In these five sonatas from the 1760s, the period prior to C.P.E. Bach's departure from Frederick the Great's court in Berlin, we find some of his most attractive writing, in the opinion of Darrell M. Berg, author of the liner notes to this disc and general editor of the complete edition of the composer's works. The fabulous landscapes and high drama of so many earlier works (such as the Württemberg Sonatas on volumes 16 and 17 of this series) are left behind, as are the lyrical intimacy and simplicity of the so-called 'easy' sonatas. Or rather: these qualities are incorporated in the 'new' style and a certain synthesis is achieved. The result is a style featuring Bach's familiar energy and vivacity but with greater equilibrium, resulting in compositions we might - for want of a better term - call more 'classical'. Miklós Spányi has acquired a reputation as a leading interpreter and firm advocate of this music that stands between the Baroque and the Classical period, and which is less well-known than it deserves partly because of the difficulty of classifying it. He has here chosen to perform it on C.P.E. Bach's own favourite keyboard instrument, the clavichord. Spányi's ground-breaking work in this series, and in the parallel one of the same composer's keyboard concertos, will be familiar to many lovers of early keyboard music. It has been called 'a major contribution to recorded keyboard literature' in American Record Guide, to single out one single disc, Volume 17 of this series was selected as Editor's Choice in Gramophone, and described as 'the answer to clavichord fans' dreams'.

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

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SMETANA Má Vlast • Claus Peter Flor, cond; Malaysian PO • BIS 1805 (SACD: 76: 00)


There is something about Bed?ich Smetana’s Má Vlast that defies interpretation by anyone other than a Czech conductor. You have undoubtedly heard the names: Václav Talich, Karel An?erl, Václav Neumann, and most prominently in this case, Rafael Kubelík. His 1952 mono Mercury Olympian LP recorded with a single Telefunken microphone was an interpretive and sonic landmark, and its sound still holds up well today except for an inevitable lack of stereo spatial information. In fact, over the last 50 years, there has never been a better recorded performance of Má Vlast , even by Kubelik himself in several newer versions on different labels. His hugely anticipated and much-hyped remake with the Boston Symphony Orchestra (Deutsche Grammophon) was especially disappointing sonically and interpretively.There have been numerous other significant recordings of Má Vlast , primarily by Czech conductors released by Supraphon, that have had consistently mediocre sound. Má Vlast doesn’t work well with Supraphon’s typical dry and harmonically threadbare sound. It is great to see performances by non-Czech conductors, but recent high-profile releases by Colin Davis and the London Symphony Orchestra (LSO Live SACD) and Nikolaus Harnoncourt with the Vienna Philharmonic (RCA) have good sound but the interpretations are somewhat problematic. With this background, you have to wonder about the competitiveness of Claus Peter Flor conducting the Malaysian Philharmonic Orchestra. The orchestra has already made some good-sounding and critically acclaimed Bis recordings of Rimsky-Korsakov’s music, but it is the stunning SACD of Josef Suk’s “Asrael” Symphony, also conducted by Flor, that made me eager to hear this Má Vlast.


Comparing the timings of Kubelík and Flor is encouraging and instructive. There is only a 20-second difference in a work that is more than 76 minutes long. I can’t imagine a case that better illustrates the uselessness of timings to predict a conductor’s interpretive approach. Flor takes a hard-driving, propusive, dry-eyed, and at least ostensibly fast approach to Má Vlast . He also has no clue about the emotional content of this music that is so striking in interpretations by Kubelík and other Czech conductors. You can usually tell how Má Vlast is going to evolve from the opening of “Vy?ehrad.” Flor’s short, clipped, opening harp phrases and lean orchestral textures emphasize forward motion and play down any sense of grandeur. The end of “?árka” is almost hysterical, and is immediately followed by the initial chords of “From Bohemia’s Meadows and Forests,” which hit like a bulldozer. Flor does not shy away from pounding out those repetitive triplets in “Tábor,” and the timpanist is predictably aggressive in “Tábor” and “Blaník.” It is all very exciting where underplaying the bombast would induce boredom, as it does with Harnoncourt. On the other hand, Flor’s central nocturne in “Vltava” is gorgeous and atmospheric, and he also handles the tricky rhythms in the second half of “From Bohemia’s Meadows and Forests” better than other virtuosic internationalized interpretors like Davis and Harnoncourt. Flor’s finale comes closest to but does not match Kubelík in cumulative impact as they both broaden their tempo for the final statement of the ubiquitous Hussite hymn and the principal theme.


