Beethoven alla Brittannia features settings of British, Scottish, Welsh and Irish folk songs arranged by Beethoven. The instrumental selections are in the beloved "theme and variation" form while vocal works are beautiful arrangements of folk tunes with piano that can only come from the great pen of Beethoven himself.

Classical Music

Classical Music

Stephen Beus made his professional debut after wining the Julliard School Concerto Competition playing Prokofiev Concerto No. 3. He has performed with ensembles such as the Gulbenkian Symphony, Oxford Philomusica, the Tivoli Symphony, the Northwest Sinfonietta and many others. This release showcases some of Beus's favorite pieces and is his third recording with Centaur records.

Ingrid Matthews plays a baroque violin on this recording.
REVIEWS:
American Record Guide (7-8/00, pp. 83-84 - "...Matthews...has excellent taste, does a wonderful job of characterizing each movement, and is very good at bringing out all the voices in the fugues....This superb recording
is...my top recommendation....A very auspicious debut...a major talent..."

In Bach’s time, the lautenwreck, or lute-harpsichord, was a very popular instrument. It has a much more mellow sound than a modern harpsichord and Bach himself was quite fond of the instrument. John Paul has made numerous recordings with the lautenwerk and hearing Bach’s music played by Paul is exuberating.

JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH Gianluca Luisi, piano. (4 CDs) JOHANN SEBASTIAN BACH: The Well-Tempered Clavier, Books I and II(Complete).

Classical Music

REVIEWS:
Fanfare (7-8/98, pp.81-82) - "..Hartshorne managed, through sheer Yankee ingenuity, to play the suites in the original keys and to preserve not only double, triple, and quadruple stops that traditional tunings render impossible but even resonant pedals based on the cello's open strings....Recommended with reverential urgency."

On this album Margaret Donaghue Flavin transcribes some of Bach's greatest music for solo clarinet. Classics Today raved, "Her main strength lies in her ability to completely disappear in the role, letting the music emerge with all of it's natural grace and refinement."

J.S. BACH SYKES, HARPSICHORD PARTITAS FOR KEYBOARD

BACH Goldberg Variations • Sachiko Kato (pn) • CENTAUR CRC3202 (59:15)


When this arrived in the mail, my first reaction was, “Oh no, here we go again; another Goldberg Variations by an artist I’ve never heard of before.” And after being so rattled by my grievous error regarding the matter of repeats in Daniel Pienaar’s recording, I had serious doubts about reviewing another Goldberg Variations ever again. Well, you know what they say about getting right back up on the horse after you’ve been thrown. Had I passed on this assignment out of fear, I’d have missed out on a truly extraordinary experience. For starters, forget that this is a recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations . It’s a disc you should have purely for the velvet smoothness and silken beauty of Sachiko Kato’s tone as captured by the One Soul Studios engineers in New York’s Klavierhaus Hall. This is simply one of the most gorgeous reproductions of piano sound I’ve heard on disc.


Now, of course, this is a recording of Bach’s Goldberg Variations , and not being one to be burned twice, I listened to Kato’s performance with undivided attention and followed the score dutifully. Here is what I can tell you. She takes the first-half repeats of each variation, but not the second-half ones. More’s the pity, because in many of the variations’ first halves, she adds some of her own embellishments that tickled me with delight. Kato is an extremely imaginative player, and I would have loved to hear her embellishments in second-half repeats.


Beyond the matter of repeats and her own embellishments, Kato’s readings of the variations are so perfectly realized in terms of tempos, phrasing, and discovery of detail, particularly in the left hand, that one marvels at the utter naturalness and fluency of the music. Notice I said “of the music,” not of Kato’s playing, because she plays with such a sense of effortlessness and ease that it’s as if the piano is having its own joyous conversation with Bach. Listen, for example to the happy mordents and smiling trill-and-mordents in the second half of Variation 5, executed with such perfection that even at Kato’s rapid velocity, not only can you hear the difference between them, your ear can discern the number of squiggles.


I’ve long admired Angela Hewitt, Murray Perahia, András Schiff, and Craig Sheppard in this music, but Sachiko Kato’s performance is truly special, and for piano versions, I think it may now be my favorite. This wonderful Japanese-born, Los Angeles-raised, Juilliard-trained artist has yet to gain much of a presence on record—Amazon, as well as her website, lists only two previous releases, both of modern music, which Kato champions—but she performs extensively throughout the U.S. and Japan. To everyone who embraces Bach’s Goldberg Variations on piano, this deserves to be heard and is urgently recommended.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

"Although there have been many superb historically informed performances of the Goldberg Variations over the years (I am especially enamored of the hypnotic performance on a luscious sounding harpsichord by Richard Egarr), this bulletproof score continues to attract individualistic music-making. Pianists are drawn to Goldberg like flies to a bare light bulb; the music fits wonderfully under the fingers, and is deeply satisfying to play. Beth Levin’s performance is very much in the “I’ll play it my way” mode, but without a speck of disrespect to the composer. Quite the opposite; she plays as if in love with the notes. Tempos are deliberate, sometimes to the extreme. Repeats are taken at will. Voicing is unexpected. And yet there is always the sense that she is exploring Bach’s genius, as opposed to fashioning a vehicle for her own personality. The live recording captures a few more technical fumbles than I would have expected from a one-time Rudolph Serkin student, but they do not unduly detract from what is a uniquely touching view of the music."

FANFARE: Peter Burwasser

Apollo Ensemble: Hans-Martin Rux, trumpet; David Rabinovitch, violin; Igor Ruhadze, violin; Tamara Mkrtychyan, viola; Sergei Istomin, cello; Kate Clark, flute;nOfer Frenkel, oboe; Annelies Schraa, recorder; Reine-Marie Verhagen, recorder; Marion Boshuizen, harpsichord.

This recording presents alternative versions of three famous works by J.S.Bach, indeed the Brandenburg Concertos of Bach are among the best known and loved pieces of 18th century.

"These alternative settings are all attributed to Bach himself. In presenting the pieces in unfamiliar versions, it is not our purpose to contribute to any debate about authenticity or legitimacy. Although there seems to be evidence that at least some of these versions do predate their better-known transcriptions, it is not on the basis of proposed greater authority that we wish to bring them to the public, our goal is an artistic one, namely: to confront the listener with an alternative perspective to the familiar version [with] greater transparency and a more perfect balance achieved by means of a reduction in the number of tutti parts, revealing the essential structural integrity of each of the pieces. It can be argued that the structure is somewhat veiled in the fuller instrumental versions." - Apollo Ensemble.

BACH Six Cello Suites • Carmine Miranda (vc) • CENTAUR 3263/4 (2 CDs: 130:10)


Since reviewing Truls Mørk’s version of Bach’s unaccompanied cello suites in 29:5, no fewer than six more accounts have crossed my desk. In chronological order, they were Jean-Guihen Queyras (31:4), Sara Sant’Ambrogio (33:3), Luigi Piovano (34:5), Hekun Wu (34:6), Tanya Tomkins (35:1), and Richard Tuncliffe (36:1). Some of the cellists used conventional cellos, others period instruments. All but two, however, had one thing in common: They were uniformly awful, though each in its own way, ranging from barely tolerable to downright execrable. The one I kept coming back to as my preferred and strongly recommended set throughout those reviews was the first on this list, the one by Jean-Guihen Queyras, with Hekun Wu being a close runner-up. Both, by the way, performed the suites on cellos in modern configuration.


Bach’s six cello suites are like a Siren’s call to cellists of all persuasions, luring many of them to ruin. And the thing is there’s no reason for it. Was it a singular achievement for Bach to write such technically challenging works for an instrument that was relatively new at the time, and a melody instrument to boot, one that takes even more kindly to intensive double-stopping than the violin? Yes. But are the cello suites comparable on levels of musical scope and intellectual depth to the unaccompanied violin sonatas and partitas? Not even close. There are no massive fugues in the cello suites and nothing that approaches the dimensions of the D-Minor Violin Partita’s Chaconne. The cello suites are exactly what their title tells us they are—six sets of relatively short, stylized baroque dances. Yet for cellists—and for some listeners, I think—they’ve taken on an import that may be beyond their actual significance in Bach’s output, virtually becoming every cellist’s initiation rite.


So, how does the young Venezuelan cellist, Carmine Miranda (b. 1988), fare in his initiation into cellodom’s manhood? Well, first a few words about this young artist, who is likely unknown to readers, as this is his recording debut; he was 22 when he recorded the Bach suites for Centaur in 2011–12. Miranda’s early training took place in his native country, where he studied at the Carabobo State Music Conservatory, then in the Latin-American Academy of Violoncello, and finally at the Simon Bolivar Conservatory of Music (the institution that spawned the famous “El Sistema”). Miranda then traveled to the States to study with Ross Harbaugh at the University of Miami, followed by further coaching under Yehuda Hanani at the University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music where Miranda obtained his bachelor’s and master’s degrees and is a candidate for a doctorate.


In the U.S., he has performed at Carnegie Hall, Bowdoin Music Festival, the Bach Annalia Festival in Cincinnati, the Young People’s Festival in Chatham, N.Y., and is on the artist’s roster for the Close Encounters with Music Series in Great Barrington, N.Y., both under the direction of Yehuda Hanani and others.


Among Miranda’s awards are first prize at the 2005 Alhambra Music Competition, the National Prize for best soloist from the FMEA (Florida Music Educators Association), and the 2008–09 University of Cincinnati Cello Competition. He has collaborated with recognized international artists such as Yehuda Hanani, Awadagin Pratt, Rodolfo Saglimbeni and performed as a soloist with several chamber ensembles and orchestras, recently including the Caracas Municipal Symphony Orchestra. He is also the founder and member of the Troika Piano Trio comprised of violinist Joshua Ulrich and pianist Assaf Sommer.


Miranda, who authored his own album note, makes no mention of the instrument(s) he uses for these performances, how he handles the scordatura tuning of the Fifth Suite—does he retune his cello according to the original manuscript or use the modern standard-tuning edition?—or what he does to accommodate the Sixth Suite, believed to have been originally written for a five-string violoncello piccolo. His note speaks only of his personal impressions of, and responses to, the emotional and spiritual character and quality of each of the pieces. At one point, in fact, I was quite taken aback to read, “Interpretation of the suites has nothing to do with what is correct, accurate, and historical, but it rather has to do with going deep within the soul of the writing…” That raised a red flag for me, not to mention an eyebrow. I couldn’t help but think to myself that only the immodesty of youth could be so callow and cavalier with respect to the years of serious musicological research that have attempted to ascertain what is “correct, accurate, and historical,” and to the many veteran cellists who have spent more years studying these works than Miranda has been alive. But the proof, as they say, is in the hearing. And so I decided not to allow my annoyance with Miranda’s words to influence my judgment of his playing.


Instantly, from the very first bar of the G-Major Suite, the cellist that came to mind was Pablo Casals, a comparison that elicits no higher compliment. In my above-mentioned review of Tanya Tomkins’s Bach suites, I noted how slow and super-romanticized her readings were; she takes 3:16 for the opening Prelude, a full half-minute longer than Jacqueline du Pré, who, at 2:35, is hardly fast. So, I went back to Casals’s 1950s recording and found that he dispatched the Prelude in two minutes flat and without any rhythmic distensions or distortions. What about Carmine Miranda? 2:09. I don’t know if Miranda studied Casals’s recordings, but if he didn’t, it’s truly uncanny how closely he channels both the letter and the spirit of the great cellist’s example.


It’s really difficult to express in words the beauty of Miranda’s performances. His cello is a modern instrument, or at least one updated with modern fittings and tuned to modern pitch, but the tone it emits is lighter in weight than that which we often hear in versions played on modern cellos. Of course, much of that can be attributed to Miranda’s bowing. He doesn’t dig into the strings to produce guttural sounds. The tone is clean and clear and intonation perfect. But one expects more than technical proficiency, dexterity, and finesse; and more—much more than that—is what one gets from Miranda’s readings.


Alluded to above is the fact that these are suites of dances, and time and again, in extolling the virtues of Jean-Guihen Queyras’s performances, I’ve remarked on the way in which he manages to capture the essence of each dance step. Miranda, it seems to me, goes one step further (no pun intended). He hears, and allows us to hear, the historical roots of each dance and whence it comes, which is pretty funny when you try to square that with his comment that interpretation of the suites has nothing to do with the historical. Yet listen to Miranda’s courantes, and you will hear not just rapid tempos, but the very definition of the Renaissance dance as described by Thoinot Arbeau, the 16th-century French theorist who tells us that the courante was danced with fast running and jumping steps. If Miranda didn’t learn this from reading music history, he knows it intuitively, for it’s not just his accelerated tempos but the effect of rhythmic arrest you would observe in a dance that involved running forward several steps, then making a sudden jump, hop, or jerk to stop short the forward motion. In Miranda’s hands, the suites don’t just sound dance-like , as in stylized baroque refinements, they sound like actual Renaissance dances.


Likewise, Miranda’s sarabandes are played with the stately gravitas that would have been à la mode for a processional court dance in 17th-century France. Interestingly, the sarabande had its origins as a fairly fast dance a century earlier and quite likely in Mexico or Central America. When Spanish colonists brought the dance back to Spain with them, it was banned in 1583 for being obscene. It wasn’t until the sarabande made its way to Italy and then France that it became the slow, triple-meter dance that was widely adopted into the baroque suite.


I’ve never heard Bach’s cello suites played in quite this way, and while I wouldn’t want to be without the versions by Queyras, Hekun Wu, Casals, and János Starker, Carmine Miranda’s will not only join them, it will stand out as perhaps the most original and imaginative interpretations of the suites I’ve heard.


Centaur’s recording, too, is outstanding, capturing Miranda’s cello fairly close up but with sufficient air around it to allow for a natural sounding bloom, yet without any annoying echo effect. An album note states that the recording was made without any editing. This is a definite buy recommendation for both connoisseurs of Bach’s cello suites and those who appreciate cello playing at its best. I’d have to say that Carmine Miranda has passed his initiation with flying colors. Welcome to the ranks of the world class players.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins