BIS Records Sale 2026
Explore the distinctive sound of BIS Records with 300+ titles on sale at ArkivMusic!
Discover acclaimed recordings featuring masterpieces by Brahms, Stravinsky, Bach, and more, brought to life by outstanding performers including the Minnesota Orchestra, James Rutherford, and the BBC National Orchestra of Wales. From orchestral favorites and timeless classics to exceptional performances from across the BIS catalogue, there’s plenty to discover at special prices for a limited time!
Shop the sale before it ends at 9:00am ET, Monday, August 31st, 2026.
340 products
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Rimsky-Korsakov: Overtures, Suites / Bakels, Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra
BIS · Apr 2006CD$21.99
Glazunov: Complete Symphonies Vol 1 / Otaka, Bbc Wales Nso
Glazunov's Mazurka in G major (1888) actually is a self-contained suite of dances (the dance suite was a popular form of the Russian National school) and points the way toward the imaginative and vibrant style of his later ballet scores. The orchestral fantasy From Darkness to Light was dedicated to Busoni, and it displays (in the darkness section) some surprisingly advanced harmonic devices (Glazunov reportedly had no sympathy for any modernist tendencies, at least later in his career). Out of this pushed-to-the-edge chromaticism emerge the pure tonal harmonies of light, as the work follows a rather obvious path of "transfiguration". Otaka and his forces are just as convincing in these two filler works, making the whole program quite enjoyable. BIS' vivid recording presents a naturally balanced sound picture with a wide dynamic range.
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com
Bloch: Trois Poèmes Juifs, Etc / Borejko, Malmö So
Evocations, inspired by a book on Chinese art, deserves to be much better known. Tuneful, glitteringly scored, and with a really exciting central movement (God of War) and a mesmerizing, lyrical finale (Renouveau-Spring), it also has a gentle fund of pentatonic-inspired melody, but otherwise sounds like Bloch in his "exotic" mode. The Three Jewish Poems, though never played in concert, have enjoyed a few recordings, and compared to the competition on Koch and ASV, this performance offers a touch more languor without ever seeming too slow, and it's the best sounding of the batch. BIS is quietly working its way though Bloch's orchestral output, and in my opinion no series in progress on any label is more important or interesting. Hopefully the series will include two of the most enthralling and magnificent of 20th century concertos, the Viola Suite, and the Concerto symphonique, without delay.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
Bach: Cantatas Vol 21 / Suzuki, Bach Collegium Japan
Some general notes: after Maestro Suzuki himself, the closest thing to a constant in the series remains Peter Kooij’s steady bass. The leading soprano is now Yukari Nonoshita, whose clear, near white tone is entirely appropriate for Bach’s music. Tenors come and go; note that four different tenors, all satisfactory, appear on these four discs. Suzuki continues to alternate between male or female altos depending on the specific task at hand. The soloists participate in the chorus but do not sing alone. Western names have become quite rare in the list of performers, with Japanese musicians handling most parts, vocal and instrumental, with their by-now-accustomed excellence. The notes remain exemplary, but Klaus Hofmann now shares that task with Suzuki, whose function is generally to explain his decisions regarding problems with the performing editions. As always, BIS’s recordings are first-rate.
I thought I detected a hint of fatigue when I got to Cantata 83, but wasn’t sure whether to attribute it to a harried composer or a hyperactive interpreter––or to an ear-weary listener. Frankly, it may well have been the third. At any rate, everyone seemed to have revived by the time I got to Volume 22 and the second cycle. Of course, I’m going to urge interested listeners to acquire [this disc]. Bach and Suzuki are still one of the best tandems going.
-- George Chien, FANFARE - FANFARE
Auerbach: 24 Preludes for Violin & Piano / Gluzman
Born in Chelyabinsk in 1973, Lera Auerbach defected from the former Soviet Union to the United States while still in her teens, and she has since garnered much attention as both pianist and composer, notably in her recent work with Gidon Kremer. Written in 1999, Auerbach's 24 Preludes for Violin and Piano amply showcase her stylistic leanings and wide emotional range. Clearly, she's imbibed from the Shostakovich/Schnittke watering hole, as we hear in the frequent sparse textures in extreme registers, petulant dynamic shifts, obsessive pedal points, and caustic, folk-oriented tunes. Auerbach also has figured out what makes Astor Piazzolla tick, and manages to personalize his sultry harmonic idiom.
