This formidable release features Inbal Segev performing Elgar’s emotive Cello Concerto coupled with DANCE, an inspiring new work by Grammy-nominated English composer Anna Clyne that was commissioned by Inbal. On this powerful recording, Marin Alsop conducts the London Philharmonic Orchestra. Marin introduced Inbal to Anna, sparking a special synergy between the three women. While Anna was composing DANCE, a five-movement concerto inspired by the 13th-century Persian poet Rumi, further connections ensued. Anna’s soulful and vibrant music combines cultures that include her Irish-English family, Polish-Jewish ancestry and Inbal’s Israeli-American heritage.

Inbal expounds, “Anna’s music has an old-soul sensibility but is fresh and modern at the same time. This juxtaposition of old and new has always appealed to me; it suits my playing, as well as the tone of my 1673 Ruggieri cello.” Inbal’s idea to record Anna Clyne’s DANCE alongside Elgar’s Cello Concerto is timely: the two works were composed exactly 100 years apart. Inbal enthuses, “It is so rewarding to record and perform the work of a contemporary female composer whose music withstands comparison with Elgar’s. The two pieces share a certain sensibility – a romanticism, warmth and humanity – that transcends any stylistic differences.” Elgar’s Cello Concerto, written in the wake of World War I, is deeply reflective. Anna Clyne’s DANCE is optimistic and forward-looking. Inbal’s recording of these two cello concertos is timeless.

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

Vasily Petrenko (b. 1976) has been leading the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra since September 2006 and has recently extended his contract until at least 2015. His work on Merseyside has been drawing many very enthusiastic notices, including several on MusicWeb International. However, until now, with the exception of his recording of Sir John Tavener’s recent Requiem (see review) I’ve not heard any of his performances. If this thrilling disc is anything to go by then I’ve been missing something.

I’ve long thought that Rachmaninov’s Symphonic Dances ranks among his finest works but this new recording really made me sit up and take fresh notice. For that Petrenko and his orchestra must take a huge amount of credit. However, the quality of the recording itself also has much to do with it. I can only describe the sound on this CD as stunning. By chance, immediately before I put this new Avie disc in my player I’d been listening to Vladimir Ashkenazy’s 1983 Decca recording of Symphonic Dances and The Isle of the Dead. Those are extremely fine performances, splendidly recorded by Decca in the Concertgebouw in Amsterdam. On that disc the sound is warm, yet very clear and there’s a good deal of space round the orchestra – I strongly suspect the orchestra was set out on the auditorium floor in the empty Concertgebouw. This Avie recording offers a very different experience for the sound is closer – though not oppressively so – and very present.

Producer John Fraser and Engineer David A. Pigott have produced here one of the best recordings of a symphony orchestra that I’ve heard in a very long time. The orchestra is, as I said, very present yet very natural also. The recording offers a wide side-to-side perspective and also very good front-to-back definition. There’s an abundance of detail to hear – the percussion thrillingly reported and the brass impressive without ever sounding domineering – yet without any sense of artificial spotlighting of sections or individual instruments. With a satisfyingly rich bass foundation and an impressive dynamic range this recording presents the orchestra in a most exciting and very musical way. The sound has terrific definition, not least in the quiet passages, and packs a real punch at climaxes. Best of all, the recording lets you hear just how impressive the performances are. For the orchestra there are few hiding places in Symphonic Dances, especially when the sound is as clear and detailed as this, but the RLPO are consistently sure-footed.

The quality of the recording and Petrenko’s care over balance got my attention from the first bars of Symphonic Dances. The very opening is light, crisp and delicate after which the bold string chords have a most impressive weight. Petrenko drives the music forward with vigour but never overplays his hand. The saxophone solo (from 3:26) is lovingly phrased, imparting just the right feeling of wistful nostalgia. In the succeeding passage (to 5:46) there’s some excellent woodwind playing – and not for the last time on this disc, either. When the strings take up the melody it sings gloriously – and between them Petrenko and the engineers balance the accompaniment of harp and piano perfectly. The eventual return to the movement’s opening material is at first suspenseful and then very exciting. Rachmaninov’s self-quotation from his First Symphony is warmly delivered but without any over-indulgence.

If I have a small criticism it concerns the brevity of the gaps between the movements. There’s a mere two seconds between the first and second dances – the Ashkenazy disc has some six seconds – and only three seconds between the second and third movements. Just a little more time would have been welcome. The second movement is a spectral, awkward waltz: in the memorable phrase of annotator Anthony Bateman “Evening has brought its ghosts”. Petrenko shapes the music with great imagination, conjuring up for this listener at least an image of a dimly lit and faded ballroom that has rather gone to seed. The RLPO strings play splendidly, with plenty of body to their tone – and their woodwind colleagues offer equally fine playing. Petrenko is alive to all the nuances and subtle inflections of Rachmaninov’s music. His is a colourful and well-imagined reading and he draws really responsive playing from his orchestra. Among many details that I relished is the nutty tone of the violas between 7:05 and 7:23 followed by the sound of really hushed violins and a doleful bassoon.

Once Petrenko reaches the main material of the third dance his reading has abundant energy but, rightly, there’s more than a sense of foreboding as well. As a sample of the impressive way in which soft passages are handled, sample the rather sinister passage introduced by the bass clarinet (5:04). Shortly afterwards (6:60 – 9:55) the long, brooding string paragraph, in which the RLPO players excel, is surely Rachmaninov revisiting his Second Symphony but with a melancholy air, knowing that those days are gone for ever. In the last five or six minutes Petrenko urges his players on to an exciting yet darkly-tinged conclusion. In these pages the tambourine, tam-tam and xylophone contributions are magnificently caught by the microphones and the dramatic last few bars bring a superb performance of the work to a tumultuous conclusion.

Recently, I was greatly taken with a live performance of The Isle of the Dead conducted by Evgeny Svetlanov (see review). I found that reading enthralling but its very expansiveness probably courts controversy and will not be to all tastes. Petrenko’s reading is more mainstream, if I may put it that way, in terms of pacing. His account, at 20:58. lasts for almost the same time as Ashkenazy’s (20:52) and is similar in length to several other recordings on my shelves. Mind you, it is salutary to note that the composer’s own 1929 recording with the Philadelphia Orchestra lasts a “mere” 18:05 and even after eighty years that recording still sounds well – and packs a real interpretative punch!

Petrenko isn’t in the Svetlanov league when it comes to expansiveness but his interpretation is still full of brooding power – and his performance affords better playing than we hear on the Svetlanov disc and, as you’d expect, comes in much better sound. This Liverpool account establishes a very potent atmosphere right from the outset. There’s dark grandeur in the playing – and in Petrenko’s conception of the work. As in Symphonic Dances the excellence of the sound supports Petrenko’s balancing of the orchestra magnificently. Between 7:22 and 7:44, for example, the balance between the cello tune and the woodwind decoration round it is outstandingly successful. Later on (8:04 – 9:40) the ear is impressed mightily by sonorous brass, pounding timpani and weighty strings.

Petrenko builds the piece to an impressive and potent central climax, thrillingly reported by the recording, but the way he winds the tension down in the following bars is just as noteworthy. Later on, he invests the urgent, surging string passage (11:23 - 12:59) with real ardour and the main climax of the piece (around 15:30) is shattering in its intensity. As Charon, the boatman, rows back across the Styx from the Isle, his work done for now, the opening music returns and Petrenko controls the sombre conclusion very effectively.

In a way I wish the disc had ended there; the piece that’s placed last would have been a more satisfying opener, I believe. The Rock is a youthful work but a significant achievement nonetheless by the twenty-year-old composer. Apparently Tchaikovsky admired the piece and it’s not hard to see why for the scoring is attractive and the invention is strong. For much of its course the nature of the music is much lighter than that of the other two works on the disc. Petrenko conducts with grace and affection but also does the powerful stretches towards the end very well. In the first few minutes the principal flute, Cormac Henry, has a lot of demanding solo work and he shines under the spotlight that Rachmaninov trains on him. Another example of finesse that caught my ear was the exquisite passage of string tremolandi between 7:04 and 7:39 – it’s details such as this that puts the stamp of distinction on this release. As a piece The Rock may not be the equal of the other works on this disc but it has many attractions and it receives a very fine performance here.

As I hope I’ve conveyed, this is an exceptional disc in every way. It’s one that I’ve enjoyed enormously but I also admire it greatly as an achievement both on the part of the musicians and of the engineers. If you’ve wondered why so much fuss is being made about the work that Vasily Petrenko is doing with the RLPO then this superb CD should provide the answer. Already, in early February, this disc is on my shortlist of Recordings of the Year.

One final thought. Could Avie be persuaded to record this team in Rachmaninov’s Second Symphony? If Petrenko and the RLPO could recapture in a recording of that great, sweeping symphony the form shown on this disc then the result would be a serious challenge to the longstanding hegemony of André Previn’s 1973 recording with the LSO (EMI). Meanwhile, don’t wait to see if that disc appears. Buy this one – now! I doubt you’ll regret it and I hope it will excite you as much as it has excited me.

-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

Quite an achievement.

If you have heard the Durham Concerto or the zanily named Boom of the Tingling Strings you will know that since departing Deep Purple in 2002 Jon Lord has been gripped by classical composing. The earliest stirrings of this hunger go back to the 1969 and his Concerto for Group and Orchestra. It was premiered, filmed and recorded live at the Royal Albert Hall with Deep Purple and the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Sir Malcolm Arnold. The next year the BBC commissioned The Gemini Suite. In 1974 Sarabande followed and in 1997 came Lord’s solo CD Pictured Within.
 
To Notice Such Things is clearly a very personal and affecting portrait of Lord’s friendship with John Mortimer, CBE, QC (1923–2009). It traces its origins to the affectionate stage show, Mortimer’s Miscellany. The title of the score is from the Thomas Hardy poem Afterwards which ended the show. The first movement, As I Walked Out One Evening is from the W.H. Auden poem and relates to the music that opened the revue. At Court picks up on Mortimer’s days as the darling of the combative anti-establishment in the 1960s and 1970s. Turville Heath is where Mortimer lived and we are told that the movement gives an impression of Mortimer in his beloved garden. In extreme old age his legs began to fail him. Stick Dance is said to portray our hero’s appreciation of a female companion jiving while Mortimer leans on his walking stick. Mortimer chose the dormouse to figure in his coat of arms. The Winter of a Dormouse is an attempt to describe Sir John's final months. It’s an affectionate and poignant farewell. The friendship throughout is echoed in the flute which voices Sir John. Lord is reflected in the solo piano role. These figures are played by the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra’s principal flautist Cormac Henry and by the composer’s piano.

Counter-intuitively As I Walked Out One Evening has all the warm vernal freshness of the morning of the world. This is coupled with a peculiarly English contentment – an ecstasy in being there. The language is caught between the pastoral Vaughan Williams of the 1910s and 1920s and the Copland counterpart. At Court is part lightly serene and partly rushing cut-and-thrust carried by the flute with brusquely joyous strings. Turville Heath hints at a Gallic-Delian influence although the presence of the self-effacingly supportive piano pulls the rug out from under the comparison. This movement could easily join the host of short piano and orchestra miniatures by Bax, Milford and Armstrong Gibbs. Towards its close the gentle muse dances with an innocent smile. In Stick Dance there is a Shostakovich-like caustic serration to the string writing though this does relent to make way for curvaceous gliding and dancing of the flute. The Winter of a Dormouse touches on desolation but from its chilly shores the flute sings, invoking and reviving the delights of years gone by and of the changes wrought by the passage of the years. Interesting how the flute line remains succulent in tone but it is now more pensive. The flute solo curves down a gentle gradient into silence. Afterwards is the final movement for piano and orchestra though the flute also plays its part. The writing has a distinctly Finzian poignant reflective quality - the drowsy heat-haze of a summer’s eclogue into which this sweetly tempered work fades.

The other four tracks are occupied by short pieces. Evening Song is for piano, alto flute, french horn and orchestra. Starting out as one of the pieces in Lord’s Pictured Within, it lays convincing claim to the sentimental congeries entwining that ideal English sunset. This is a place in space and time where contemplation is by itself fully satisfying. The solo violin part reminded me of Finzi’s Severn Rhapsody. For Example is a piece for string orchestra and flute. Its origins lie in a small piano piece dedicated to Lord’s friends the Trondheim Soloists and their Artistic Director and Principal Cellist, Øyvind Gimse. It’s a pensive essay with just that tincture of Grieg – a composer who was one of Lord’s earliest favourites. Air on the Blue String is for flute and strings –a contented essay with a few gently stern moments to provide backbone. This too had its genesis in a piano solo. The disc ends with Jeremy Irons’ undemonstrative reading of Hardy’s melancholic-fatalistic poem, Afterwards. The poem registers with even more depth. It is clothed with Jon Lord’s piano line which provides a symbiotic modest commentary.

This is a well presented, recorded and annotated album and one that will please those who respond to Finzian pastoral melancholy. Quite an achievement.

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

Martin Luther had many students and disciples. One of them was named Praetorius, and that student had a son named Michael. Michael became – along with J.S. Bach – one of the two greatest composers in the history of Protestant church music. Michael Praetorius left us an enormous quantity of sacred music, for children’s choir, adult choir, strings, brass, lutes, and soloists. He was also acclaimed as an organist and theorist. His monumental music treatise, Syntagma musicum (1619), is considered the most important work of music theory in the early Baroque, and provides musicians with a wealth of practical information.

Living at the same time as Monteverdi, the great revolutionary composer of Italy, Praetorius was aware of the new and virtuosic elements of Monteverdi’s music; however, he firmly upheld Luther’s ideal that the common people should be able to participate in the music-making in some way. Therefore, while Monteverdi’s music requires an entirely professional ensemble of virtuoso singers, such as existed at St. Mark’s in Venice, Praetorius channeled his imaginative flair toward writing music that brought together professional singers,
humble village choirs, children’s voices, and even congregational singing.

Thus, Praetorius’ music combines the drama and virtuosity of something like the Monteverdi Vespers, with the simple and accessible traditions of Lutheran hymn-tunes that many Protestants know by heart.

Classical Music

Includes work(s) by various composers.

Think you know Italian baroque chamber music? Think again. The range, diversity - and even wackiness - is remarkable, as illustrated by Flights of Fantasy, an album of acute inventiveness by Avie stalwart Monica Huggett and the chamber soloists of her Irish Baroque Orchestra. Take Carlo Farina's Capriccio Stravagante, which translates as "outlandish whim", and imitates barking dogs, meowing cats and gunfire. More serious, but no less virtuosic, experimental forms occur in works by Marini, Castello, Legrenzi, and Cavalli - the Venetian best known for his operas - all heard on this album. Created in 1996, the period-instrument Irish Baroque Orchestra occupies a fundamental place in Ireland's musical landscape. Ten years in, the mantle of artistic director was assumed by Monica Huggett, who has created a decades-long career of critically acclaimed and award-winning recordings, including the Billboard chart-topping, Grammy-nominated Bach Orchestral Suites on Avie (AV 2171). critical acclaim for the Irish Baroque Orchestra and Monica Huggett "Nothing lacks from Sonnerie's playing, which is generously, beautifully judged for pace and attractively recorded ... classy" - Gramophone "fresh, lively, and full of spirit" - Classic FM CD of the Week, on Monica Huggett directing Bach Orchestral Suites (AV 2171) Irish Baroque Orchestra: Critics' Choice for the IBO's Masterworks Series, January 2010 - The Irish Times

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

VIVALDI Concertos for Various Instruments: RV 86 1 , 163, 271 2 , 312 3 , 445 4 , 482 5 , 500 6 , 526 7 , 530 8 ) • Adrian Chandler, dir 2,7,8 (vn); Pamela Thorby 1,3,4 (rcr); 1,5,6 Peter Whelan (bn); 7,8 Sara Deborah Struntz (vn); La Serenissima (period instruments) • AVIE AV 2201 (72:01)


One of the underlying motifs of this program seems to be Bohemia, which Vivaldi visited in 1730 and where he probably acquired the paper on which some of these concertos are written. This mixed program opens with what must be one of his briefest concertos, RV 163, in B?. Though under four minutes, and with no special solo instrument, it encompasses many of Vivaldi’s salient characteristics: a strong opening theme, a fine melody, and rhythmic surprise. This brief piece is called “Conca,” for reasons Adrian Chandler connects with a Bohemian use of the conch shell to ward off impending storm. The only storm in front of us here, however, is the pleasurable swirl of Vivaldi’s invention.


In 1727–28, Vivaldi wrote two sets of string concertos, both, in the end, called La Cetra (the lyre). One set was published in Amsterdam in 1727 as op. 9 and may have originally been intended for the Holy Roman Emperor, Charles VI, to whom, on a visit to Trieste in 1728, however, he personally gave a manuscript of a set of new concertos. Vivaldi may have been looking for a job, and the emperor was certainly interested, but nothing happened because the emperor died and Vivaldi, having moved to Vienna without a patron, died in poor straits. The ensemble plays one concerto from the published set (RV 530) and two from the manuscript (RV 526 and 271, of which the former had to be reconstructed by Chandler).


The remaining four concertos on this disc use bassoon and recorder for the concerted part. Two of these, however, are single-movement fragments (RV 482 and 312, the latter reconstructed by Chandler). There is also a “sonata” for recorder and bassoon (RV 86).


Numbering 19, La Serenissima is a fairly large band, as early instrumental ensembles go. This gives a pleasant and most-welcome heft to its sound. The soloists are all good and it would be invidious to single out one of them. This is Vivaldi at his most vivacious, but don’t overlook the rightly named “amorous” concerto (RV 271) from the 1728 manuscript with which the program ends. Anyone looking for an introduction to Vivaldi’s instrumental pieces other than The Four Seasons would do well to start here.


FANFARE: Alan Swanson

Cleveland-based baroque orchestra Apollo’s Fire has made an indelible impression since launching on Avie last year, making their Billboard Classical Chart debut in the Top 10. Vivaldi & Friends presents concertos by the Red Priest with a twist: two authentic concertos—one for four violins, the other for two cellos—interspersed with J. S. Bach’s transcription of Vivaldi’s A minor concerto for four harpsichords and Jeannette Sorrell’s own transcription of “Summer” from the ever-popular Four Seasons. In this unique version, she performs the original violin parts on the harpsichord. The album ends with an enigmatic Tango Concerto by contemporary composer René Duchiffre, written in the idiom of Bach and Vivaldi for the unusual combination of two violas da gamba. Vivaldi & Friends is released to coincide with the group’s extensive tour with star countertenor Philippe Jaroussky.

about the release Elizabeth Hainen, Solo Harpist of the Philadelphia Orchestra, is known internationally as one of classical music's great harp ambassadors. She has thrilled audiences throughout the world with programmes showcasing the diversity and virtuosity of her instrument. Her first recording for Avie features three concerti spanning as many centuries. Austrian composer Johann Georg Albrechtsberger was a highly regarded teacher who counted Hummel and Beethoven among his pupils, and whose Harp Concerto of 1773 straddled the Baroque and Classical eras. English harpist and composer Elias Parish Alvars toured Europe widely and settled in Vienna. His G minor Concerto, written in 1842, was a virtuosic vehicle befitting his own temperament - Berlioz called him the Liszt of the harp. Saint-Saëns wrote dozens of concertante works but only one for harp, the 1918 Morceau de concert. Elizabeth will be a featured artist at the 2011 World Harp Congress in July, performing the Parish Alvars Concerto with members of the Vancouver Symphony Orchestra. critical acclaim "silky transparency" - The Washington Post "ability to blend and color the musical line [and] to find transparency in an almost timeless atmosphere." - Philadelphia Inquirer "a complete harpist who knows and uses her instrument's strength and brilliance and strikes its fire" - Miami Herald

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

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'

VIVALDI “Paris” Concertos: No. 2 in e, RV 133; No. 8 in d, RV 127; No. 11 in G, RV 150. Concerto in F for Violin and Oboe, RV 543. Flute Concertos: in a, RV 440; in d, RV 431a, “Il Gran Mogol.” Concerto for Flute, 2 Violins, and Bassoon, RV 104, “La note.” Bassoon Concerto in C, RV 473. Violin Concerto in B?, RV 365 • Adrian Chandler (vn, cond); Katy Bircher (fl); Gail Hennessy (ob); Peter Whelan (bn); La Serenissima (period instruments) • AVIE 2218 (79:03)


Titled The French Connection 2 , this is La Serenissima’s second collection devoted to concertos by Vivaldi composed for a French nobleman, or with stylistic elements typical of French music from that period. (RV 431a was written on French paper!) If you’re having déjà vu all over again, it’s because I reviewed the first collection (Avie 2178) almost exactly two years ago in Fanfare 33:2. As I remarked last time, France had a strong appetite for the music of Vivaldi and his fellow Italians during the 1720s and ’30s, and so it is not surprising that Vivaldi, on occasion, “spoke French.” Adrian Chandler’s excellent booklet note discusses this in greater detail than it is possible to do here.


Two CD premieres are claimed here, that of RV 431a and RV 365. The former was discovered in April 2010 in the National Archives of Scotland. Unfortunately, a second violin part was missing, but Andrew Woolley reconstructed it, using RV 431 (a simplified version of RV 431a) as a guide. A “Mogol,” by the way, is a representative of the Mughal Empire, part of the Indian subcontinent during Vivaldi’s lifetime. Some of the music on this CD is unfamiliar, then, and some of it will have the average Baroque enthusiast nodding and saying, “I’ve heard this one before.” All of it is of high quality, and there are, as always, some surprises. Chief among these is RV 473, which concludes with a lengthy Menuet en Rondeau . Longer than the first two movements combined, this movement would unbalance the concerto were it not so enjoyable, and were its increasingly ornate variations not so inventive.


Compared to other period-instrument ensembles, La Serenissima’s performances are well mannered, yet they are lively when they need to be, and gently introspective when they are not. The soloists are members of the ensemble. Last time I singled out bassoonist Peter Whelan, and I am moved to do so again. His joyful and virtuosic quacking in RV 473 is the sound that lingers most tenaciously in my ears after this CD has stopped spinning. Like many English ensembles of this sort, La Serenissima is a touch too proper to do full justice to Vivaldi’s Mediterranean temperament. Its name is an allusion to Venice, I assume, but it also describes its musicianship, for better or worse. (Mostly better.)


FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle



Vivaldi is one of the most frequently-recorded composers these days. If you want to record his music and want to avoid the beaten path, what do you do? The answer from Adrian Chandler and La Serenissima is to look at Vivaldi's music from a thematic angle. The booklet for this CD lists the discs they have made over the years. One of the themes was "Vivaldi in Arcadia", and another "Music for the Chapel of the Pietà". This disc is the second devoted to "The French Connection". This title has to be taken with a grain of salt as there is no formal connection between Vivaldi and France. He was never in the service of a French court and never wrote music at the request of any French aristocrat. Chandler rather wants to shed light on French elements in Vivaldi's music.
 
Everyone knows how strongly French composers of the early 18th century were under the influence of the Italian style. Music by Italian composers, and in particular by Vivaldi, was frequently performed in France, for instance in the Concert Spirituel. The influence of the French style in Italy is far less known. In his liner-notes Chandler refers to several traces of French influence in Italy, and especially in the oeuvre of Vivaldi. If there is a 'French connection' it could be a collection of concertos for strings and basso continuo which are referred to as the 'Paris' concertos. Chandler suggests that these could have been intended as a presentation set for a French nobleman.
 
