LEGEND OF E'BOI (THE HYPERVIGILANT EYE)

"Levine is equally successful with Cavalleria rusticana, of which he gives one of the most compelling accounts available on disc. Scotto and Domingo bring Santuzza and Turiddu excitingly to life."
-- Charles Osborne, BBC Music Magazine

"the Scotto/Domingo set now stands as a first recommnendastion for Mascagni's red-blooded opera, with Domingo giving a heroic accoungt of the rolee of Turiddu, full of deciance...James Levine directs with a splended sensse of pacing..."
-- Penguin Guide [2003/4 Edition]

Light—life-enabling, life-enhancing. Something fundamental, universal in our life. Images evoking it abound in language, and virtually all the authors of the texts set here deal with or refer to it in one way or another, from ancient seers to the modern luminary Desmond Tutu.

There are of course many different kinds of light, but on its own the single word evokes something bright, pure, clear. These are words which can equally well be applied to James Whitbourn’s music. His writing is simple and straightforward (especially harmonically), and not outwardly virtuosic; his use of texture (often under-appreciated as a musical value) is also simple, but beguiling. The choir often sings homophonically (all voice parts moving in the same rhythm, as in a hymn), which implies a clarity of communication. But with a few sure strokes—the addition of a single element, such as the solo voice in the Magnificat and Nunc Dimittis, and A Prayer of Desmond Tutu, or the use of percussion in the same works, or the tanpura and the cunningly Eastern-sounding viola in Luminosity, he can simultaneously evoke different, non-Western traditions, and thereby multiply the allusions.

-- Bernard Robertson

Dohnányi’s powerful Second Symphony was composed toward the end of the Second World War but its large canvas reflects not so much his wartime experience as his own artistic credo as a Romantic composer. +Of the symphony and its philosophy he wrote: “The goal is the end of the glorious fight. The goal is death; life is a struggle”, and in it he crafted a passionate monument to the Romanticism he espoused, heard here in its final revised version. +The two songs for baritone and orchestra have been very rarely heard, and were revived by Alexander Jiménez with the Florida State University Symphony Orchestra in 2013.

SALUT D’AMOUR • Matthew Jones (vn); Annabel Thwaite (pn) • SLEEVELESS 1006 (62:17)


GERSHWIN (arr. Heifetz) It Ain’t Necessarily So. MASSENET Méditation. CHOPIN Nocturnes: in c?; in D?. ELGAR Salut d’amour. FAURÉ (arr. Bachmann) Après un rêve. PONCE (arr. Heifetz) Estrellita. CASPI La Trenza. MONTI Czardas. SCHUBERT Impromptu in B?. HAHN Nocturne. IRELAND Cavatina. SIBELIUS Romance. KREISLER Praeludium and Allegro. TRADITIONAL (arr. Gover) Suo Gân


Serious-minded programmers (or, at least, programmers of a certain well-delineated stripe) almost banished short pieces, which had been the meat and potatoes of the recital program as well as of the recording industry, from stages and discs for about a generation. Now intrepid artists Matthew Jones and Annabel Thwaite have torn down the “Do Not Enter” signs and have risked their musical lives exploring the dangerous proscribed (politically incorrect?) repertoire that arguably ruined careers and reputations 50 years ago (but, of course, made them 50 years before that). And to their credit—or discredit—they play stylishly in Jascha Heifetz’s saucy transcription of George Gershwin’s song, It Ain’t Necessarily So —if not with Heifetz’s own dazzling aplomb, pleasantly excitingly at least. Jules Massenet’s Méditation may be the most beloved short piece ever played on the violin, and the duo plays it that way. The tone of Jones’s violin exhibits a sort of acidulous edge—just as did Aaron Rosand’s or Zino Francescatti’s, although in the cases of both those older violinists, the edge lent what they played a sort of sizzle that Jones’s playing lacks. Nathan Milstein made a very violinistic-sounding arrangement of Chopin’s Nocturne in C? Minor; and though that piece might have fit well in the program, Thwaite plays it as a piano solo—so sensitively and atmospherically that even violinists might be glad not to have heard the arrangement for violin. Jones and Thwaite realize much of the veiled emotion of Elgar’s popular miniature Salut d’amour as well as the quiet intensity of the beginning of Gabriel Fauré’s short piece, Après un rêve . Heifetz’s arrangement of Estrellita might have been his calling card, but Jones makes it his own as well in a reading that’s warmer and more tender.


The program includes some less well-known but no less effective interludes, of which Avshalom Caspi’s brooding miniature La Trenza proves to be the first example. Vittorio Monti’s Czardas , like Massenet’s Méditation , has been one of the most frequently heard of violin encores, penetrating the popular repertoire almost as deeply as the standard one. Jones remains faithful to the original version, but he plays it with gusto and appealing ethnic coloration. Thwaite takes Franz Schubert’s Impromptu as a piano solo, exhibiting a firm grasp of the piece’s shape and making the most of its growling lower registers. Reynaldo Hahn’s Nocturne, another of the less familiar cameos, sounds allusive and affecting in Jones’s reading, as does John Ireland’s Cavatina , a piece that may strike some listeners as perhaps a bit more effective than the vastly better known piece by the same name by Joachim Raff. Sibelius’s Romance provides yet another example of a relative unknown that fits perfectly into the program, and Jones invests it with melting warmth and insinuating subtlety. Chopin’s Nocturne in D? Major serves as the last of the Thwaite’s three effective piano solos.


Fritz Kreisler never recorded his own Praeludium and Allegro —by many accounts his very best short violin piece. Also, by Carl Flesch’s account, Kreisler didn’t take the Allegro particularly fast. And while the opening quarter notes may look bland on the page, violinists like Francescatti could bring them to life. So does Jones, who belts them out with the panache of Ethel Merman the first time and plays them almost tentatively the second. Like Kreisler himself, however, Jones makes no attempt to rush through the Allegro and deploys a variety of bow strokes to give extra personality to the perpetual motion. Following Francescatti in a way, he’s dazzling in the cadenza over a pedal point. The duo brings the program to a quiet conclusion with a Welsh lullaby, reflecting Jones’s ethnic origins.


If this isn’t the very CD of choice for a sojourn on a desert isle, I certainly wouldn’t use it as a Frisbee in that setting either. For its interesting repertoire, familiar and unfamiliar alike, for its sensitive and idiomatic performances, for its clear recorded sound, and, not least, for the novelty of including piano solos to punctuate it, Jones and Thwaite’s unpretentious but prepossessing recital should wear well after many, many hearings, whatever the venue. Strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Classical Music

This Chandos production must now be first choice for this work.

Welcome to John Gay’s and Benjamin Britten’s romp through some seamy but also colourful and vibrant elements of 18 ^th century London. This work established the ballad opera in which spoken dialogue alternated with musical items. Gay’s satirical words were set to well-known traditional and popular tunes. Two hundred and twenty years later Britten added 20 ^th century accompaniments.

What’s entirely Britten here is the fresh caterwauling Overture (tr. 2) in which the various characters are given brief sound-portraits. There’s an oboe of sinuous sweetness for Polly (0:40), a cavorting clarinet for Macheath (1:29), suave strings and a jocular bassoon for the highwaymen (2:35) and a bantering circus-like master of ceremonies style for Mr Peachum (3:25). It’s all terrifically realized by the City of London Sinfonia who play marvellously throughout.

But what of the songs? Filch’s ‘’Tis woman that seduces all Mankind’ (tr. 5) is a good example of Britten allowing an original tune free rein while giving it modern dress with balmy woodwind and harp. The heroine Polly comes in (tr.12) to strains of her first song over which there are snatches of dialogue. This, like the melodrama which shortly follows (tr. 20), is Britten’s neat way of subverting the claim in the opening dialogue that this opera will have no “unnatural” recitative. Polly’s first song, ‘Virgins are like the fair flower in its lustre’ has as its tune Purcell’s ‘What shall I do to show how much I love him?’ from Dioclesian. Like its original, it is shown by Leah-Marian Jones to be at once wistful and coy. Her duet with Susan Bickley’s Mrs Peachum, ’O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed’ (tr. 15) catches well a cosy lullaby make-believe, aided by the gently rocking strings’ accompaniment. It’s lovely but only fleeting. Another notable accompaniment is the flutter-tonguing flute illustrating Polly’s ‘The Turtle thus with plaintive crying’ (tr. 19).

The highwayman hero Macheath enters and Tom Randle proves courteous enough to Jones’ simpering. The duet between Macheath and Polly, ’Were I laid on Greenland’s coast’ (tr. 22) is sweetly done but I felt the singers were over-conscious of the need to match the flowing orchestration and then the addition of chorus and drum. Some of the natural freshness is lost that’s present in the 1963 Aldeburgh Festival staging on DVD (Decca 074 3329). In this Chandos CD ‘The Miser thus a shilling sees’ (tr. 24) responds better to the typical careful attention of conductor Christian Curnyn’s approach. The disciplined emphasis of rhythm in its thorny progression matches the text’s poetic expression of loss. A pity, however, the second appearance of “Till home and friends are lost at last” (1:54) isn’t, as marked in the score ‘(in the distance)’ as the lovers go their separate ways. It’s an effect achieved in the BBC broadcast recording of the original 1948 production conducted by Britten (Pearl GEM 0225).

The highwaymen’s ’Fill ev’ry glass’ (tr. 26) is a drinking song of the sturdy, resolute variety in 2009 where a lustier abandon was shown in 1948. ‘Let us take the road’ (tr. 28) is infused with eagerness because of the excitement Britten and Curnyn convey in sketching the approach of the coach. Tom Randle’s Macheath has a too cultivated spoken voice but his singing is virile enough. You can hear this in ‘If the heart of a man is depressed with cares’ (tr. 29), marked as a caressing Andante backed by sweetly musing violin solo and rocking clarinet. Again I felt the line was held back a little in deference to the detail of the accompaniment. At this point Macheath is visited by a parade of prostitutes and what’s entertaining in the Decca DVD is rather curious here. With no sounds incorporated of women moving around, squealing and the like , you might think Macheath is imagining it all. I guess this is so as not to detract from Britten’s own variety parade of instruments, a kind of ‘Young Person’s Guide to Women’. There’s a superb tambourine to enliven the headiness of ‘Youth’s the season made for joys’. Randle sings with sunny freedom the ad libitum ‘Ah’s above the chorus repeat, though the top C final phrase is left to a soprano. Now betrayed by the women, his ‘At the Tree I shall suffer with pleasure’ has a disciplined testiness but less venom than Decca’s Kenneth McKellar.

Again more telling in this Chandos production is the more meditative material. The opening song of Act 2, ‘Man may escape from rope and gun’ (CD2, tr. 2), where Randle shows how transfixed Macheath is in his repetition of ‘woman’, savours past joys even while aware they’re the cause of present pain. Sarah Fox, as Lucy Lockit, is scarily efficient in her spite in ‘Thus when a good Housewife sees a rat’ (tr. 3). Polly’s response is the more sensitively elegiac ‘Thus when the Swallow seeking prey’ (tr. 10) and here Leah-Marian Jones is rich, smooth and eloquent. For me, however, Macheath’s ‘How happy could I be with either’ (tr. 11) is taken so fast it becomes too much a tongue-twister virtuoso piece losing some of its whimsy. In 1948 Peter Pears’ lighter touch was more effective. Polly has the easier task of rising above all this with ‘Cease your funning’ (tr.12), whose merging into the chorus and distancing of perspective are successfully achieved before we’re brought back to earth with a vengeance by Lucy’s crisp, snappy ‘Why how now, Madam Flirt!’ (tr. 13). The finale begins with Lucy and Polly showing great resolve. ‘No power on earth can e’er divide’ (tr. 14) is well progressed by Curnyn to an exciting ‘Horay’ trio response from Macheath, Lockit and Peachum. The there’s then increasing speed with a backing chorus in Sullivanesque abandon.

The opening song of Act 3, Lucy’s ‘When young at the bar’ (tr. 16) should be familiar as the tune is Purcell’s ‘If love’s a sweet passion’ from The Fairy Queen. Fox invests it with its original sad yearning while Curnyn points the claustrophobic cloying nature of Britten’s rich scoring of the wry accompaniment. Of a different order and part of the score’s kaleidoscopic variety is the relished archness of Frances McCafferty as Mrs Trapes delivering ‘In the days of my youth I could bill like a dove’ (tr. 21) with relished archness. To this is added the raucous carousing of Lockit and Peachum. Shortly there’s also the poignancy of Lucy and Polly’s ‘A curse attends a woman’s love’ (tr. 25). The paradox that these two candidates for Macheath’s affection can at one moment be united in their shared sense of rejection and understanding of the impossibility of their situation and at the next daggers drawn as rivals and eager still to court Macheath with warm affection at ‘Hither, dear husband, turn your eyes’ (tr. 28) is exploited dramatically. Fox’s pleading for Macheath’s life with ‘When he holds up his hand’ (tr. 31) ought to be the more persuasive, aided by Britten’s obbligato oboe accompaniment. ‘The Charge is prepared’ is a stock, formal chorus considerably pepped up by Mrs Peachum’s triumphant ‘Ah’s and glissando shrieks over its orchestral postlude.

Britten creates a closing scena (tr. 34) with Macheath in the condemned cell at first extolling the virtues of drink when about to die, then recalling pretty women. This gives way to the questioning protest ‘must I die?’. This is well sung by Randle but doesn’t quite have Pears’ grasp of the torment of ever-fluctuating contrasts of mood. Polly and Lucy offer a moving show of support, ‘Would I might be hanged’ to the heavily insistent backdrop of the funeral knell. In 1948 Britten’s knell is less weighty but more searing. Macheath realistically confesses ‘my courage is out’. The spoken dialogue wipes this all away. The highwaymen begin an address directly to the audience to demand the playwright provides a reprieve and all the players join in so the work can end with a dance. This bit of trickery and the rejection of the moral that vice must be punished works better in sound alone than the quicker and tamer removal of justice in the DVD. So you finish the Chandos sound recording remembering the company’s lusty tra-las and Fox’s top C.

This Chandos is the fullest version of the three currently available in the UK, playing at 117:52 in comparison with Decca’s 93:50 and Pearl’s 79:03. The differences are largely down to the Chandos including more of Gay’s spoken dialogue with alterations and additions by Tyrone Guthrie though even here I’d guess about a quarter of the dialogue published in the full and vocal scores has been cut. I don’t think this is a disadvantage because there’s a good deal of repetition in the text anyway. However, some musical numbers are also cut in the other recordings: Mrs Peachum’s ‘If Love the Virgin’s Heart invade’ (CD1 tr. 9) can only be heard here. To see the piece staged is a benefit. On the DVD the dialogue generally has a touch more pace and life, being less self-conscious in delivery. In the same vein the switch from dialogue to music flows more seamlessly and the folksong origins of many of the tunes are delivered with a more disarmingly innocent directness. The feeling between the characters is clearer in the ensemble numbers. The 1948 recording is striking for the verve of Britten’s direction, the charm of Pears’ light heroic manner and the lovely unforced upper register of Nancy Evans as Polly. Listen to her in ‘The Miser thus a shilling sees’. On the other hand it also at times adopts an over-romantic style, as in ‘O Polly, you might have toyed and kissed’ or is too patrician as in ‘Virgins are like the fair flower’.

To conclude, then, although sometimes more studied and deliberate than it might be, including careful points of emphasis within the dialogue, this Chandos production must now be first choice for this work. It also offers you in most luxuriant detail the colour and density of Britten’s orchestration.

-- Michael Greenhalgh, MusicWeb International

Recorded in: Goldsmith's College, New Cross, London 9-14 August 1994 Producer(s) Brian Couzens Sound Engineer(s) Ralph Couzens Richard Smoker (Assistant)

Classical Music

Recordings were made of Szymon Goldberg (1909-1993) over virtually a 60-year period. It must have been one of the longest studio careers of any violinist - it was certainly one of the most consistent in quality. The present set gathers up all the 78rpm material, which itself covers some two decades and presents the violinist in repertoire to which he did not return in later years, such as string quartets, string trios and string duos. An earlier volume (Music & Arts CD-1223, 8 CDs) presented Goldberg's best live recordings. Despite an often difficult life, Goldberg had an extraordinary ability to project a balanced view of the music he played. He was the archetypal Classical violinist and in his everyday life, behaved exactly as he played - a rare gift. In person, he was diminutive and soft-spoken. On stage, he never hectored the audience through his violin or pulled the music about to create an effect. Taking the view that the composer knew best, he did not impose an egotistical interpretation. Rather, he sought out the quiet centre of the piece he was playing and let his performance grow out of that. It followed that he was a great Mozart violinist, possibly the finest of the last century. He was, perhaps, at his best in chamber music, well represented here; but he was also an assured soloist and made a few excellent concerto recordings in the 78rpm era. Volume I of this Goldberg project (CD-1223) was released in 2010 and was named a Musicweb International Record of the Year and earned a gold medal from Diapason Magazine.

Recorded in: St Jude on the Hill, Hampstead, London 4, 5 & 9 June 1990 (The Cloud Messenger & The Hymn of Jesus) Recorded in: St Silas The Martyr, Kentish Town, London 25-26 March 1993 (Ave Maria, The Evening-watch, This I have done for my true love & Four Part-songs) Recorded in: All Saints' Church, Tooting, London 3 & 5 September 1994 (other works) Producer(s) Tim Oldham (The Cloud Messenger & The Hymn of Jesus) Chris Webster (Ave Maria, The Evening-watch, This have I done for my true love & Four Part-songs) Ralph Couzens (other works) Sound Engineer(s) Ralph Couzens (The Cloud Messenger & The Hymn of Jesus) Richard Lee (Ave Maria, The Evening-watch, This have I done for my true love & Four Part-songs) Ben Connellan (other works) Peter Newble (Assistant) Richard Smoker (Assistant)

Well received when first released, these recordings are now issued as a two-CD set, available for the price of one full-price disc. These recordings were the works' premieres and are still considered by many to be first choice for the repertoire.

Classical Music

John Rutter has an unmistakable style whose identifying characteristics include some favorite rhythmic and melodic elements, devices that tell us immediately that this is the composer of both For the beauty of the earth (one of Rutter's more popular, enduring anthems) and Look at the world, written in 1996 for The Council for the Protection of rural England, and one of eight pieces included on this disc (besides the title work), all of which were composed for various occasions during the past 10 years. Many of the familiar and well-loved staples of Rutter's music are here--the flowing melodies, catchy rhythms, and pop-tinged harmonies; but there also is much evidence of a composer both as inspired as in his classic What sweeter music and more complex than usual in both thematic ideas and expressive technique.


The opening of the outstanding Mass of the Children (a work completed in early 2003 and first performed at a Carnegie Hall concert) is full of promise, its exciting, engaging, Britten-esque tune for children's chorus capturing our attention and setting the stage for a fresh, new experience. I only wish that Rutter had continued with this idea and developed it--or at least played off its dancing, jaunty style. But instead the children's song melds (albeit very nicely and easily) into a Kyrie that's more comfortably in the traditional Rutter character--a perfectly effective transition and comprised of very fine, well-fashioned music, but leaving us to imagine what greater adventures might have been.


There are many more marvelous passages for the children's voices, including the lovely Benedictus, a lilting, Siciliana-like section whose initial gentleness expands into a full-bodied expression, joined by the adult choir and soloists. One of the more affecting passages--and most impressive in terms of text setting, mood, and orchestration--is the Agnus Dei, whose opening minutes capture the profound seriousness and eternal consequences of our plea for mercy. Just as suddenly, the children take over with a tender, beguiling setting of William Blake's The Lamb, returning our thoughts to the innocent one who "became a little child", the one to whom we pray. Then, not unsurprisingly for this optimistic composer, we're left with a Dona nobis pacem benediction that's as strongly reassuring as we can imagine. In addition to the standard Latin Missa brevis texts, Rutter also characteristically organizes his material by inserting texts from other sources, "giving the whole work the framework of a complete day, from waking to sleeping", beginning and ending with settings of a morning and evening hymn by Bishop Thomas Ken.


The remaining works are highlighted by A Clare Benediction (which Rutter wrote for his alma mater), the a cappella Musica Dei donum (widely known for its inclusion in the tribute to Linda McCartney, A Garland for Linda), and an unusual and quite demanding setting of Come down, O Love divine for unaccompanied double choir. The Cambridge Singers (whose roster shows a major turnover of singers from its last incarnation) is as vocally well-matched, technically polished, and musically involving as always. The Cantate Youth Choir is a delight, and the two soloists are ideal. The sound grants both spaciousness and warmth to the singers and orchestra, so that in all it's hard to imagine a session with this recording that would be anything less than satisfying, especially for Rutter fans, who will have to have this--and who will be thrilled to have a new release from this revered composer and his choir, whose recordings during the past few years have been all too few and far between. [9/8/2003]
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

The Glière Harp Concerto has always been a favorite among harp enthusiasts, though being written in the 1930’s the work’s stylistic features are redolent of both the Viennese classical style united with Russian romantic nationalism. This disc highlights the extraordinary talent of the young Official Harpist to H.R.H. the Prince of Wales, Claire Jones.

Claire has performed for members of the Royal Family on more then 70 occasions and has recently performed a brand new Royal Commission by Patrick Hawes at Highgrove House with the Philharmonia Orchestra.

She is joined by renowned flautist William Bennet OBE, and the English Chamber Orchestra to complete the release with Mozart’s Concerto for flute, harp and orchestra and Debussy’s Danses pour Harpe Chromatique.

It was after hearing the premiere of Joubert’s First Symphony given by the Hull Philharmonic under Vilem Tausky in Hull City Hall on April 12, 1956 that Russian-born pianist Iso Elinson invited the composer to write him a Piano Concerto. Completed in the summer of 1958, the resulting score is dedicated to Elinson, who gave the first performance of the work with the Hallé Orchestra under George Weldon on January 11, 1959 in the Free Trade Hall, Manchester. In keeping with Joubert’s instinctively symphonic approach to large-scale forms, the concerto is more of a sinfonia concertante than a bravura vehicle for pianistic display. The idea for a musico-dramatic work based on Charlotte Brontë’s novel Jane Eyre originated in the early 1980s, when the composer took early retirement from the University of Birmingham. This was a labor of love which he embarked upon unprompted and without the security of a commission. Dedicated to the opera’s librettist Kenneth Birkin and his wife Inge, Symphony No.3 on themes from the opera “Jane Eyre”, Op.178 (2014-17), reworks the five orchestral interludes as five symphonic movements. Originally written for chamber orchestral forces, the material has been re-scored by the composer for a full symphony orchestra.

Alan was a complete musician - a composer, performer, teacher, and a person of extraordinary natural musicality. Small wonder then that he was viewed with profound respect by all those within the musical profession who were privileged to come into contact with him... As a pianist one was struck by his innate rhythmic verve, a facet which indeed radiated through all his compositions - but perhaps the quality above all else that will be remembered was that which can best be described as a mezzo voce bel canto, the realisation of a choice and refined ear, and the product of a deep thinker and inner tranquillity'. It is that satisfying synergy of elegant lyricism and rhythmic energy which distinguishes the keyboard works of pianist and composer Alan Richardson. (Paul Conway)

FRANÇAIX Scherzo. 5 Portraits de jeunes filles. Eloge de la danse. Piano Sonata. 5 Encores. Danse des 3 Arlequins. 8 Variations. Nocturne. 3 Equisses sur les touches blanches. La Promenade d’un Musicologue Eclectique. De la Musique avant tout chose. Pour Jacqueline. Si Versailles m’etait conté. Scuola di Ballo. 1 8 Danses exotiques. 1 15 Portraits d’enfants d’Auguste Renoir. 2 Napoléon 2 • Martin Jones, 1 Richard McMahon, 2 Adrian Farmer (pn) • NIMBUS NI 5880/2 (3 CDs: 19:05)


Had Jean Françaix been born a decade or so earlier, we would be referring to Les Sept rather than Les Six. As it was, the French-polished and long-lived composer (1912–97) followed in the footsteps of his slightly older confrères, particularly Poulenc, in typifying the French style of his era: witty, light-hearted, and insouciant. Françaix’s music derives from the bouncy rhythms and diatonic melodies of French folk music, but mixes in the vulgarity of the boulevard, the harmonic asperity of Stravinsky, and an occasional hint of 1920s jazz, all done with assured craftsmanship. While many of his concertos have been recorded—the best-known are the sprightly Piano Concertino (1932) and the Clarinet Concerto—Françaix’s output for solo piano has not. The only previous recordings I discovered are by Annette Middlebeek on a hard-to-find Koch disc from 2001, and another from 2008 by Nicole Narboni on the obscure label CDBY, which I have never heard of. (The latter recital is intriguingly promoted as “Narboni on Food, Felines, Fathers, and Jean Françaix.”) I did not manage to do any comparative listening—my order of the Koch disc failed to materialize by deadline— but in any case this new Nimbus set trumps both in terms of completeness alone.


Although Françaix was an expert orchestrator, probably more skilled than Poulenc, whose Story of Babar the Elephant he arranged for orchestra, the younger composer first made his mark as a pianist. He continued to play throughout his life, not only his own works but also music by other composers, often teaming with the cellist Maurice Gendron. Many of his compositions involve piano, and I notice a three-disc set of chamber music with the composer at the piano is scheduled to be released late in 2012 (this being the year of Françaix’s centenary, of course).


Meanwhile, we have the indefatigable Martin Jones to bring us up to speed on the keyboard works. The set opens with the early, mostly staccato Scherzo, a favorite of the composer that he played often, and it shows him at his most deft in its clarity and harmonic sleight of hand. The Scherzo sets the tone for the rest of the program and is tossed off with perfect élan here by Jones. Françaix preferred miniatures, and many of the larger works are in fact suites made up of several short movements. Some, such as the oddly titled Promenade d’un Musicologue Eclectique , are composed of tributes to other composers such as Chopin, Ravel, and Adam. Françaix always sounds like himself, but Ravel was clearly a major influence along with Chabrier and, to some extent, Satie. We might expect a work titled Piano Sonata to be more serious in tone but that expectation is quickly dashed; the first movement scampers off like a French poodle. (The same thing happens in the composer’s one symphony.) The sonata’s second movement (Elégie) features an Impressionistic bell-like accompaniment. Timing is one of the composer’s finest assets: Nothing outstays its welcome, and just as one might be tiring of high spirits a pensive moment of lyricism comes along, like the lovely “La Tendre” in the Five Portraits of Young Girls suite. The gentle Nocturne’s arpeggiated left hand registers like updated Fauré, and it is this piece, the composer’s final composition for solo piano (1994), that brings the first disc to a close.


In the duo and two-piano works Jones is joined by Richard McMahon or Adrian Farmer. The Eight Exotic Dances of 1957 draw on popular Latin and jazz forms. The final movement is titled Rock’n’roll but it is far more jazz than rock, a musical genre too earthy for the fastidious Françaix, I suspect. Napoléon and Si Versailles m’etait conté are two-piano arrangements of music from films, while Scuola di ballo is a ballet score from 1933, which, 30 years later, the composer reworked for himself and his daughter Claude to play. The resulting score is more elaborate than a mere reduction, as you will hear if you compare it to the orchestral version recorded by Thierry Fischer and the Ulster Orchestra (Hyperion). It draws on music by Boccherini in much the same way as Stravinsky reinterpreted Pergolesi in Pulcinella , and forms a joyous finale to the program.


Devotees of piano music and avowed completists owe a lot to Martin Jones, truly one of the finest of British pianists. For Nimbus he has recorded a good deal of Spanish music (including multiple discs of Mompou), a Czerny series, Szymanowski, and several others. He is a sparkling technician, but beyond that he always manages to sound utterly sympathetic in the music he chooses to record. His partners in this enterprise are equally at home; McMahon, for one, has a formidable reputation in duet work. Nimbus’s recording strikes me as perfect; as usual, there is air around the sound but it is never muddy, always crisp, and suits the piano to a T. While it may be asking too much to listen to the three discs straight through (though I did so without any ill effect, several times), this is undoubtedly a delightful set to dip into and certainly a significant addition to the catalog.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

Fuchs’s distinctive voice, flair for orchestral colours and sheer lyricism shine through.

Kenneth Fuchs is fortunate indeed to have not one but two discs of his music recorded by the London Symphony Orchestra. The first, in 2003, was nominated for two Grammys in 2005 and the second, recorded in 2006, should do well too, such is the quality of both the music and music-making. Holding it all together in the orchestral pieces and the mixed quintet is conductor JoAnn Falletta, who made such a strong impression in her recent disc of Respighi (review).

United Artists, the first item on the disc, was written specifically for the LSO as a gesture of thanks for their earlier recording of Fuchs’s works (Naxos 8.559224). At its core is a four-note motif, presented first in the Coplandesque opening fanfare. But this isn’t derivative music; indeed, the composer’s distinctive ‘voice’ is evident from the outset, and his flair for orchestral colours and sheer lyricism shine through in this atmospheric opener.

Quiet in the land is another of those vast musical landscapes that might provoke comparisons with Copland, yet Fuchs’s evocation of the Midwestern Plains just as the Iraq war was beginning is rather more complex and ambiguous in its sentiments. As the composer writes in the liner notes, ‘I wondered how quiet the spirit of our land might be’.

Even without this programme the opening bars hint at harmony, subtly undermined by vague discord - just listen to that quiet, agitated figure that begins at 1:30, beneath the more lyrical and expansive melody above. It is such lucid, ‘hear-through’ writing, yet it’s full of warmth. The members of the LSO manage to bring out both these aspects of the score, blending precision with feeling. And what a haunting close, too.

The recording venue – St Luke’s in London’s Old Street – is very well captured by the engineers, with no hint of brittleness or edge. The musicians seem ideally placed, too, which is particularly welcome in Fire, Ice, and Summer Bronze for brass quintet. Subtitled an ’Idyll ... after two works on paper by Helen Frankenthaler’ the first movement yokes together two eternal opposites – fire (the restless first section) and ice (the more muted second section).

There seems to be an underlying creative tension in some of these pieces, perhaps an attempt to reconcile musical and emotional extremes. For instance, in Summer Bronze the music is strangely mercurial – now lyrical, now dissonant, now both. But it’s that other dichotomy, between outward virtuosity and inner feeling, that these seasoned players – always secure, always poised – convey so well.

Based on a painting by Jackson Pollock, Autumn Rhythm does contain some jazzy snippets, but the emphasis seems to be on sonorities, with long, lyrical melodic lines and, at times, a quirky bass. It is a strangely ‘in-between’ piece; to use the autumn analogy, summer is not quite done, yet winter is on its way. In his notes Fuchs describes how the two states are drawn together and, indeed, how one becomes the other: ‘An unusual aspect of this composition is that in its final section the flute, oboe, and clarinet metamorphose into their lower – perhaps autumnal – counterparts, the alto flute, English horn, and bass clarinet.’ It’s a remarkable sleight of hand, deftly constructed and seamlessly executed.

Canticle of the Sun – a hymn tune based on 13th-century texts by St Francis of Assisi – is built on a four-note motif. Written for the LSO’s principal horn player, Timothy Jones, this 20-minute gem has a radiant, all-embracing optimism that is just irresistible. Indeed, it is not unlike a stained glass window, all those fragments of high colour glowing in the light behind. But at the centre of it all is Jones’s supple and passionate playing, surely as seductive a performance of this piece as we are ever likely to hear.

As with Respighi’s Church Windows, Falletta displays a sense of line and phrase that is most welcome in this music. And while I’ve grumbled about the sound on some Naxos releases I’m prepared to eat humble pie on this one. The engineers have done an exceptional job capturing the sound of the LSO at St Luke’s; what a pleasant change from the dry-as-dust Barbican.

Early days, I know, but this could be one of my discs of 2008.

Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

Classical Music

"...For Bridge enthusiasts there is no competition to this recording, which is therefore valuable in its own right."

The three composers represented on this compilation have little in common with each other apart from their nationality and the fact that they were largely neglected during the latter part of their lives and after their deaths. Of the three, Parry always kept a foothold on the repertory because of his choral music - although much of this substantial body of work remains unrecorded to this day - but the English Suite was a posthumous work edited after the composer’s death for performance by his pupil Emily Daymond and not performed until four years after his death, in a Prom outing after which it promptly sank without trace. Some of the ideas in the music date back to Parry’s heyday in 1894 but Daymond did her mentor no favours when she suggested that two of the seven movements of the suite could be omitted if the Suite was thought to be too long, and here the Caprice movement is indeed not given – as it was in Boult’s earlier 1971 recording for Lyrita. The work is hardly over-extended at under twenty minutes, and there would have been plenty of room for the additional movement. The later recordings in the catalogue, conducted by Richard Hickox and Adrian Leaper, also include the work complete and under the circumstances there seems little to recommend this cut version under Boughton unless the other works on the disc appeal.

Like Parry’s Suite, Finzi’s Eclogue was not published or performed until after the composer’s death, and the title was supplied by his editors. It was originally written in the 1920s as the slow movement of a piano concerto, but was revised some twenty years later to the form we now know. The first recording was made in 1977 under the indefatigable Vernon Handley and Peter Katin, but since then there have been a number of others. Martin Jones gives a very cool reading which emphasises the almost neo-classical style of the writing; one can imagine the work being played with more heated romantic fervour, but it nevertheless reveals all its crystalline beauty in this reading and the playing of the strings is beautifully refined. This is probably the best track on the disc; but the greater part of the collection really rests on the shoulders of Frank Bridge.

After his death, Bridge was even more neglected than Parry or Finzi; indeed, for many years he was only remembered for the fact that he had supplied the theme for Britten’s Variations, and there were more recordings of that piece in the catalogues than of any of Bridge’s own orchestral music. Britten himself recorded Sir Roger de Coverley with the English Chamber Orchestra in 1969 in the Snape Maltings, and the larger body of strings he employed made a more positive impression than Boughton manages here. It was not until Sir Charles Groves devoted a whole EMI LP to the orchestral music of Bridge in 1976 that the revival of the composer’s fortunes may be said to have been safely launched. Groves could sometimes be a rather stolid and sober conductor, but at his best he was capable of producing some superb performances – his recording of Delius’s Koanga remains unchallenged in the catalogue to this day, and his Bridge compilation was another of the highlights of his recorded repertoire. He included Cherry ripe and the Lament in his compilation, and two years later Boult gave us première recordings of Rosemary and Sally in our Alley; but this Nimbus disc was - so far as I can tell - the first to include recordings of the Canzonetta and the Irish melody. Indeed this remains the only available recording of the latter work in its orchestral form, since it was not even included in Hickox’s otherwise comprehensive survey of Bridge’s orchestral music for Chandos; the other recordings in the current catalogue are of the original string quartet version.

In terms of performances Boughton’s readings of Bridge are fine, but these are not by and large Bridge’s greatest works; indeed many of them are transcriptions for string orchestra of pieces that Bridge originally wrote for smaller forces, and many of them fall close to the category of ‘light music’ – if any music by Bridge could be so described. Boughton is just a little slower than his competitors Boult or Groves - to the advantage of the heartfelt Lament - but the differences in interpretation are minimal. The most substantial work here, There is a willow grows aslant a brook, is however something different again. This meditation on the death of Ophelia (in Hamlet) is one of Bridge’s most impassioned later works, and in terms of length and content it can hardly be categorised as a miniature. This is the only work on this disc which includes wind instruments, and it is also clearly the most ‘modern’ composition here; Boughton gives the music plenty of atmosphere. But there are many other recordings of this piece, and some of these - not least Hickox - give the music more substance.

The real attraction for Bridge completists - who will in any event presumably already possess all the Hickox recordings - is the orchestral version of the Irish Melody, which contains yet another arrangement of the (London)derry Air to set beside those of Grainger and Harty. It is quite a bit less conventional than the setting by Harty, but decidedly less so than some of the sometimes bizarrely chromatic versions in which Grainger indulged himself. Then again, this is not really a conventionally Irish tune; it fits no known Irish metre, and its history might lead to some suspicion as to whether it is really a traditional Irish melody at all. It was first published in 1855 (without words) and was supplied to George Petrie by Jane Ross who had arranged it herself for piano and merely stated that it was “very old”. However later researchers failed to uncover any trace of its origins, or any Gaelic words; the first poet to supply lyrics was Percival Graves for an 1882 setting by Stanford. Apparently Jane Ross, who was a conscientious collector of folk-songs, may have heard the song in Donegal - where her brother was a fisherman - rather than Derry itself. There remains a suspicion that she may actually have written the melody herself – perhaps more likely than an alternative explanation which attributes the tune to the fairies. Bridge’s arrangement is the central section of a piece that is quite substantial in length and depth; he adds a double-bass part to the original quartet version. One could imagine the work might be more effective with more players; the cellos at 1.32 and 2.16 sound rather thinner than ideal. For Bridge enthusiasts there is no competition to this recording, which is therefore valuable in its own right.

The recorded sound throughout is natural, and nicely resonant without being overblown.

- Paul Corfield Godfrey, MusicWeb International

John Rutter's Mass of the Children was recorded by the composer and his Cambridge Singers shortly after the work's premiere in 2003. That version, for soprano and baritone soloists, children's choir, adult choir, and orchestra, appeared on Collegium Records and was strongly recommended here; for the review, which includes a discussion of the Mass itself, type Q6863 in Search Reviews. The version recorded here by the Clare College Choir (Rutter's former choir) and Timothy Brown (for whom Rutter wrote the Wedding Canticle that concludes the disc) replaces the orchestra with chamber ensemble and organ with no loss of the original's exuberant spirit or essential texture and color. These choirs are every bit as competent and confident as Rutter's own forces, but with a decided edge going to Rutter's more appealing soloists, whose voices are warmer and more technically solid.


Hearing this work again, I was struck by little reminders of other composers and works, such as Stravinsky's Symphony of Psalms (Gloria), Fauré's Requiem (Sanctus), and even in the baritone/soprano duet in the Kyrie, a bit of (gurk!) Andrew Lloyd Webber. But these are tiny, endearing moments in a grand and often enchanting work that contains some very clever, catchy, and masterfully written sections for adult and children's choir. Rutter's setting of Blake's poem The Lamb (appropriately part of the Agnus Dei) could stand alone as a concert piece. I also love how Rutter works the tune of Tallis' famous "Canon", sung to Thomas Ken's "Glory to thee, my God, this night", into the closing Dona nobis pacem.


I found it difficult, however, to warm up to Rutter's song cycle Shadows, for baritone and guitar. It has its moments of artful melodic writing and interesting guitar figures, but it often seems as if the two parts are at odds, not comfortable in each other's company. And Jeremy Huw Williams isn't the best advocate: his wide vibrato often obscures pitch, and his phrasing can be inelegant and doesn't always coincide with the musical line. The Wedding Canticle, for the unusual combination of choir, flute, and guitar, is a gentle, lovely piece that has all the marks of Rutter's most beloved style--flowing, inviting melody and a natural rhythmic feel that ideally captures the sense and structure of the text. [4/27/2006]
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

Saint-Saënss' favorite pupil, Gabriel Faure, wrote in his obituary of his teacher of the "serene regions" his music often inhabited, "where violence and paroxysms are unknown, where gravity, wit, charm, and smiling tenderness rule side by side." In this, he was echoing his teacher's own response to the world around him: "Are smiles and graces to be ignored by all"... Happiness is disapproved of in the music of our time... Long live sadness! Long live boredom!" To which Roger Nicholas responds, "Long live keys, tunes, clarity, and playfulness! Long live the music of Camille le Grand!" This release is the second of two volumes of original compositions and arrangements for piano duo and duets by Camille Saint-Saëns. "The two pianists are perfectly in tune with one another at all times. This is thoroughly enjoyable and well recorded with some interesting cover notes. I really look forward to hearing volume 2..." (Jonathan Welsh)

This world premiere recording of Schmidt's Notre Dame is dominated not by Paris or Quasimodo, but by Esmeralda, played by Gwyneth Jones. She is the center of the stories which make up the plot and the Esmeralda motif is the principal theme of the opera.

One of Prokofiev' best loved works today, Romeo and Juliet was initially declared 'impossible to dance to'.