Kubelík’s (Mercury) remains unchallenged as a performance, but it is a mono recording and the CD will be difficult to find. In modern stereo sound, this recording ranks with the best except in terms of orchestral execution where I prefer Davis and the London Symphony Orchestra. The Vienna Philharmonic is on autopilot in Harnoncourt’s soporific version, but is much better with James Levine (Deutsche Grammophon). For a more modern stereo version by Kubelík, go with the Bavarian Radio Symphony Orchestra (Orfeo).


FANFARE: Arthur Lintgen

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Claus Peter Flor directs a tremendously exciting performance of Má Vlast, one that compares favorably to any in the catalog. He takes great pains to characterize each piece, and each section, to the fullest extent possible. In The Moldau you won't find a more vivid contrast between the scenes of the hunt, the peasant dance, the nocturne (exquisite soft brass), and the rapids (ferocious!) anywhere. The violent conclusion of Sárka is absolutely thrilling, the opening of From Bohemia's Woods and Fields terrifying. While not entirely disguising the episodic nature of Tábor (probably an impossible task), Flor keeps the last two tone poems moving forward purposefully to the work's heroic closing bars. It's a great interpretation, one that surely deserves to be documented and enjoyed by collectors.

Technically, the playing of the Malaysian Philharmonic is good, but not perfect. The trumpets at the climax of The Moldau don't quite match timbres as they should (a common problem). Toward the end of Tábor, Flor pushes the triple-forte galloping rhythm in the strings so hard that the result sounds more like Mahler's "struck with the bow" effect. The wild string triplets in Blaník are exciting, but not always ideally together, and there is a cymbal crash missing around measure 214. Some of the climaxes also suffer from an over-enthusiastic timpanist, and as a percussionist I don't make that accusation lightly. Still, Flor's own concept is so powerful, and the orchestral response so committed, that this vivid SACD production deserves very serious consideration.

--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.

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The first recording by Yannick Nézet-Séguin and the Rotterdam Philharmonic Orchestra for BIS centred on Berlioz' Symphonie Fantastique, a work which stands squarely on the threshold between Classicism and Romanticism. Nézet-Séguin's interpretation brilliantly demonstrated this ambivalence, as the reviewer in CD Review on BBC Radio 3 remarked: 'A Fantastic Symphony that relishes in the transparency and the delicacy of Berlioz's scoring while remaining true to its vivid imagination and dramatic punch'. On the follow-up to that exciting release is another work that straddles a musical divide, namely Richard Strauss' Four Last Songs. Composed in 1948, these late blooms of an unabashed Romanticism stood in the midst of a musical landscape which featured the twelve-tone serialism of the Darmstadt School, John Cage's prepared piano and the first examples of musique concrète. In accordance with Strauss's wish, it was the dramatic soprano Kirsten Flagstad who first performed the songs, but they also became closely associated with Elisabeth Schwarzkopf. On the present recording, it is Dorothea Röschmann, one of today's foremost Mozart sopranos who lends her voice to what is often regarded as an expression of the composer's acceptance of death's inevitability, at the age of eighty-four. We meet Strauss in a completely different mood in the disc's opening work - the large-scale symphonic poem Ein Heldenleben (A Hero's Life) composed fifty years before the songs. By casting himself in the role of the Hero, Strauss managed to provoke generations of music-lovers for years to come. A study of aggressive egotism, the work has been called, as well as the most conceited piece of music ever written. But it is also widely regarded as one of the most brilliant, and virtuosic, orchestral scores in the history of music, displaying the possibilities of a large symphony orchestra to the fullest.

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MOZART WILLENS (COND.); BRAUTIGAM (FORTEPIANO); DIE KOLNER AKADEMIE PIANO CONCERTOS- PIANO CONCERTO NO. 24 IN C MINOR, K 491; PIANO CONCERTO NO. 25 IN C MAJOR, K 503

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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

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Robert Schumann's three Sonatas for violin and piano were all composed between 1851 and 1853. They - especially No.3 - have to some extent suffered from the same neglect and incomprehension that has been the fate of other works from this period in the composer's life, only a few years before he died in a mental institution. During the same years a number of other works for the violin saw the light, including the Violin Concerto and the Fantasy for violin and orchestra. The concertante works were written for the violinist Joseph Joachim, but it may have been a letter from Ferdinand David, concert master of the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra, that provided the initial impulse to compose chamber works for the violin: 'I am uncommonly fond of your Fantasiestücke for piano and clarinet; why don't you write something for violin and piano? ... How splendid it would be if you could write something of that kind, that your wife and I could play for you.' Here the performers are Ulf Wallin and Roland Pöntinen, a team who recorded their first disc for BIS in 1991, and whose partnership has been described as 'masterfully cultivated ensemble playing' on website ClassicsToday.com. Wallin's credentials in Schumann must also be regarded as firmly established, after his recently released recording of the violin concerto, the Fantasy and the arrangement for violin of the cello concerto. The reviewer in Daily Telegraph found it 'hard to imagine more sympathetic and insightful performances of these wonderful pieces', and his colleague on the German website Klassik-Heute agreed, describing Wallin as 'violinistically brilliant and musically perceptive'

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You might subtitle this disc “The Dark Dvorák” since it consists of three of his most turbulent (but also greatest) works. First there’s Othello: guy kills girl. Next, The Wood Dove: girl kills guy, then offs herself. Finally, there’s the tragic Seventh Symphony: everyone kills everyone, but metaphorically, of course. I actually love the concept. Usually, Dvorák gets treated as a sort of “Brahms lite”, a cute Bohemian purveyor of alluring, pastoral tunes full of charm and ethnic high spirits. Even the frequent use of minor keys can be explained by his frequent recourse to Czech folksongs, dances, and other equally adorable (and non-threatening) accoutrements of his native land.

Claus Peter Flor is obviously having none of it. Not only has he chosen three of Dvorák’s most impassioned works, he plays them so as to make damn sure that we feel the same way about them that he does. First the really good news: both Othello and The Wood Dove are stunning. Indeed, this is hands down the most exciting performance of the former yet committed to disc, bar none. Hearing this performance, you will be stunned that this thrilling, dramatic work remains one of the most neglected of all Dvorák’s late masterpieces. The Wood Dove is every bit as brilliant: gaunt and grim in the funeral march that brackets the lilting wedding scene, and crushing in the subsequent suicide music. One curiosity: Flor prefers the kazoo-like sound of muted trumpets to Dvorák’s requested instruments offstage just before the party sequence—an odd choice.

The performance of the Seventh Symphony will be more controversial. It has magnificent moments—indeed whole movements. The Andante receives as lovingly shaped a reading as any on disc, but there are moments when Flor’s eagerness to underline the music’s darkness leads him dangerously close to mannerism. I’m thinking of the first movement’s opening (and coda), treated more as a slow introduction than as the plunge into the main tempo that Dvorák wrote. As a postlude, the tempo makes more sense. The scherzo, too, is swift and urgent, but somehow just slightly lacking in rhythmic bite, while the finale, played for all that it’s worth, does not benefit from Flor’s decision near the start to hold back the tempo at the ends of phrases to underscore just how grim the music is supposed to be.

Once the movement gets going, though, Flor builds in excitement right through to an incredibly powerful coda. He adds horns to the final chorale, as so many performances do, but Neumann’s trumpets avoid that slightly vulgar portamento that always seems to accompany the horn option, and their brighter tone is arguably more apt. And why, finally, does Flor have the timpani drop out on the final chord? That’s just weird. Is he afraid that a more emphatic ending might persuade us that the work isn’t as despairing as he believes it to be?

It may be that the engineering exacerbates some of these impressions. Don’t get me wrong: the basic sound is very good in and of itself, but in this music, especially, we need to hear more from the woodwinds, and a sharper rhythmic bite from the brass and timpani. These are subtle points, but listeners familiar with this music will notice immediately the difference between these and other, more brightly engineered versions. And make no mistake: a brighter mean sonority can be captured without compromising the music’s expressive intensity, its “dark” energy.

So to summarize: the commitment and vision on evidence here are extremely impressive. Even the symphony, for all my various reservations, receives a performance like no other, magnificent in parts, impressive overall, and one that collectors will surely want to hear. Flor has the orchestra playing extremely well, and unlike so many time-beaters taking up podium space these days he has both good ideas and the talent to execute them. He takes risks. Whether or not they all pay off will be a matter of opinion, but there’s no question that when they do the result is the most gripping Dvorák to come along in many years.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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