Principal Harpist of the Philadelphia Orchestra Elizabeth Hainen's first release for AVIE spanned three centuries of Harp Concertos (AV 2221). Her new Kickstarter-funded release, Les Amis, features a rare pairing of works by Claude Debussy and André Caplet, exploring the composers' friendship through their respective works Danse sacrée and Danse profane, and the evocative Masque of the Red Death, with Michael Stern and the IRIS Orchestra. Rounding out the recording, Elizabeth solos with a transcription of Debussy's Petite Suite, originally for solo piano, and Caplet's Divertissements, and is joined by her own amis, fellow Philadelphia Orchestra principal flautist Jeffrey Khaner and violist Roberto Diaz, President of the Curtis Institute, in Debussy's Trio Sonata for Flute, Viola and Harp. critical acclaim for Elizabeth Hainen's Harp Concertos (AV 2221) "The entire production has class and great aural resonance, a real delight to add to an otherwise neglected body of music." ¬- Audiophile Audition "Hainen plays with impressive virtuosity." - Fanfare "The tonal range of Hainen's playing, coupled with her technical finesse and sense of style, bring allure to the entire disc." - The Daily Telegraph

Classical Music

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

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

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

Classical Music

GÁL Serenade in D, Op. 41. Trio in f?, Op. 104. KRÁSA Tanec (Dance). Passacaglia and Fugue • Ens Epomeo • AVIE 2259 (67:08)

Hans Gál has been receiving some well-deserved, if belated, attention on disc lately. Just a couple of issues back, I reviewed a must-have recording by cellist Antonio Meneses performing Gál’s very beautiful Cello Concerto. And now, here on the present release, we have what is advertised as the complete string trios of both Gál and his close contemporary Hans Krása. Though born only nine years apart— Gál in 1890 and Krása in 1899— Gál was fortunate to escape the advancing Nazi forces into Austria, fleeing to the U.K. in 1938 and eventually settling in Edinburgh, where he died in 1987. Krása was not so lucky. He was deported first to the Theresienstadt concentration camp and then transferred to Auschwitz where he was killed in 1944. Given Krása’s much shorter life, it’s understandable that his output is considerably less than Gál’s. Neither composer, however, apparently devoted much effort to the string trio, since the contents of this CD are said to be the extent of it.

The two Gál works are recorded here for the first time, and, in terms of scale, they’re both major additions to the literature, each lasting over 25 minutes. Written in 1932, before the serious trouble began, the Serenade lives up to its title, in name, if not strictly in form. The piece is in four movements in what I would describe as a nod to the Baroque and Classical periods as reflected through the lens of an easygoing, listener-friendly modernist style that teases and tickles the ear with fractured and fragmented references to familiar pieces. Throughout the first movement (Capriccioso), for example, you’ll hear the distinctive three-note pattern that permeates the first movement of Bach’s G-Major Brandenburg Concerto. While I wouldn’t want to push the analogy too far, I’d say that to a degree Gál’s Serenade reminds me of some of Hindemith’s Kleine Kammermusik pieces. Gál’s score is mostly busy, breezy, and boffo, perhaps more in the manner of a divertimento than a serenade.

Just as long, but in only three movements this time, the Trio in F?-Minor is a much later work, dating from 1971, when the trouble was long over. The piece was commissioned by the London Viola d’amore Society and originally scored for violin, viola d’amore, and cello, but Gál made this version for traditional string trio at the same time. The mood is now introspective, brooding, and perhaps a bit bereft. If there’s an analog here, I’d have to say that the Trio seems to look back to the highly chromatic, freely tonal style familiar from works of the late 19th- and early 20th-century Viennese composers before they succumbed to the siren of dodecaphonism. In other words, Gál’s Trio is a nostalgic soak in a muddy pond. But mud baths are supposed to be therapeutic, and this one left me with a nice, warm glow.

The Krása pieces are considerably shorter—six minutes for Tanec and just under 10 minutes for the Passacaglia and Fugue. Tanec, or Dance, was composed in the last year of Krása’s life. With its strong rhythmic thrust, ostinato figure in the cello, and Hungarian folk flavor, the music is at first suggestive of Bartók, but as Kenneth Woods’s note indicates, the piece is meant to be evocative of trains, with the obvious reference to the boxcars that transported Krása and the millions of others to the death camps. To quote Woods, “the atmosphere ranges from eerie nostalgia, to barely contained menace, to explicit violence,” and ends in a series of manic shrieks. Written later that same year (1944), the Passacaglia and Fugue is Krása’s last completed work. It’s difficult to describe this music of broken spirit and soul. Initially, Shostakovich comes to mind in a frozen soundscape benumbed by cruel and forbidding cold. But slowly, the music rises to a pitch of bickering and physical altercation.

The recording at hand represents the Ensemble Epomeo’s disc debut. Named for the Mediterranean volcano, Mt. Epomeo, the group was founded when the three players—Caroline Chin, violin; David Yang, viola; and Kenneth Woods, cello—came together at the Festivale di Musica da Camera d’Ischia in Italy in 2008. It’s always difficult to judge an ensemble in unfamiliar repertoire, but I think I can say that the Epomeo’s musicians are more than up to the technical task of their business and that they sound intensely engaged in the emotional worlds of these two composers and their music. I would now look forward to hearing the ensemble in something more familiar, like Mozart’s great Divertimento in E?-Major, K 563, or the Beethoven string trios. Meanwhile, this new, excellent recording is strongly recommended.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Combining elegance and virtuosity, pianist Russell Sherman returns to Avie with a traversal of Chopin’s Mazurkas, a popular 19th-century genre among Polish composers, but one that Chopin made his own. He wrote mazurkas throughout his lifetime, from his early days in his native Warsaw until 1849, the year of his death in Paris. He brought numerous innovations to the dance form, evolving its humble folk origins to more contemporary art music. Russell, who has performed the world over on the most illustrious stages and with all of the major orchestras, brings his signature grace, imagination, and poetry to Chopin’s beloved oeuvre. -----

REVIEW:

Awe-inspiring: in some of the most difficult works in the piano repertoire, he exhibits the kind of impeccable perfection that is the hallmark of players like Pollini and Michelangeli.

- All Music Guide

Classical Music

One of JS Bach’s most famous and loved masterpieces with the Portland Baroque Orchestra conducted by Monica Huggett. The double-CD package includes full texts and translations. (Avie)

Classical Music

Expressive, atmospheric, intelligent performance.

I was highly impressed by and still very much relish my time spent with Daniel-Ben Pienaar’s Mozart’s complete Piano Sonatas on AV 2209. Fans of this set will find all of this promise further fulfilled in this Goldberg Variations, though as a reviewer it would have been an easier task to welcome slightly less well-trodden repertoire. Pienaar’s Bach is magnificent and, to a point, individual, but does it really stand out in such a crowded field?
 
Daniel-Ben Pienaar poses as many questions as he provides answers in his deeply considered and well written booklet notes for this release. He doesn’t point to specific influences with regard to his interpretations in this great keyboard work, but develops ideas on its place and time both in the present, as well as the alliances formed between the circumstantial and the timeless – qualities and values inherent in the music itself, and the ways in which these can be approached and adapted by players over time.
 
This is a probing intellectual interpretation which on occasion displays dazzling feats of speed, but which is more often a more introverted exploration of the piece. It is almost as if Pienaar is playing for his own satisfaction, and leaving it up to us to decide whether we want to listen and take the journey with him. The compact timing reflects brisk tempi at times, but the unhurried feel of the playing and a minimum of ornamentation also allows a highly selective observation of repeats to remain a credible choice. Pienaar doesn’t work much with ‘variation within variations’, so there is no sense we are being cheated out of colourful technical insights and improvisational touches by not hearing certain bars come around for a second time.
 
Comparisons can be made ad nauseam, but looking at another recent take on the Goldberg Variations by Nick van Bloss on the Nimbus Alliance label shows how personality shades identical music into fascinatingly different manifestations. Bloss is the more extrovert of the two, seeking wit in the music and cheekily expressing it with effects like an occasional extra octave wallop in the bass. This ‘vibe’ turns his performance into more of a public experience – no less well considered than Pienaar’s, but introducing Bach to the bustle and language of the street: the call of market traders and the revving of motors. Bloss’s Bach isn’t rough and ready, but is easily the more resistant to external knocks and blows, and in this way is more of a challenge to Glenn Gould’s 1955 Goldberg Variations, the recording which gave the work and its performer such a remarkable hit status at that time.
 
This is not to say Daniel-Ben Pienaar’s recording is weak-willed and softly undemonstrative, but there is a gentler side to his playing – perhaps also a side-effect of a rather rounded piano sound – which brings out the warmth in the heart of the music rather than its big venue street-cred. There is bounce and life where Bach demands it, in the first variation for instance, and this sets the pace for the first grouping of variations which concludes with a rousing Variatio 4. Extremes of speed are a feature of some variations, and Variatio 5 is the first such example, acting as little more than a prelude to Variatio 6. Pienaar’s sensitivity to Bach’s dance style is demonstrated in a Giga which barely touches the floor, so light is his touch on the keyboard. The second grouping of variations has its finale in a robust performance of the Variatio 10 Fughetta. Central to the next group is the expressive Variatio 13, in which the little inner rubati which Pienaar uses make the performance seem that much more reflective and yes, introverted. The sound appears almost to want to stay within the case of the piano, rather than broadcast to the last row of an invisible audience. This is not to say the playing is timid, but you could equally imagine this as a clavichord performance. Variatio 14 blows away the mood created in a horizontal shower of sparkling notes, again making it a sort of prelude to the gently eloquent lines of Variatio 15, which concludes another ‘block’ within Pienaar’s structuring of the piece.
 
The conjoining of variations is a feature of a slow, almost tentative sounding Variatio 20, which serves as a launching point for an arguable too swift and brutal Variatio 21, which goes at a speed too fast for our minds to keep up. The expressive highlights of Variatio 21, 22 and 25 are all done marvellously, though without extremes of slowness or attempts to seek too far beyond Bach’s notes beyond what is already so miraculous on the page. Pienaar does dive for pearls, but not in a disproportionate sense – no need for extra breathing apparatus, though the atmosphere is breathtaking. He writes of the ‘return home’ of the Quodlibet in the way that “the use of folk songs suggests quite literally a return to shared ancestral roots.” In this way the final repeat of the Aria is more of a coda and a release, the feeling of which is palpably expressed by Daniel Ben-Pienaar.
 
As a bonus to the Goldberg Variations we are given a continuous passacaglia version of the Fourteen Canons BWV 1087, which are based on the first eight bass notes of the Aria from the Goldberg Variations. I’ve been intrigued by these little gems for a while now, but while Pienaar’s more lively moments are good you have to get used to his overly straight opening and an occasional over-prominence of the bass line in places. If you want to discover these fascinating canons have a listen to the Hänssler Bach Edition Musikalisches Opfer CD 92.133 which, along with the canons BWV 1072-78 is the version which convinced me that J.S. Bach was one of the first minimalist composers, even to the point of momentarily confounding our reviewer. Pienaar’s programme concludes with a lovely prayer-like performance of Bist du bei mir from Bach’s Anna Magdalena Notebook, the source of the Aria from the Goldberg Variations, or at least where it sees its first appearance in Bach’s manuscripts.
 
To conclude, this is a superbly expressive and atmospheric recording of the Goldberg Variations. One may not quite agree with the occasional extremes of tempo, but there is little doubting the jigsaw-puzzle accuracy and attention to detail with which Daniel-Ben Pienaar has formed his shaping of this masterpiece. Subsequent to my review of the Mozart sonatas I was contacted with regard to the piano sound, which one commentator found rather ‘harsh, full of reverb, somewhat lacking in definition’. I’m still quite happy with the sound quality of this, though I partially take the point about the reverb and definition. This Bach was recorded at the same location and the reverb is less by comparison; the instrument that touch closer to the microphones, something which can make all the difference. It’s perhaps not quite ‘demonstration’ piano sound with a little more mid-range bloom than makes for perfection, but is still very good.
 
-- Dominy Clements, MusicWeb International

Winter Words is the solo debut release by American tenor Nicholas Phan. The recording was made in the wake of a recital tour in 2010-11 which culminated in his Carnegie debut at Weill Hall. A graduate of the Manhattan School of Music and an alumnus of the Houston Grand Opera studio Nick has performed with the opera companies of Los Angeles and Seattle, symphony orchestras of Atlanta, St. Louis and San Francisco, and the Marlboro, Ravinia and Edinburgh Festivals, among others. He sang in Stravinsky's Pulcinella with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra under Pierre Boulez which was nominated for a Grammy Award. Nick presents a deeply personal perspective of Britten's music, encompassing his own performing experiences to audience reaction. He says: "I've been a fan of Britten since playing his Young Person's Guide to the Orchestra with my youth orchestra in Detroit as a teenage violinist. But my great devotion to his music increased to an obsession when an excellent pianist and good friend asked if I'd perform with her at a small university in Missouri. She suggested Winter Words, saying, "I think these would sound really great in your voice, and I've wanted to play them for ages, so indulge me." I researched and played through Britten's settings of Hardy's poems and before long, I was hooked." Approaching the performance in a small Midwestern town with some trepidation ("how would they react?"), Nick describes the audience's overwhelmingly positive response: "my favourite piece on the program ... the most lasting impression." Such is the enduring quality of Britten's sophisticated yet direct song writing, of which Nick is a leading torch-bearer. critical acclaim for Nicholas Phan "took hold of the music with unerring musicality, precise diction, and conversational command." - The Rest is Noise, Alex Ross "an excellent young singer ... more importantly he penetrates deeply into the inner drama" - Boston Globe "Vocally and dramatically at the level of the finest international artists." - Chicago Sun Times

BACH Trauer-Music, BWV 244a • Andrew Parrott, cond; Emily van Evera (sop); Clare Wilkinson (ms); Charles Daniels (ten); Tom Meglioranza (bar); Taverner Consort & Players • AVIE AV2241 (78:40 Text and Translation)


Anyone wishing to perform the funeral music for Prince Leopold of Anhalt-Cöthen, Bach’s onetime boss, comes up against a serious technical problem:There is no music for it, though the text survives. Doing something about such situations is the very stuff of much modern musicology. Consider the new movements for the music of Mahler, Elgar, Britten, even whole new music (in the style of or, perhaps, not: Manfred Tojahn’s for La clemenza di Tito or Luciano Berio’s for Turandot ). The arguments for this sort of thing are well worn but are still making the rounds: The composer did this sort of thing himself, the composer would have wanted this piece finished, it gives us a new view of this or that period, approach, style of the composer, and so on without any end in sight. Bach is an especial victim of this sort of carpentry, and BWV 244a is a tempting target, along with the St. Mark and St. Luke Passions.


When he compiled the Bach Werke-Verzeichnis in 1950, Wolfgang Schmieder noted that a good deal of Picander’s 1728 text fit certain numbers of the 1725 St. Matthew Passion (which is why it shares the same BWV number) and the 1727 Trauer-Ode (BWV 198). In what I assume will be the notes for this recording, Andrew Parrott makes clear what fits where, leaving only the problem of the recitatives, which he composed himself and about which he himself says “caveat emptor,” and the final organization of the whole, which he posits took place in four sections instead of what seems to be only two or three, and began the night before with the funeral itself, followed the next day with the memorial service. This necessitates a rearrangement of the libretto as printed, which he argues may not have represented exactly what happened.


To the question of why we need this reconstruction Parrott gives no direct answer, but, as the longest of the known remaining texts for which there is no music, it clearly constitutes a challenge. He also thinks it refreshing to encounter some of this music in a different context. It must be said, then, that Parrott meets this challenge with his customary energy and expertise.


This performance is made with the kind of disposition Parrott has used for decades, and argued forcefully for in The Essential Bach Choir (2001), mostly one-to-a-part, with the choruses doubled here. While this approach seems reasonable for the church cantatas, I think it entirely unlikely for the passions, the Trauer-Ode , and this piece, music that required the greatest possible effect, not least in the choruses. Interestingly, as with the Trauer-Ode and the secular cantatas, but not with the Passions, there are no chorales.


Let it be noted, then, that, within his musicological choices, Parrott has made a convincing job of this piece. The Taverner Consort plays with long-won expertise, and the soloists are uniformly good. The eight-member chorus just does not have enough gravity, and the sopranos tend to be a bit shrill in places. When it joins the tenor in two numbers, they are recorded distantly, though on their own quite close up, as is most of the recording. As near as I can tell, there is no other recording of an attempted reconstruction of this music. No matter; if one is needed, this one will do nicely.


FANFARE: Alan Swanson

John Wilson is probably best known for his light-entertainment orchestral work, especially his restorations of classic film scores – a background which, it turns out, equips him well for this anthology of British musical landscapes. Most celebrate an idealised pastoral view of rustic Avalon...George Butterworth's Two English Idylls", based on Sussex folk songs, and the title of Arnold Bax's "The Happy Forest" aptly conveying its excessively cheerful tone, which seems to derive from some pre-Wordsworthian Edenic paradise. But Vaughan Williams is the king of this domain: "The Lark Ascending" was recently voted Britain's favourite classical piece, and is airily rendered here by James Clark." - Andy Gill, The Independent

Simon Trpceski's recording of Rachmaninov's Piano Concertos Nos. 2 and 3 was one of the most acclaimed and best-selling classical releases of 2010. His frequent collaborations with Vasily Petrenko and the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra are justly celebrated. Together they complete the not final cover art Rachmaninov canon with this highly-anticipated follow up of Concertos Nos. 1 and 4, and the Paganini Rhapsody. Rachmaninov Concertos 2 and 3 made the Top 10 of Billboard's Classical Chart and won a Diapason d'or de l'année. Trpceski will support the sequel with extensive touring and CD signings at which he regularly attracts hundreds of fans. What the critics are saying: "If you want to fall in love afresh with Rachmaninov's most popular piano concertos, go and get this disc right now" - Classic FM Magazine Editor's Choice "The great thing about these performances ... is not merely that he can deliver these formidable virtuoso showpieces with vigor and technical polish ... It's that he makes you hear beyond the glitter to the dimly flickering musical inspiration beneath ... Trpceski turns these potentially garish creations into something serious and emotionally urgent." - San Francisco Chronicle "an impressive achievement ... committed performances and excellent sound." - BBC Music Magazine "the chemistry between conductor, orchestra and soloist is magical." - Minnesota Public Radio "Avie can certainly congratulate itself on having backed a winner ... Trpceski was born to perform this music, and Petrenko to conduct it." - The Daily Telegraph (UK), Classical CD of the Week Daily Telegraph Classical CD of the Week: 'utterly compelling.' ClassicalSource.com: 'particularly fine ... scintillating ... a notable release' Yorkshire Post: 'dazzingly brilliant ... stunning'

Apollo’s Fire conjures early 19th-century rural Americana with an evocative journey through traditional folk songs, fiddle tunes, barn dances, and the indispensable Old Time revivalist meetings. This is music as old as the hills themselves, a melting pot of Irish, English, and Scottish tunes that permeated Appalachian culture and rural America, based on field recordings of old-time and Appalachian singers.

“Dazzling fiddle playing and delicious swing … all done with great spirit and brio.” — Fanfare

Classical Music

PROKOFIEV Piano Sonatas: Nos. 1–5 • Alexandra Silocea (pn) • AVIE 2183 (65:16)


As with Beethoven, one can with the revisions he made to the Fifth Sonata follow Prokofiev’s development almost from the beginning of his career to the end of it. Though a handful of the nine sonatas became popular with audiences and performers right from the beginning, others fell into the cracks of history shortly after their inception. Many of these sonatas became popular not only with Soviet pianists of the era, but musicians worldwide—Richter, Gilels, Horowitz, Gould, Cliburn, Argerich, François, to name just a few. In choosing to record the complete sonatas for her debut recording (of which the present release is just the first volume), Alexandra Silocea pits herself against some of the greatest pianists of the last century. Even in considering just the lesser-known sonatas, she has stiff competition from both Frederic Chiu and Anne-Marie McDermott, who have both recorded excellent complete cycles of these works. So the question remains, how does this young pianist, now in her mid-20s, fare? Remarkably well, actually. She possesses both the maturity to handle the subtleties of this music along with the requisite mechanical skill to handle the technical hurdles that Prokofiev throws at the pianist. She might not have the kind of fiery temperament that Gilels and Weissenberg bring to the Third Sonata’s climaxes, but the assured way she handles the dramatic alternation from the percussive opening to the more lyrical semplice e dolce theme is masterly. Her quirky way with the Second Sonata’s scherzo movement can stand at the top of the list for great performances, while her romantic yet never over-sentimentalized way with the First Sonata’s obvious debt to Rachmaninoff imbues the movement with a sound all of its own—one that Prokofiev was soon to abandon. Will this perhaps lead to the First Sonata being performed more in public? One can only hope so. Her ghostly, almost pale sound is equally perfect for the Più mosso section of the Second Sonata’s first movement. Silocea may possess a thin sound in general, but she has a beautiful one in regards to her melodic line, and has the ability to maintain a long line over a large span of time. Her crescendos and diminuendos always lend the pieces a feeling of momentum, which is especially important in these often forward-propelled movements. How will Silocea fare in the later sonatas? Only time will tell. But if she can manage to bring the same technical assuredness and musical sensibilities to these works, then we could be looking at not only an auspicious debut, but a very fine overall cycle of Prokofiev’s sonatas. I for one am looking forward to the second installment—in other words, highly recommended.


FANFARE: Scott Noriega

2 CDs plus 1 DVD

Jeannette Sorrell and Apollo’s Fire celebrate the holiday season with a unique release of Handel’s Messiah: a three-disc set presenting a dramatic approach that explores the work as the theatrical entertainment Handel intended—an oratorio being a dramatic work, and Handel’s bold declaration that Messiah was “A Sacred Oratorio.” The DVD includes footage from rehearsals, concerts, and recording sessions as well as interviews with soloists, principal players, and Sorrell.

“The Messiah we’ve been waiting for.” — Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

“A blend of scholarship and visceral intensity.” — Gramophone

Tanya Tomkins, one of the foremost cellists of her generation, makes an indelible impression scaling the pinnacle of the cello repertoire, J S Bach's Six Suites for Unaccompanied Cello. Familiar to record collectors through her appearance on Avie's release of Kummer's Cello Duets, and as a member of the Benvenue Fortepiano Trio's Mendelssohn and Schumann recordings, Tanya is equally at home in an intimate house concert setting or anchoring the cello section of the Philharmonia Baroque Orchestra with whom she has become a familiar face to home audiences in San Francisco. A student of Anner Bylsma at the Royal Conservatory of Music in the Netherlands, Tanya was the first cellist to win the Boston-based Erwin Brodsky Competition for early music soloists, in 2001. In addition to Philharmonia Baroque, she has been a featured soloist with the Portland Baroque Orchestra, American Bach Soloists, and the Oregon Bach Festival. As a recitalist, Tanya has performed at Lincoln Center and the 92nd Street Y in New York City, and the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. critical acclaim "Tomkins explored Bach's Cello suite No. 1 with a probing, ruminating, often rhapsodic approach" - Los Angeles Times "superlative performance ... A performer who combines an intense dramatic fire with Apollonian poise ... There is an international career of great renown awaiting this young woman" - Cleveland Plain Dealer "Tomkins offered as compelling solo work on period instruments as you are likely to hear. The result was spontaneous and heartfelt music making.' - San Francisco Classical Voice

Classical Music