This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.

BEETHOVEN Piano Concertos: in E?, WoO 4 (reconst. Brautigam); No. 2 in B?. Rondo in B? • Ronald Brautigam (pn); Andrew Parrott (cond); Norrköping SO • BIS 1792 (58:04)


Few piano recording buffs will have missed the remarkable career trajectory of Dutch pianist Ronald Brautigam. Particularly since his association with the Swedish label BIS began in 1995, the releases don’t seem to quit. Now in his mid-fifties, it’s natural that Brautigam should be at the peak of his powers. His recorded repertoire, if not catholic, demonstrates a healthy musical curiosity. Canonic figures are amply represented alongside those less frequently encountered: Haydn and Mozart with Joseph Martin Kraus; Mendelssohn with Gade; Shostakovich and Hindemith with Duruflé, Martin, and Hahn. But it’s not Brautigam’s enviable technical polish that sets him apart from many of his colleagues, nor his lofty musical grasp. It is his individuality. He has a searching musical intelligence, a disarming self-effacement before the score, and an astonishing conscientiousness that, in combination, make him sound like no one else. Witness, for instance, his complete Haydn set, some 15 discs (BIS 1731) representing essentially all the master’s solo keyboard works currently known, recorded over five years, beginning in 1998. Here the same care and imagination are lavished on the earliest experimental sonatas from the lean, free-lance years that are accorded the mature works representing the summit of Haydn’s achievement. Finally, Brautigam has the uncanny ability to turn in consummate performances, equally compelling in stylistic terms, whether he plays replicas of historical instruments or the modern concert grand. In this aspect he seems an entirely new type of pianist. His on-going Beethoven project with BIS, demonstrates this parallel track aptitude with stunning artistic results: the sonatas are being recorded on period-appropriate fortepiano replicas, while the concertos are played on the modern piano, fully informed by cutting-edge performance practice.


Following the release of the First and Third Concertos (BIS 1692) last year, Brautigam and Parrot turn their attention to the earliest known works of Beethoven for piano and orchestra. Only a manuscript of the piano solo part of the E? Concerto survives, dating from around 1784. Fortunately for posterity, Beethoven incorporated the orchestral tutti into the piano part, along with some subsequent editorial changes. Thus a speculative reconstruction of the lost orchestral score is possible, based on the composer’s unusual instrumentation (calling for strings with two flutes and two horns, but no oboes or bassoons). The reconstruction recorded here is Brautigam’s own, as are the candenzas for both WoO 4 and the Rondo. (Beethoven’s 1809 cadenzas are used in the Concerto No. 2.)


Given its sparse representation in the catalogs, the E? Concerto is of special interest. Little in this charming piece suggests that it is the creation of a 13-year-old. Brautigam brings an air of naive exuberance to the difficult solo part; the delicate fiorituras of the Larghetto are breathtakingly poetic. Here, in Brautigam’s superbly reconstructed orchestral score, as indeed throughout the recording, Parrott and the Norrköping musicians are responsive partners of remarkable sensitivity. Moreover, in the Rondo of No. 2, the give-and-take between soloist and orchestra is nothing short of sublime, imbued with an exhilaration that’s utterly infectious. It follows an Adagio of ethereal tenderness. Without doubt, this is the most dynamic, shapely, and vivid recording of the Beethoven Second one is ever likely to hear. It’s worth mentioning that the Steinway D used here, with lid removed, was placed in the middle of the orchestra, continuo style, which does a lot to explain both the cohesive ensemble and the beautifully blended sound of the recording.


Comparisons? This canonic repertoire boasts more than a few canonic interpretations—Schnabel’s revelatory musicality, Rubinstein’s aristocratic poise, Serkin’s modest edginess, and the lofty humanism of Backhaus come immediately to mind. Let me put it this way, without any denigration of artists whom I respect and admire immensely: listening to two recent wonderful Beethoven cycles, those of Plentnev with Gansch and the Russian National O (DG) and Goode with Fischer and the Budapest Festival O (Nonesuch), I hear the glorious recent past, ripe, insightful, often brilliant, immensely pleasurable; listening to Ronald Brautigam, Andrew Parrott, and the Norrköping SO, I hear the future.


FANFARE: Patrick Rucker

Ronald Brautigam is an excellent Beethoven pianist, and he turns in a performance of the Second concerto's solo part that's as lively and attractive as anyone has yet recorded on a modern instrument. It's especially nice to hear the finale taken at a tempo that permits all of the main theme's rhythmic bounce to register without it ever sounding breathless or frantic. The same holds true of the Rondo in B-flat, the Second concerto's original finale. Indeed, the only caveat in these performances concerns the slow movements, where Andrew Parrott, evidently with the acquiescence of his soloist, encourages the orchestra to indulge in that dry, vibrato-less string tone that is the very opposite of stylishness (and utterly contrary to what their own sources say about sustained lyrical music in slow tempos).

The E-flat concerto is an early work in Mozartian style, here very nicely reconstructed by Brautigam from the existing piano score. Indications of scoring in the keyboard part point to an orchestra of strings, two flutes, and two horns, a very unusual combination, and I'm not convinced that two oboes ought not to have been added as a matter of course. Still, there's no denying the distinctive tone color that the absence of double reeds gives the work's overall sonority, and it would be hard to imagine a more sympathetic performance than this one (never mind Parrott and his scratchy strings). I look forward to further releases in this (so far) very rewarding edition.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Estonian composer Eino Tamberg (b. 1930) is the real deal--a composer with a fresh take on traditional tonal music who knows how to write tunes and score them with unfailing color and point. His Concerto Grosso--for flute, trumpet, clarinet, alto saxophone, bassoon, piano, harp, strings, and percussion--is a masterpiece of 20th century neo-classicism and it deserves to be a repertory item. It dates from 1956 and at only Op. 5 it announces a major talent. The Symphonic Dances arrived a year later and fall within similar stylistic parameters, from the opening tune that has a Poulenc-like wit, to the three saxophones that give Tamberg's scoring a truly modern feel.

If you had the chance to hear Tamberg's 1976 opera Cyrano de Bergerac (and if you didn't, get it--it's on CPO), then you already know that he has a wonderful feeling for the theater, and for writing dramatic music. The ballet Joanna Tentata is based on the same source that gave us Penderecki's opera The Devils of Loudon. Now let's face it, stories about demonic possession in a convent have lots of juicy potential, as well as a long history on the stage, going back through Prokofiev's The Fiery Angel to Meyerbeer's Robert le Diable. Tamberg's ballet suite instantly establishes the story's haunted setting (church bells leading to a big, dissonant instrumental pileup), but the music at the same time celebrates and positively reeks of the dance. And once again we can only applaud Tamberg's willingness (and ability) to write a good tune.

Believe it or not, some of this music has been recorded previously. The Concerto Grosso appeared on a difficult-to-source Antes CD in a very fine performance by Estonian forces. This new version is wonderful too, even more naturally recorded, and Neeme Järvi is just the conductor for this colorful, exciting, and strongly gestural music. The musicians of the Residentie Orkest also clearly relish Tamberg's ebullient musical personality and the opportunities he gives them to shine. We can only hope that BIS will delve more deeply into Tamberg's output and help to bring him some of the international attention he surely deserves.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This is all early Haydn (with the exception of the two marches), but it is not immature. He was in his mid- to late-20s when he composed most of these pieces, and they are beautifully written for a wild assortment of ensembles. There are works for winds alone, serenades for wind and strings (including a couple featuring pairs of English horns), some early pieces with clarinets, a divertimento for harpsichord, a cassation with four horns, music with flute, and an insanely virtuosic trio for horn, violin, and cello. Manfred Huss includes the famous "St. Anthony Chorale" even though it's not by Haydn, and Simon Standage turns in a really lovely performance of the First violin concerto, with a slow movement so winsome you'd never know he's playing a period violin.

Indeed, Huss and his team manage to have the best of both worlds, offering a clearly "authentic" sound without any of the timbral unpleasantness that so often comes with it. There's only one exception: the natural horn playing, particularly in the trio mentioned above. Here I have to be dogmatic: get a modern horn, gentlemen. The alternative on offer here oscillates between crudeness and sheer desperation, however brave the effort.

Still, such is the value of the music and vibrancy of the performances that this set, attractively priced at five discs for the cost of three, is an essential item for any self-respecting Haydn collection. Much of the material was released previously on Koch in a series of single discs, but for all intents and purposes this set should be seen as brand new, for that is how it sounds whether you're listening for the first time or the tenth.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Berit Opheim Versto, folk singer
Gjermund Larsen, fiddle, hardanger fiddle
The Norwegian Soloists' Choir (Det Norske Solistkor)
Grete Pedersen, conductor

More than a century ago, the rhythms and harmonies of Edvard Grieg's music enchanted a whole world. What Grieg himself readily admitted was that these rhythms and harmonies had been absorbed during his journeys along fjords and across mountains, and his encounters with fiddlers and folk singers - such as the dairy-maid Gjendine Slaalien, whose 'bådnlåt' (lullaby) Grieg turned into a piano piece. But although the most famous, Grieg is only one of many Norwegian composers who have found folk music a deep and decisive source of inspiration. Combining traditional folk songs with recent compositions springing from folk music, the Norwegian Soloists' Choir on the present disc makes a compelling case for the powerful hold that this music has over the country's cultural life, in performances that easily makes one understand why! The choir's conductor, Grete Pedersen, has a constant eye open for the immediacy of folk music, but also its melancholy which, as she writes in her own introduction, 'always shines through, whether the tune is a wedding march or a lullaby, and whether it accompanies a religious song or a tale of a maiden abducted by trolls.' The choir's previous recording for BIS was a programme of Grieg's choral works, described as 'a performance of breathtaking beauty' in Le Monde de la Musique, and 'a reference recording, the likes of which one doesn't encounter every day' on website klassik.com. Already on that disc the Norwegian Soloists' Choir explored the music's roots in folk music, and going a step further in this direction, Grete Pedersen has now invited one of Norway's most respected folk singers, Berit Opheim Versto, and the fiddler and composer Gjermund Larsen to join her and the choir on their journey through 'the intricate landscape of folk music'.

Tracks:
1. Gjendines Bådnlåt
2. Jeg lagde mig så sildig
3. Jesus din søte forening å smake
4. Nådigste Jesus / Jesus styr du mine tankar
5. Med Jesus vil eg fara
6. Bruremarsj fra Valsøyfjord
7. Polonese
8. Gropen
9. Solbønn
10. Solistvals
11. Margjit Hjukse, Op.48
12. Allsang

After finishing the chorus ‘How dark, O Lord, are thy decrees’ in February 1751, Handel noted in the autograph score that he couldn’t continue his work on Jephtha because of eye problems. Later in the year, he regained his eyesight and was able to complete the work in the autumn. The problems returned however, and in January 1753 a London newspaper reported that ‘Mr Handel has at length, unhappily, quite lost his sight’. Jephtha was thus to become Handel's last oratorio, and indeed his last major work. It is nevertheless no less a masterpiece than his earlier works, and contains some of his noblest music.

The plot of this ‘Sacred Drama’ is loosely based on the story of Jephtha in the Old Testament: a father who in order to win the the Israelites’ struggle against the Ammonites makes a rash promise to God, and after his victory is compelled to sacrifice his own daughter. The situation gives rise to music of touching poignancy, as well as great choral set-pieces.

This rousing live performance, recorded in 2008 in the Stavanger Concert Hall, boasts a roster of soloists headed by the fine British tenor James Gilchrist as Jephtha, as well as the eminent Belgian choir Collegium Vocale Gent, all backed up by the Stavanger Symphony Orchestra. At the helm of these large forces is Fabio Biondi, the Baroque violinist and conductor who since 2005 has been artistic director of the Stavanger orchestra in the baroque and classical repertoires.

A real winner of a CD.

Sofia Gubaidulina, the 80-year old Russian/Tatar composer, is one of the most respected of living composers. She has composed in a variety of genres, but her concertos have gained a wide following and for good reason. As witnessed by the concertos on this CD, they are indeed remarkable and glorious works. In tempus praesens is her second violin concerto. The first such concerto, Offertorium, was written more than twenty-five years before this one. Both have received multiple performances and are considered two of the finest in recent times. Gubaidulina composed In tempus praesens for Anne-Sophie Mutter, who recorded it with the London Symphony and Valery Gergiev for Deutsche Grammophon. The concerto receives its second recording here.

Gubaidulina’s Russian Orthodox faith is never very far away in her compositions and they have religious significance. In the case of this violin concerto the title refers to the present time. More important, the work embodies the divine wisdom personified in the orthodox religion by the saint Sophia. Since Gubaidulina’s Christian name is Sophia and she composed the concerto for and dedicated it to Anne-Sophie Mutter, the figure of Sophia has a special significance in the work not only in her divine wisdom, but also in the very creative power of God. This is reflected throughout the work in the contrast between the dark as demonstrated by the use of the low brass and strings and the light by the violin solos. The concerto is in a single, long movement that is sub-divided into five parts. It is a shame that neither Mutter’s première recording nor this new one has more than a single track. It would have made it much easier to assimilate the work had there been separate tracks for the individual sections. As it is, though, the concerto grips the listener from the beginning and does not let go until it reaches ever upward in a spectacular climax by the whole orchestra like a burst of light, only to have the low brass (trombones and tubas) growl at the very bottom of the orchestra. The solo violin, however, gets the final say and ends the work on a high, sustained note. In tempus praesens is one of those works that exhilarate the listener so that you want to immediately go back and hear it all over again. There is a DVD out titled “Sophia: Biography of a Violin Concerto” with Gubaidulina and Mutter on this very composition. I haven’t seen it, but it has received critical acclaim. One would imagine, then, that Anne-Sophie Mutter “owns” the work, but here is a challenger in Vadim Gluzman who has his own equally valid interpretation. He is superbly accompanied by Jonathan Nott and the Lucerne Symphony and the recorded sound is indeed stunning. One associates Nott more with Schubert or Mahler, but it should be remembered that he did yeoman service to the large orchestral works of Ligeti in the Volume II of Warner’s Ligeti Project. To briefly sum up my impression of the main difference between these two recordings, Mutter’s is the more extrovert and Gluzman’s the more inward. Certainly, Mutter with her larger-than-life tone grabs the listener from the beginning and Gergiev’s orchestra also makes more of an impact for most of the concerto. Part of this is due to the recordings, where the DG seems to be somewhat more closely recorded; that is not to say the BIS is by any means distant. The balance on the BIS seems about perfect and there are places where the subtlety pays off. For example, in the last five or so minutes of the piece, there are tremendous percussion effects by cymbals, gongs, and bells. With their more distant placement down in the depths of the Lucerne orchestra, they create an especially eerie effect that is somehow more felt than heard. It plays right into Gubaidulina’s symbolism of dark vs. light. Gergiev here is more obvious, but nonetheless magnificent as well. The very ending of the concerto is telling. Gergiev builds the orchestral crescendo so that the light is almost blinding, but the following low brass and strings do not make the same impact as they do with Nott. Nott’s light may not be as blinding, but the low brass really growl and create a very unsettling experience before the violinist completes the work on the high, sustained note. Again that note is more intense with Mutter, but Gluzman with his purer tone is also convincing as he is throughout the concerto. I frankly would not want to be without either of these different interpretations of what is perhaps the greatest violin concerto this century has produced so far.

With that said, the primary interest of this CD must be the world première recording of Gubaidulina’s Glorious Percussion. I am familiar with a number of percussion concertos, including James MacMillan’s Veni, Veni Emmanuel, Toru Takemitsu’s From me flows what you call Time, and Joseph Schwantner’s Percussion Concerto. While all three of these possess their considerable merits, they did not prepare me for this extraordinary new work in the genre. As with the violin concerto, this percussion concerto requires a very large orchestra. In addition to the five percussion soloists placed at the front of the orchestra there is the usual contingent at the back; and the brass also plays a major role with the addition of four Wagner tubas interchanging with horns, two bass tubas, bass and tenor trombones, etc. Incidentally, Gubaidulina also employed Wagner tubas in the violin concerto. The work is thus distinguished by the percussion soloists who have seven sections in the work where they improvise in contrast to the more static nature of the rest of the orchestra. Again it’s unfortunate that the concerto receives a single track on the disc where it would have made a lot of sense to divide it into these sections. Glorious Percussion begins with the lower brass and percussion playing a chordal theme that lumbers like some behemoth in the depths of the orchestra. This theme recurs in key places in the work and at the end of it with the cymbals and tam-tam as they resonate, having the final say. Contrasting with the rather static nature of the orchestral part, the solo percussionists have a heyday with a huge variety of instruments, including all kinds and sizes of gongs, marimbas and xylophones, bells, woodblocks and rattles, four bass drums, and a whole variety of Asian folk instruments with such strange names as cabaza and darabuca. At one point in the piece the soloists go wild with their mallets on the marimbas and xylophones and later they do the same with the bass drums, creating quite a racket. While one can get a good appreciation of the concerto simply from listening to the fabulous performance on this recording, I think the visual element is of almost equal importance. Fortunately, you can “attend” a performance by the Berlin Philharmonic with Gustavo Dudamel and the Glorious Percussion soloists by visiting the Philharmonic’s website. There is a free preview of the concert - also including a blistering account of Shostakovich’s Twelfth Symphony - that will entice you to buy a ticket to the concert well worth the modest cost. Dudamel premiered the concerto with the Gothenburg Symphony in 2008 and this concert took place not long after that première. The percussion ensemble contributes a theatrical element — almost balletic at times — that adds a whole other dimension to the work. It really must be seen to be fully appreciated! The concerto in fact was co-commissioned by Anders Loguin, whose ensemble took their name from Gubaidulina’s composition, and four orchestras including the Lucerne Symphony. “Glorious” of the title of the work has its spiritual connotation as one would expect from any piece by Gubaidulina, and the concerto does connect with heaven and earth. If Mahler claimed to possess the whole world in his symphonies, Gubaidulina would seem to occupy the universe in this concerto. There is an interesting interview with her on the Berlin Philharmonic website accompanying the concert, where she talks about the concerto and her fascination with the different tones of the percussion and the whole complex of pulsating sounds in nature they depict. The interview is free of charge.

Except for the lack of multiple tracks and notes on the two works that could be more detailed, BIS has come up with a real winner here. It will likely rank high on my list of best recordings of 2012.

-- Leslie Wright, MusicWeb International