Cedille
233 products
-
The Korngold Collection
$29.99CDCedille
Nov 14, 2025CDR 240 -
Home
$19.99CDCedille
Sep 12, 2025CDR 239 -
French Impressions
$19.99CDCedille
Sep 05, 2025CDR 238 -
Dance of the Night Sky
$19.99CDCedille
May 09, 2025CDR 237 -
Standard Stoppages
$19.99CDCedille
Apr 11, 2025CDR 236 -
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
The Korngold Collection
Home
French Impressions
Dance of the Night Sky
Standard Stoppages
River of Fire
Okpebholo: Songs in Flight
Corelli: Violin Sonatas, Op. 5 / Rachel Barton Pine
Abels & Thomas: Children's Stories
Silenced - Unsung Voices of the 20th Century
Silenced - Unsung Voices of the 20th Century, featuring tenor Ian Koziara and pianist Bradley Moore, shines a light on art songs by composers Franz Schreker, Vitezslava Kapralova, Viktor Ullmann, and Alexander von Zemlinsky, whose musical achievements were overshadowed by the oppression of the Third Reich. This recording marks the first time many of these art songs, traditionally performed by sopranos, are being recorded in the tenor voice.
Described as "an exciting Wagner tenor" (New York Times) and "a wonderful artist" (Washington Post), Chicago native Ian Koziara has performed at leading venues worldwide, including the Metropolitan Opera, Carnegie Hall, Glimmerglass, Teatro La Fenice, and Opera National du Capitole, among others. He sings regularly at Oper Frankfurt, where he recently starred in Franz Schreker's Der ferne Klang.
Bradley Moore has served as associate Music Director at the Houston Grand Opera and assistant conductor at the Metropolitan Opera and Salzburg Festival. He has performed as a piano soloist with orchestras including the National Symphony Orchestra and Buffalo Philharmonic, and has collaborated in recital with artists such as Renée Fleming and Susan Graham.
This recording explores the operatic and chromatically rich German harmonies of early 20th-century composers Franz Schreker (1878-1934) and Alexander von Zemlinsky (1871-1942), alongside the esoteric textures of Viktor Ullmann (1898-1944), who wrote his Holderlin-Lieder and Drei Lieder, Op. 37 during his internment at the Terezin concentration camp. Vitezslava Kapralova (1915-1940), the least known and shortest-lived composer on the program, was a trailblazer as the first Czech woman to become a professional conductor and the first woman ever to conduct the Czech Philharmonic. Kapralova possessed extraordinary talent and technical virtuosity, and her passion for song and poetry are reflected on this program in sets such as Dve pisne, Op. 4 and Jablko s klina, Op. 10. Tragically, Kapralova's career was cut short by her untimely death at age 25.
Brahms & Joachim: Violin Concertos / Rachel Barton Pine
REVIEW:
This is not only one of the best sounding violin and orchestra recordings ever made, but the entire concept is so smart, so well executed, and so thoughtfully planned that even if it were not so musically stupendous it still would be worthy of your attention. As it is, this is one of those rare productions in which absolutely everything goes right. Consider, for example, the problems attendant upon releasing yet another recording of the Brahms Concerto. You have a small independent label with excellent musical credentials but limited resources, a soloist of great musical gifts (Rachel Barton's previous discs have all been top-notch) but who isn't a "big name", and a work that virtually every other violinist with access to a microphone has recorded, sometimes more than once. Given the fact that on musical evidence Barton's Brahms certainly deserves to be heard, what's a label to do?
First, secure the services of a world-class orchestra under a fine conductor (Carlos Kalmar, music director of the Oregon Symphony and Chicago's Grant Park Festival, fills that bill nicely). Amazing, isn't it, that when major labels are screaming about how they can't afford to record major American orchestras Cedille has found the resources to do just that? Second, instead of simply offering the Brahms, you find an interesting coupling. And let's not kid ourselves: Joseph Joachim's Hungarian Concerto isn't just an "interesting coupling"; it is the Holy Grail of Romantic violin concertos, a work so lengthy (47-plus minutes, about the same as the Elgar concerto), so difficult, yet so deliberately symphonic and, in a sense, anti-virtuoso in conception that it has never once received even a merely adequate recording. Take that coupling, play it to a fare-thee-well (demonstrating once and for all that the work is indeed a brilliant and neglected masterpiece), and then toss in an equally fine Brahms Concerto, all offered at a two-for-one price. If that isn't a recipe for success, then nothing is.
Indeed, Joachim's youthful Hungarian Concerto is so beautiful and full of life, its Gypsy-tinged melodies so entrancing, that only its inordinate difficulty accounts for its rarity. In concert it would be a show-stopper, and Rachel Barton has its full measure. The heavily symphonic first movement requires the soloist to engage in genuine chamber-music dialog with the orchestra, especially the principal winds. Joachim's orchestration must stand with the finest ever achieved in a concerto; there are no dead spots and no balance problems as long as the soloist has the taste and musicianship to know when to cede the spotlight and when to take command.
Take the remarkable cadenza as a typical example: there's no barnstorming sawing and scraping, but instead a densely flowing river of lyricism joined now and then by solo flute and oboe. It's one of the most purely gorgeous passages ever written for the violin, and Barton plays it for all it's worth (and finishes up with some devastating descending chromatic octaves that actually sound like musical notes and not a rusty hinge).
The slow movement features another very attractive principal theme, and when it returns at the movement's conclusion in the cellos, decorated by garlands of ornamentation from the soloist, the result sounds like some lost work of Dvorák at his most melodically characterful. Barton's electrifying attack on the finale, a dazzling "Rondo from hell" with a whiplash perpetual motion principal subject, sets the seal on this remarkable performance. Her double-stops (and there are tons of them: check out from 2:30 into the movement) are as sweetly tuned and richly voiced as her legato is smooth and her sense of rhythm acute. Even after this long work I wouldn't be surprised if you went right back and played the finale over again. It's that much fun.
The word that most succinctly sums up Barton's Brahms is "aristocratic". Among recent recordings, she plays Milstein to Hilary Hahn's Heifetz. The timings are identical to Perlman and Giulini's celebrated performance with this same orchestra, but for my money Barton achieves an even finer balance between poise and virtuosity (and shows far greater dynamic sensitivity, especially in the finale). With opening-movement tempos relaxed but never slack, Barton's warm, round sound allows her to really dig into the music where necessary (witness that famous fanfare-like motive, or Joachim's first-movement cadenza)--but she never emits a raw or unlovely note. The second movement, with a gorgeous oboe solo at the start, is just heavenly, and the finale reveals plenty of high-spirited energy but also numerous delightfully phrased touches in its various episodes. At the very end Barton and conductor Kalmar produce a wind-down coda simply perfect in its timing and wit. She even includes her own eminently musical and enjoyable cadenza on a separate track. Simply jump ahead when the orchestra stops (the balance of the coda is also included, so you don't have to skip backward to get the ending).
As noted above, the sonics are sensational. The opening of the Brahms, with dark-hued strings answered by the winds like a gleam of sun breaking through the clouds, will take your breath away. Although Barton deserves much of the credit for emitting such attractive sounds, it certainly helps that Cedille's engineers capture her shining tone with nary a trace of shrillness, even in the highest positions. Barton herself writes an excellent set of notes (surely indebted to Tovey in discussing the Joachim, but none the worse for that), and to put the icing on the cake she plays a 1742 Guarneri "del Gesu" violin, the "ex-Soldat", selected by Brahms himself for his friend and colleague, violin virtuoso Marie Soldat. Recordings don't get any better than this. Rachel Barton, conductor Carlos Kalmar, and Cedille deserve your enthusiastic support for putting this project together and executing it with such perfectionist zeal and consummate musicianship. There's also a lesson here that the whole industry should take to heart: Where there's a will, there's a way, and it's OK to make fewer recordings, especially if you make great ones. Astounding!
--David Hurwitz
Ferko - Sowerby: Organ Music / David Schrader
On a new double-album of solo organ works by Leo Sowerby (1895–1968) and another prominent Chicago composer, Frank Ferko (b. 1950), versatile keyboard virtuoso David Schrader plays four of Sowerby’s “greatest hits” for organ, including the monumental Symphony in G major, plus the rarely heard “March” from Suite for Organ, on the 68-rank Wicks Opus 2918 at St. Ita’s Catholic Church, Chicago. The world-premiere recording of Sowerby’s late Two Sketches is available on the album’s digital editions. Schrader plays a diverse program of eight Ferko compositions, all world-premiere recordings, including several based on music by 12th-century composer and Christian mystic Hildegard von Bingen. Schrader performs on three noteworthy manual-action organs at the House of Hope Presbyterian Church, St. Paul, Minnesota, including the instrument for which one of the works was specially written.
Kernis, A.J.: Symphony in Waves / Newly Drawn Sky / Too Hot
Saariaho X Koh: Chamber Music with Violin
Jennifer Koh, a “brilliant violinist” (The New Yorker) who performs with “conviction, ferocity, and an irresistible sense of play” (Washington Post), showcases works by Kaija Saariaho, the visionary and influential Finnish composer with whom Koh has closely collaborated and feels a deep personal bond. The album offers the world-premiere recording of Saariaho’s Light and Matter for violin, cello, and piano, inspired by sunlit colors and shadows in a city park outside the composer’s window. Also receiving its first recording is the violin and cello version of Aure, meaning a gentle breeze, created for and dedicated to Koh and cellist Anssi Karttunen, another champion of Saariaho’s music. The album’s largest work is the one that first attracted Koh to the composer: the violin concerto Graal Théâtre, written for Gidon Kremer, which Koh has performed many times and performs here in the composer’s chamber-orchestra version. Grove Music Online notes that the work illustrates “Saariaho’s rich and expansive string style, but places greater emphasis on melody than earlier works.”
Tocar, Spanish for “to touch,” explores the playful and tactile aspects of the word through violin and piano. Cloud Trio for violin, viola, and cello was prompted by shape-shifting clouds in the French Alps. Saariaho X Koh is the violinist’s twelfth Cedille Records album in a discography that includes the Grammy-nominated String Poetic.
Sowerby: Symphony No 2, Etc / Freeman, Chicago Sinfonietta
Twentieth-century Oboe Concertos - Martinu, Etc / Klein

Oboist Alex Klein, formerly of the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, has an absolutely staggering technique, a sweet, pure tone, and seemingly endless breath control. His performances of these three challenging concertos, two of which were composed for him, are simply the last word in virtuosity as well as a true labor of love. After more than 80 minutes of music (on two discs for the price of one) I experienced no aural fatigue at all, and given the fact that the oboe is not necessarily one of the more alluring solo instruments, that's saying a lot. I must confess, there were times in the Yano concerto when I thought it would be nice if the oboe part had been left out, but that wasn't because of any deficiency in the playing. It's just that 37 minutes is a long time for any wind concerto, even one that gives plenty of opportunity for the orchestra to strut its stuff. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
First up on the program is Martinu's exquisite Concerto for Oboe and Small Orchestra, with its radiant textures (helped by a prominent piano part), lyrically syncopated melodies, and superb sense of form. Its scant 16 minutes radiate so much personality, charm, and freshness that it tends to dwarf the other two more imposing works on the program, fine as they are. Pawel Sydor's concerto Virtuti Militari has a lengthy program that speaks of the solo as a Polish hero representing virtue and democratic values fighting a bunch of political "maggots" symbolized by low strings and brass, while "the crowd" vacillates between them. I find the whole idea to be silly, but what matters is that the music is quite enjoyable and the opposition of the solo to the full ensemble is what concertos are all about anyway. The orchestration also is appealingly over-the-top in a juicy, Hollywood manner, and there's a gorgeous, lyrical tune for the oboe a few minutes into the work that sounds like the most beautiful thing ever written for the instrument (and Klein plays it that way). I could do without the "extended playing techniques", which as usual with wind instruments means making all kinds of nasty screeching sounds--exactly what most beginners on the instrument do their best to avoid. But Sydor's bows to the avant-garde never become annoying and always make sense in context.
Brazilian composer Marco Aurélio Yano died in 1991 at the age of 27 of brain cancer, leaving his Oboe Concerto incomplete regarding orchestration. Klein and colleagues of the composer finished the task very lovingly, and it's a very beautiful (if long) work. The first movement represents for Klein a narrative of the composer's final illness, and again I don't think that the programmatic suggestion helps. It's certainly a bitingly intense 10 minutes of music, with an enigmatic conclusion, and stylistically it lives in a different world from the rest of the work. The two ensuing movements are both based on Brazilian folk music and have extremely engaging tunes, very colorfully scored. The presence of the oboe does not in any way inhibit the exuberant use of a large orchestra, though as suggested at the beginning of this review, I could have done without that last cadenza in the finale. Never mind. I know that I will enjoy listening to this piece again, and that's ultimately what matters.
Paul Freeman and the Czech National Symphony Orchestra offer expert accompaniments and sound completely at home in all three works. I would have expected this of the Martinu, but it would be very difficult to point out any specific instance where these players put a foot wrong in the other pieces either. The engineering really makes the best possible case for the performances. Klein is naturally balanced against the ensemble, with plenty of air around his instrument so that the acoustic enhances the mellow warmth of his tone and never transmits an excessive amount of mechanical noise. Compared to Klein, Heinz Holliger often sounds like he's playing a kazoo. In short, this disc is a model of sensitive artistry, enterprising repertoire selection, and superlative engineering. It just doesn't get any better. [12/15/2004]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com
CIMAROSA / MOLIQUE / MOSCHELES: Wind Concertos
Solo Baroque / Rachel Barton Pine
Includes sonata(s) for violin and basso continuo by Johann Georg Pisendel. Soloist: Rachel Barton Pine.
Includes work(s) by Johann Paul von Westhoff. Soloist: Rachel Barton Pine.
The World Of Lully / Bedi, Chicago Baroque Ensemble
Includes gigue(s) by Jean-Baptiste Lully. Soloist: David Schrader.
Soler: Harpsichord Quintets No 4-6 / David Schrader
Padre Antonio Soler's six quintets for harpsichord and string quartet are post-Baroque masterstrokes, blending Baroque and early Classical styles with a savory seasoning of Spanish folk music.
"In terms of crowd-pleasing qualities, the last three quintets of Soler may even eclipse their predecessors," says record producer James Ginsburg. "Yet they also reward the serious listener."
While formally less diverse than the first three quintets, the latter three are especially lyrical and offer a stimulating variety of moods and timbres which -- at least in the hands of the present performers -- evoke the sound of woodwinds, chimes, harp, and even Spanish guitar.
Oboe Concertos Of The Classical Era / Klein, Freeman
His two oboe concertos were written in Vienna in 1803 and 1805. Both are dramatic works with virtuoso turns and leaps abounding. The first is more Mozartean in nature while the second has distinct overtones of early Beethoven. Both are first-class pieces that deserve to be known.
Johann Nepomuk Hummel is more of a known quantity. He was highly regarded in Vienna as a contemporary of Beethoven, though of somewhat lesser stature. His Introduction, Theme, and Variations is a polished, virtuoso piece of considerable brilliance.
Alex Klein was born in Brazil, trained at Oberlin College, and for the last five years has been principal oboist of the Chicago Symphony. His technique is flawless. He is well supported by Paul Freeman and the Czech National Symphony. Cedille's recorded sound is first-class, as expected from this source."-- John Bauman, Fanfare [11/1999]
Menotti: The Medium / Rapchak, Castle, Bedi, Chicago Opera
"Chicago Opera Theater brings the story fully and frighteningly to life for the first time on compact disc. Joyce Castle sings the title role . . . with chilling malevolence. Bedi brings to the role [of Monica] a pervasive and affecting sweetness." (Newark Star-Ledger)
"Exudes a riveting theatrical atmosphere." (Dallas Morning News)
Oft-performed but mysteriously absent on recordings, Menotti's eerie opera The Medium has materialized in its first recording in more than a quarter century. This two-act "musical drama" is about a fake psychic whose surprise encounter with the unknown leads to murder and mayhem. It is stage a dozen times annually in the US alone. Yet, recordings haven't been available for years, and (until now) it has never appeared on CD.
A "sensational success" for Menotti (Kobbé's Opera Book), the present version of The Medium had its premiere February 18, 1947 at New York's Heckscher Theater. New York Times music critic Olin Downes wrote, "we have here the quality of opera. It is dramatic music, emphatic in action as well as feeling, and in essence song, which is what opera must be. No other American composer has shown the inborn talent that Mr. Menotti, an Italian by descent, unquestionable possesses for the lyric theater." Critic (and composer) Virgil Thomson called it a "first-class musico-theatrical work . . . the most gripping operatic narrative [he] has witnessed in many a year . . .[It] wrings every heart string, and the music is thoroughly touching."
SOWERBY: Tone Poems
Instrument Of The Devil / Rachel Barton, Patrick Sinozich
In earlier reviews, I've noted a slenderness in Rachel Barton's tone (specifically in Handel Sonatas, Cedille CDR90000 032, Fanfare 21:1 and in concertos by black composers, Cedille CDR 90000 035, 21:5). She must have been washing down steaks with raw eggs in the meantime, because her sound in her new release could knock you out of your seat, as at the beginning of Saint-Saëns's Danse macabre or the end of Milstein's Mephisto Waltz (after Liszt). Overcoming one technical challenge after another with intimidating self-confidence, she and pianist Patrick Sinozich create a sinister atmosphere in Saint-Saëns's Danse. Tartini's original version of his "Devil's Trill," no longer such a novelty as when Eduard Melkus recorded it on LP (Archiv 2533 086), still hasn't received the same lengthy roster of sulfurous recordings as has Kreisler's edition. Andrew Manze showed how far a half-cracked imagination could take the sonata (Harmonia Mundi USA, HMU 907213, 21:5), but Barton has achieved a similarly exciting and somewhat more ingratiating effect on her modern instrument (actually not so modern—the "ex-Lobkowicz" Antonius and Hieronymous Amati of 1617, beautifully represented in the booklet)—simply by making the most of the original (and spikier) harmonies at tempos that are, in the fast movements, at least, among the quickest I've heard. And although her ornamentation of the repeated sections hews closer to the traditional line than did Manze's, it's both idiomatic and highly theatrical. Heifetz's adoption of Bazzini's Dance of the Goblins nearly knocked it out of the ring; and it occasions one of the few unfavorable comparisons with other artists: Even if she could match Heifetz's speed in the left-hand pizzicatos, Barton's dancing seems left-footed. But there's no such heavy labor in her daunting gallop though the night in Ernst's Erlkönig transcription. Leila Josefowicz (Philips 446 700-2) made more of the dialog between the riders, but hardly left the listener so breathless. Barton's performance charges with a frenzy similar to Ingolf Turban's (Claves CD 50-9613, 20:6). The violin is no Et? clarinet, and it's as hard to imagine any wholly successful transcription of Berlioz's Witches' Sabbath. Barton and Sinozich's cauldron does occasionally bubble, though, with the performers' enthusiasm as the main ingredient. The inclusion of Stravinsky's Devil's Dance in his own trio version is a stroke of macabre genius, and Sarasate's Faust Fantasy, less familiar than its counterpart by Wieniawski, is exceptionally welcome.
The detailed notes, excellent photography, as well as the larger-than-life presence the engineers have accorded the performers, enhance the appeal of a release that deserves a place in every violinist's library. A frightfully good, thoroughly entertaining fire and brimstone recital, warmly (or, in keeping with the theme, hotly) recommended. Look out, Jack Nicholson!
-- Robert Maxham, Fanfare, Issue 22:3 (Jan/Feb 1999)
The Soviet Experience, Vol. 2 / Pacifica Quartet
Sooner or later, most contributors to this journal are bound to receive letters from disgruntled readers and the occasional colleague complaining about what they perceive to be an unfairly negative review, or even an unfairly positive one. But I can honestly say I don’t think I’ve ever been chided by a colleague as I was by Peter J. Rabinowitz in Fanfare 35:4 for submitting an enthusiastic review that wasn’t enthusiastic enough. In a second-opinion follow-up to my review of Volume 1 of the Pacifica Quartet’s new Shostakovich cycle, Rabinowitz took exception to my “Goldilocks” analogy in which I stated that the Pacifica’s performances struck me as “j-u-s-t right.”
Although I never got to review the Pacifica’s complete Mendelssohn quartets, they showed up on a couple of Want Lists, and in a number of reviews of Mendelssohn quartet recordings by other ensembles, I’ve repeatedly singled out the Pacifica’s version as equaling, if not surpassing, the Emerson’s set. So, as a rejoinder to Rabinowitz, let me just say for the record that I agree with him that the Pacifica’s Shostakovich is not “middle of the road,” and by “j-u-s-t right” I didn’t mean to imply that the ensemble’s performances straddled the fence or clung to the median strip running down the center of the highway. There is no better string quartet on the scene today than the Pacifica. In terms of technical precision and keenness of musical insight, the Pacifica is the true inheritor of the Emerson’s crown and, in warmth of tone and emotional responsiveness, I often find the Pacifica superior to the Emerson.
That said, there is not the slightest doubt in my mind that once the Pacifica has completed its Shostakovich cycle it will be among the top two or three to have, those others being the aforesaid Emerson and what some consider to be the definitive Fitzwilliam. With this release of Volume 2, the Pacifica has now crossed the ocean more than halfway. Eight of the 15 quartets have now been committed to disc—Nos. 5–8 in Volume 1, and now Nos. 1–4 here. And as in the previous volume, the MO is to include another roughly contemporaneous string quartet by another Russian composer. In Volume 1 it was Miaskovsky; here it’s Prokofiev.
Shostakovich’s quartets span a period of 36 years; the first was written in 1938, the last in 1974. The four quartets heard here are the composer’s earliest, though in the overall chronology of his works, you could say that he got a relatively late start in the quartet-writing business. He’d already written his first five symphonies by 1937, before his first quartet was even a twinkle in his ear.
As he is quoted in Shostakovich: A Life Remembered , it was the composer’s intention to write 24 quartets following a cyclic progression of major and minor keys. Unlike Bach, however, who proceeded through the keys by semitone, or Chopin, who in his 24 preludes proceeded via the Circle of Fifths, Shostakovich adopted a unique scheme of his own. He proceeds—at least in the 15 quartets he managed to write—more or less by submediants (by sixths). The first six quartets, all in major, follow the pattern. C, A, F, D, B?, G—A being a sixth above C, F being a sixth above A, and so on. But then something goes askew with the plan. No. 7 should have been in E?, but instead Shostakovich throws a monkeywrench into the works by giving us a quartet in F?-Minor. No. 8 returns to the pattern with C Minor, which would have been the submediant of No. 7 if No. 7 had followed the plan and been in E?. Another deviation comes with No. 10, which is also in the “wrong” key from what it should be, but the pattern resumes once again with No. 11.
In a fascinating analysis of the quartets (quartets.de/index.html), one Ian Strachan explains that “the insertion of F?-Minor and the effective rotation of E? sharp major [ sic ] and C minor were done so that quartet number nine would be written in E?-Major and quartet number 16 in B Major. By doing so Shostakovich would ensure that his initials (DSCH) were used as the keys in quartets whose number are a perfect square (D Major: quartet number four or 2 squared; S, in the German notation or E?-Major in the English: quartet number nine or 3 squared; C Major: quartet number one or 1 squared; and H or B Major in the English notation as quartet number 16, or 4 squared). So it seems that Shostakovich, a tonal composer who delighted in keeping detailed numerical records of football scores, indulged in numerical as well as musical ciphers.”
In a way, I suppose, this tends to reinforce something I’ve said before about Shostakovich’s quartets, not that they’re all alike, but that there’s a prevailing sense of continuity in the musical discourse that makes them seem like one cogent and coherent conversation from beginning to end, which, of course, could be advanced as an argument for listening to them in order. Still, the above bit of clever mathematical manipulation presumes the existence of a 16th which was never written, as well as the continuation of the pattern all the way through to a nonexistent final 24th quartet. You’ve got to love stuff like this; it can be so earnest in its pursuit of the Delphic. Or, as the oracle once said, “Pi are square, cake are round.”
Nonetheless, I would urge you to visit the website because it goes way beyond the tortured math I’ve touched on here. It also provides a detailed history, description, and analysis of every single quartet.
The First Quartet, for the most part, is a bouncy, one might almost say joyful, thing. The coruscating harmonies, rhythmic ostinatos, and pervasive gloom we often associate with Shostakovich’s music are saved for the later quartets.
The austerity and menace begin to creep in as early as the Second Quartet. The Soviet victory over Hitler’s army was near in the early fall of 1944 when Shostakovich composed the work, practically in the same breath as his famous E-Minor Piano Trio, but he wasn’t in a celebratory mood. There’s a Russianness or East European Jewishness to the melodic and harmonic material, which often sounds like it’s derived from folk songs and klezmer dances soured and bent out of shape by Shostakovich’s parodying techniques.
Superficially, the Third Quartet (1946) bears some resemblance to the First Quartet in its opening swagger and jaunty Haydnesque character, but it’s a cheerfulness colored by disappointment and disillusion. The piece was written on the eve that ushered in the dark days of the Zhdanov denouncement and the targeting of Soviet artists and intellectuals. Shostakovich’s state of mind is reflected in the fact that the Third Quartet is the only work he wrote during this year.
The Fourth Quartet (1949) ran into resistance for other reasons and of a different sort. Characterized as another of his “Jewish” works—though not Jewish, Shostakovich was drawn to Jewish musical and cultural themes throughout his life—the Fourth Quartet appeared at exactly the time that the Cold War was heating up, anti-Semitism was once again on the rise (if it had ever abated), and Stalin was gleefully engaged in another round of persecution and purges. The horror is made manifest in the leering danse macabre of the concluding Allegretto, one of the standout movements in the entire quartet cycle.
For Prokofiev the string quartet plays a far less central role in his output; he wrote only two, the first in 1930, and the second, included in the present set, in 1941. Writing string quartets was not a particularly self-motivated or self-fulfilling effort for him, and this, his second go at the medium, was apparently not even his idea. Having been sent to a Soviet outpost presumed safe from Germany’s invading forces, Prokofiev was encouraged to write a string quartet based on the Kabardino-Balkar folk themes common to the North Caucasus region to which he and other artists had been evacuated. He seems to have warmed to the idea, producing a fine example of abstract music inspired by authentic folk elements.
In every single movement of Shostakovich’s quartets and in the Prokofiev, the Pacifica Quartet penetrates to the very heart and soul of the music. What stands out—matters of technical precision and ensemble blending and balance are givens—is the way in which the players probe for and reveal amazing details even in passages that, superficially, may seem to present relatively flat surfaces unlikely to yield much in the way of dimensionality, such as the Adagio of the Third Quartet. But under inspection of the Pacifica’s microscope, the music displays a topography filled with hidden peaks and valleys. It’s this intellectual curiosity to explore, wedded to largesse of emotional expressivity that makes these performances special.
I hope Rabinowitz takes this to be the fervently enthusiastic recommendation intended.
FANFARE: Jerry Dubins
