A unique pairing on record of 20th-century clarinet concertos, full of musical laughter and mischief. As principal clarinet of the Orchestra della Svizzera Italiana based in Lugano, Paolo Beltramini may be seen on many films of the orchestra in action such as a beautifully shaded set of the Brahms symphonies filmed by Sony and conducted by Markus Poschner. Beltramini shines in Brahms's slow movements with many solos of doleful and consoling ease. For this album, his debut on Brilliant Classics, he leaves his chair and stands out front for two clarinet concertos which have enjoyed strikingly different fortunes. The Nielsen is a classic of the genre, probably the best-known and most-played example from the last century, abounding in Nielsen's zany humor and rebellious temperament. This four-movement work opens conventionally enough with a cheeky little melody soon taken on a gentle flight of fancy by the soloist, but it's clear, as so often with this composer, that danger and even catastrophe lurk around the corner. Nielsen intended as a portrait of a leading Danish clarinetist of his time, Aage Oxenvad, who was reportedly 'somewhat choleric in temperament, irascible but warm at heart.' The concerto, it was said by those who knew him, captured the very soul of Oxenvad. Outside his native France, the reputation of Jean Francaix has not flourished like that of Nielsen, especially since his death in 1997. Francaix was a fluent musician to a fault, born and brought up within a deeply musical family unlike Nielsen, and blessed with a ready way with melody. In 1968 he wrote this four-movement concerto and dedicated it to the bassoonist and conductor Fernand Oubradous; the first soloist was one of his students, Jacques Lancelot. Francaix admitted (not without pride) that the concerto was 'a kind of aerobatics display for the ear, complete with loops, wing-turns and nose-dives which are fairly terrifying for the soloist' - and indeed both works here stretch the technique of any clarinetist to the limit.

REQUIEM

DER SCHAUSPIELDIREKTOR

KLÁRA WÜRTZ PLAYS ROMANTIC PIA

Winterreise, or Winter's Journey was composed in 1827, just a year before Schubert's premature death. The song cycle contains some of his greatest music - by turn highly emotional, desolate and spare, and with a sense of alienation and loss that makes the listener shudder even after repeated hearings. Schubert was especially proud of these songs, writing to his friend and fellow composer Josef von Spaun: 'I will sing you a cycle of eerie songs. I am keen to see what you will make of them. They have affected me more than any other songs'. The reaction of von Spaun and those gathered to hear the first performance was one of shock. The gloom and desolation of the landscape the traveler sings of, recounting happier days in the summer of love, now love lost, the bare trees, the snow, the dogs chasing him out of the village, the crows in the trees, the organ grinder playing his haunting tune in a swirl of snow left them perplexed. Schubert's sound world here is not far removed from Mahler's Kindertotenlieder some 80 years later. If he had lived beyond his 31 years the mind boggles at what he would have produced. Winterreise stands supreme in the world of song as the greatest collection of songs ever written.

Classical-era oboe concertos, full of flourish and elegantly turned melodies in polished and critically praised recordings from 2000-2. ‘This repertoire certainly deserves your attention,’ wrote the Fanfare reviewer when this album was first issued, ‘for it is an excellent alternative - even a potent supplement - to the Mozart oboe concerto.’ He went on to praise the ‘fine tone’ and ‘impressive technique’ of the soloist, American oboist Nancy Ambrose King. The Janácek Philharmonic play with ‘verve, fine drama, and an excellent sense of unity from beginning to end,’ conducted by Jeremy Swerling who ‘keeps a nice grip on the proceedings, but also allows some flexibility in the way things are done.’ As to the repertoire itself: Ludwig August Lebrun (1752-1790) was an oboist by training, and the son of an oboist at the Mannheim court, Alexander Lebrun. Ludwig evidently wrote these concertos, and another 10 in the same vein, in order to showcase his own abilities on an instrument which was evolving rapidly in terms of technical innovation (projecting further, with more reliable tone) and thus allowing for greater virtuosity on behalf of both composers and performers.
There are four concertos here, and they all adhere to the standard three-movement form and belong to the idiom of the Mannheim school exemplified by exemplified by the likes of Danzi (whose daughter Lebrun married) and Cannabich. There are delicate melodies as well as spectacular virtuosity in music filled with imagination, humour, and depth, not to mention the occasional unexpected turn of phrase. These are not miniature or insignificant pieces. The opening G minor piece is developed with the kind of pathos we associate with the key in the hands of Mozart, and after two F major concertos, the album concludes with a poignant and stern D minor concerto, punctuated by trumpet and drums, and enclosing a noble Grazioso slow movement where the oboe sings like an abandoned operatic heroine.

Polyphonic 14th-century Italian secular music seems to emerge out of nowhere in the history of music. Nevertheless, this tradition – which often goes by the name Ars Nova – fits seamlessly into the history of Italian culture. Our knowledge of it has been pieced together from relatively few sources, which nevertheless reveal three distinct phases. In its first phase, Italian Ars Nova spread out from universities, including those of Padua and Bologna, which had strong links with the dominant and contemporaneous French Ars Nova. In the second phase, the centre of 14th-century Italian polyphony seems to shift markedly to Florence. The final phase, which bridged the late 1300s and early 1400s, shows the influence of intense cultural exchange brought about by an international circulation of musicians and poets caused by the political instability of the papacy’s return from Avignon to Rome and the consequent heightened mobility among the various courts and their entourages.
This phase is reflected in such sources as the renowned Squarcialupi Codex. Compiled in Florence around 1415, it contains over 350 compositions (madrigals, ballate and cacce) and is the source of the majority of the tracks on this album. Francesco Landini (c.1325/35–1397) is represented by five of his 141 ballate and the virelai ‘Adiu, adiu dous dame’. Also from the Codex are one ballata by Andrea da Firenze (c.1350–1415) and two ballate and a caccia by Antonio ‘Zacara’ da Teramo (1355–1416). Three instrumental tracks complete the album, two of them from the ‘London’ Manuscript (British Library) compiled in Florence, probably in Medici circles. In addition to mostly polyphonic music by Landini and other Florentine composers, this tome features several anonymous instrumental works including the lively dances ‘Chominciamento di gioia’ and ‘Tre fontane’. The madrigal ‘Aquila altera’ has a different background entirely: the version presented here is the instrumental arrangement found in the Codex Faenza, a unique volume assembled in the early 15th century containing around 50 Italian and French polyphonic compositions for organ.

Mélanie Bonis was one of the most interesting and prolific composers in France in the 20 years before the First World War. Obsessed with striking a balance between music and family, she came to notoriety late, becoming the first woman on the board of the Society of Music Composers. Nevertheless, The Great War put an end to any further publication, with Bonis devoting herself to sacred music (for organ or voice) and pedagogical works. She left a large amount of unpublished material to posterity, however, which demonstrates a knowledge of compositional and orchestrational technique unfairly neglected in her lifetime.

Bonis’s talents found expression in many genres, and the piano was undoubtedly her favorite instrument. Nevertheless, in her chamber music scores the flute is often the protagonist, and in the flute repertoire, Bonis’s chamber music output bridges the gap between Romanticism and Impressionism.

Classical Music

Includes work(s) for piano by Ludwig van Beethoven. Soloist: Alfred Brendel.

This compilation provides a showcase of the many aspects of the cello and the range of emotions and characters that the instrument is able to convey. Opening the collection is Debussy's technically demanding Sonata in D minor, a staple of the cello repertoire.

As the forerunner of the piano and violin concertos, the concerto grosso is all about give and take. Not only one against many but also one, two or three musicians conversing with each other and with a larger ensemble in a genre that celebrates intimacy, diversity and virtuosity. The form inspired collections of instrumental masterpieces by the greatest names of the Baroque era, and it’s an ideal environment for the relaxed mastery of Seldom Sene. Ever since the ensemble’s debut release in 2014 (Taracea, 94871), it has continued to fulfill imaginative recording projects with the same ‘commitment, technical versatility, unanimity of ensemble and near-immaculate tuning on display’ (Gramophone) in that first album. In their booklet notes, Stephanie Brandt of Seldom Sene and Matthias Havinga explain that the challenge of arranging this repertoire was to create a wide variety of sound colors through the intelligent use of different types of recorders and the stops of harpsichord and organ. The Sixth Brandenburg Concerto of Bach is an obvious candidate for Seldom Sene’s performance, having originally been written for a similarly homogeneous ensemble of lower strings. In Handel’s lovely Organ Concerto Op.4 No.1 Havinga retains the solo part while the recorder quintet plays the role of orchestra and basso continuo. The roles are reversed in Vivaldi’s Concerto Grosso Op.3 No.10, where the harpsichord accompanies the recorders’ flights of fancy. There is also an originally scored rarity: the Sonata for five winds and organ by the Italian-born Viennese court composer Antonio Bertali.

Classical Music

The first thing that struck me about this disc is that while we may usually think of Brilliant Classics -well named in my opinion - only in terms of reissues of discs originally released on other labels this disc was recorded by them only at the beginning of this very year. In fact the sessions took place the day after New Year’s Day. The results reflect a real labour of love from a time of the year when most of us are still recovering from our celebrations!

The next thing to strike you is that this is a showcase for the cello being played here. It is the first time this particular and very special instrument has ever been recorded in its 312 year existence. That makes the disc something special even before you listen to it and this is confirmed when you do. This cello, one of the over 600 instruments made by Antonio Stradivarius that still exist, was once owned by Lise Cristiani, hence its name. Lise Cristiani (1827-1853) was the first female cellist of note. Even at the age of 18 in 1845 her playing had such an impact on Mendelssohn, who saw her in concert, that he wrote the Lied ohne Worte in D Op.109 (track 14) for her. They played it together in Leipzig on 18 October that year; I’d have loved to have been present at that concert! Lise had bought this cello from luthier Bernardel. It must have been expensive since even in Stradivarius’ day his instruments commanded large sums of money, enough to afford him an extremely comfortable existence, including a house costing £40,000. Lise toured all over Europe and sadly died at the tragically early age of 26 from cholera contracted in Tobolsk. This was during an extensive 40 concert 20,000 kilometre tour through Siberia (!) fulfilling her aim of taking music to places where no-one had had the chance of hearing it before. So then to the music.

The disc begins with Mendelssohn’s Variations concertantes in D, Op.17. From the very first notes the richness of the cello sound is evident. It makes for a truly delicious experience; in fact the sound is so silky smooth you can almost taste it. The main theme is a beautifully mellifluous floating melody that the 20 year old Mendelssohn treats to eight variations, each showing the composer at his inventive best. The piano is no mere accompanist to the cello but shares the statements equally.

As the booklet notes explain sonatas were less popular in the 19th century than concertos, despite the impact that Schubert’s 1824 sonata for arpeggione and piano as well as Beethoven’s op.5 cello sonatas had had. Mendelssohn’s sonatas were the state of the art for that time and they led the way for sonatas for cello and piano. That is proven in spades on this disc and the opening of Cello Sonata No.2 in D Op.58 is surely so well known you can’t help smile at the recognition it brings. It was composed by the then 34 year old Mendelssohn, and dedicated to the Russo-Polish cellist Count Michal Wielhorski. The sonata was first performed with his sister Fanny at the piano. I’d have loved to have been present at that concert too as I’m a great admirer of hers. She had such an uphill struggle to be accepted as a composer even by her brother, though that sentiment appears not to have been extended to Ms Cristiani - I wonder why! The well known main theme which opens the sonata is revisited in the second of the four movements; the only one of Mendelssohn’s divided in such a way, and given in variation form. The third movement shows the composer’s love for and fascination with Bach in that it is a really gorgeous piano chorale, the cello being given some beautifully long held notes recitative-like. It is then accompanied by the piano which is made to sound so much like a harp with its ascending arpeggios that it is a perfect musical definition of the word “arpeggiare” which means “to play on a harp”. The final movement is bright and breezy rounding off a wonderfully judged and highly satisfying performance of this marvellous work.

The “Song without Words” written for Lise Cristiani as mentioned above is well named as it is quite literally too beautiful for words. It was composed in the same year as the Second Sonata and both give the lie to the belief held by some that Mendelssohn had lost his gift for a good tune by this stage. It is heartbreakingly ravishing. Written five years before the Second Sonata the First comes next on this disc. Iis there a technical reason for this as there’s only 1½ minutes difference in length. I’d much prefer to have them the other way round to see if I could determine how much he’d developed his skill between those years, though I doubt I could. He composed it for his brother Paul who was an amateur cellist before becoming a banker. It certainly doesn’t sound as if this was his first excursion into writing such a sonata. That said it was written for private performance and Schumann said that with its dignified nature it was “a sonata for the most refined family circle, to be enjoyed at its best, perhaps, after some poems by Goethe or Lord Byron”. This gives a whole different meaning to the concept that “in those days people had to make their own entertainment”. It certainly beats playing cards or draughts as my brothers and I did as children! Though it doesn’t have the same beauty as the second it is a lovely work nevertheless. The final piece on this disc is the short Albumblatt (page from a book) which is another heartfelt work that is beautifully simple and simply beautiful and which ends intriguingly mid-phrase.

Fortunately this fabulous cello is in the keeping of the Fondazione Walter Stauffer in Cremona but if it ever came up for auction and one was able to hear this disc as a supplement to its catalogue description then there would be an even greater number of would-be collectors encouraged to bid for it. Luca Fiorentini was very privileged to be loaned it and the magnificent Teatro Ponchielli was the recording venue. His playing is splendiferous and Stefania Radaelli is a dazzlingly matched partner for him. Together they have made a sumptuous feast of a disc that I can’t imagine could be bettered.

-- Steve Arloff, MusicWeb International

Born into a Belgian family of architects, the pianist, piano pedagogue and composer Emmanuel Durlet’s (1893-1977) works on this new recording date from after 1933 and his esteemed career as a virtuoso pianist. + The programmatic element is constant in his entire oeuvre, preferring to give his pieces evocative titles that often describe their mood or feeling. + His highly distinctive melodic lines and rich and, at times, surprising harmonies make Durlet’s music easily recognizable, and are a common feature of his music. + A trio of top artists performs his music for violin, cello and piano.