Today! Is Skip James' second album, originally released in 1966. The album features James solo on all but one track, "How Long," which includes Russ Savakus on bass. AllMusic asserts, "wonderful vocals, superb guitar and a couple of tunes with tasty piano make this essential."

FELIPE LARA: PORTALS

Pkg:180gram Heavy Today! Is Skip James' second album, originally released in 1966. The album features James solo on all but one track, "How Long," which includes Russ Savakus on bass. This 180-gram LP pressed at QRP includes an obi with notes by Scott Billington, a paper-wrapped jacket and (AAA) lacquers cut from the original master tapes by Matthew Lutthans at The Mastering Lab. AllMusic asserts, "wonderful vocals, superb guitar and a couple of tunes with tasty piano make this essential."

James Richman is the first musician since Leonard Bernstein to graduate Harvard, Julliard and the Curtis Institute of Music, studying conducting with Herbert Blomstedt, piano with Horszowski, and harpsichord with Kenneth Gilbert. He is considered one of today's leading conductors of Baroque music and opera. James was made a Chevalier in the Ordre des Arts et des Lettres by the French government in 1995 in recognition of his contributions to the field of music. Rameau's Pi�ces de Clavacin was composed over a period of 20 years, the first collection, or book appearing in 1706. These pieces showcase Rameau's lyrical and expressive style, often featuring intricate ornamentation and elegant melodies. The collection is considered a major work in Baroque keyboard repertoire, reflecting Rameau's mastery in both composition and harmony.

Commemorating the 270th anniversary of Mozart's birth in 2026, the "MOZART COLORS 100" collection by Deutsche Grammophon and Decca is a masterful fusion of high-fidelity audio and innovative visual curation. By organizing 94 essential recordings and six genre-specific masterpieces into a spectrum of 12 thematic colors, the series transforms the act of listening into a mood-based experience, allowing the "jacket color" to guide the listener through Mozart's immense versatility-from his precocious childhood works to his universally beloved classics. The technical presentation is equally impressive, featuring the SHM-CD format for superior sound resolution housed in elegant, color-coordinated cardboard sleeves that appeal to tactile collectors. With insightful new commentary by Mai Takano and approachable branding by Toshiyuki Hirata, this 100-title series successfully modernizes a historical legacy, making the 2026 anniversary both a luxury for audiophiles and a welcoming entry point for new fans of the "Wunderkind."

Bach's St. John Passion is the earliest surviving Passion or Oratorio by J.S Bach and was first performed in 1724. This version consists of two sections and retains this structure in the versions and revisions that followed in 1725, 1730, 1736 and 1749. Bach added several numbers in the 1749 version, but several arias from the revisions are found only in the appendices of modern editions. So, there is no 'final' version crafted by the composer as there is for the later St. Matthew Passion, no single manuscript as there is for the Brandenburg Concertos, nor a revised printed edition as exists for the Goldberg Variations. What we do have are Bach's various attempts as he went from performance to performance, to try to grasp what he was aiming for - consciously and unconsciously. There is much that is operatic in the music, and the thought that the St. John Passion is Bach's opera is hardly an original one. This recording uses the new edition by musicologist Malcolm Bruno.

Revered for his Hammond organ work, soul-jazz grooves, and his three-decade career leading The James Taylor Quartet, maestro keyboard player James Taylor releases his first album of classical works. His long association with Acid Jazz Records continues, as the label also steps into the classical world for the very first time. Recorded solo on a Steinway grand piano, Taylor performs some of his favorite pieces from the classical cannon, with familiar tunes alongside lesser-known works on this beautiful, atmospheric recording. His interpretations show a deep love of classical music. Always one to evolve, just as the James Taylor Quartet introduced Herbie Hancock to the indie scene of the late '80s, Taylor in turn introduces his audience to a new repertoire, with a remarkable, fresh and modern solo classical piano album.

Revered for his Hammond organ work, soul-jazz grooves, and his three-decade career leading The James Taylor Quartet, maestro keyboard player James Taylor releases his first album of classical works. His long association with Acid Jazz Records continues, as the label also steps into the classical world for the very first time. Recorded solo on a Steinway grand piano, Taylor performs some of his favorite pieces from the classical cannon, with familiar tunes alongside lesser-known works on this beautiful, atmospheric recording. His interpretations show a deep love of classical music. Always one to evolve, just as the James Taylor Quartet introduced Herbie Hancock to the indie scene of the late '80s, Taylor in turn introduces his audience to a new repertoire, with a remarkable, fresh and modern solo classical piano album.

Etta James kindles a roaring fire of pure heart and soul in her 1968 album, Tell Mama. For her seventh studio album (and second for the Cadet imprint,) James agreed to record with Rick Hall at the storied FAME Studios in Muscle Shoals, Alabama. The distraction-free environment paired with the improved technology at the studio resulted in one of the greatest albums of the 1960s. The clarity on the record is remarkable, showcasing the emotion and passion she invokes with her unforgettable voice. Tracks like "Tell Mama," "Just A Little Bit," and one of the most successful tracks of her career, a cover of "I'd Rather Go Blind," paint a powerful portrait of the legendary Etta James. Chess Records Acoustic Sounds Series feature audiophile reissues of classic albums remastered from the original analog tapes and pressed on 180g vinyl at QRP. Each disc is packaged in tip-on gatefold sleeves printed on high-grade board.

Recorded between January and October 1960 and released on Argo Records (part of Chess Records) in 1961, "At Last" was Etta James' debut studio album.

Galway is at his engaging best, economical with his very personal vibrato, caressing in the slow movements and sprightly in the fast ones.

Quantz wrote about 300 concertos and 200 chamber works for the flute, more than Vivaldi did for his instrument, the violin and, I venture to guess, more than anyone else for any one instrument. Of course there were two good reasons for it: he was the premier flute virtuoso of his time and was well paid for his duties as flute teacher (with a bonus for each work he wrote) to Frederick the Great at Sanssouci, where the establishment included C. P. E. Bach—who was far less well rewarded. The four concertos recorded here confirm the why of it: Frederick's musical tastes were conservative and better satisfied by Quantz, who only half-released his grip on the Baroque, than by the often wildly experimental Bach. Quantz, faithful to the four-movement format in his trio sonatas, followed Vivaldi's three-movement, fast-slow-fast example in his concertos. His flanking movements commonly feature five appearances of the ritornello, from the material of which the solo episodes develop; there is little of counterpoint or sophistication of any kind. The thematic material is more galant than baroque, and what there is of the latter is redolent of Vivaldi, not least in the Allegro assai of the G minor Concerto.

These straightforward concertos, 'music for pleasure' as it were, spring no surprises—which no doubt pleased the king, and should likewise please today's lovers of cultured 'easy listening'. Galway is at his engaging best, economical with his very personal vibrato, caressing in the slow movements and sprightly in the fast ones. The Wurttemberg CO, with the friendly sound of the harpsichord nicely audible in this well-balanced recording, share Galway's virtues in these luculent and stylish performances.'

John Duarte, Gramophone [11/1991]

Includes work(s) for flute by Johann Sebastian Bach. Ensemble: I Solisti di Zagreb. Soloists: James Galway, Kyung-Wha Chung, Kurt Moll, Moray Welsh.

The incomparable flutist James Galway celebrates Christmas in Bavaria. Newly reissued by ArkivMusic and originally released in 1991, this wonderful release features the Munich Radio Orchestra with the Regenburger Domspatzen.

It is difficult to think of a more agreeable sound than that of flute and guitar; or so it seems immediately after listening to this record. Of course, the basic sound also needs quality in its execution: that it most certainly has, in high degree, on this occasion, the Galway vibrato seeming altogether less obtrusive when accompanied by guitar only.

The programme is splendidly chosen; although looking mostly like major works calling for serious listening, those major works, when considered by movements, separate into the lightest of summer-evening-on-the-river trifles. One major work is more familiar than I thought from its title it was, and perhaps than you think it is: in the Cimarosa Serenade the editing and arranging team of Galway and Yamashita have by coincidence chosen exactly the same movements, in the same order, as Arthur Benjamin chose in arranging from the same source (Cimarosa's keyboard sonatas) for the Cimarosa/Benjamin Oboe Concerto. The lay-out is of course different; and the element of familiarity involved may lend an extra pleasure on a first hearing. Pleasure, here, is also helped along by a first-class quality of recording, whether in the LP or CD version.'