In the booklet the French elements of every piece on the programme are listed. In particular aspects of the French overture style are traceable. The second movement of the Concerto in F (RV 543) is entitled 'allegro alla francese'. The finale of this concerto is a minuet, and the Concerto in C (RV 473) even ends with a 'menuet en rondeau'. That is all very interesting, and Chandler could be right that these are deliberate references to the French style. At the same time it is quite possible that these elements had become so generally accepted that they were not experienced as specifically 'French'. How many music-lovers or even composers of today think of Poland when they hear or play a polonaise? In the early 17th century Italian keyboard composers also wrote pieces 'alla francese'. But scholars can't identify exactly what is so French about them. Sometimes the connection seems rather far-fetched. According to the list the 'French connection' of the Concerto in d minor (RV 431a) is that the manuscript was written on French paper. Well ...
 
That concerto, with the nickname Il Gran Mogol, is one of the main attractions of this disc. It was only recently discovered in Edinburgh, of all places. Not that it was entirely new. Scholars knew that it had been written, and a reworking is listed as RV 431. This version also allowed the reconstruction of the missing second violin part of the first version, which is catalogued as RV 431a and is recorded here. It was part of a series of concertos devoted to various nationalities. This one referred to the Mughal Empire (India). Other concertos have disappeared. Those with a more than average knowledge of Vivaldi's oeuvre will immediately think of another concerto, this time for violin, with the title 'Il Grosso Mogul'. But that is an entirely different piece and has nothing in common with this flute concerto.
 
This piece has been recorded for the first time, and that is also the case with the Concerto in B flat (RV 365). It exists in two versions, the first of which is played here. The liner-notes don't say whether this concerto has been recorded before in its second version. The main difference regards the last movement of which there are two; here the oldest is played. Notable in the programme is also the Concerto in F (RV 543): the French elements in the titles of the various movements have already been mentioned. It needs to be added that the two solo instruments largely play unisono, which could be a reference to the French habit of oboes playing colla parte with the violins. It is also remarkable that there is no slow movement: there are three allegros and a closing minuet.
 
The most virtuosic piece is definitely the Concerto in C (RV 473) with many wide leaps and some very low notes. Vivaldi must have had a particularly skilled soloist in mind. It is remarkable anyway how many bassoon concertos he wrote and they are all quite demanding. Peter Whelan delivers a brilliant performance. The closing 'menuet en rondeau' is especially impressive. It is one of the disc’s highlights. The performances are generally quite good, though I find them at times too restrained. The fast movements come off fairly well, but the slow ones are often too static, especially as long notes are mostly devoid of dynamic shading. Katy Bircher gives a fine performance of one of Vivaldi's most popular pieces, the Concerto La Notte (RV 104). She is equally convincing in the two flute concertos.
 
On balance, the concept of this disc, the choice of music and the performances make this an interesting contribution to the growing Vivaldi discography.
 
-- Johan van Veen, MusicWeb International

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

Classical Music

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By definition, no two compilations of "Music for the Spanish Court" are alike (see recordings from Jordi Savall, the Gothic Voices, etc.) and this one offers first rate performances of songs and instrumental pieces performed by one of the world's premier early music ensembles, The Dufay Collective. The repertoire comes from "the time of Ferdinand and Isabella. . . whose marriage in 1469 effectively united the disparate states of Spain." So there's quite a mix of vocal and instrumental songs and dances by both anonymous and named composers, Narváez and Isaac being the most familiar. Early music fans will recognize the various instruments--sackbut, viols, lute, vihuela, rebec, shawm, harpsichord, harp--and these are employed in all manner of combinations, sometimes with a voice or two, invariably to enchanting or at least thoroughly engaging effect. Vivien Ellis and John Potter provide the vocal support and they do it with impeccable musicianship and technique borne of years of experience with early music performance. The instrumental ensembles, whether viols or wind configurations, deliver refined, colorful, energetic performances that we expect from these players--and the result is eminently listenable interpretations that always seem contextually proper and sensible.


