There are several descriptive scores in William Alwyn’s prolific output, including The Moor of Venice Dramatic Overture which examines the turbulent central character in Shakespeare’s Othello. The Serenade and the orchestral version of Seven Irish Tunes receive première recordings here, both covering a wide range of moods. Following his acclaimed recording of the Concerto Grosso No. 1 (Naxos 8.570704), David Lloyd-Jones here completes the set, the second of which is scored for strings, and concluding with the Concerto Grosso No. 3 which is a tribute to Sir Henry Wood.

Liszt's Donizetti transcriptions tell as much about their transcriber's singular bravura as they do about the prolific Italian opera composer's unstoppable melodic invention. The ideal interpreter should be able to make light of the enormous technical challenges without forgetting to let the tunes take shape in the manner of a great opera singer. Fortunately William Wolfram commands the right stuff to bring these chestnuts to life. He may not always match Leslie Howard's pearly nuances in slower, quieter passages, yet Wolfram brings much more drive and scintillation to the huge Lucrezia Borgia paraphrase's notey climaxes. He also finds varied colorations that prevent textural stagnation in the Dom Sebastian funeral march's frequent bass-register rumbles. The Valse de concert consistently demonstrates Wolfram's unflappable workmanship and sheer professionalism. While he negotiates the Lucia di Lammermoor sextet's thickets without a hitch, I can't erase Jorge Bolet's aristocratic cantabile from my inner ear, or from my hard drive for that matter! No doubt that Liszt mavens will want to know about this fine, often outstanding release.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Naxos has been doing Alan Rawsthorne (1905–1971) proud. An English composer who might have become a dentist, and who studied the piano with Egon Petri in Poland and Germany, Rawsthorne’s music is gritty, concentrated, and very communicative in its edge.

The two violinists of the Maggini Quartet give a very assured account of Theme and Variations (1937), spellbinding music of wide range: lyrical, intense, fiery, and mercurial. Rawsthorne’s String Quartet No. 1 (1939) is also cast as a theme and variations; once more this is music that compels, is beautifully worked out, and is compact while spawning much over its 10 minutes.

The other quartets, from 1954 and 1965, are just as concise, in four and three movements, respectively—at least, Naxos supplies three cue points for No. 3—although the composer himself informs us that No. 3 is in “two main sections, each of these being divided into several sub-sections.” Rawsthorne’s introductions, presumably written for the first performances of each work, are helpfully reproduced in Naxos’s booklet. Both works dig deep into emotional states as well as being formally attractive. There’s real heart, here, and genuine craftsmanship, searching and voluble, the musical language extended as each work is reached in terms of the composer’s chronology while retaining a passionate outreach for the listener to climb aboard. If I suggest that admirers of Bartók and Hindemith will be on home ground here, I also want to stress that Rawsthorne is very much his own man, expressing himself deeply through music.

Wonderfully well played by the Maggini Quartet, and rendered with a conviction that suggests Rawsthorne’s music is standard repertoire for these musicians, this is an outstanding release that is further blessed by sound that is tangible and truthful. Please don’t miss what I believe to be really significant pieces.

FANFARE: Colin Anderson

It’s impossible to know what is in the mind of a composer through the process of writing a piece, but that doesn’t stop people from speculating regarding motivation, intentions, or supposed “meaning” or extra-musical representations in a given work. Dover Quartet cellist Camden Shaw comments on this in his excellent notes to this new release, even admitting to the quartet’s own subjectively applied imagery and how it impacted their “personal response to the [Shostakovich] ”. Yet it’s hard to imagine that, while trying to survive the day to day horrors of a concentration camp (Ullmann, Laks), or experiencing life in a besieged country ravaged by death, deprivation, and destruction (Shostakovich) the music that you write wouldn’t be more than a little affected by these circumstances.

None of the three works here has any declared programmatic intent, but knowing their provenance–Ullmann wrote his quartet while a prisoner in Theresienstadt in 1943; Laks composed his in 1945, after his liberation from years in Auschwitz; Shostakovich’s work came during a stay north of Moscow as war still raged during the summer of 1944–makes it easy to hear within the pages of each, so profoundly and movingly realized by the Dover musicians, more than mere echoes of the myriad, often conflicting emotions arising from the ever-present, inescapable tension and turmoil. Not surprisingly, these include both sadness and longing, but there are also moments in each of these works of beauty and optimism, as well as assertiveness. Whether some or all of these expressive components might add up to something called “defiance”—say, in these works’ more aggressive passages, or perhaps by the simple expression of hope, of serenity in the face of depression, violence, and death—is for each listener to decide.

