanira, culminating in a harrowing mad scene.... Although Hunt Lieberson’s compelling stage presence added mightily to any performance, the voice alone amply conveys her characteristic intensity here....

Dare we hope for more?"

– James R. Oestreich, New York Times [8/10/2008]

The early death of Lorraine Hunt Lieberson deprived the world of an exceptional artist and one, moreover, who left all too few commercial recordings. However, some archive recordings are now beginning to emerge and this new release, featuring previously unissued live recordings is one such. The CD also forms a tribute to one of her mentors, Craig Smith, Music Director at Emmanuel Church, Boston from 1970 until his death in November 2007 at the age of sixty.

Smith founded Emmanuel Music, which, besides fulfilling a liturgical function at the church, evolved also into a concert ensemble of no little distinction. Perhaps Smith’s greatest achievement was to inaugurate the practice whereby each Sunday between October and April, the main Sunday morning church service includes a cantata by Bach appropriate to the day. That tradition continues to this day and later this year the thirty-ninth consecutive season of liturgical cantatas will commence.

It was through Emmanuel Music that the then Lorraine Hunt took some of the first steps on her solo singing career and she maintained the connection, I believe, for the rest of her life, including appearances in the Sunday cantata series. This disc, therefore, takes us back to her singing roots.

The disc begins and ends with arias taken, I presume, from complete Sunday service performances of Bach cantatas. The aria "Kommt ihr angefochtnen Sünder" comes from the cantata Freue dich, erlöste schar, written for the feast of St. John the Baptist. Alfred Dürr writes thus of the cantata: "The underlying mood is joyful, relaxed and unproblematical, not only in the opening chorus but in the four arias, where a dance-like style is often clearly evident." Unfortunately, to judge by this aria at least, Craig Smith seems to have a different conception. Presumably with the agreement of his soloist, he sets and extremely slow tempo and the aria lasts 8:46.

This sent me scurrying to my shelves for comparisons. John Eliot Gardiner, in his Bach Cantata Pilgrimage performance takes a mere 5:27 but he is surely too fleet – at his pace the aria sounds like a gambol through the Elysian meadows. So that might seem to suggest that Smith is "simply" old fashioned in his conception. But turn to Fritz Werner’s 1971 performance and you find a tempo that seems to me to be just right – he takes 6:03. Beside Werner I’m afraid Smith sounds laboured. What saves the performance is the sheer beauty and inwardness of Lorraine Hunt Lieberson’s singing. On its own terms the performance is quite lovely and no admirer of the singer will be disappointed but I just think the basic conception is wrong.

Things are much more satisfactory in the other Bach aria, which is placed at the opposite end of the programme. This aria is from the cantata Allein zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ, which is for the Thirteenth Sunday after Trinity. Again, Miss Hunt Lieberson’s singing is beautiful and communicative and this time the pace is much more sensible, I think. The conductor here is the composer, John Harbison, who has also had a long association with Emmanuel Music and who, in fact, is currently the Acting Artistic Director. He adopts a slow pace, but this aria can take it. Again comparisons were instructive. Eliot Gardiner’s tempo is almost identical and he takes exactly as long as does Harbison. Werner didn’t record this cantata but another celebrated Bach traditionalist, Karl Richter, did. In his 1976/7 recording he takes 9:34 but his soloist, Julia Hamari, sounds cool besides either of her rivals and she and Richter, whose direction is smooth and relaxed, convey no real sense of trepidation. Nathalie Stutzmann, for Eliot Gardiner, is perhaps a touch more inward than Hunt Lieberson but she’s equally involving and it’s only by the merest whisker that I come down in favour of this present, excellent performance.

The remainder of the disc is devoted to excerpts from Handel’s oratorio, Hercules and these excerpts contain all the music for Dejanira, the wife of the eponymous hero. I presume, though it’s not clear from the documentation, that these extracts are taken from a live account of the complete work.

The role of Dejanira is an exceptionally demanding one, both vocally and emotionally. She is, in Craig Smith’s words, a "monumental character." I can well imagine that Lorraine Hunt Lieberson was a pretty formidable presence in the performance of the oratorio for these extracts show us a vivid character portrayal.

In her first aria, "The world when day’s career is run," she is fully the grief-stricken wife, yet she still retains dignity. Much of Dejanira’s music is in moderate or slow tempo but when swifter music arrives, in "Begone, my fears, fly, hence, away," Miss Hunt Lieberson excels in the passagework.

As her jealousy of the captive princess, Iole, begins to take hold and her certainty that Hercules has been unfaithful increases there’s great sadness in the aria ‘When beauty sorrow’s liv’ry wears’ and that is splendidly conveyed here. Particularly outstanding is the account of "Cease, ruler of the day, to rise," where the singing is particularly expressive. Writing of this disc elsewhere, but of another aria in the programme, the critic Michael Kennedy spoke of Miss Hunt Lieberson’s "power to humanise every note and bring the music to new life." How I agree and I’d say that this comment applies even more strongly to this deep aria.

The final excerpt is the Mad Scene. Here Miss Hunt Lieberson is intensely dramatic without ever going overboard. This is extremely demanding music and she performs it vividly and, once again, when the divisions arise she displays fine vocal agility. Hers is a tremendous performance of this recitative and aria and, unsurprisingly, it sparks an ovation from the audience who, otherwise, are commendably silent throughout.

These extracts contain some superb Handel singing. Frequently I was reminded of Dame Janet Baker’s assumption of Handelian roles and I can pay no higher compliment than that.

Despite my reservation over the one Bach item – a reservation that does not concern the singing per se – this is a superb disc that all admirers of this much-missed singer will want to have. And if you’ve not heard Lorraine Hunt Lieberson before, buy this disc and discover for yourself what all the fuss is about.

– John Quinn, MusicWeb International

MENDELSSOHN Cello Sonatas: in B?, op. 45; in D, op. 58. Variations concertantes, op. 17. Assai tranquillo. Lieder ohne Worte, op.19a/1,3,6 (arr. Piati); op.109 • Antonio Meneses (vc); Gérard Wyss (pn) • AVIE 2140 (72:45)


As Chopin’s works for cello owe their genesis to his association with Franchomme, so Mendelssohn’s pieces were written with specific cellists in mind. The charming and brilliant Variations concertantes (1829) and the First Sonata (1838) were written for the composer’s talented younger brother, Paul. In the interim, Mendelssohn composed the charming albumblatt, known as the Assai tranquillo , as a gift for his Düsseldorf colleague, Julius Rietz. The weightier Second Sonata, from 1843, is dedicated to Count Mateusz Wielhorski, who became a professional cellist on his retirement from the Russian army and eventually an important patron of music in St. Petersburg. Mendelssohn’s last work for cello and piano, the poetic Song without Words , op 109, is dedicated to Lisa Cristiani, one of the few women cellists of the time. Three of the piano solo Songs without Words , transcribed by the cellist Alfredo Piatti, who was much admired by Mendelssohn when they met in London, are interspersed among the original works on this disc.


The distinguished Antonio Meneses—a celebrated soloist and, since 1998, cellist with the Beaux Arts Trio—is a near-ideal interpreter of this important Romantic repertoire. Commanding a rich and varied tonal palette, Meneses approaches Mendelssohn’s essentially lyric expression with poise and equilibrium. This does not mean that passion and drama are given short shrift. In the Scherzo of the D-Major Sonata, the cunning pizzicatos verge on the sinister, only to be dispelled by the flowing cantabile of the trio. During the ensuing Adagio, one of the most beautiful slow movements in Mendelssohn’s chamber music, the cello interrupts the piano’s chorale figure with a series of recitatives. Meneses imbues these passages with a poetic utterance that is disarming in its intensity. His reading of the op. 109 Song without Words is the finest I can remember. Though Gérard Wyss’s piano-playing may lack a certain polish and finesse, his musical instincts are acute, and he remains the sensitive and supportive partner throughout.


Musically speaking, these performances will comfortably take their place alongside other admired readings of the repertoire, including those of Mischa Maisky and Sergio Tiempo (DG 471565) and János Starker and György Sebok (Mercury 434377). The recording, however, made in England in June 2007 at Potton Hall, Suffolk, doesn’t seem to do full justice to Meneses’s wonderful sound. It’s difficult to tell if poor microphone placement or a problematic acoustic space is the culprit, but presence and blend are lackluster. Stephen Pettitt contributed the informative and inviting notes.


FANFARE: Patrick Rucker

A rare outing for Poulenc's delightful, tune-filled ballet score

Poulenc's third and final ballet, Les animaux modeles, was begun, he wrote, "in the darkest days of the summer of 1940, and one way or another I wanted to find a reason for hope in the future of my country". The fables of La Fontaine provided him with the plot and it was first performed on August 8, 1942, in occupied Paris (in the penultimate section, "Les deux coqs", Poulenc mischievously quotes the song "Non, non, vous n'aurez pas notre Alsace-Lorraine" for an audience made up mainly of German officials).

Why we don't hear this delicious score more often is a mystery. Too many good tunes, probably. Its eight movements are quintessential Poulenc with the characteristic melange of harmonic and stylistic influences that make their composer's voice so unmistakable. There is also a good deal of self-plagiarising (spot the quotes from the Organ Concerto and the contemporaneous Babar the Elephant). Only one other recording is currently available, apart from the abbreviated version recorded by Georges Prêtre from 1966. The Turin players match the Parisians every step of the way with their incision, sure-footedness and sheer panache.

Stefano Bollini, whose career has been mainly in jazz, makes a good fist of the Concerto champetre (commissioned by the harpsichordist Wanda Landowska, of course, but sanctioned by the composer to be played on the piano as well), rounding off the disc with his own "elaborations" of two of Poulenc's late Improvisations, No 13 from 1958 and No 15 ("Hommage a Edith Piaf"), from 1959, the last of the cycle.

-- Jeremy Nicholas, Gramophone [12/2007]

Classical Music

The joy of hearing two master musicians getting Beethoven absolutely right

Admirers of the Beaux Arts Trio may be distraught at the news that Menahem Pressler is to disband the group he founded. Yet he here serves notice, one hopes, of a slew of fascinating projects to follow. There is much of the art that conceals art in these simply lovely, gentle yet probing performances. It's an album to live with, and one looks forward to Pressler's next venture.

-- Gramophone [7/2008]

There may be a better vocal Christmas disc to come along this season, but it would have to be awfully impressive to best this beautifully sung, imaginatively programmed effort from the male-quartet New York Polyphony. As the liner notes point out, Christmas uniquely brings together a hugely diverse range of musical styles and traditions, and this program reflects that diversity while maintaining the integrity of a unified program, in both atmosphere (amazingly, recorded in a church in the middle of New York!) and in the prevailing medieval/Renaissance sensibility of even the modern pieces. Of course the four singers have much to do with creating and sustaining the mood and imbuing the works with particular interpretive flavor--these are ideally matched, sensitively balanced voices, warm yet vibrant in the tradition of groups such as the Hilliard Ensemble. And the singing is impeccable--the breathing, the phrasing, all of the ensemble work shows musicians at one with each other and with the music at hand.

The repertoire is unusual, but not just for the sake of offering something "different"; there is purpose here in revealing the threads of early chant, medieval harmony, and Renaissance polyphony strung through to the most recent works, including one commissioned for this recording. Even ancient texts appear in the more modern pieces, including Kenneth Leighton's Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child, the only selection on the program (other than the "Coventry Carol") that enjoys a relatively frequent presence on today's Christmas choral concerts and recordings. Here (and on a few other pieces) the men are joined by three women, one of whom is original Anonymous 4 member Ruth Cunningham, and unlike most other renditions, this one seems inspired a bit more by the work's jazz-like elements. As for the Coventry Carol, the four men somehow manage to juice the famous points of dissonance with even more delicious bite than usual.