The most interesting moments occur when the composer's original voice pushes her influences out of the way, as in the sudden, unexpected violin cadenza that immediately follows Prelude No. 15's unrelenting dance. This leads to a threnody that gradually dematerializes into a high-register mist, and before you know it, Prelude No. 16 is over. The Postlude and solo violin piece also typify the ease with which Auerbach communicates her ideas. Vadim Gluzman and Angela Yoffe push their collective virtuosity sky-high. Such big playing requires the larger-than-life engineering BIS provides. Not only do I want to hear more of Auerbach's music, but I also hope BIS plans to take advantage of her wonderful piano playing on future releases. Enthusiastically recommended.
--Jed Distler , ClassicsToday.com
Rimsky-Korsakov: Antar, Scheherazade / Bakels, Malaysian Philharmonic
Having recently recorded the symphonies of both Glazunov and Rachmaninov, we continue our Russian theme with the first of a series of recordings of Rimsky-Korskov's symphonies. These are performed by the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Kees Bakels. The present disc couples one of Rimsky-Korsakov's most popular pieces with a symphony that deserves a much wider audience. Both works swhow their author's fertile, often fantastical imagination as welll as the mastery of orchestration for which he is renowned. While Scheherazade is in every orchestra's repertoire and most music lovers' collections, Rimsky-Korsakov's symphonies inexplicably remain under-recorded and appear infrequently on the concert platform. Both works exemplify the Romantic notion of programme music (where extra-musical references are explicitly related to what we hear). Rimsky-Korsakov had a vivid sense of colour that brings his programmes to life and which make his works highly appealing. The disc once again illustrates just how good the Malyasian Philharmonic Orchestra is under its founding conductor Kees Bakels.
Nystroem: Symphonies Nos. 4 & 6 / Andersson, Malmö Symphony
Nystroem's orchestration also is very colorful and effective. His evocative use of high strings to open many of his individual movements should not blind us to the fact that he was very much a composer for the whole orchestra. This means full sonorities, plentiful use of winds, brass, and percussion, and beautifully judged, fluid textures. Although there are plenty of good tunes, Nystroem was not a melodist in the conventional sense. But his basic sonorities always fall gratefully on the ear, and his driving rhythms in quicker music produce a great deal of physical excitement. In short, this is really good, solid, characterful symphonic writing, and the performances give the full measure of each work. The only possible missing ingredient might be a bit more assertiveness from the brass at the big climaxes, but I can't imagine anyone being dissatisfied with either the interpretations or the vivid sound.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
This premiere release of the two remaining unrecorded symphonies of the half-dozen by the singular Swede Gösta Nyström (1890–1966) represents for this writer the fulfillment of a long-cherished wish list.
Together with Hilding Rosenberg (1892–1985) and Allan Pettersson (1911–1980), Nystroem stands at the pinnacle of Swedish music during the 20th century. His sui generis expressionistic voice (which sounds like no other) seems to embody the brooding but aloof Swedish soul in sound. Spiritually speaking, his only significant parallel, perhaps because of his dozen years of study and experience in Paris, could be that of the Swiss Arthur Honegger. Although Nystroem was an occasional painter—as well as a music critic—and thus quite concerned with questions of orchestral color, there is nothing especially pictorial about his music.
His intensely direct and dramatic idiom—a very personal blend of post-Impressionism and post-Romantic elements—gave rise to some of the most emotionally raw and vulnerable-sounding music of the modern period. Beginning in 1931 with the Sinfonia breve, which was followed shortly by the Sinfonia espressiva for string orchestra, in the late 1940s Nystroem wrote the sublime Sinfonia del mare (“Sea Symphony”), probably his masterpiece in the form; then in 1952 this Fourth Symphony, subtitled “Sinfonia Shakespeariana” followed by the Sinfonia seria in 1963, and finally by the posthumously premiered sixth and last, “Sinfonia tramontana” in 1966. (There is also an unnumbered Sinfonia concertante for cello and orchestra from the 1940s.) All six vary in length from 20 to 30 minutes.
Even though he utilizes a very distinctive blend of modal-diatonic and intermittently very chromatized dissonance—in fact, some of his themes are close to atonal but still lyrically graspable—Nyström’s language is never convoluted or forbidding. He always addresses the listener very forthrightly on a level of almost painfully naked subjectivity. The guiding principal of his work is one of extreme contrast or energetic conflict: in just a single measure or two, he can veer from a threatening tone of violent relentlessness to a piercingly short-lived moment of tenderness, but his basic background is one of unrelieved lugubriousness. He often writes in large instrumental blocks, pitting strings as a group against winds or brasses, with the timpani always closely on call. Formally, the symphonies vary from the single-movement Sinfonia breve to the five interrelated sections of the Sinfonia del mare, but the thematic materials are often derived from a single generating motivic source.
The Fourth Symphony, though subtitled “Shakespeariana,” does not quote from any of the rather functional though appealing incidental scores he wrote for The Tempest and The Merchant of Venice. The Shakespeare reference is probably meant to evoke a sense of tragic humanity that pervades the three movements. As in most of the symphonies, the outer Allegro movement begins as a barely audible Lento before bursting out into full force; at the center, it suddenly drops into an unexpected, secluded oasis of sad serenity before plunging back into its initial turbulence. By the same token, the midpoints of many of his slow movements erupt into quick passages of savage agitation, even though the same or similar themes are present in both modalities.
The Sixth or “Tramontana” Symphony (the subtitle carries an implication of a visionary statement coming from beyond the range of everyday life) is a kind of transcendental diptych, with two panels of almost equal length following the same characteristic expressive arc of Lento–Allegro–Lento (or Andante). In the symphony’s concluding measures, Nystroem attempts a grand resolution, but to these ears the sorrowful reverberations win out.
B. Tommy Andersson offers splendidly charged and maintained readings of these almost schizoid works; he is always careful not to let Nyström’s multiple lines and towering climaxes get out of hand. Typically, the dynamic spectrum of BIS’s engineering is so unusually wide that only the best reproduction equipment will be able to do justice to its shattering power. In short, a major addition to the 20th century Scandinavian symphonic discography.
Paul A. Snook, FANFARE
Beethoven: Piano Sonatas No 8, 14 & 23 / Freddy Kempf
A generation of strict musicologists, literalist critics, and unimaginative performers will be offended by Freddy Kempf’s traversal of Beethoven’s three most approachable “name” sonatas, because the young Englishman is by no means strict, literal, or unimaginative. He seems to be goading us with the very first chord of the “Pathétique,” sustaining only the left-hand notes, creating an unexpectedly blunt strike against the keyboard (an effect he reproduces every time that passage repeats). The introductory material is full of hesitations and rubato that call to mind C. P. E. Bach, and the main theme takes off like the proverbial bat out of hell. Never does Kempf’s handling of the music seem arbitrary, but it is surprising enough to keep jaded listeners alert.
There’s tenderness and repose here, too, notably in the second movement of the “Pathétique,” although this movement also has its odd dull moments. The over-famous first movement of the “Moonlight” sonata is full of unexpected detail, although it is neither sentimentalized nor excessively dramatized. The final movement is fleet and assertive, with immaculate passagework, all the while Kempf proving that it’s not necessary to hammer the klavier. The “Appassionata” has fewer surprises, yet it’s keenly organized (listen to his absolutely right transition into the final presto pages), and fiery in the outer movements. In DSD surround mode, the recorded sound is close in a reverberant space, perhaps a bit harder in forte passages than is ideal; it’s more generalized and quite solid in two-channel CD playback.
Kempf’s Beethoven, while by no means outlandish (certainly not by the standards of a century ago), will not please listeners who frown on any little departure from the printed score. But it’s full of panache that never misrepresents Beethoven, and it’s that rarest of things, a new standard-rep recording individual enough to justify being released into a crowded market.
James Reel, FANFARE
Bach: Cantatas Vol 29 / Suzuki, Mields, Türk, Et Al
In this the 29th volume of Bach Cantatas, Masaaki Suzuki and his musicians are still exploring Bach's great project, the Chorale Cantata Year, which was initiated in 1724 in order to celebrate the bicentenary of the first Lutheran hymn books. Each cantata belonging to the project is very closely connected to one particular hymn from this collection, especially in terms of the texts used. For all of them can be said that the first and the last movement are settings of the first and last strophes of the hymn, with Bach using the original hymn melody as the guiding light in highly imaginative scores. The remaining strophes were used as an inspiration by an unknown librettist, providing texts suitable for arias, recitatives and ensembles, while remaining true to the idea of the original hymn. All of the works on the present disc use the addition of cornetto and/or trombones, resulting – in particular in BWV2 and BWV38 – in a sonic world both dramatic and archaic, even for Bach's own time. On this recording it is Concerto Palatino, the world's leading ensemble of their kind, which provides the inimitable timbres of cornettos and baroque trombones. Among the soloists, Gerd Türk and Peter Kooij will be familiar to followers of this series and Pascal Bertin has also appeared before, while the young German soprano Dorothee Mields makes her first appearance on BIS.
