Although being technically very different instruments, we are convinced that the romantic guitar and the fortepiano share the same aesthetics. This was proven to us for the first time when we finally recorded our Schubert album ‘A Sentimental Moment’ in 2018, with piano works arranged for our Viennese guitars. After this, it was natural for us to turn to a composer who has fired more interest than anyone else: Mozart. We do hope that these arrangements of Mozart’s piano sonatas can suggest how he might have expressed his genius on our instrument. The shorter duration of the notes, as well as the delicacy and richness of colors found in the sound world of the guitar, are quite close to those of the late 18th Century fortepianos that Mozart would have known, while the dynamic range of the guitar would be very much at home in the salons and smaller concert venues of that time. Listening to the sonatas played on two guitars might be exotic, but the plucked sound fits in with the family of keyboard instruments.

At the dawn of the Renaissance the southern Dutch city of ’s-Hertogenbosch, with its abundance of churches and monasteries, was also referred to as “Little Rome”. Central to this religious scene was the Brotherhood of Our Illustrious Lady (Illustre Lieve Vrouwe Broederschap), founded in 1318. This devotional organization, which counted among its members the famous painter Hieronymus Bosch, invested considerably in recruiting and employing the best singers and organists for its chapel, which performed a wide variety of polyphonic music. No fewer than nine choir books with this repertoire are still preserved by the confraternity. After centuries of silence, this magnificent collection is finally sounding once again. With the five-year project The Den Bosch Choirbooks (2020-24), Cappella Pratensis, itself based in ’s-Hertogenbosch, is giving these manuscripts the attention they deserve. The project includes numerous concerts, workshops, publications, lectures and a series of five albums. This recording thus invites listeners to imagine themselves among the confraternity members gathered in their chapel in the church of St John the Evangelist in ’s-Hertogenbosch on a sunny spring day. It is May 6, the great feast of St John Before the Latin Gate that commemorates the attempted martyrdom of the Evangelist in 92 AD.

“I wish to be a living work of art,” reads the famous comment made by Luisa Casati, the extravagant marchesa who drew everyone's attention to herself as a high society personality in the early 20th century and who inspired a number of leading artists to take up their writing pens, paintbrushes and cameras: Casati was the most prolifically portrayed woman of her age. She was both Muse and Maecenas who gathered an extensive coterie of famous artists around herself – an egregious set of people, some of whom were also her lovers. She led a split existence. On the one hand, she turned herself into a living work of art and organized grotesque parties as the backdrops to her own performances; on the other hand, she commissioned artists to immortalize her as a “piece of art” – and artists were queuing up at her door as she had enormous wealth at her fingertips to realize these whims. In the opera, Casati’s biography is compressed into a single party evening at her Venetian palazzo. Over seven scenes, we see a melange of events from the heroine’s life that actually occurred over many decades, to which the creators then added their own dreamed-up plot. Jeths’s palette as a composer has become ever richer and more dramatic as the years have passed. His spectrum ranges from attention to sound and color to a subtle use of harmonic tension. His musical language was originally more atonal, but he has always flirted with tonality. And now more than ever, his notes are at the service of the text, the theatrical impression and the beauty of the human voice. In his music, Jeths employs multiple references to existing music.

Nox, the Latin word for 'night'. In the world of art, the night of Schumann's Nachtstücke, Robert Zuidam's Nox and Ravel's Gaspard de la Nuit creaks open its doors like a haunted castle for romantic poets and composers. Night-time visions became the foundations of a pre-Freudian subconscious in the late 18th and early 19th centuries. Some of the great writers discovered their dreams and anxieties, seeing themselves and the magic of imagination in the mirror of fantasy. It was no coincidence that their work provided intellectual sustenance for Robert Schumann, who also had a literary gift. His earliest works, which were entirely for piano up until his Nachtstücke, Op. 23, originated in psychological impressions gained from literature. Schumann wrote to his beloved, Clara Wieck, that the work stemmed from a premonition. During the composition, he kept seeing visions of funeral processions, “Coffins and miserable, despairing people”. His instincts had not deceived him: on completing the work, with tears in his eyes, he heard that his brother Eduard was on his deathbed. Listening to the Nachtstücke again and knowing this, one can hear the shadows falling over light and life, depicted by the pianist's defeated irony. For Dutch composer Robert Zuidam, night is the night of toil. Nox is a night owl's ode to the hours of his creativity. Ravel had done everything he could in his piano cycles Jeux d'eau and Miroirs towards de-romanticising the 19th century character sketch, but he took an important step forward in Gaspard as regards both virtuosity and idiom. His aim was to produce something that was even more difficult to play than Balakirev's notorious Islamey. Gaspard is a deranged combination of abstract pianistic hyper-virtuosity with derailed eruptions of waltzes, peppered with raging, flamenco-style note repetitions and unplayable cascades of clusters of seconds, betraying the signature of Ravel's exceptionally dextrous thumbs.

Transcriptions for string quartet by the composer or someone else was common practice in Mozart's time. In that light this string-version of Mozart's Requiem is nothing special. What makes it special, is the circumstance of the original Requiem itself. It is known that Mozart left the majority of the work incomplete, and that on request of Mozart's widow, his pupil Süssmayer did the finishing job. Where one's work ends and the other's starts, no-one knows. This 'skeleton-version' of the Requiem, however, fully preserves the eloquence of Mozart's music and therefore perhaps proves that the Requiem contains more of the masters own composing than we can objectively establish. But incomplete as the Requiem is, Mozart's universal genius radiates through the notes in any version. And if anyone can bring the radiation to the surface in this version, no one better than the Kuijken Kwartet.

Erich Wolfgang Korngold (1897-1957) was a genius. Naturally he was most widely known and rewarded as one of the founding composers of Hollywood film music, but he is not a particularly well-known composer in the classical music world. His three string quartets are surely masterpieces and can be seen as modern tone poems imbued with beautiful melancholy and Viennese charm. A child prodigy, Korngold wrote some of the most heart-wrenching melodies, which are sure to leave any listener longing for more. His String Quartet No. 2, Op. 26 (1933) was written just before Korngold moved to Hollywood and is full of musical imagery of Vienna, with gestures towards the waltzes of Johan Strauss II as well as the intricate lyricism of Richard Strauss. A fierce anti-serialist, Korngold was determined that it was still possible to stretch the boundaries of tonality without adapting to the 12-tone technique. The String Quartet No. 3, Op. 34 (1945) is full of themes that he used in his film scores and was written when Korngold was suffering from deep depression. The quartet is much darker. Why did we choose to tackle Korngold’s music for this unique project of a direct-to-disc recording on vinyl? The music resonates deeply with us, as it represents the epitome of late romanticism and lyrical expression. We all have a profound love for romantic music and after listening to some recordings of his quartets we knew instantly these were the perfect fit for us. It was definitely a challenge to understand the idiom in Korngold’s writing. Our individual personalities as well as the Alma sound is clearly audible.

Camiel Boomsma: “Discovering the music by Dutch composer Gerhard (and his son Karel) Hamm was really a game of fate. After a recital, Carl Hamm, who is a direct descendant, gave me a stack of scores. While playing through the pieces at home I was struck by their delicacy and narrative power. Gerhard Hamm belongs in a way to the musical family of Robert Schumann. He writes little poetic reflections on grand Romantic gestures. In these small musical poems a whole world lies hidden. Sometimes powerful and proud, sometimes vulnerable and reflective. Romantic expression beautiful in itself. In his "Gefunden: 6 Clavierstücke in Liedform opus 18’ Gerhard Hamm's musical gift as a composer is beautifully displayed. Hamm’s craftsmanship is excellent but he never neglects poetic expression.”

Nino Gvetadze finally takes on Robert Schumann’s music, a repertoire we think she is especially fit to. She chose three great works from the golden years 1838-9. Three different works, but all with strong autobiographical connections. Nino is one of Challenge pivotal artists and this is her third release on Challenge, after the successful Chopin (CC 72768) and Scott (CC 72819). BBC Music Magazine: There's always a sense of a musing, meditative intelligence exploring their layers of meaning in the very act of playing, as if she is spontaneously creating the Music under her fingers.

Music clearly fascinated the great Dutch artist Hieronymus Bosch (c.1450-1516); his sketches and paintings are peppered with closely observed depictions of music-making and musical instruments. Bosch, a native of ’s-Hertogenbosch in the Duchy of Brabant, was a life-long brother of the city’s Brotherhood of Our Illustrious Lady, a large and prestigious organization for which sacred music was an essential and highly-valued part of its devotional life. Every Wednesday Bosch could gather with his Confraternity brothers in their opulent chapel in the church of St. John the Evangelist to celebrate a votive Mass in honor of the Blessed Virgin. This recording aims to capture a sense of the devotional soundscape that Bosch experienced throughout his life as a member of this music-loving Marian brotherhood. Instead of the frightening cacophony conjured by the artist’s vision of Hell, we encounter here the joy and serenity of the weekly Marian votive Mass liturgy. We have chosen the Missa Cum jocunditate by Pierre de la Rue(c.1452-1518), who was not only the most renowned composer of the Habsburg-Burgundian court but also an external member of the brotherhood from the early 1490s until his death in 1518. Indeed, La Rue may well have had occasion to meet Bosch during these years. Cappella Pratensis sings from the original notation, reading from scale copies of the confraternity’s manuscripts of plainsong and polyphony, and adopts the Brabant pronunciation of Latin those singers surely employed. They also read together from one large music book, like the men portrayed in the Singers in the Egg sketch attributed to Bosch.

In his first album for Challenge Classics, Sergio Foresti, one of leading baroque baritones of our days, sings a subtly thought-out selection of arias written for Giuseppe Maria Boschi, the most famous baritone in London at the time of Handel and Bononcini. The recital is made of mostly unknown arias and is characterized by a widest range of moods and atmosphere that makes the listening always engaging. Foresti is accompanied by a stunning first-rate baroque orchestra: Abchordis Ensemble. To complete the presentation of a top-class release, we highlight the higher quality of both the recording and the production.

This release, containing all nine of Bruckner’s symphonies, is one of Challenge Classics’ greatest achievements so far. The quality of the performances- by both conductor and orchestra- and of the recordings makes this Bruckner’s complete survey a primary reference for anyone interested in such repertoire. Each one of these symphony recordings has received positive press. Of the Seventh: “Conductor and orchestra bring out the structural and thematic complexity of the final movement, in a fine end to another very strong and recommended performance.” (Classical Net Review) Of the Third: “This is a resplendent addition to an important cycle in the making.” (Gramophone) And of the Sixth: “Exceptional engineering achieved by Challenge Classics, with natural-sounding timbres and an extremely realistic sense of acoustic space.” (International Record Review) Jaap van Zweden has risen rapidly in the past decade to become one of today’s most sought-after conductors. He has been Music Director of the Dallas Symphony Orchestra since 2008, and Music Director of the Honk Kong Philharmonic Orchestra since 2012. Earlier this year he was announced as the next Music Director of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra.

Bernard Haitink was born and educated in Amsterdam. His conducting career began at the Netherlands Radio where in 1957 he became the Chief Conductor of the Radio Philharmonic Orchestra. The links between Bernard Haitink and the Radio Philharmonic Orchestra have withstood the test of time, even when his career was taking him all over the world. One fine example of this was Berlioz’s Damnation of Faust in 1998, later issued on CD(CC 72517). He returned on 15 June 2019, when he gave his very last concert in Amsterdam, with Bruckner Symphony no. 7, a work that has always been especially dear to him.

Michael Foyle: Exploring these Sonatas in 2020 took on a deeper significance beyond the anniversary celebrations. Recording all ten in Mechelen, Belgium, the home of Beethoven’s paternal ancestors, with much of the world’s population in isolation, his works revealed new layers of emotional intensity and psychological relevance. The Op. 12 Sonatas belong to the last decade of the eighteenth century, a period when Beethoven was conquering Vienna as the foremost keyboard virtuoso of the day but simultaneously seeking to have his compositions published for the first time. In essence, classical duo sonatas for piano and strings had grown from the eighteenth-century ‘accompanied’ sonatas, in which the string instrument provided a supportive role to the keyboard’s dominating textures. Here we witness a gradual incorporation of a ‘dramatic dialogue’ (to borrow Simon P. Keefe’s term) between instruments which had previously been more important in concerto writing. Beethoven’s Sonata No. 5 in F major Op. 24 is described by musicologist Angus Watson as ‘an exquisite testament to Beethoven’s profoundly religious feeling for the natural world.’

The Art of Fugue is both Johann Sebastian Bach’s opus summum and last complete work, presumably undertaken between1740 and 1742. Die Kunst der Fuga (KdF hereafter), in the form and the order presented in the Berlin Autograph, has all the appearance of a finished work featuring 14 fugues and canons, all based upon a single original theme, serving as the work’s foundation and with the individual pieces progressing in an increasing order of difficulty and contrapuntal perfection. This brief study sets out to attempt a switch in perspective, shifting from the ‘point of view’ of the First Printed Edition – through which the KdF has traditionally been examined by the vast majority of scholars – to that of the Berlin Autograph. Despite having already been studied and collated with the 1751 and 1752 editions, the autograph has always been viewed by the dominant ideology as incomplete; little more than a preparatory stage for its printed counterparts. Only in recent times have scholars started to note that the KdF as found in the autograph manuscript at the time of its completion might well stand comparison with the alleged ‘final version’ of the printed editions, and thus may be elevated to the full dignity of an Alte Fassung. And this study would argue that the Berlin Autograph contains, in fact, the latest and ‘closest-to-final’ version of the KdF, whilst the First Printed Edition is entirely the result of the conjoint efforts of Bach’s children and students as there is no proof that Bach was ever involved in preparatory works concerning any other of its pieces. Furthermore, the order displayed in the Berlin Autograph appears decidedly more logical and “artistic” than that of the First Printed Edition.

We at Challenge are proud to present a new account of the Goldberg Variations by critically acclaimed young pianist Hannes Minnaar. His rendition of the Goldbergs sums up all the features of a ‘contemporary’ interpretation at the highest degree: Transparent, detailed, and crystal-clear phrasing: each and all notes are discernible. A supreme – but not artificial nor mannered – control and care of tone and sound: touch, color and timbre are all fruit of a clearly deep insight and work. A smooth flow of the discourse: a solid overall concept of the work structure and a plain, simple (never emphasized) ‘singing’ of the melodic line. (Even when he takes a very slow tempo – as in the famous Variation no. 25, about 30% slower than usual – he always sustains the melody, that means it is not the tempo that makes the melody living, but the capacity to make it flow, to ‘connect’ sounds and silences). These Goldbergs are not told as a narrative: it is not a dramatic tale, but the architectural structure is well visible. It is not a story, it is a three-dimensional visual art work. Northern Star gave Minnaar the sound that perfectly matches his concept of the work. The rest is made by the unique Chris Maene piano. A ‘Goldberg’ for the 21st Century.