Other highlights include the opening number, Andrew Smith's ravishing recent setting of Veni Redemptor gentium, which begins with the chant but, almost before you realize what's happening, transforms to a marvelous harmonic texture that ingeniously mixes ancient and new. Palestrina's Hodie Christus natus est, Byrd's O magnum mysterium, and Cornysh's starkly-harmonious, lively-rhythmic Ave Maria Mater Dei are all sung with utmost sensitivity, clarity, and virtuosity. Parsons' Ave Maria is a masterpiece and in its simple way, so is New York Polyphony's very lovely setting of Away in a manger--a performance you'll want to repeat many times. In fact, that applies to this entire expertly recorded disc, which offers many more pleasures too numerous to mention here, but that hopefully you'll soon discover for yourself.

--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Unaffectedly straightforward with a disarming simplicity in which charm lifts imperceptibly into the most intense utterance, moving us compellingly through the salon-like early pieces to the increasingly desolate soundscapes of old age. Exemplary. Classic. Spellbinding.



FAURÉ Nocturnes (complete) • Charles Owen (pn) • AVIE 2133 (79:36)


Fauré’s son, Philippe Fauré-Fremiet, described the composer’s playing: “His hands were strong and looked heavy; in fact they were supple and light. He hardly raised them above the keys but was able to obtain any effect he wanted. He had a horror of virtuosity, of rubato and effects aimed at making the audience swoon. He followed the printed notes meticulously, keeping strict time. What was so overpowering about his playing lay below the surface, in the areas of thought and emotion where teaching is helpless to guide you.” To which Jessica Duchen, in her annotations for David Jalbert’s unfortunate tilt at the nocturnes (Endeavour 1014, Fanfare 30:1), adds, “To play Fauré’s piano works successfully, a pianist must have a tremendously flexible technique, a strong sense of contrapuntal voicing and, perhaps above all, the ability to convey those sensuous, intertwining lines and subtle harmonies without allowing structural rigor to slacken. While playing this music with no expressive fluctuation whatsoever could seem excessive, a healthy respect for his ‘pudeur’—modesty veiling the immense sensuality beneath—is as essential to faithful Fauré interpretation as good posture is to the dance.” Both observations describe Charles Owen’s way with the nocturnes—unaffectedly straightforward, rhythmically steady (but breathing and never rigid or inflexible), the pedal sparingly used, allowing a light touch (graciously deft in animated passages) to articulate with absolute clarity while imparting moments of aquarelle-like color (rather than the heavily sustained impasto of the average pianist), all making for a disarming simplicity in which charm lifts imperceptibly into the most intense utterance, moving us compellingly through the salon-like early pieces, the opulent ecstasies of the middle nocturnes, and the increasingly desolate and despairing soundscapes of old age. Duchen confects a final elegance with other, no less gracefully penetrating, annotations. Avie captures Owen closely, at the optimal point where clarity flares into spaciousness. Exemplary. Classic. Spellbinding. And enthusiastically recommended.


FANFARE: Adrian Corleonis

Classical Music

Classical Music

FROM JEWISH LIFE • Jonathan Aasgaard (vc); Gerard Schwarz, cond; Royal Liverpool PO • AVIE 2149 (57:45)


BLOCH Schelomo. From Jewish Life: Prayer, (arr. Aasgaard). DIAMOND Kaddish. SCHWARZ In Memoriam. BRUCH Kol Nidre


Relatively short playing time and a largely sob-fest program may be a hard sell. Surely not all in Jewish music is penance and tears. The disc might easily have been filled out with something a bit more upbeat. The word Jewish is italicized because I believe a distinction needs to be drawn between that which is authentic—let’s call it kosher—and that which is artificial—let’s call it kosher style. This is an argument I engaged in with Walter Simmons in a 2005 Critics’ Corner exchange. There is no way we can know what the music of King Solomon’s day sounded like, but it’s a sure bet it didn’t sound anything like Bloch’s Schelomo , which, nonetheless, is a magnificent, sweeping musical documentary of the great Biblical figure and his times. As I opined in my CC entry, “ Schelomo is Bloch’s Scheherazade . It brought him international acclaim and, to a large extent, typecast him in the minds of the masses.” Bloch himself was careful to distinguish between what was certifiably kosher and what was kosher style, writing, “I do not propose or desire to attempt a reconstruction of the music of the Jews . . . or to base my work on melodies more or less authentic.” You can read the remainder of the quote in the aforementioned CC submission.


With nearly three-dozen current listings, Schelomo remains, since it was written in 1916, Bloch’s most popular work; though, surprisingly, cellists have tended to steer clear of it in recent years, the last new recording I’m aware of being Truls Mørk’s, reviewed in 28:6. Technically and interpretively, Mørk and Aasgaard are well matched; were a recommendation to be based solely on the respective cellists’ contributions, I’d be hard-pressed to make a choice. But this is one of those works in which the orchestra’s role is as important as that of the soloist’s. The piece is not a concerto with a fanciful name, like Lalo’s Symphonie espagnole . Bloch’s subtitle, “Hebraic Rhapsody,” was well chosen, for the cello does indeed engage in a rhapsodic, cantorial dialogue with the orchestra. Taking this into account, it has to be said that Gerard Schwarz and the Liverpool Philharmonic come across in brilliant, flaming colors compared to the softer grained pastels and gray tones of Paavo Järvi and the ORTF Philharmonic on Virgin. This was something I noted in comparing Mørk’s reading to the high voltage classic performance by Zara Nelsova; but it didn’t occur to me at the time the extent to which my perception of Mørk’s recording was influenced by the orchestra. Composed in 1924, Bloch’s three-movement suite From Jewish Life was originally scored for cello and piano. Its first movement, “Prayer,” is heard here in an arrangement by Jonathan Aasgaard for cello and strings. Like Schelomo , it is a kosher-style pastrami sandwich on rye.


David Diamond, who died in 2005, wrote his Kaddish for cello and orchestra for Yo-Yo Ma at the suggestion of Gerard Schwarz. It, too, is an artificial (I do not use the word pejoratively) construct of 20th-century musical techniques and gestures designed to suggest the cantorial cantilation heard in synagogue services. At 11 minutes plus, Diamond’s meditative take on the Kaddish dwells a bit too long on the morose, forgetting that the prayer is essentially one of glorification.


Frankly, there is not much to differentiate Gerard Schwarz’s In Memoriam for cello and string orchestra from Diamond’s Kaddish . If you didn’t notice the track number change on your CD player, you could be excused for thinking you were still in the same piece. Written in 2005 as a memorial tribute to the late Russian-born cellist David Tonkonogul, a former member of the Seattle Symphony and cello teacher to Schwarz’s son Julian who premiered it, In Memoriam is a bit more melodic, tonally centered, and rhapsodic than Diamond’s work, and shorter by about two-and-a-half minutes, but its dirge-like dreariness offers no contrast to the oppressive darkness of the Kaddish.


Amusing, if not ironic, is the fact that the Kol Nidre for cello and orchestra by Max Bruch, the only non-Jewish composer on the disc, is the only work based on a melody that is actually intoned by cantors worldwide at the Yom Kippur Eve service. Bruch himself had this to say about the piece: “I became acquainted with Kol Nidre and a few other songs (among others, Arabian Camel ) in Berlin through the Lichtenstein family, who befriended me. Even though I am a Protestant, as an artist I deeply felt the outstanding beauty of these melodies and therefore I gladly spread them through my arrangement.”


All of the works on the program are masterfully played by cellist Jonathan Aasgaard; and for an incandescent performance and recording of Schelomo in particular, the CD is recommended. As for the rest, taking it all in at once is a bit of a downer.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

The playing throughout is sensitive and glowing in this meditative and glistening work that recalls Vaughan Williams and Hovhaness.

The composer Jon Lord rose to fame in the 1970s as a member of Deep Purple. Celebrity collaborations between the group and Malcolm Arnold included Concerto for Group and Orchestra written and scored by John Lord and conducted by Malcolm Arnold. Lord has over the intervening years increasingly extended his reputation into the classical field. The Durham Concerto is the latest and most ambitious example to date. In this he is not alone, witness the various classical pieces by Paul McCartney - the latest being Ecce Cor Meum and the orchestral work Seven by Tony Banks of Genesis – a work recorded on Naxos. All are individual in their own way but a sign that some musicians with a rock-popular reputation felt the siren call of classical eternity even if we ignore the blurring of ‘boundaries’ represented by the work of Frank Zappa, Soft Machine and Tangerine Dream.

At the most meagre level this is a beautifully packaged delightful musical souvenir of Durham University's 175th anniversary in 2007. The concept might remind you of John Scott’s Colchester Symphony but this is in fact a seriously-intentioned extended orchestral suite of six movements grouped in pairs.

At the start long-held Tallis-like string chords speak out of the mists of antiquity. This is music that takes a slow-shifting shading from Hovhaness. The glistening murmur forms a backdrop to meditative solos from the wind instruments. Then at 3.10 comes Ruth Palmer's Lark-like violin solo speaking as a fragile human voice against the downward remorseless tread of time. Given the accent of this first movement it is some surprise that Lord was not among those pop-contemporary world musicians interviewed for Tony Palmer’s recent RVW film-biography. As this movement, entitled Cathedral at Dawn, rises to its peak it is the notable ecstasy of Vaughan Williams that is most closely echoed.

The composer's Hammond organ is featured in four of the six movements. It ushers in the second (Durham Awakes) with its atmospheric solo for Northumbrian Pipes. The pipes are played by that doyenne of the instrument Kathryn Tickell. Matthew Barley's solo cello acts as orator and encourager in this Copland-inflected music but ancient and melancholically serene voices from the Pipes – unable to escape celtic connections - and the solo violin are there too. The Hammond also intercedes at several points. This movement proves a fine example of the successful interweave of pipes, cello and violin.

Those first two movements form Part 1: Morning. Then comes Afternoon in the shape of another two movements. The first reflects the spiritual journey of St Cuthbert and the physical journey of his mortal remains to interment in the Cathedral. It communicates as a slow revelatory sunset much in the same atmosphere as the Dawn. This is followed by the equally introspective, cello-led From Prebends Bridge. Here the composer had in mind the view from the Bridge and the innumerable people who have stood and taken in that view down a thousand years.

The cello solo once or twice seems rather meandering before it gathers itself for a more direct and emotionally hard-hitting address. The music here reminded me of the Elgar concerto, Rubbra's Soliloquy and Holst's Invocation. Then comes a much needed rowdy movement in which students on a rag day and a miners gala meet head on. The brassy whoops here reminded me of Arnold. Again Lord's Hammond is to the fore, lending dynamism to its usual watery discourse - it's the nature of the instrument. There's plenty of forward pulse here and the orchestra have fun with the pizzicato writing. The Arnold accent appears strongly at 4:12 onwards with something of the Commonwealth Christmas Overture to be heard as well as a nicely burred and brassy Gaudeamus Igitur at 6:21. History takes hold again at the end of the movement and those sustained string chords reassert the long view. The Pipes invoke the sorrowing melancholy of heritage morphing without break into the long meditative finale: Durham Nocturne.

I hope we will hear more of Lord's classical compositions including the suite for strings, Disguises (2004) and the piano concerto Boom of the Tingling Strings (2003). Both are due out from EMI later in 2008. What else remains to be recorded?

The concept of the present piece and the use of an 'ethnic' instrument recall, as an idea, Shaun Davey's works – especially The Relief of Derry Symphony and The Brendan Voyage.

The playing throughout the Durham Concerto is sensitive and glowing with much accomplished and thoughtful work for the solo instruments. The recording produces an almost tangible effect without embracing an in-your-face pop balance.

Here is an extended work of continuity across six substantial movements. The predominant meditative character will instantly mesh with those who love John Barry’s Beyondness of Things, Tavener and Vaughan Williams.

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

Includes work(s) by François Couperin. Soloists: Markku Luolajan-Mikkola, Mikko Perkola, Aapo Häkkinen.