José Serebrier's distinctive conceptions and nimble conducting imbue the familiar Marche slave, Capriccio italien, and 1812 Overture with a freshness that belies their long-held "warhorse" status. By employing lighter sonorities and crystal-clear balances (all rendered with spectacular fidelity and dynamism by BIS's remarkably vivid recording) that expose Tchaikovsky's gorgeous woodwind writing and inner harmonic detail, Serebrier brings a vibrant youthful quality even to the overplayed 1812. Listen to how the bracing opening, with its cleanly phrased, rhythmically taut string playing fosters ever-increasing tension. Later, in the grand coda, the dramatic brass-and-strings interplay genuinely excites while cannons roar away in the distance (the opposite approach to Telarc's cannon-down-your-throat technique).


Serebrier's light and balletic rendition of the rarely heard Fatum is in marked contrast to the heavier variety offered by Slatkin, yet it nonetheless doesn't shy away from the raucous percussion that makes this rather naïve piece a real kick (just what does all that booming and crashing have to do with an inexorable "fate" anyway?).


Tchaikovsky's elegant and sweetly melancholy Élégie, and Serebrier's own arrangement of the Andante cantabile from the String Quartet No. 1, come as relaxingly gentle interludes between the noisier selections on the disc, all of which receive probing and polished performances by the Bamberg Symphony. Even if you think you've heard this music one too many times, you'll likely find this disc a rewarding listening experience.
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

The relationship between Igor Stravinsky and the violin didn't get off to a promising start: early on in his career the composer stated that he was not fond of stringed instruments, finding them ‘rich in cheap expressivity’. He was also suspicious of virtuoso interpreters – among which violinists were particularly numerous – and their tendency to 'seek immediate triumphs and to lend themselves to the wishes of the public'. Nevertheless there are in Stravinsky's oeuvre a number of works featuring a solo violin, all of which have now been recorded by his compatriot Ilya Gringolts. The focus of the preceding volume was on the works for violin and piano, most of them Stravinsky's arrangements of his own music for the stage, and Gringolts and pianist Peter Laul were praised for their performances, for instance in Fanfare: 'The Russian duo has discovered – and created – new freshness in the sound of Stravinsky's music for the instrument. Urgently recommended.' On the present release, Gringolts combines duos – again in the company of Laul – with other genres, including Stravinsky's most famous work for the violin: his Violin Concerto from 1931. In the concerto, as in the extract for solo violin and strings from the ballet Apollon musagète, Gringolts is supported by Orquesta Sinfónica de Galicia conducted by Dima Slobodeniouk.

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.

Classical Music

On five previous discs the astonishing tuba player Øystein Baadsvik has demonstrated his incredible versatility as a musician, while at the same time establishing that ‘anything a violin can do, a tuba can do too’, to quote a review in the Daily Telegraph of his first disc on BIS, Tuba Carnival. As Baadsvik writes in his own liner notes to the present disc: 'Every tuba player soon learns to live with people’s “oompah-oompah” prejudices, but rarely have these been challenged more boldly than here. Never before has there been a Christmas record with symphony orchestra, women’s choir and tuba!' The programme consists of lavish arrangements of Baadsvik’s own international and Nordic Christmas favourites. As befits the season, the offering contains a few surprises as well – such as Eatnemen Vuelie, inspired by joik, the traditional singing of the Sami people, and a snowy version of Baadsvik’s own piece Fnugg (‘flakes’), with elements of beat-boxing as well as the sound of the Australian didgeridoo. With the Trondheim Symphony Orchestra lending the music all the variety and uplift that only a large orchestra can provide, and the glittering voices of the Cantus choir adding a festive glow, Baadsvik's tuba carries the day - atmospheric and joyous, tuneful and meditative by turns.

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

Not much is known about Christopher Simpson’s life, except that he was a seminal writer for the viol. Even today modern violists use his manual The Division Viol as a guide to the practice of ‘divisions’, the improvised embellishments that were so fashionable during his time. Much of his music nevertheless goes unperformed, and the present collection of Ayres here receives its first recording, by Chelys, a British quartet of young violists. Describing the collection as being ‘for two trebles and two basses’, the manuscript sources also include parts for continuo. Chelys have therefore enlisted the aid of Dan Tidhar and James Akers in the twenty airs, pavanes, galliards and other dances that fall comfortably into five suites. On the disc are also some examples of Simpson’s Divisions, for two treble viols and for treble and bass viol respectively. As a result, the programme offers fascinating insights into Simpson’s music and the viol during the mid-17th century. By turns melancholy, lively and graceful, these Ayres are glowing examples from the tail-end of the great English tradition of music for viol consort – a tradition to which, some ten years after Simpson’s death, Purcell with his celebrated Fantazias would add the final chapter.

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Chelys pace the Ayres beautifully (the galliards are lilting, the aires tuneful) and ornament the repeats...Woven into the 'Ayres & Graces' are dialogues and antiphony, countermelodies, cascading sequences, chromaticism and hemiolas, to which Chelys and their colleagues Dan Tidhar and James Akers artfully draw our attention.

– Gramophone

“[E]ach movement is worthwhile: the B flat major Pavin, to take just one example, is an especially toothsome feast of gently squeezing harmonies… Performed by the four viol players of Chelys and their keyboard and guitar playing colleagues, they sound wonderfully supple, propulsive and alive.” – The Guardian

Classical Music

To many, the Lahti Symphony Orchestra has become synonymous with excellence in Sibelius repertoire. Its numerous recordings with the previous chief conductor Osmo Vänskä have received countless distinctions and awards, and the orchestra is universally regarded as having a very special affinity for the music of their great compatriot. On the present disc it is Okko Kamu, Vänskä's successor as chief conductor, who wields the baton. Kamu has been a presence on the international scene ever since the early 1970s, when he made a highly-acclaimed set of Sibelius symphonies in partnership with Herbert von Karajan. Here three other works by Sibelius make up the programme, which opens with music for Shakespeare's play The Tempest, for which the composer in 1925 wrote the most ambitious of his several theatre scores. For concert use he later selected the Overture and two Suites recorded here. In 1926, a year after The Tempest, Sibelius again turned to the realm of magic in his masterful evocation of the forest, the symphonic poem Tapiola. The title can be translated as 'the domain of Tapio', god of the forest in Finnish mythology, and according to Walter Damrosch, who conducted the first performance, the audience was 'enthralled by the dark pine forests and the shadowy gods and wood-nymphs who dwell therein'. From the start the work has been regarded as one of the greatest masterpieces from Sibelius' pen. These two large-scale works are here separated by the seven-minute long symphonic poem The Bard from 1913, a work which in its treatment of the thematic material and the chamber-music-like quality of its scoring invites comparison with the Fourth Symphony of two year's earlier.

Gripping performances, reported in superb sound.

Mark Wigglesworth’s Shostakovich symphony cycle has been quite a long time in the making – over ten years, in fact – but it’s now nearly complete. I believe the Fifteenth is still to be recorded but this issue should be the penultimate release. We’ve reviewed most of the previous releases – the Fourteenth, one of the earlier releases (BIS-CD-1173) does not seem to have come our way – and each has attracted generally favourable comments. A full set of links to earlier reviews appears at the foot of this review. So far I’ve only heard a couple of the issues in this series, Symphonies Four and Eight.

Over the years when my colleague Dan Morgan and I have listened to the same recordings – including those which he’s reviewed but I haven’t – I found that generally our views have coincided quite a lot. Recently, however, unbeknownst to each other, we wrote simultaneous reviews of Vasily Petrenko’s disc of Shostakovich’s Second and Fifteenth symphonies and found ourselves taking quite different stances. I know that Dan has written admiringly of this latest Wigglesworth issue in its download format so I was intrigued to receive the CD version, though I’ve taken care not to read Dan’s review while preparing my own appraisal. The divergence of opinion over the aforementioned Petrenko release led to some interesting comments on the Message Board so it seemed to me that the arrival of this Wigglesworth CD would be a good opportunity to revisit Petrenko’s accounts of all three symphonies.

One problem for me in approaching this disc is that I’ve never thought very highly of either the Second or Third symphonies and that was reflected in my comments on Petrenko’s recording of the Third and, subsequently, of the Second. Would Mark Wigglesworth make me change my mind? To some extent he has made me more favourably disposed towards the Third though I’m afraid the Second still remains a closed book to me.

Irrespective of any issues about interpretation, I think there are two reasons why Wigglesworth is to be preferred over Petrenko in the Second and Third symphonies. One is that, as we shall see, though the sound on the Naxos discs is pretty good the BIS sound is even better. The other is that Wigglesworth has a clear advantage in using the professional voices of the Netherlands Radio Choir. Petrenko’s Liverpool choir, an amateur body, makes a good showing but the Dutch choir has more punch and their sound is better focused – I’m sure it helps that the choir is smaller than the Liverpool chorus. Naxos does enjoy one advantage, however, which may seem small but which, actually, is quite important: the sung texts are printed in transliterated form whereas BIS offer only the Cyrillic text and an English translation and as most collectors won’t read or speak Russian it’s easier to follow in the Naxos booklet what’s being sung.

The BIS booklet notes are by Mark Wigglesworth himself and he writes insightfully about the music. I was struck by a comment he makes about the First Symphony and the influence of Petrushka and, indirectly, perhaps of Pierrot Lunaire that “the disconcerting idea of human beings as puppets, with their actions manipulated by unseen string-pullers from on high, was one that stayed with the composer right the way through to his final symphony, written almost fifty years later.” In the second movement Wigglesworth’s tempo for the fast music seems very fleet but, in fact, when I compared Petrenko there’s not much to choose between them. In the third movement, however, there is quite a difference: Wigglesworth’s basic pulse is fleeter than Petrenko’s – he takes about a minute less to play the movement – but I don’t think he loses anything thereby in terms of intensity or power; quite the reverse, in fact. This may well be an instance where less means more. In passing, it’s interesting to note that in his much-admired complete cycle Rudolf Barshai is quicker than either of these younger conductors, taking just 7:43. Wigglesworth is excellent in the transition from the third movement to the fourth, bringing out the dark power in the music to perfection. The playing of the Netherlands Radio Philharmonic Orchestra is razor sharp throughout the whole performance and the recording – to which I listened in conventional CD format – is stunning in its immediacy; as an example, listen to the pivotal timpani solo in the finale (track 4, 6:00). I still think the Petrenko performance is a very good one but I think Wigglesworth is even better, digging deeper.

The dynamic range of the BIS recording is such that if one plays the Second Symphony at a level that will be comfortable in the strident passages then the opening is all but inaudible, even when listening through headphones. In fact it’s only after some two minutes have passed that one can really discern what’s happening. That’s not intended as a criticism of BIS, by the way; that’s surely what Shostakovich intended and all credit to Wigglesworth and his orchestra for playing so softly. The RLPO’s playing for Petrenko, while extremely quiet, is not so hushed. BIS splits the symphony into four tracks – on Naxos there are three. Wigglesworth, having started so softly, maintains the mysterious atmosphere very successfully throughout the first section. I start to “lose the plot” with this work when we get to the Meno mosso section (track 7); much of this passage sounds simply chaotic and I can’t shake off the feeling that it’s all sound and fury signifying – well, what does it signify? Wigglesworth scores over Petrenko in having what sounds like a proper siren at the opening of the choral section – and during it; Petrenko uses the option to have the sound played by unison brass instruments. As mentioned above, the Dutch choir has more punch and body to their singing than their Liverpool rivals, valiant though the Merseysiders are.

In his note on the Third Symphony Mark Wigglesworth makes some interesting and important points. He observes that, though the symphony also concludes with a choral setting of a suitably revolutionary text it was not, unlike the Second, an official commission. In other words, the decision to write this work was Shostakovich’s and he himself selected the text that he set at the end. What does this tell us? Well Wigglesworth notes that by now Stalin was in power and, indeed, one of the composer’s own friends – the dedicatee of the First Symphony – had been liquidated. So perhaps Shostakovich was showing himself to be “on message”. However, the poem that he set in the Third Symphony is one that celebrates the revolutionary struggle of the workers rather than revolution and a leader such as Lenin – let alone Stalin – so perhaps, suggests Wigglesworth, Shostakovich is lauding the concept of proletarian revolution rather than the way it had been implemented – and perverted.

Wigglesworth’s recording is divided into seven tracks. He does the opening of this continuous, one-movement work (track 9) very well and after the surface innocence of that section there’s tremendous drive and purpose to the music that follows (tracks 10-11). Here the playing of the Dutch orchestra is very vital. The orchestra also excels in the glacial string episode (track 12) that foreshadows, I think, parts of the Fourth Symphony. Later on the climactic unisons over drum rolls towards the end of track 13 sound very impressive – the BIS recording reports the bass drum thwacks marvellously, so too the baleful tuba solo at the start of track 14. Once again Wigglesworth’s choir makes a splendid showing; I don’t care at all for the music they sing but they deliver the surface excitement with great fervour. This is the most convincing performance of the Third that I’ve heard; even so, I remain sceptical, though slightly less so than before. I note with some interest that Wigglesworth’s overall timing for the symphony is significantly shorter than Petrenko’s; he takes 27:51 against 31:10.