Viktor Ullmann’s Quartet No. 3 is one of the finest quartets of the 20th century, immediately engaging from those opening seventh chords to the final (defiant?) G major exclamations. Descriptions of the work always include references to Schoenberg (with whom Ullmann studied), and though the influence is discernible (the harmonic freedom; a brief flirtation with a tone row), the style and structure are modeled more traditionally. And while Ullmann plays with tonal ambiguity here and there, the work remains in the tonal world.

Commentators–and even publishers–seem to disagree about the quartet’s organization: four movements? five? or two, as presented in this Dover performance? The Dovers combine the first three sections–Allegro moderato, Presto, Largo–almost without pause, which makes good musical sense; the “second movement” is more like a coda, short, fast, assertive, “mischievous”, darting and dancing until its brief recall of those opening chords.

The Dovers choose to slightly underplay certain dynamics and soften some of the score’s indicated articulations and accents, making contrasts less extreme than they might be (narrowing the range from forte to triple-forte, for instance, in the second movement; the light treatment of cello accents early in the first movement; the barely-there crescendo to forte in the opening measures). But there’s a consistency and balance to the quartet’s approach to this music whose poignancy is still quite real and truly projected. It’s a mystery why this work has received only a handful of recordings; it should be in every quartet’s repertoire, and in every music-lover’s library.

The Shostakovich String Quartet No. 2, on the other hand, has been recorded many times, and quite well, notably by another group on this same Cedille label, the Pacifica Quartet (see reviews). The Dover Quartet adds another exemplary performance, highlighted by the opening and closing minutes of the second movement–entrancing, reflective, serene, yet somehow intriguingly dark. In the third movement a disjointed waltz turns excitingly frenetic–made all the more effective by the Dover’s exacting articulation; the final movement conveys both “tension” and “dread”, just as Shaw describes. It’s a compelling, confident performance–perhaps that “imagery” Shaw and his colleagues imposed on the work really did make a difference!

Yes, we can imagine a “train whistle” at the opening of Szymon Laks’ String Quartet No. 3, as Shaw observes, followed by other allusions to a train ride theme. But you could more easily imagine something more abstract, as the music quickly becomes absorbed in developing Laks’ chosen Polish folk song thematic material. I have to say I wasn’t as enthralled with this work as I anticipated, based on first reading Shaw’s description of the music. Laks has an impressive and very moving story, having survived Auschwitz for more than two years, forced to perform music for his Nazi captors–and for prisoners going to their deaths.

The four-movement quartet stylistically fits very neatly in the company of Ullmann and Shostakovich; much of the musical language is similar (harmonic palette, off-kilter dance rhythms, for instance), yet, although written later than the other two quartets on the program, this work is far more “traditional” in its overall sound and manner. It also struck me as less idiomatic: it doesn’t immediately convince of its string quartet credibility, an essential string quartet nature and character.

Shaw was quite touched by the second movement (“one of the most impassioned and heartbreaking movements for string quartet I’ve ever heard”), and you may be too: it is very beautiful and obviously written from a place of deep reflection and emotion–and the Dovers play it that way. The other movements have moments of brilliance and beauty as well, from the playful, extended pizzicato of the third to the nifty, rich-textured, cleverly varied treatment of the folk melodies in the fourth. (Laks also doesn’t fail to show a bit of a sense of humor–or is it actually something more serious?– displayed in the very endings of the second and last movements.) For me, this piece is a little too long and perhaps guilty of overworking some of its material, but it’s also easy to hear how it would be fun to play, and would make an engrossing concert work.

The Dover Quartet has already demonstrated its deserved place among the world’s premier ensembles, and here, in its exploration and illumination of two lesser-known but also deserving composers and works, rescued from the ashes of mid-20th century Europe, shows a commitment not only to upholding the highest technical and interpretive standards, but to entertain and encourage inquisitive, open-eared audiences. And I should mention that the sound, from the Banff Centre in Alberta, Canada, expertly captures the “feel”, the presence of a string quartet playing live. Here also is another example of imaginative, enlightened–and enlightening–programming. Highly recommended.

– ClassicsToday.com (David Vernier)

Keyboardist Johan Brouwer studied organ under Wim van Beek and music theory under Frans van Eeden at the Groningen conservatory, then harpsichord at the Amsterdam conservatory. He has given concerts in the Netherlands, France, Sweden, Portugal, England, and Germany, and has served as leader of the Groningen baroque orchestra Collegium Musicum. His previous harpsichord albums have garnered him critical acclaim across the globe. For this release, Brouwer explores the influence that Italian music had on French music and on the music of J. S. Bach. He performs this program on a copy of a 17th century French harpsichord, built by David Rubio after an instrument by Vaudry. The Vaudry instrument has a characteristic French timbre and a more Italian mode of construction, which makes it a suitable instrument for the recording at hand.