Saint-Saëns: Violin Concerto no. 3, etc. / Bakels, Kantorow
REVIEW:
Jean-Jacques Kantorow has recorded Saint-Saëns’s two other violin concertos on BIS 860, which I reviewed in 21:6 and on BIS 1060, which I also reviewed, in 25:5. In the first case, it seemed to me that Kantorow exaggerated rhythms “until they become irritating,” and, in the second, that he provided an attractive alternative to either Ruggiero Ricci or Philippe Graffin in this least initially ingratiating of Saint-Saëns’s violin concertos. Kantorow is aggressively piquant in the Third Concerto as well, but the competition’s stiffer, with Arthur Grumiaux having made two recordings of it and Nathan Milstein, one—in addition to Zino Francescatti’s legendary account, which the work’s admirers should find in equal parts more noble and less racy. While Kantorow slashes with abandon in the first movement and wheedles intimately in the second, he comes into his own in the third, exhibiting greater accentual restraint yet stunning technical aplomb in passagework that defies the notes’ assessment that those seeking traditional virtuosity in this work will be disappointed. As in the slow movement, he reveals the rich lyricism of the finale’s reflective interludes. Center stage, Graffin creates an impression of cogency in this last movement for which mannerisms in the headlong first movement and the occasionally languorous slow movement hardly prepare. The orchestral support, represented in resonant and wide-ranging recorded sound, buoys the soloist throughout, providing both moments of sensitive repose and sonorous bustle.
I’ve most frequently heard Eugène Ysaÿe’s transcription for violin and orchestra of Saint-Saëns’s solo piano étude in an arrangement for violin and piano. In orchestral garb, the work bears greater affinity to Saint-Saëns’s violin concertos; and although Kantorow’s reading may seem brittle compared with Oistrakh’s breathtaking one with pianist Vladimir Yampolsky, the orchestral accompaniment virtually transforms the piece, with the violin lighting the stratosphere with pyrotechnics against a colorful orchestral backdrop, all in the grand manner of Henri Vieuxtemps (Ysaÿe’s teacher). The Caprice andalous , which Dong Suk Kang included in his collection on Naxos 8.550752, 18:2 (which also included the Third Concerto—Kang’s performance of the Caprice, and of the Concerto, sounds especially refined and elegant after hearing Kantorow’s more urgent and slightly more mannered ones), seems to be Saint-Saëns’s most overtly Spanish number, although he had embodied Pablo Sarasate’s musical personality with greater or lesser success in the Havanaise and Introduction and rondo capriccioso as well as in the Third Concerto. The work’s ethnicity and its brilliant writing for the soloist, especially at the conclusion, may overcome for listeners any resistance to what they deem less immediately appealing thematic material. And certainly Kantorow makes the most of opportunities for display.
Just as BIS’s volume surrounding the First Concerto included the Sarabande for string orchestra, op. 93/1, and the recording of the Second Concerto included Spartacus and La muse et le poète for violin, cello, and orchestra, this third volume in what appears to be a series includes the more austere Prélude to Le déluge (in which Kantorow extracts from the orchestra a nostalgic sentiment that goes beyond the suggestive violin solo) and a rambustious performance by Heini Kärkkäinen of the Valse caprice , op. 76. As in the works for violin, the engineers have placed the soloist center stage, but the depth and definition of the orchestral sound ensures that the accompaniment never degenerates into a drop cloth merely catching splotches of color the soloist insouciantly sprinkles. The program concludes with the bumptious Allegro appassionato , op. 70, with bubbling high spirits at its center.
Although Kantorow’s reading of the first two movements of the Third Violin Concerto may seem just too headlong and too diffuse, respectively, for some listeners, the bracing third nearly redeems them, and the other two bravura works for violin (Ysaÿe’s in its stirring orchestral setting)—to say nothing of the additional pieces in affecting readings led stylishly by Kantorow and, in the last two, played brightly and energetically by Kärkkäinen—tip the balance in the recording’s favor. Recommended.
-- FANFARE (Robert Maxham)
Christian Lindberg: The Total Musician
BIS' first-ever DVD is dedicated to one of the label's most charismatic and longest-standing artists: Christian Lindberg. It forms an extensive - 3h 40 minutes - portrayal of this multi-faceted musician who has since his début in 1984 almost single-handedly turned the trombone into a solo instrument.
