Classical Music

So far and yet so near. The harmonies and the virtuosity: that is what the two composers Sergei Rachmaninoff and Carlos Guastavino have in common. "Even though at first glance the geographical distance between them was immense, their approach to the piano was strikingly similar," remarks Martin Klett. In both composers he loves the Romantic element- paired with attractive simplicity in one case, with ambitious piano artistry in the other. "I don't think one could even say if this music is by Guastavino or Rachmaninoff! It's somewhere in between, and thus provides a smooth, perfect transition- the ideal piece to play before the Rachmaninoff sonata." (Klett) Martin Klett has made a name for himself as a solo pianist and chamber musician. Ever since winning the International Johannes Brahms Competition and the German National Music Competition, he has become a welcome guest at prestigious music festivals.

Classical Music

Classical Music

Rachel Roberts reveals why many consider her one of the greatest violists of this time. Her match with Lars Vogt on piano is unmatched. Both artists consider the repertoire on this album to be the most important for viola and piano.

Classical Music

"The term 'fantasia', in music, mainly refers to a free type of structure. Throughout history, the genre has allosed composers to jot down their musical ideas directly, like an improvisation, just as they first spring to mind. The fantasia became a popular instrumental genre in the 1800's, when it started to feature the dreamy, 'phantastic' element even more prominently; the piano and its universe of polyphony likewise played an essential role. The fantasia was thus an ideal genre for Scumann, whose music I view as the quintessence of German High Romanticism. Schumann's music is full of expression and driven by passion; at the same time it is disarmingly honest and private. Its textural sonority is full of variety, yet it always remains decent and straightforward, never attempting to posture with easy, flashy, superficial effects or by adding purely virtuosic embellishments. In my imagination, this music often evokes placid romantic scenes imbued with good-naturedness and a certain vulnerability: people of the simple classes, courtly settings, flowery childish joys, or the secretly shared yearnings of two lovers. It is as if such figures or allegories were placed in the midst of mysterious landscapes, lovingly painted with an eye for detail, and impressively set to music. Schumann often used teh word "Fantasy" in the titles of his works - frequently as part of a compound noun, Fantasiestüc, or also sporadically Fantasietanz (dance). The music in such pieces is often of choice quality and profoundly expressive... (Eckardstein)

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Charles-Valentin Alkan is fairly unknown. A contemporary of Richard Wagner, Franz Liszt and Fr�d�ric Chopin in the 19th century but mostly living in Paris and enjoying the life in the salons. From Nosrati's notes: Alkan's music is at times so unconventional and sarcastic that audiences may have experienced more irritation than enthusiasm. His style feeds on abrupt contrast; it features a great deal of counterpoint and is thus more akin to the so-called "German School" than to French salon music. Anyone who dares to explore Alkan's music more closely will be richly rewarded: these are works capable of displaying the utter extremes of the human condition: alongside one another: seriousness and humor, intellect and emotion, tradition and modernity.

If you take stock of all the lieder composed by Schumann, Brahms, Wolf, Mahler, Strauss, Debussy, and of course, Schubert, you will note that the majority are slow, meditative, contemplative. Virtuosity is not an essential part of the equation in the lied genre, at least not in the sense of rapid vocal coloraturas or thundering piano passages. The song automatically comes with a text included, and this opens up another world entirely. This has musical implications as well. In Schubert’s case, a great poem whose verses convey a striking message is provided with a magnificently sensual musical frame that allows the text to exude a powerful influence on the listener. “Wandering,” or, better yet, “strolling” through nature is part of the very essence of the Romantic poet, with all his loneliness and longing. He contemplates nature, he listens to the silence, he describes inner emotional states. “Wandering” could also imply a sort of movement, but in Schubert’s lieder we are actually dealing with an individual subject who is moving, “wandering” through the time allotted to him on this earth. We are confronted with a series of snapshots, doubts, and fears. Whenever Schubert depicts the inner emotional state of the soul, he is always honest and truthful. This is Andre Schuen’s third album. His first two have been rave-reviewed all over the globe. Schuen counts as one of the young stars in the world of vocalists, and not only participates in the highest level of festivals, but also in the world’s biggest opera houses.

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

SCHUMANN Gesäng der Frühe. 7 Fughetten. Kreisleriana. Geistervariationen • Dina Ugorskaja (pn) • AVI MUSIC 8553217 (77:25)


The piercing and almost hypnotic eyes of pianist Dina Ugorskaja on the back cover of the booklet betray a perception and intelligence that serves her very well in this recording of three of Schumann’s late, tough pieces, and yet she has the flash and poetic power to give us an equally penetrating reading of Kreisleriana.


This last work, based on Hoffmann’s novel Views on Life by Murr, the Cat, along with a Fragmentary Biography of Kapellmeister Johannes Kreisler, Jotted Down on Wastepaper Found by Chance (got to love those long titles), has the hero actually going mad at the end. Schumann found himself enthralled by the possibilities inherent in the rational/irrational aspects of the story, and the music certainly reflects this maddening dichotomy, replete with a variety of forms and a connecting inconsistency that somehow, in the end, makes sense after all. I have been big on Horowitz and (recently) Clara Würtz in this music, but Ugorskaja makes quite a play for my affections here, and definitely moves easily into a very competitive field.


The other works on this disc are very late and from Schumann’s last years when he was trying to forge a different sort of music and even tonality. The Songs from Early Morning is an attempt to forge something out of the aesthetics of Hölderlin’s writings, which had taken a turn towards looking back at earlier models. Schumann did the same, perhaps even an early shot at neoclassicism for the time, using sparse harmonies and very vague tonal references. It’s haunting and beautiful all at once, and definitely a look into the future, something that so intimidated Clara that she never once performed it in public.


The composer fought the idea of fugues for many years, ultimately giving in to them in 1849. But his Seven Piano Pieces in Fughetta Form from just a few days before his Rhenish suicide attempt explores the structure to a remarkable degree, looking back to Bach with a quote from the “Royal” theme in the Musical Offering and presenting us with really unique harmonic constructs and odd voice-leading. It is one of the great mysteries of music to wonder about the path he might have taken had he made it into his 50s.


We don’t really know what caused Schumann’s final breakdown and illness. Could it have been a slow awareness of the relationship that Brahms had forged with his wife, platonic or otherwise? Or maybe the idea of failure in Düsseldorf haunted him—hard to say. But the chaos, real or imaginary, in his head was killing him quickly. At one point in February of 1854 he suddenly got out of bed and wrote down a theme that he said had been dictated by angels to him. The theme of these five variations (which he wrote down in the following days) had been used before in his Violin Concerto. But after he had finished with these “ghosts” he tossed his wedding ring into the Rhine and followed soon after. Clara nixed both publication and performance of this piece, and the first edition is from 1939, though Brahms made a set of four-hand variations (op. 23) on the theme.


Ugorskaja makes a great case for these late works as being every bit as important as Schumann’s earlier piano music. She brings a heightened sensitivity to all her playing coupled with an extraordinary facile ability to convey the complexities of this music in an easily assimilated way. Great piano sound, too, and I can recommend this as one of the top choices for these late works, nicely gathered in one place, with the additional spice of a fully competitive Kreisleriana as well.


FANFARE: Steven E. Ritter

Baritone Andre Schuen and pianist Daniel Heide were brought together through serendipity. They both took part in the 2008 Salzburg Mozarteum Summer Academy and performed during the prizewinners’ recital When Daniel heard Andre’s voice for the first time, he immediately knew he wanted to collaborate with the spectacular musician. This is the duo’s debut release, and the purpose is to present the entire scope of their repertoire. Andre Schuen has been exploring different facets of his voice. “The three personalities we encounter on this CD represent three different generations. In Robert Schumann we meet the enraptured youthful lover; in Frank Martin we meet a man caught in the midst of life but pushed to the brink of despair by fear of death. And Hugo Wolf draws our gaze to Mignon’s father, the old harpist, full of melancholy, approaching the end of his life.”

Classical Music

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