These are gripping performances, reported in superb sound and if you want Shostakovich’s first three symphonies in a package you shouldn’t hesitate. Perhaps it helps that Mark Wigglesworth has recorded these early works almost at the end of his slowly assembled cycle; is he able thereby to refract these scores through his experience of the later works? That must be the case. One question remains: would I have rated Vasily Petrenko’s performances differently had I heard Wigglesworth first? I think the honest answer to that is no. I still think Petrenko’s versions are very good. However, Wigglesworth’s interpretations are presented in superb sound and on balance I think he has the edge interpretatively and in terms of the quality of the singing and playing that he inspires.

-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

It is tempting to think of Nathaniel Shilkret?s Trombone Concerto as Rhapsody in Blue light, as there are many similarities, and the Swedish composer openly expressed his debt to Gershwin. According to the liner notes, it was, in fact, Shilkret himself who conducted the premiere of Rhapsody in Blue , after Paul Whitman, who usually gets the credit, could not agree on tempos with the composer. But the works are not really kissing cousins. Shilkret?s opening movement owes more to central European light dance music than to American jazz, sounding as if it would be right at home at a Viennese pops concert, or even as a Hollywood soundtrack from the 30s (most of which were written by central European émigrés). The next two movements are filled with blue notes and syncopation, conjuring the jaunty swagger of An American in Paris more so than the Rhapsody . The Concerto was first performed, in 1945, under the combined direction of Tommy Dorsey and Leopold Stokowski, who commissioned the work. Lindberg?s performance sounds spot-on, casually virtuosic, with wonderful expressivity and tonal luster.


This CD is worth acquiring for the Shilkret alone, which is a good thing, since the rest of the program is, well, a bit weird. Please notice I didn?t say bad; this is a matter of taste. My colleague William Zagorski enjoyed an earlier BIS recording of Lindberg?s Helikon Wasp , among other pieces, seeming to enjoy the iconoclastic bent of the composer, for whom ?arid musicological debate is excoriated.? Indeed.


The contemporary Swedish composer Fredrik Högberg gives us the campy concerto subtitled ?The Return of Kit Bones,? with English dialogue, supposedly inspired by Spaghetti westerns, but with heavy doses of schlocky Broadway musical mannerisms as well. Sensitive listeners should be prepared for the occasional scatology. Charming and rather goofy stuff this, and, musically, as light as a feather.


Trombone fanciers will surely want to hear the fabulous playing of Christian Lindberg showcased on this CD, and the Shilkret Concerto is a veritable revelation. Suggestion for a future release; the Shilkret along with the equally neglected and completely delightful Trombone Concerto of Nino Rota.


FANFARE: Peter Burwasser

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

To the audiences of many of the world’s leading opera houses – the Metropolitan, Covent Garden, Wiener Staatsoper – Miah Persson will be well-known as an infinitely charming Susanna, a beguiling Sophie and a coquettish Fiordiligi. On her latest recording for BIS she takes up a set of different roles, however, as she ventures into the fields of bel canto, opéra lyrique and verismo in the company of Daniel Harding and the Swedish Radio Symphony Orchestra. The range of characters is wide, from a teenage Juliet, eager to live life to the full in Gounod’s Je veux vivre, to Verdi’s Violetta, a courtesan at the height of her powers, who in her scene and aria È strano…tries to convince herself that her freedom is more valuable than love. The programme includes some of the emotional high points in the opera literature (Bellini’s Oh! quante volte, Puccini’s O mio babbino caro), as well as light relief (Norina’s cavatina So anch’io la virtù magica) and moments of pure, unadulterated beauty, such as the Flower Duet from Lakmé and Offenbach’s Barcarolle. In the two latter pieces, Miah Persson is joined by her Swedish colleague, the mezzo-soprano Katarina Karnéus, while the tenor Andrew Staples makes a cameo appearance in Sempre libera, as Alfredo, singing of his love for Violetta below her window.

As Jacob Kellermann points out in the commentary to this album, there is an unbroken tradition of performing arrangements of Franz Schubert’s music on the guitar. Already in his lifetime some of his most popular songs appeared with simplified guitar accompaniment, marketed by music publishers wanting to exploit the growing market for domestic music-making. Schubert himself composed very little for the instrument, and there are doubts regarding Schubert’s own skills on the instrument. Nevertheless it is well known that the guitar was in fashion with the middle-class Viennese among which Schubert and his circle of friends moved. In his notes, Kellermann argues that elements of the light, melody-driven and carefree musical style favoured in that environment and present in stylized form in much of Schubert’s music is the very aspect that makes it so inviting to play on the guitar. DuoKeMi was formed by Kellermann and Daniel Migdal in 2006, and the two are constantly aiming to expand the repertoire for their combination of instruments. This has resulted in a number of commissions as well as new transcriptions, often by Kellermann himself as in the case of the much-loved Arpeggione Sonata recorded here.