My only complaint is the sonic perspective that renders the pieces with winds--such as the shawm, bombarde, and sackbut in several selections--significantly louder and more present than those with more sparse forces, such as voice/harp or solo vihuela or harpsichord. The transition between these tracks is jarring, although the performances remain focused, technically assured, and invariably true to style. Occasionally, as in the song Con amores mi madre, the voice is covered by the accompaniment, but in general the clarity of the instruments and voices is impressive, and early music fans will find this a welcome addition to their collections.
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

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

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

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

THE RISE OF THE NORTH ITALIAN VIOLIN CONCERTO 1690–1740—VOL. I: THE DAWN OF THE VIRTUOSO • Adrian Chandler (vn), dir; Mhairi Lawson (sop); 1 La Serenissima (period instruments) • AVIE 2106 (77:51 & )


NAVARA Sinfonia/Sonatas: in C; in a. COMPOSER X Laudate pueri Dominum, RV Anh 20. 1 LEGRENZI 3 Balletti e correnti, op. 16. ALBINONI Concerto in G, op. 2/8. VALENTINI Concerto with 4 Violins Obbligato, op. 7/11. VIVALDI Violin Concertos: in G, RV 310; for 4 Violins, RV 580


According to the booklet’s biography, the Arts and Humanities Research Council awarded Adrian Chandler a fellowship at Southampton University to study the development of the violin concerto in northern Italy from 1690 to 1740, a project that apparently resulted in Avie’s recording items from that literature. Although the title of the collection, “The Dawn of the Virtuoso” might suggest some of Vivaldi’s most fanciful flights, the level of technique demanded by the collection’s works remains on a rather low level. Navara’s five-part Sinfonia or Sonata in C Major (as well as the one in A Minor), for example, may feature what the notes describe as “imposing” violin parts, but they can hardly make an electrifying impression on today’s audiences, inured by Ernst and Paganini to relatively subdued technical feats like Navara’s (while curiously, Vivaldi’s violin parts can still make a listener’s heart pound).


The Laudate pueri Dominum by “Composer X” apparently belonged to a group of pieces that Vivaldi himself had studied. Mhairi Lawson’s rich lower register lends a somber quality to the work, although she brings startlingly dramatic excitement to the “Suscitans” section. Legrenzi’s Balletti e corrente (a selection of six very brief pieces scored for what the Adrian Chandler’s notes describe as the “typical” north Italian ensemble of two violins, alto viola, tenor viola, and cello: Balletto II in G Minor, Corrente II in G Minor, Balletto IV in E Minor, Corrente IV in E Minor, Balletto VI in F Major, and Corrente VI in F) sound bracingly crisp and energetic, bubbling with virtuosic energy if not energetic virtuosity.


Chandler identifies Albinoni’s op. 2 as the first work regularly to include solo passages. But although Albinoni supposedly distributed the “lion’s share” of these in the Eighth Concerto, written for four solo violins with strings, striking solos in the manner of Vivaldi’s Concertos, op. 3 (the tenth of which La Serenissima includes in the collection) just don’t make an appearance. Valentini’s Eleventh Concerto, in six movements (one of them multisectional), sounds far more progressive in the quicksilver writing for the solo instruments in the second movement and especially in the brilliant fourth-movement Presto—as well as in the bold but skillfully laid-out chromatic passages of the opening one. At more than 17 minutes’ duration, the piece dwarfs all the other purely instrumental ones in the program. After all these historical divagations, Vivaldi still sounds masterly, both in his solo Concerto, RV 310, and in the celebrated Concerto for Four Violins, RV 580, to which Chandler and the ensemble have added stirring rhetorical flourishes and richly conceived ornamentation.


La Serenissima, recorded crisply in an amply resonant ambiance, plays with a bracingly accented and thumping, though bubbling, bounce that emphasizes the bass’s strong underpinning role; they eschew both the lushness of modern instrumental sounds and the whining and edgy abrasiveness of period ones. Much of the repertoire may be unfamiliar to listeners, but Chandler and La Serenissima make it highly accessible. Recommended to general listeners as heartily as to students of the period.


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