-- Gramophone [4/1987]

COUPERIN: CONCERTS ROYAUX, PIË

MAN WITH THE GOLDEN FLUTE

From the multi-award-winning stage and film composer of Alien 3 and Batman Forever comes a new oratorio. War, terrifying silence, and violent death invite simple statements as well as, hopefully, more complex ones. This work, despite a plethora of interwoven texts, is a direct utterance: a lament, a conjuring of brief images, which rub against each other to evoke not just a surge of emotion but a sense of purgation. The instrumentation and word-setting is not without beauty (especially the Vietnamese flute and snatches of children’s songs); choirs will enjoy performing it. The work is gestural in concept: a cello elegy in the first movement from the splendid Yo-Yo Ma; an unnerving helicopter simulation, a pithy extended scherzo, a diabolic chorus listing Vietnam combat operations, a dose of Mahlerian threnody. Perhaps most effective are two extended solos, setting Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Yusef Komunyakaa, which freshen up the prevailing monodic feel: that for Maddalena in the first part, where a genuine feel for angular chromatic line surfaces; and that for Panagulias merging into duet in the final movement. Here, and at the close, Goldenthal achieves a dramatic cogency not wholly evident elsewhere. If not Psalmus hungaricus or A Child of Our Time, it’s at least related in spirit. A fine choir, and top-notch wind phrasing.

Performance: 5 (out of 5), Sound: 5 (out of 5)

-- Roderic Dunnett, BBC Music Magazine

Performances of The Flying Dutchman stand or fall by the ability of the lead bass-baritone to project the anguished, world-weary yet demonic nature of the accursed seafarer. I was not expecting a definitive reading from James Morris, whose Wotan has often tended towards the bland. But his darkly despairing Monologue is very impressive and comes closer to the superb Fischer-Dieskau (with Konwitschny, available on Berlin Classics) than most recent versions.

-- BBC Music Magazine

The substantial opening Moderato of the Flute Concerto (commissioned and premiered by Galway in 1992 with Slatkin and the Saint Louis Symphony Orchestra) starts and finishes like some lost instalment from Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet, but the bulk of the movement is given over to a wistful chaconne which Liebermann then proceeds to work out with a graceful fluency and imaginative resource that will surprise no one already familiar with the thirdmovement passacaglia of Liebermann's impressive Second Piano Concerto. If the two remaining movements aren't perhaps on quite the same level of inspiration, the solo writing is grateful, the scoring stylish and the whole work makes a most appealing addition to the genre.

In many ways, the Piccolo Concerto (1996) shares the same ground-plan as that of the Flute Concerto, its first two movements again displaying a mastery of variation technique, followed by a wittily ebullient finale (which quotes from Mozart's Symphony No. 40, Beethoven's Eroica and Sousa's The Stars and Stripes Forever). The central Adagio is especially reminiscent of Shostakovich in its icily atmospheric chill, but there are strong echoes of the Russian master throughout (whom Liebermann openly acknowledges as 'one of my biggest musical influences').

Galway is his usual immaculate self, as effortlessly assured an exponent of the piccolo as he is a flautist. Moreover, the London Mozart Players respond with enthusiasm under the composer's shapely lead.

-- Gramophone [2/1999, reviewing the Liebermann works]

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In this expert, sweet-toned and affectionate music-making, these fine artists audibly enjoy themselves hugely, responding to Arnold's idiomatic and resourceful writing as to the manner born. I especially enjoyed Galway and friends in the sparkling early Three Shanties for wind quintet (written in 1943 for the composer's LPO colleagues) and the delicious Divertimento for flute, oboe and clarinet (1953). Cast in six pithy movements (and masterfully played here), the latter piece contains invention of great freshness and charm, with definite echoes of the English Dances from the same period.

In the wistful central Andante of the First Flute Concerto (1954), Sir Neville Marriner and his beautifully prepared Academy strings provide a poignant backdrop to Galway's ravishing playing, and this music's kinship with the great slow movement of Arnold's Second Symphony (completed the previous year) is most perceptively brought out.

-- Gramophone [4/1998, reviewing the Arnold works]

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...it goes without saying that Galway's personality and virtuosity are commanding... He gives a brilliant and confident account of the 1926 Concerto, and here also serves as conductor...

-- Gramophone [2/1988, reviewing the Nielsen concerto]

According to Roger Lustig's well-researched programme notes, Mozart's self-declared dislike for the flute says more about the circumstances surrounding the composition of his works for the instrument than it does about any real hatred for the instrument itself. Furthermore, the performances of the Flute Quartets by James Galway and the Tokyo Quartet, here under review, speak equally eloquently for Mozart's evident care in their composition—this despite Hans Keller's dismissal of them.

The first two quartets, K285 and K285a were written in 1776/7 for the Dutch nobleman Dejean. The playing here is full of Mozartian grace and sensuous melodiousness. At the beginning of the possibly inauthentic C major Quartet, K285b, Galway achieves a delightful liquid quality. The later Quartet, K298 is more substantial and draws playing of haunting intensity from Galway and the Tokyo. The slow tempo of this Quartet's second movement is slower than in the Bennett/Grumiaux version on Philips whose performance has a much more jaunty feel to it. Galway's disc is rounded off with his own arrangement of the Oboe Quartet, K370, whose sumptuous slow movement and elegant finale make this an attractive added bonus. One minor reservation: it is useful to have individual variations separately tracked (K285b.2 and K298.1) but, in the earlier Quartet, there is an annoying click on my disc as the tracks change.

The principal difference between the Galway/ Tokyo and the Bennett/Grumiaux versions reflects the recordings and the circumstances surrounding them. Galway's choice of slower tempos might well have been conditioned, at least in part, by the spacious church acoustic in which it was recorded. The Bennett/Grumiaux was recorded in 1969, but the digital transfer is excellent. These are both fine discs, so choice will be determined by personal taste.'

-- Gramophone [6/1993]

"The Italians embraced the transverse flute rather more cautiously than others, but when they did it was with characteristic enthusiasm; there are plenty more concertos where these six came from. The attribution of the Pergolesi is unqualified in the statement of contents; the annotator states that it was ''attributed to'' him, but Grove lists it as ''extremely doubtful''; it also describes the Tartini work as ''dubious'', but no hint of this is offered in the inlay-booklet. Regarding Romano Antonio Piacentino and his concerto, even that august dictionary is entirely unhelpful. The concerto proves that he existed and its style places him somewhere in the eighteenth century, but that is all. His ability to create something agreeable out of thematic commonplaces recalls Vivaldi. With Tartini and Piacentino we are in the world of the straightforward baroque instrumental concerto, while 'Pergolesi' and Galuppi show traces of operatic connections. Little is known of Louis Gianella (?1778-1817), a flautist who worked at La Scala in Milan, whose curious and otherwise unrecorded Concerto lugubre patently links his two compositional fields—those of the theatre (opera and ballet) and with-flute instrumental music, which includes two other flute concertos...Galway plays with his accustomed silver-tongued panache and has the benefit of the co-operation of both I Solisti Veneti and the recording engineers at their best."

John Duarte, Gramophone [4/1994]

Time flies in the supposedly timeless world of classical music. It's easy to forget superb performances of even the greatest masterpieces when confronted with dozens, indeed hundreds, of recordings that differ from one another audibly, but often not all that significantly. So it is with this Mahler First, certainly one of the freshest and most vibrant performances, but one that also tends to get lost in the shuffle. The playing of the LSO is terrific: the scherzo bids fair to be the best on disc, but then Levine seems unusually energized and spontaneous throughout. Only the opening of the finale fails to erupt with the kind of violence that others (Bernstein especially) bring to it. Levine seems a mite hasty here, not giving the brass enough time to really bite as they should. But this also is the result of sonics that are dry in the bass and not all that wide-ranging compared with today's digital norm. Still, despite this minor caveat, this is an outstanding performance in all other respects, and moreover one that will sound well on iPods, in cars, and in all of those places where soft passages tend to vanish annoyingly in a welter of ambient noise. It certainly deserves to remain available, and thanks to Arkivmusic.com "on demand", it will be.

--David Hurwitz,ClassicsToday.com

This is not just an anthology which works—it's a wow!

This is the sixteenth gala of the Richard Tucker Music Foundation—''a look at an era just gone by'', as conductor James Conlon calls it—recorded live before an enthusiastic audience. It starts with a great lift-off: America the Beautiful (no mention of its composer Samuel Augustus Ward, whose hymn is treated to a showbiz arrangement) sung by Leontyne Price. At the age of 63 she can still summon enough patriotic fervour to make non-Americans want to apply for citizenship papers on the spot! And she isn't the oldest performer by any means. Robert Merrill is ten years her senior and delivers Weill's ''September Song'' touchingly but with a maddening tendency to anticipate the beat.

Weill is also represented by the ecstatic virtuosity of the Ice-Cream Sextet from Street Scene, still fresh in one's memory from the ENO performances in London and the two recordings now available on Decca and TER. Then there are two settings of William Blake's ''Tiger! Tiger! burning bright'' (''Songs of Experience''). Virgil Thomson set the poem twice: this is the second of his Five Songs from William Blake written in 1951, but it is William Bolcom who brings the house down with his version for chanting chorus backed by a variety of orchestral percussion.

One of the most moving performances is Karen Holvik in Stephen Foster's immaculate Ah! May the red rose live alway, with piano (Steven Blier). More calculating, but equally polished nostalgia comes from Barber, especially ''Must the winter come so soon'' from Vanessa, hauntingly sung by Frederica von Stade, recently admired for her Melisande at Covent Garden. But also ''Give me my robe'' from Barber's Anthony and Cleopatra, sung with equal poignancy by Carol Vaness.

Tatiana Troyanos sings Copland's setting of Robert Lowry's ''At the river'' with impressive, quiet dignity. Bernstein is the only composer who gets in three times—the Collegiate Chorale is on form for the first of the Chichester Psalms; Jerry Hadley sings ''Maria''; and there's an ensemble from Candide. Finally, in case you didn't sign on for US citizenship, Marilyn Horne gives a truly commanding performance of Berlin's classic God bless America. This is not just an anthology which works—it's a wow!

-- Peter Dickinson, Gramophone [6/1993]

TCHAIKOVSKY: SYMPHONY NO 6 JA

It really is a problem, choosing between these two recordings. (Giordano: Andrea Chénier / Pavarotti, Caballé, Chailly) It might seem sensible to start with the tenor in the title-role, and here my strong inclination would be to plump for RCA and Domingo: he is in splendid voice, with a touch of nobility to his manner that makes for a convincing portrayal of a poet. Pavarotti (for Chailly on Decca) begins with a rather leather-lunged Improvviso, but he later finds poetry in the role as well, especially when responding to his soprano, Caballe who is rather stretched by the more exhausting reaches of her role and sounds audibly grateful for the occasional opportunities he gives her to float rather than belt a high-lying phrase. And besides, Pavarotti is an Italian tenor, and his Italianate sense of line adds 1 per cent or so of elegance to some phrases that even Domingo cannot match. Caballe does many things beautifully, and her fine-spun pianissimos and subtle shadings only occasionally sound mannered, but the role is undeniably half-a-size too big for her. So it is for Scotto, you might say, and a hint of strain is audible once or twice, in her timbre rather than her phrasing. It is her phrasing, indeed, that tips the balance back to RCA: Scotto is as subtle a vocalist as Caballe, but she gives meaning and eloquence to every phrase without ever breaking the long line, which one cannot always say of the Spanish soprano. Matters are about even as far as the baritones are concerned: Milnes acts admirably, but refrains from over-acting, and the voice is rich and characterful. Nucci for Chailly is a bit less compelling dramatically, but the voice strikes me as more integrated, more even, than Milnes's, and thus, again, is more Italianate in its line. Decca field a sumptuous supporting cast (Astrid Varnay, worn of voice but full of character as the Countess, Christa Ludwig, no less, in the ten lines of Madelon's part, Tom Krause as a fine Roucher, Giorgio Tadeo an implacable Mathieu), but RCA's striking Bersi, vividly characterized Irtcredibile, and their Roucher, too, are not outmatched (only their Madelon, both fruity and acid—a grapefruit of a voice—is disappointing). A lot of people will enjoy the huge energy and bustle of Levine's direction. It is vividly characterful, but to my taste a shade exhausting and over-assertive. The flow of the music seems more natural in Chailly's hands, and orchestral detail is clearer. The Decca recording, too, is warmer than the RCA, which has a slight edge to it. Even so, for Scotto's sake and to a slightly lesser extent for Domingo's, I think I would choose RCA, but that would mean rejecting Chailly, Pavarotti and the Decca recording … As I say, it is really a problem.

-- Michael Oliver, Gramophone [9/1989]