Valen: Orchestral Music Vol 1 / Eggen, Båtnes, Stavanger SO
VALEN Symphony No. 1. Violin Concerto. Sonetto di Michelangelo. Cantico di ringraziamento. Pastorale • Christian Eggen, cond; Elise Båtnes (vn); Stavanger SO • BIS 1522 (58:06)
One of the great pleasures of collecting recordings is the occasional discovery of an exciting, previously unknown, work. Well, here are five of them, by a composer that has been neglected for far too long. Norwegian composer Fartein Valen (1887–1952) may be, as one biography has it, “one of the few Norwegian composers with an international reputation,” but that doesn’t seem to be saying much. He was a modernist in a country much taken with its nationalist musical tradition and not particularly receptive to Valen’s innovations. His own apparent indifference to recognition and his withdrawal to the isolation of a rural farm for much of his creative life only added to his obscurity. One can hope this release, the first in a promised series of recordings of orchestral works from BIS will help to rectify this situation.
Valen studied with Max Bruch in Berlin and stayed to absorb the many other influences of that important musical capital in the second decade of the 20th century. He fell under the spell of Bach, Bruckner, and Brahms, but was also captivated by the progressives of that era, especially Arnold Schoenberg. When Schoenberg introduced his first works using serial techniques in the early 1920s, Valen was already home in Norway, developing his own type of serialism. It became the basis for all of his compositions written from 1925 on. Unlike Schoenberg, who developed a whole new theoretical system of music using tone rows of all 12 chromatic pitches, Valen worked intuitively and far less strictly. His point of departure was Bach’s rich polyphony, from which he developed comparably rich tone row-like chromatic melodies. Valen applied this technique of “dissonant counterpoint,” as he called it, in a variety of classic forms during the remainder of his career. The result is not the sometimes hard-edged dissonances of Schoenberg’s thornier scores. Rather, while there are no keys in Valen’s music, there is always a sense of vague tonality. The lines are incredibly long, but one never gets lost. There is a feeling of wandering, which is undoubtedly the desired effect. This is music of ambiguity and melancholy—a beautiful uncertainty which Valen packages in clear, familiar structures. It sounds vaguely like Berg, another important influence, but the overall effect is different.
Valen’s Symphony No. 1, op. 30 (1939), is, of course, classical in form. After a beginning of dark foreboding, the opening Allegro movement is tense and energetic, with moments of exaltation. El Greco’s painting Christ on the Mount of Olives is the inspiration for the second, Adagio, movement. The building of the line is ecstatic and the anguish palpable. The third movement provides contrast in the form of a playful scherzo and clouded trio before we are plunged back into the tensions of the rondo-form finale. It is an exhilarating journey.
The Violin Concerto, op. 37 (1940), is Valen’s most-played work and the one that finally brought him some recognition at its premiere in 1948. It was written as a memorial to his godson, Arne Valen, who had died of tuberculosis several years earlier. In it he expresses his profound sense of loss and his deep Christian faith, the latter especially in his use of the Bach chorale Jesu meine Zuversicht in the concluding section of the work. It bears a superficial similarity to the Berg Violin Concerto, of which Valen was aware, though he had not actually heard it. The work is intensely beautiful and deeply, often tenderly, moving.
The other works on the disc— Pastorale , op. 11 (1930), a meditation on his beloved rose garden, Sonetto di Michelangelo , op. 17/1 (1932), in which he contemplates the religious longing and pain in the great Italian artist’s poetry, and Cantico di ringraziamento , op. 17/2 (1932), in which Valen expresses Psalm-like thanksgiving in a beautifully constructed fugue—are equally rewarding experiences.
The Stavanger Symphony Orchestra, the excellent resident orchestra of Valen’s birthplace, has made a mission, on CD at least, of rescuing Norwegian composers from undeserved obscurity. Valen joins Geirr Tveitt and Harald Sæverud in their debt. Christian Eggen, who edited the often-faulty published scores to restore Valen’s intentions, is well known in Scandinavia for his performances of contemporary music. He conducts with admirable strength and sensitivity. Elise Båtnes, one of the foremost violinists of Norway, plays the difficult, soaring lines of the Concerto with silvery tone and great concentration. The recorded sound is very fine and the documentation excellent. This is not music of loud affirmation and major-key celebration. Look elsewhere for that. This is music of great emotional depth and asks a fair amount of the listener. It rewards in kind. Highly recommended with that caveat.
FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames