This year, once again, we invited a series of young talented pianists to perform their debut at the Ruhr Piano Festival. Two of them, Elena Fischer-Dieskau and Giorgi Gigashvili, are featured on the first album of the current Vol. 41 boxed set, and they both centered their recital programs around the great Romantic composer Robert Schumann. Our first album thus consists of “pure Schumann.” I was particularly thrilled that this year we were able to ensure the world premiere performance of the great York Höller’s Double Concerto for Cello, Piano and Orchestra, a work commissioned by the Ruhr Piano Festival. Pianist Martin Helmchen and cellist Marie-Elisabeth Hecker set out with the Double Concerto on a highly successful maiden voyage at the Stadthalle Mühlheim with the Cologne Chamber Orchestra under the baton of Christoph Poppen.

That major musical event was supplemented two days later with a portrait recital by Hanni Liang, featuring piano works by York Höller from three decades of his oeuvre. Thus, our second album offers you a fascinating overview of the output of this particularly appealing composer. As always, I extend my heartfelt thanks to all participating artists for having agreed to participate in. (Excerpt from the Forword of the Booklet by Franz Xaver Ohnesorg)

“This recording is the result of a project launched a few years ago by the Brühl Castle Concerts series (Brühler Schlosskonzerte) and Capella Augustina within the framework of the Haydn Festival, which they organize. We commission works that are related in a certain manner with the oeuvre of Joseph Haydn and are explicitly conceived for an orchestra playing on period instruments. In 2018, we commissioned a piece from Spanish composer José Maria Sánchez-Verdú, one of whose works I had the privilege of premiering a while back: a mesmerizing, fantastically well-orchestrated work.

Born in Andalusia, Sánchez-Verdú chose to enact a new musical encounter with Haydn’s work Die sieben letzten Worte unseres Erlösers am Kreuze (“The Seven Last Words of Our Savior on the Cross”). Indeed, as is well known, Haydn wrote Die sieben letzten Worte for a passion liturgy held on Good Friday in the Spanish port town of Cádiz.Sánchez-Verdú has written Sheba (the Hebrew word for “seven”) as a series of interludes to be inserted between the movements of Haydn’s original work. Each of Haydn’s seven “sonatas” is followed by a 2-to-3-minute movement that serves as a commentary, an exegesis, a prolongation, or an antithesis to what has been previously heard. Sánchez-Verdú’s seventh and final movement leads without pause into the “earthquake” music that closes Die sieben letzten Worte.

Sánchez-Verdú occasionally takes an isolated chord or timbre from Die sieben letzten Worte as a point of departure; in other cases, he has found inspiration in one of Haydn’s musical impulses or gestures. In the process of composing Sheba, the period instruments served as a challenge and as a stimulus...“ (Excerpt from the booklet notes by Andreas Spering)

For this album, we have decided to record three works written between 1916 and 1926. In that period marked by the First World War and its aftermath, itis remarkable to note these three composers’ widely varying creative approaches and ideas. Composed during a summer stay at the French seaside resort of Capbreton, Frank Martin’s piano trio has accompanied us on our journey as an ensemble ever since we were students. Its unique melodic approach combined with complex rhythms based on Irish and Celtic folk music always remain a wonderful challenge and never cease to rekindle our enjoyment in making music together! Two of us – Gergana and Pavlin – have been familiar with the music of Pancho Vladigerov ever since early childhood. His sole piano trio, a monumental work in A Minor, captivates us with its original melodies and harmonies. Although Vladigerov finished writing it during his studies in Berlin, we also find that it has unmistakable traces of Bulgarian folklore. With joy and enthusiasm, we have incorporated it into our repertoire; now, with this recording, we are thrilled to make it known to a wider audience of interested music lovers.

Joaquin Turina’s frequently performed Second Piano Trio is a work we discovered somewhat by chance in 2011. After only one rehearsal we were already fascinated with this colorful, highly emotional composition that presents Spanish harmonies and rhythms in a thoroughly authentic way, as in the dancelike Scherzo in typical 5/8 meter. We always look forward to playing this work, renewing our acquaintance with it as with an old beloved friend, and having the opportunity to share it with the audience!

The years 1900-1914 were perhaps the most thrilling period in European music history: the cradle of what we now call musical Modernism. This was the time when the great “avant-garde schools” took shape: in Paris, Berlin, Saint Petersburg, and particularly in Vienna. Music branched out into a multitude of aesthetics, styles, and genres, as we can see in in the variety of terms that attempt to describe art in that period: Impressionism, Expressionism, Art Nouveau, Neo-Classicism, Foklorism, Late Romanticism, Symbolism, and others. Our program selection for this album focuses on two works written in Vienna in 1913 – the “summer of the century”, as author Florian Illies calls a pivotal year that put an end to the long 19th century and introduced the somber 20th century. The two works are Alban Berg’s Four Pieces for Clarinet and Piano op. 5 and Egon Kornauth’s Sonata for Clarinet and Piano. 1913 was the year of several “scandalous” premieres: Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder, Berg’s Altenberglieder, Stravinsky’s Rite of Spring, and others that were less scandalous: Debussy’s Images pour Orchestre, Max Reger’s Isle of the Dead, Sibelius’s Luonnotar, de Falla’s La vida breve, and Richard Strauss‘s Festliches Präludium.

“The idea of finding relationships between the music of Franz Schubert and Leoš Janácek emerged in my head for the first time in a kind of dreamworld between sleep and waking. I had laid down to take a rest, and my thoughts started to revolve around these two composers. Thus, the point of departure for this album was not something intellectual: it was more like a hunch. I then obviously needed to inspect my idea by daylight to see if it made musical sense – also in terms of interpretation and dramaturgy.”....“Each one of them is a composer who discovers and creates his own world of sound step by step, by groping or wandering. Schubert embarks on his journey with a certain degree of open-mindedness: I get the impression that he is not so certain about where his destination lies or which path he will take to reach it. This feeling of departure, of improvisation, of setting one foot after the other, is something I also sense quite intensely in Janácek. In these two composers, there is a special relationship between the outer world and inner world: their music is clearly connected with nature, but nature is only a mirror of their inner emotions. I find it exciting to juxtapose these two artists – these two human beings, I would say – and see what happens if we let them share a portion of their journey in each other’s company.” (Excerpt from an interview with Michael Kube)

“Mozart is the purest of all musicians; he is music itself,” affirmed Claude Debussy. And where, if not in Mozart’s works for keyboard, could we find a more fitting example of utter clarity and purity in music? His keyboard output was vast, particularly in view of his short lifespan. The purity referred to by Debussy runs like a red thread through the selection of works by Mozart featured on this album. Tender, exquisite melodies are what makes each one of these pieces so special. On the other hand, stunning virtuosity and any sort of grand gestures are kept in check.

In its recording cycle, the Feininger Trio is pairing each of the three piano trios written by Brahms with a work by another Viennese composer: Alexander Zemlinsky, Ernst Krenek, and Erich Wolfgang Korngold, respectively. Brahms’s three piano trios are among the genre’s crowning achievements, and the members of the Feininger Trio were interested in exploring how the piano trio genre developed in the master’s wake. This is volume 2 and couples Brahms' Piano Trio no. 2 with Korngold's enfant prodige Trio op. 1.

The Weimar-born pianist Daniel Heide is one of the most sought-after song accompanists and chamber musicians of his generation. He studied at the Franz Liszt University in Weimar with Prof. Ludwig Bätzel and received groundbreaking suggestions from Christa Ludwig and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau. As a result of his pandemic coping, he discovered his love (back from his studies) for solo repertoire and especially Beethoven. He released his Vol I in 2021. This year the Vol. II comes with the three sonatas with “names”: Pastorale, Moonlight and Marcia funebre.

The artists write: “Christmas in 2020 was very still, with corona lockdown and a ban on singing. After that sobering experience, we had the idea to arrange traditional Christmas carols for two cellos. We are always surprised to discover that the earliest ones move our emotions because of their purity, their sheer energy, and their touches of elevated spirituality. Sounding like the human voice, the cello’s sonority creates a space for our individual emotions. It lets us encounter these time-honored songs that are sung in the family or at church, often under difficult circumstances when humanity is under threat.

"Vincent Themba’s congenial, well-suited, inspiring accompaniments on guitar, djembe, and double bass support and enrich our arrangements. While we were preparing this album, we realized that we were actually prolonging the legacy and work of our two respective fathers, Joseph Alfred Schlichtig and Hans Heinemann. When we were young, it was they who made it possible for us all to play Christmas music at church and in our families at home. We remember them with utter gratitude.”

Walter Braunfels wrote his first two string quartets in 1944; they were followed after the war by the String Quintet (1946/47), the Third String Quartet (1946/47), and the new Final Movement composed for the latter (1953). All these works meet the highest standards in terms of transparent voice leading, closely knit polyphony, and boldly expanded tonal harmony. In 1933 he was dismissed from all posts, regardless of his merits, because he was half Jewish. Braunfels was restored to his post of director at Cologne Conservatory in 1945. . Braunfels was swimming against the tide: profoundly rooted in the Classical-Romantic tradition, his style was deemed inconvenient in the face of prevalent postmodern tendencies in the first years after the war.

Paul Ben-Haim (1897 – 1984) is the most important composer in the young history of Israeli classical music. Originally born in Germany, raised and studied in Germany, he had to leave Germany in 1933, eventually settling in Israel and participated in building the basis for new institutions of musical education and musical life. All the works on this album are from the period ranging from 1945 to 1956. Ben-Haim soon found a personal style that would mark an entire generation of younger musicians.

In the wake of World War I and the October Revolution, countless artists emigrated from Eastern Europe to Paris. Alexander Tcherepnin was soon welcomed and adopted by groups of artists such as the École de Paris, a loose gathering of emigrants from several countries that included Bohuslav Martinů and Romanian composer Marcel Mihalovici. Diyang Mei has held the position of principal viola of the Munich Philharmonic Orchestra since the fall of 2019. In October 2022 he will start the position of principal viola with the Berliner Philharmoniker.

Georgy Sviridov’s most impressive musical works featured the human voice: romances, cantatas, oratorios, and hymns. His instrumental chamber music is less well-known, but makes up a valuable and essential portion of his musical legacy. If we divide music into three types according to Boethius, we can affirm that musica humana is well and alive in Sviridov’s musica instrumentalis. The result is actually a new synthesis, equivalent to what we conventionally call musca mundane, “universal music.” With that term we certainly do not mean World Music- which has resulted from cultural globalization- since Sviridov, quite to the contrary, was a down to earth authentic Russian composer. Sviridov wrote most of his piano pieces and instrumental music at a time wen he was bringing his unmistakeable individual style and unique artistic approach to full fruition. Today, that style is admired as a harmonious blend between Russian folk music traditions, universal music, and certain progressive 20th century ideas.

R. STRAUSS Serenade for Winds. Symphonie for Winds. DVO?ÁK Serenade for Winds • Sabine Meyer Wind Ens • CAVI-MUSIC 553014 (70:14)


In the relatively insular world of classical music for wind ensemble, Mozart’s Serenade No. 10, “Gran Partita” is the towering colossus that profoundly influenced nearly all of the similar works that followed, though it must be stated that the literature for combinations of wind instruments is certainly limited. This is not a phenomenon on the level of the effect of Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde on virtually every subsequent composer who was forced to deal with it in one way or another. The three pieces on this CD are important pillars of the wind-ensemble literature of the 19th and early 20th centuries. The music of Strauss and Dvo?ák reflects the influence of Mozart, but in their own highly personal and individual ways. The Strauss pieces essentially apply bookends to his career. The Serenade, op. 7, written at the age of 16, displays the expected rich, romantic, harmonic textures and a flowing melodic line, but there are also hints of Mozart’s “Gran Partita.” Strauss was apparently not completely satisfied with the scoring of his youthful Serenade for four horns and nine other wind instruments. Following the completion of his last opera Capriccio , he returned to the wind ensemble near the end of his life and produced the unconventionally large-scaled Symphonie for Wind Instruments (also known as “Cheerful Workshops”). It is elaborately scored for 12 winds, in addition to the same four horns utilized in his youthful Serenade . The Symphonie explores many of the brilliant and characteristic wind effects that appeared in many of his major orchestral works and operas throughout his career.


Dvo?ák’s well-known Serenade is filled with references to various Bohemian dances, but the influence of Mozart is also there. This is especially apparent in the Andante, where he ingeniously metamorphoses the melodic contours and bass line of the Adagio from the “Gran Partita” into something that is all his own, as an apparent homage to Mozart. The Sabine Meyer Wind Ensemble plays the music nearly flawlessly in an affectionate but low-key sort of way. The effect is augmented by sound that is quite different from the Eastman Wind Ensemble’s demonstration recording that includes Mozart’s “Gran Partita” and Strauss’s early Serenade . As expected, Mercury gives us analytical clarity with an up front aural perspective that clearly emphasizes the subtle timbral nuances and colorations of the different wind combinations. This approach also presents a lot of clicking and clacking that will be annoying to some listeners.


This Cavi-Music CD is recorded with a more distant mid-hall perspective in what sounds like a larger hall with a darker tonal color. The instruments sound more congealed and at times slightly muffled, but there is little or no audible clicking. I prefer the Mercury approach because of its tonal and timbral accuracy, immediacy, and presence, but that is also a matter of taste. The response of many listeners to what is undoubtedly great wind music, played excellently, will be about sonority. The sound of a wind ensemble is definitely not everyone’s cup of tea. If you like it, you will undoubtedly enjoy this well-chosen and well-performed concert.


FANFARE: Arthur Lintgen

Shattering, unforgettable Shostakovich.

An early performer likened the effect of Shostakovich’s opera The Nose to ‘an anarchist’s grenade’, a description that could just as easily be applied to the Fourth Symphony, written eight years later. The latter’s a hugely talented piece and the seedbed for much that was to take hold and germinate in the composer’s later works. But it’s more than that; in the right hands it’s Shostakovich’s most uncompromising and subversive symphony. Remember, the finale of the Fourth was completed in the immediate aftermath of Stalin’s infamous Pravda article, with all the personal and artistic turmoil that brought with it.
 
Among the most penetrating versions of this symphony on CD are Kiril Kondrashin’s on Melodiya, Gennadi Rozhdestvensky’s Czech radio broadcast from 1985, Neeme Järvi’s for Chandos and, most recently, Mark Wigglesworth’s for BIS. There’s some dispute about the exact provenance of the Rozhdestvensky, but absolutely no doubt about his excoriating performance. Hard to beat, I thought, until Wigglesworth burst on the scene. In many ways this was the Fourth I’d been waiting for, combining as it does the visceral elements of Rozhdestvensky and Kondrashin with an implacable strength and clarity of vision that’s just astounding. Indeed, it was one of my picks for 2010, and a reading I was sure could not be improved upon.
 
Enter Daniel Raiskin, the up-and-coming maestro from St. Petersburg and, since 2005, the chief conductor of the Staatsorchester Rheinische Philharmonie. Lest one is tempted to write off these provincial bands, remember Wigglesworth’s Dutch radio orchestra play Shostakovich as if to the manner born. Factor in a top-notch hybrid recording from BIS and you’ll understand why these newcomers elicited polite interest rather than outright enthusiasm when the disc was offered for review.
 
Well, seconds into the Allegretto and any such doubts are thrust aside by the most lacerating introduction to this symphony I’ve ever encountered. The shrieking strings, chatter of woodwinds and bone-crushing contributions from the percussionists simply beggars belief. It’s not just about heft, for the alarums and excursions that ensue are every bit as gripping, Raiskin extorting exceptional, razor-sharp attack from his players. Wigglesworth is broader and there’s much more air around the notes, but the Russian’s reading – and Avi’s close recording – are alive with detail and arcing with unrelieved electricity.
 
Shostakovich’s strange ditties and diversions are all uncovered with forensic skill, the orchestra responding to this wild music with remarkable assurance. Raiskin never allows the pace to flag and the climaxes – judiciously scaled – are staggering in both breadth and intensity. As for those Mahlerian crescendi, they’ve seldom sounded so menacing, the timps so brutal. One really is in the front row of the stalls here, and there’s no escape from the withering fire. Even Shostakovich’s more spectral writing is as revealing as an x-ray image, the yearning strings most beautifully caught. But it’s Raiskin’s strong, steady pulse that holds all these disparate elements together, the music utterly compelling throughout.
 
And how winningly he phrases the opening of the Moderato. That said, Raiskin brings something of Bartók’s nervous energy – and colour - to the score. There’s a pleasing sense of proportion as well, all those sardonic asides voiced with as much care and attention as the symphony’s more spectacular outbursts. No apologies need be made for the fact that this is a live recording, made over two nights and in different venues; detail is abundant, perspectives are consistent, and the audiences are very quiet indeed.
 
The Largo – Allegro has a pronounced Mahlerian cast, the opening cortege played with splendid character and weight. It’s those gaunt little tunes that bubble up and then subside that give this movement its abiding strangeness, that first peroration as anguished as I’ve ever heard it. This really is a Lubyanka-like edifice of dread and despair, as dark as anything Shostakovich ever wrote, and Raiskin wrings the most individual sonorities from his players. Not only that, he builds tension like few others, that crazed march underpinned by the truly explosive thud of timps and crowned with fevered brass.
 
In a work littered with frigid interludes this movement has more than its fair share of chill-inducing moments, with Shostakovich passing uneasily between cold terror and grim comedy. As for that lampooning brass, it’s superbly managed, the Mahlerian scurry beneath it deftly done. And all the while Raiskin maintains a mesmeric tension, so that when that cataclysm finally arrives it’s been well prepared. Goodness, this is a scream like no other in the symphonic repertoire, the Avi engineers drawing out every last, incandescent detail and decibel. But it’s the haunted postlude that’s really terrifying; this is truly a blasted heath, a no-man’s land of unimaginable bleakness. As compelling as Wigglesworth is at this point, Raiskin distils something quite extraordinary from the notes. The ghostly shimmer of the celesta is indescribably moving.
 
Having emptied the cupboard of superlatives, all I can say is that Daniel Raiskin is a man to watch. Like that anarchist’s ordnance, he’s blown away every shred of smugness and complacency I felt before hearing this phenomenal performance.
 
Shattering, unforgettable Shostakovich.
 
-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International