This collection opens with the symphonic interlude from Schreker’s opera Der Schatzgräber (The Treasure Hunter). A convoluted fairy tale it has at its poles the eternal themes of love and death, with supernatural elements in between. As this symphonisches Zwischenspiel from Act 3 celebrates a night of passion the music blossoms with extraordinary heat and vigour. It also swells and palpitates with a thrilling intensity that, in lesser hands, might spill over into excess. I hear the lofty languor of Wagner and the soft outlines of Debussy; there’s a Korngoldian sweep, too. Remarkably, all these echoes and influences are fused into a distinctive whole, broad and beautifully crafted.

As for the recording, the huge climaxes are fearless: no detail goes unremarked and perspectives are very convincing indeed. Schreker’s more delicate touches are also well caught, and timbres are always true. The playing combines body with boldness, passion with polish, and Renes shapes it all like a seasoned pro. Yes, this large-scale performance – with sonics to match – belongs firmly in the concert hall rather than the theatre, but it’s none the worse for that.

Next up is the prelude to Die Gezeichneten (The Stigmatized), set in 16th-century Genoa. It centres on a lurid love triangle that wouldn’t look out of place in a Jacobean tragedy. This opulent opener also has the feel of a Hollywood blockbuster of the 1930s or 1940s. That’s not a criticism, for many of those great film scores were penned by Austro-German composers who fled to the US before the War. There’s surprising delicacy in this score – I revelled in the gorgeous harp writing – not to mention a Romantic blush that reminds me of Gurre-Lieder at times. If this piques your interest see Rob Barnett’s review of Gerd Albrecht’s complete recording.

Composed in 1933 Schreker’s Vorspiel zu einer großen Oper (Prelude to a Drama) is an expanded concert version of the prelude to Die Gezeichneten, which the conductor Felix Weingartner had commissioned 20 years earlier. At 22 minutes it’s the longest piece here. It’s also one of the most satisfying, as it combines a powerful sense of drama with a strong, tight musical structure. There are some startling things here, not least the extended passage in which the timpanist plays a quietly insistent two-note figure as part of a magical dialogue with the orchestra. The recording is especially effective at this point, the timps ideally placed in a deep, wide soundstage.

Although Schreker’s two-act opera Das Spielwerk und die Prinzessin (The Music Box and the Princess) failed miserably in both Frankfurt and Vienna the prelude to this fairy tale is delightful. Textures are wonderfully transparent and those warbling woodwind figures are a telling touch. Rhythms are subtly articulated, tuttis are always proportionate and it all hangs together very well. That said, there’s a rather dated feel to the score, which might explain its poor reception. Still, the playing is alert and refined, the recording warm and clear.

Nachtstu?ck (Nocturne) – the Act 3 interlude from Schreker’s opera Der ferne Klang (The Distant Sound) – was actually premiered three years before the work from which it’s taken. The opera tells the story of Fritz, a composer who loves one Grete Graumann but who can’t marry until he’s written a great piece and found the mysterious sound that haunts him so. The nocturne – which begins with a rocking theme underpinned by gentle tam-ram strokes – manages to be both refulgent and restrained, blending Straussian amplitude with an iridescent fan of ravishing colours.

I suspect most people who listen to operatic ‘chunks’ know little and care less about the narrative that surrounds them. One certainly doesn’t need to know the details of Wagner’s Ring to enjoy the splendid excerpts. That’s also true of these Schreker pieces, which work rather well on their own. Would this collection tempt me to try the full operas? Perhaps, but for all its craft and colour Schreker’s sound world seems at odds with the times – rather like the later novels of Thomas Hardy – his medieval/fairy-tale plots equally so. Music to relish, if not to love. The detailed liner-notes are by Horst A. Scholz.

Little-known repertoire, superbly played and recorded; go on, treat yourself.

– MusicWeb International (Dan Morgan)

Includes work(s) by Alfred Schnittke. Ensemble: Tapiola Sinfonietta. Conductor: Ralf Gothóni. Soloists: Ralf Gothóni, Tero Latvala, Ulf Wallin.