MOZART (Arr. Grieg) Piano Sonatas: in C, K 545; in F, K 533; in G, K 283; in c, K 457 • Dena Pn Duo • 2-L 40 (Hybrid multichannel SACD: 73:10)


Why would anyone, even Edvard Grieg—not the greatest composer by a long shot, but a great musical figure and one who revered Mozart—arrange any Mozart piano sonatas—even the powerful K 457 and the forward-looking K 533—for two pianos? My wariness of arrangements other than those by the composer leads me to ask again, why? Well, if you’ve never tried it (or never heard it), don’t knock it. Keep an open mind! But before I listened, I read. The notes in the accompanying booklet describe what Grieg did. (In English, the small, red font against a purple background is an abominable choice for reading; in German, the white font against the same background is eminently readable, but my German is now a distant memory.) Grieg’s “arrangements” are actually adaptations, or more precisely, augmentations. In each sonata, Grieg retained Mozart’s score as the primo and composed a secundo to add a more contemporary style to the music. Now this is certainly a novel approach to “arranging,” and it may be the first example of crossover. It is akin to the current theatrical practice of presenting Shakespeare in contemporary guise, such as Julius Caesar in Fascist uniforms or The Taming of the Shrew on motorcycles (both courtesy of noted stage director Michael Kahn or those directors he fosters), a practice that I deplore. Then I listened. What I heard were four Mozart sonatas that were as fully recognizable as their originals, but with fuller bass lines, with extra and more complex harmonization, and with significantly non-Mozartian embellishments.


In the early K 283, much more Grieg is discernable in the latter two movements than in the first movement. K 545, Mozart’s easy-to-play and most popular sonata, can be described as complexified simplicity. The power of the first movement of K 457 is greatly weakened by Grieg’s defocusing secundo augmentation. The second movement of K 457 fares even worse, sounding like a mixture of ballroom dance-music with piano noodling by a “stylist.” Grieg’s defocusing secundo augmentation relaxes the tension in the final movement, eventually enervating the normally powerful coda. Most interesting is the first movement of K 533, which is stylistically very open to Grieg’s secundo augmentation. In the K 533 second movement, in a-b-a form, Mozart already achieves Grieg’s contemporary style in part b without Grieg’s intervention. By contemporizing part a, Grieg distracts from the listener’s amazement at the shocking progressions and harmonies that Mozart introduces in part b. But this provides the opportunity in part b for Grieg to really let loose, building interestingly on Mozart’s already impressionistic base. The final movement of K 533 shows the strongest Grieg influence on this disc, masking the movement’s Mozartian delicacy—one could call it, with successive puns, the “MoztGrieg” and the least “Griegzart.”


The Dena Piano Duo (Tina Margareta Nilssen, piano 1, and Heide Görtz, piano 2) are excellent pianists, and the sound quality is also excellent. Nilssen plays the primo (Mozart) part, and Görtz plays the secundo (Grieg) part. I recommend this CD to Grieg scholars and, strictly as a curiosity, to anyone else, but not as an addition to anyone’s Mozart collection.


FANFARE: Burton Rothleder


This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.

Classical Music

Lars Haugbro, who received his doctoral degree from Cornell University, made his brilliant piano debut in Oslo in 1982 and has since performed as soloist and chamber musician in Scandinavia, Italy, Spain, Russia, and the U.S. He has appeared as soloist with a number of symphony orchestras, including the Oslo Philharmonic Orchestra, and has made television and radio recordings for the Norwegian Broadcasting Corporation (NRK). He is often invited to serve as a jury member at the International Edvard Grieg Piano Competition in Bergen, and at the Young Musicians Competition in Oslo, among others.

The son of Alessandro Scarlatti, who created a new school of opera in Naples, Domenico Scarlatti is particularly distinguished for his remarkable keyboard sonatas, of which some 555 are known.

Exotic rhythms, exuberant and unmistakably Georgian folk melodies, woodwind solos filled with longing, passionate writing for the primary soloist, and an immediately appealing orchestral palette – lovers of Khachaturian’s classic Violin Concerto will recognize in his Cello Concerto all the elements that make this composer a 20th century favorite.

The work for cello and orchestra is not as well-known as its counterpart, but that is an injustice which this new recording attempts to counteract. Dmitry Yablonsky is the excellent soloist, and his account makes it clear that a potential audience favorite has been withheld from the standard repertoire for too long.

Khachaturian no longer needs introduction to Western audiences. He is known from his ballets Gayaneh and Spartacus, and from his Violin Concerto, as a composer who pleases both the crowds and the critics. The Violin Concerto was premiered by legendary violinist David Oistrakh, and has been a staple of concert programs and new CDs ever since. It has been recorded by the likes of Leonid Kogan, Itzhak Perlman, Henryk Szeryng, Ruggiero Ricci and, more recently, Julia Fischer. The Cello Concerto has not received anything like that level of advocacy. By my count, this is just the seventh major recording of the stereo era. The work’s relative obscurity may have something to do with its gloomier overall atmosphere, its more troubled emotional state, and, worst of all, the harsh denunciations leveled at it by Soviet authorities after its premiere in 1946. Let us hope that this fantastic recording will inspire its return to the mainstream.

The Cello Concerto opens with an orchestral introduction of only about a minute’s duration. It is heavy with foreboding and tapers off into one of the many moody, mysterious clarinet solos which punctuate the first movement. Then the cello enters and announces the memorable first theme. After that the movement is off to the races: brilliant color, skilful thematic development, and high drama mix in the same folksy idiom which characterizes so much of this composer’s music. A delicious clarinet solo prepares the way for the second subject, and there is a sudden reminiscence of the Dies irae theme by the orchestra as the cellist enters, but the Catholic hymn is warded off before it can really settle in. The development reaches its peak with a deliciously colorful dance in the seventh minute, before the cellist’s cadenza skillfully combines the movement’s dueling moods of exuberance and introspection.

The second movement, beginning with an eerie flute solo, is a dramatic, stern creation in which we see only glimmers of the consoling ‘big tune’. One might compare it to a view of a harsh landscape with a mere hint of lush green far in the distance. The lyrical heart of this movement is evasive and fleeting.

The finale brings the expected fireworks, but it also presents the main structural flaw: the energy level in the second half of the finale consistently decreases until the lightning-fast coda shocks the music out of its slumber. Perhaps this is partially the responsibility of the performers, but I doubt it. Dmitry Yablonsky’s cello playing is consistently riveting; his regular work as a conductor on Naxos has concealed the fact that he is a very fine cellist indeed. What’s more, the Russian Philharmonia plays superbly throughout. The orchestra itself is somewhat of an enigma — it was previously known as the TV 6 Orchestra and does not appear to give public concerts — but the level of the playing here is impressive. As mentioned, the first-desk wind players are especially praiseworthy. And, even when the final coda seems to come too soon, it is a mark of Khachaturian’s skill that we are left hungering for more rather than wishing there had been less.

Luckily there is more. The Concerto-Rhapsody for Cello and Orchestra is a twenty-four minute work in a single movement. It makes even greater demands on Yablonsky than the longer concerto. Within a minute we are launched into an extremely long and grueling solo cadenza, in which the cellist presents all the themes we will soon be hearing amid much fiercely difficult passage-work. The Concerto-Rhapsody is, perhaps, more interesting on first listen, because its musical idiom is largely more advanced and more forbidding than a typical Khachaturian work. Oddly, on repeated hearings it is the simpler, more tuneful concerto which is more rewarding. The Concerto-Rhapsody, which occasionally quotes the Dies irae idea from the earlier work, simply does not have enough thematic material to justify its twenty-four minutes. There is a frankly dull and repetitive stretch in the development passage, which is a pity because the titanic cadenza had commanded our attention so powerfully. Near the end Khachaturian pitches in a few spectacular moments for the percussion and brass which recall the peasant dances from Gayaneh, but this comes after an awful lot of dithering over a very small number of interesting musical ideas. By contrast, the Concerto is both a potential crowd-pleaser and a satisfying, intelligent piece.

This recording makes me wonder just why the Cello Concerto isn’t a smash hit in concert halls across the world right now. It’s instantly appealing, emotionally complex, fantastically orchestrated, virtuosic, and filled with an abundance of good tunes. At the very least, one would expect more recordings to be available, but there is almost no major competition for this Yablonsky performance. A Chandos disc featuring Raphael Wallfisch puts the Concerto in a more elegiac light and features very polished, expressive cello playing, though the acoustic is not always flattering to the cello itself and the London Philharmonic winds are not as characterful as their Russian counterparts. Wallfisch has a definite edge on Yablonsky in the expressive slow movement, but Yablonsky takes extra trouble to make the repeated-note theme in the finale genuinely interesting and varied, where Wallfisch simply runs the notes together. The coupling on the Chandos disc is the Violin Concerto, which most Khachaturian fans will likely already have.

I have not heard the Regis recording with cellist Marina Tarasova, but the disappointed reviews on this site by Michael Cookson and Jonathan Woolf suggest that that performance, a full four minutes slower than Yablonsky’s, is not a good advocate of the piece. A Philips CD starring Christine Walevska and conductor Eliahu Inbal is long out of print.

This new recording featuring Dmitry Yablonsky is, then, the finest available performance of the Khachaturian Cello Concerto, and as such merits the strongest possible recommendation. If the Concerto-Rhapsody does not always reach the same level of inspiration, Yablonsky’s playing is still breathtaking. These are recordings which any fan of Khachaturian would delight to have, and which should commend a richly enjoyable but long-forgotten concerto to a much wider audience. Rich, clear sound completes the package.

-- Brian Reinhart, MusicWeb International

Thomas Viloteau, First Prize Winner in the 2006 Guitar Foundation of America Competition, has studied at the Barcelona Conservatorio Superior de M sica under Joan Furio, and at the ecole Normale in Paris with Alberto Ponce.

The Oratorio Gioas re di Giuda, “a Sacred Drama,” was probably the first important symphonic-choral work by Boccherini, composed during the years 1764-1765 for performances in Lucca, the musician’s native town. After his studies in Rome and his successes in Vienna, where his brother GianGastone worked as a dancer and also as librettist for Haydn, Boccherini returned to Lucca and applied to join the Cappella Palatina. Shortly afterwards, Boccherini again began touring Europe in a Duo together with his friend Filippo Manfredi, concertmaster of the Lucca orchestra: they went first to Genoa- where evidence suggests performances of his first two oratorios- then to Paris and finally Madrid. Metastasio’s libretto for Gioas is based on one of the numerous struggles for the control of Jerusalem. Athalia usurps power after having assassinated David’s last descendants. Saved by a miracle, the youngest one, Joash, is reared in the temple by the wife of Jehoiada, the high priest. The drama opens when Ismael (one of the Levite leaders) is informed of the plan to overthrow the usurper. At the same time Athalia, with the help of her minister, Mattan, summons Sebia, unfortunate mother of the victims, in the hope of convincing her to present a false heir to the people of Israel. In Part Two, Jehoiada succeeds in thwarting the evil plan of treacherous Athalia and her wicked counselor, Mattan. Jehoiada finally overthrows the tyrants and offers Joash the throne to great jubilation of the people.

Classical Music

Erwin Schulhoff’s three major works for string quartet fit neatly onto a single, rather short (51 minutes here) CD. They consist of the two numbered works, plus the Five Pieces of 1923, this latter a wonderful dance suite that includes a Viennese waltz, a tarantella, and a “Tango Milonga” in addition to a Serenata and a folksy “Alla Czeca.” This last idiom also features prominently in the First Quartet, where it becomes an Allegro giocoso alla slovacca. You may recognize the melody as the first cousin of the trumpet tune that concludes Kodály’s Háry János Suite (The Entrance of the Emperor and his Court).

This music, rhythmically charged and alternately folk-inflected and harmonically contemporary, is absolutely wonderful, and it’s very well played here by the Aviv Quartet. The group isn’t quite as edgy and hard-driving as the benchmark Petersen Quartett on Capriccio, but their more rounded tone never comes at the expense of Schulhoff’s madcap energy, and they arguably make more out of the First Quartet’s concluding Andante, never mind the Second Quartet’s highly contrasted second movement variations. The group is also quite sensitive to Schulhoff’s use of tone-color–everything from col legno strokes with the back of the bow to the senza vibrato conclusion of the First Quartet’s finale.

Naxos’ engineering is also warm, well-balanced, and natural. If you don’t know this music, you should, and I can recommend this reasonably priced disc with enthusiasm.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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An overlooked modernist thrills, chills and dances.

"Erwin Schulhoff’s music for string quartet is built on forceful rhythms and startling juxtapositions of material; it dances, yes, but with fiery intensity and rough humor. His style is the polar opposite of works like Tchaikovsky’s First Quartet or Borodin’s Second; in the most famous moments of those quartets, the four players sing together with one voice, melodies flowing naturally along in seamless harmony. Schulhoff’s model is a radically different one: here the interplay between instruments sounds not like a romance but like a brilliantly choreographed action-film fight scene, the players darting and weaving about each other, poised and ready to strike.

The First String Quartet comprises three studies in rhythm followed by an agonized slow movement. The first movement is jaunty and refreshingly melodic, with echoes of Stravinsky in an ebullient mood. The second movement is more menacing, the central section’s thematic material given slithering accompaniment, but it is the slow movement, which serves as the quartet’s finale, that acts as this work’s emotional core.

Of the three works on the disc, the First Quartet was most successful during Schulhoff’s lifetime, and its appeal is immediate. This is an engaging and rewarding piece waiting for a concert-hall revival, and, since it is a scant seventeen minutes, the quartet could safely be squeezed onto many a recital program.

The Five Pieces are a suite of dance movements which seem straightforward: a Viennese waltz, a serenade and a tango are among their number. But these works are not for the faint of heart; they are traditional dances viewed through the prism of Stravinsky or, perhaps, Schoenberg, and, like Ravel’s La Valse but with more of a bite, they are probably meant to some degree to be satirical. The waltz is almost unrecognizable as such in the opening bars, but soon becomes irresistible; the other dances are similarly magnetic. The tarantella is a good example: relatively straightforward in form, the harmonies nevertheless make us feel as if we are in the musical equivalent of a house of mirrors.

The Second String Quartet, composed just a year after the First in 1925, is arguably a masterpiece. The first movement finds Schulhoff’s tense style slightly matured, and the slow theme and variations begin with a beautiful viola solo. The highlight of the variations is an amiable folksy dance beginning at roughly the three-minute mark; another intriguing dance, with the unique marking “Allegro gajo,” follows in the third movement, but the finale is a fierce, very modern battle with some of the most thrilling unison playing on the album.

Fortunately for Schulhoff’s legacy, these are terrific performances. The Aviv Quartet have been playing together for a decade now, since they inaugurated their career amid a flurry of international competition victories in 1999, and they sound simply fantastic on this disc. The playing is electric; no position is a weak link. Schulhoff’s music for string quartet has been assembled on another disc, a 1994 Capriccio release, but this Naxos album is more widely available, and at half the price. Neither represents the complete quartet music (a Divertimento has gone unrecorded), but only completists will really be bothered by this quibble.

A terrific introduction to Schulhoff’s chamber music, then, although there are other works (like the surprising Concertino for Flute, Viola and Double Bass) which are more immediately appealing, and although other albums may simply have more music (this one is barely fifty minutes long). But this recording will be an eye-opener for those who prefer their string quartets to be perfume-soaked romantic treasures, and a treasure for admirers of modern chamber music. A good way to expand one’s horizons."

-- Brian Reinhart, MusicWeb International

Clara Schumann the composer often worked in her husband' shadow, many of her songs being mistaken for his, although those best loved by the public flowed from her pen.

Classical Music

The euphonium is said to have been invented in Weimar in 1843. In German and Russian military bands it came to replace the bassoon, suggesting that transcriptions of works for bassoon should make an interesting and useful addition to euphonium solo.

When Emperor Joseph II established a professional wind ensemble drawn from the Viennese court orchestra in 1782, he initiated an influential trend that gave composers an important opportunity to popularize their operatic music. The beautifully craft.

Includes work(s) by Joseph Martin Kraus. Soloists: Walter Schwede, Jacques Després, John Friesen.

Excellent all round and attractively presented.

There has been a flurry of performance and recordings of Macmillan's music in this, the year of his 50th birthday. This offering from Naxos - at the usual budget price - is from the talented young Dmitri Ensemble under their composer/conductor-director Graham Ross and includes two world premiere recordings. This recording is warmly commended by the composer himself and is a sheer pleasure to listen to.

In the sound-world of this disc, there is a slight echo of the very enjoyable disc of modern choral music by Giles Swayne which I reviewed last year. This is less of a surprise when one sees that both discs were recorded in the same venue - All Hallows church in London's Gospel Oak - and produced by the same engineer, John Rutter, himself a distinguished composer of modern choral religious music.

Although many of Macmillan's works are directly related to his devout Catholic faith, Seven Last Words was first shown on BBC television during Holy Week and is perhaps one of his most frequently performed and best known works. It sets texts from all four of the Gospels to build a composite presentation of the last seven sentences uttered by Jesus. It draws musically on Macmillan's own work Tuireadh - lament, and on Scottish traditional lament music as well as making occasional reference to Bach's Passion chorales.

This powerful work could be expected to be hard to follow. Adding further accompanying works might seem brave. However, the one thematic step which enables this sequence to work is the decision to adopt the theme of resurrection. Christus Vincit is a setting of the twelfth century Worcester Acclamations. Its plainsong-like phrases are punctuated by silence.

Nemo te condemnavit, which follows, is the most recent work on the disc. It is contented, reassuring and positive and is in a capella style - points of similarity with the Swayne choral disc. Taking the theme of forgiveness as expressed in the parable of the woman caught in adultery, it is one of a series of new works for post-communion reflection.

The final work is another motet, ... here in hiding .... It incorporates the Gregorian hymn Adoro te devote but intercuts the original Latin of St Thomas Aquinas with an English translation by the poet-monk Gerard Manley Hopkins. It has been recorded previously by the Hilliard Ensemble in a version for four solo voices. The present edition is the world premiere recording of the version for ATTB chorus a capella.

Seven Last Words has previously been recorded on Hyperion by Polyphony under Stephen Layton. It received superlative reviews and was a Recording of the Year in 2005. The Naxos disc is a budget version by a newer ensemble. The Hyperion, although more generous in its pairing, is perhaps less satisfactory in its programming. Serious enthusiasts will want both. Those who choose the cheaper Naxos recording will be getting a very enjoyable disc and one which compares very favourably with its Hyperion cousin.

Notwithstanding its inexpensive price, recording, production, singing and playing are excellent. The disc is attractively presented with informative notes by the composer, full lyrics and a cover featuring a painting on the same theme by Graham Sutherland.

The Sixteen have also paid tribute to Macmillan, bringing out with impressive speed a recording linked to their anniversary-studded Thirtieth Choral Pilgrimage. Recorded only in late February 2009, Bright Orb of Harmony, on the choir's own CORO label (COR16069) came out on 30 March 2009. It’s a disc combining music by two of the three composers whose anniversaries are featured in their tour this year: Purcell, the three hundred and fiftieth anniversary of whose birth (1659) is this year, and James Macmillan who celebrates his fiftieth birthday on 16 July 2009.

James Macmillan's fiftieth year is marked by international acclaim. Scots percussionist Colin Currie performs the concerto Veni, Veni Emmanuel in Finland and the St John Passion receives its German premiere in Berlin, this time with staged choreography. Further performances follow in Amsterdam with the Royal Concertgebouw Orchestra under Sir Colin Davis. Closer to home for British readers, in London the Britten Sinfonia mounts the first fully-staged presentation of his concert piece Parthenogenesis at the Royal Opera House's Linbury Studio Theatre.

Perhaps the most impressive half century birthday tribute, has been in Manchester. There Macmillan has a long history, having studied and taught at the University of Manchester before returning to live in his native Glasgow. The Royal Northern College of Music paid early respects with a three-day festival entitled Raising Sparks: The Music of James MacMillan (28-30 April) a title also used in an earlier Macmillan retrospective at London's South Bank.

A birthday salute is also scheduled at the BBC Proms, where the main work of this disc, the Seven Last Words from the Cross is paired with Haydn's work of the same title in a performance by the BBC Singers and the Manchester Camerata on 20 July 2009. Macmillan is also one of the composers featured in a series on 100 years of British Music on Radio Three's Afternoon on Three this week (w/c 22 June 2009) (also available as audio on demand), with The World's Ransoming, The Seven Last Words, and Symphony No3 (Silence) being broadcast in this mini-series.

-- Julie Williams, MusicWeb International

Known as a piano teacher and possibly also as a pupil of Beethoven, Carl Czerny (1791-1857) enjoys practically no fame as a composer today. The composing maniac (round about 800 published works) acquired great reputation (and wealth) from piano teaching and educational writing for the piano and compositions the market expected from him. His string quartets have only been passed down as manuscripts from Czerny’s estate. Czerny composed in the tradition of Haydn and Beethoven. Echoes of Mendelssohn can be discerned as well as a romantic style full of drama and profundity of expression.

As Richard Whitehouse notes in the booklet, Zemlinsky was little more than a name in the record catalogue thirty years ago and is now heavily represented on discs in every area of his musical production. This disc contains chamber works from the 1890s showing a young man who already has an assured technical equipment and is proceeding to get out from under the shadow of the all-powerful Brahms.

The Three Pieces for Cello and Piano are among the earliest works we have from Zemlinsky. At the same time they are almost new as they were lost for over a century, along with the Cello Sonata, until rediscovered by the cellist Raphael Wallfisch in his father’s effects. All three are still heavily Brahmsian, but the Lied shows some individuality and an ability for development that would continue in the later works. The Humoreske is not quite as important, but is very winning and shows good thematic contrast. I found the Tarentell less interesting.

The Cello Sonata dates from three years later (1894) and like the Three Pieces was prepared by Zemlinsky authority Antony Beaumont. It is quite substantial, even weighty, and shows a good deal of progress over the 1891 work. The opening allegro has an expression marking of mit liedenshaft, but there is also a more modern undercurrent of agitation. The second theme is calmer and again Zemlinsky shows his ability to provide thematic contrast. The andante movement starts out in a more poetic fashion, but turbulence returns with the middle section, which at the same time contains some beautiful writing for the cello. The theme of the first section returns for something of a fusion of the moods of what has gone before. The concluding allegretto is cheerful and witty and was the first time I was reminded of some aspects of the mature Zemlinsky. Again the composer’s ability at thematic contrast is to the fore but there is also more distinction in the development itself. As in the second movement, the last part is ruminative, even a little sad.

Later in 1894 Zemlinsky actually met Brahms and the senior composer voiced some criticism of the younger’s “modernity” as evidenced in the Cello Sonata and other works. Zemlinsky seemed to accept the criticisms and produced the Clarinet Trio in 1896. However, except for the Brahmsian forces it shows no going back in Zemlinsky’s progress; yet at the same time it was approved of by Brahms. In the Trio the harmony in the first movement is quite distinctive and there is a lovely weaving around the clarinet by the two other players. Contrapuntal interest grows throughout the movement and so does the emotional intensity towards the end. The andante reminds one of the Cello Sonata in its alternation of lyricism and agitation. The final allegro is quite compact. The first theme pays tribute to Brahms in a way we haven’t seen up to now; it sounds like one of the Hungarian Dances. More relaxed ideas follow and again there is some harmonic experimentation, and some fine writing for the clarinet, before a slightly surprising ending.

For me the real star on this disc is Ernst Ottensamer. He shows himself to be a fine technician as well as being able to handle all the harmonic subtleties of the well-known Trio. Christopher Hinterhuber is also to be commended for his ability to both blend in with and stand out from the others. Othmar Müller impressed me less than the others though he was able to get a great variety of emotions from the Cello Sonata. Part of the blame may be due to the Raiding Hall which I felt greatly interfered with the cello’s projection and added dryness to the sound of all the instruments.

-- William Kreindler, MusicWeb International

Classical Music

Barto is the most eloquent of them all.

Robert Barto’s distinguished Weiss recordings for Naxos have now reached volume nine. As before he demonstrates a wide range of tone colours, immaculate technical address and an unerring appreciation of Weiss’ quasi-improvisational style. The result is a trio of performances that in every way meets the expectations now placed in the lutenist. And if none of these works approaches the majesty of those contained in, say volume seven of the series (see review) then one must also concede that they nevertheless contain all those elements that make Weiss so noble, so expressive and so powerfully important a composer in this milieu.

The C minor sonata, cast in six movements, is by some way the longest and grandest of the three here. The extensive French overture is beautifully nuanced in all three of its sections, Barto’s technical armoury entirely equal to the demands placed on it and his colouristic sense fully engaged from the start. The Campanella-like Bourée sees him emphasise the bell like articulation implicit within it and he does so with brilliant articulation. As ever he plays Weiss’s slow movement with affecting lyricism; the most impressive in this set is the Siciliana of this C minor, which is taken at a suitably slow tempo. The concerto-like flourishes of the Presto finale are despatched with aplomb, the writing rich and externalised, and the playing virtuosic.

The F major [No.32] is an earlier work written conjecturally some time between 1720 and 1725. It’s performed in the Dresden version as three copies survive, representing two different versions. Its Allemande is refined and leisurely and full of decorative assurance but for me the highlight is the Bourée. Not only is this an example of Weiss at his most uplifting but it also reveals some of Barto’s great strengths – an ability to infuse the music with the most buoyant and immaculate rhythmic incisiveness allied to great warmth of tonal resources. These qualities are heightened by the succeeding cantabile of the Sarabande and by the Gigue that concludes the sonata. One of the revisions undertaken by Weiss was to replace a Gigue in 6/8 with one in 9/8 and the result is engaging and buoyant.

The final work stands at a slight remove from its companions. The G minor No.94 derives from a manuscript in the Glinka Museum in Moscow, music conjecturally brought to Russia from Dresden by Weiss’ pupil Bielogradsky. Whatever the exact origin or derivation it’s a small, charming series of dances with a delightful Paisane and a rare, early use of the Polonaise in its penultimate movement.

The recording, made in St Andrew’s Church, Toddington, is once again first class and Tim Crawford’s notes enhance this characteristically fine disc. Barto has competitors in Weiss recordings – Imamura and Lindberg among them - but for my money he is the most eloquent of them all, and this comprehensive series is a tribute to his skill and involvement.

Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

"Joseph Lin’s recording of Korngold’s Violin Sonata appears in a collection of arrangements. Gil Shaham recorded the Suite, along with his reading of the Concerto—and Barber’s—and included the Caprice fantastique on “Devil’s Dance” (Deutsche Grammophon 463 483, 24:3), that appeared around Halloween time in 2000. The Suite consists of four movements, “Maiden in the Bridal Chamber,” “Dogberry and Verges,” “Gartenscene,” (a short number played as an encore by Heifetz), and “Masquerade.” These pieces, in a more popular vein than the more ambitious Violin Sonata, showcase Korngold’s rich melodic gift and harmonic imagination, and “Dogberry and Verges” give evidence of a mild sense of humor that the Sonata seems to lack. Lin and Loeb sharply characterize each of these movements, with Lin producing an especially glowing tone in the “Garden Scene” and displaying musical and technical authority in the “Masquerade.” Shaham plays with a more sumptuous tone and soaring portamentos that bring the period and the music vividly to life and he moves forward more coherently—and cogently—in the march, “Dogberry and Verges,” which Lin plays with a drier sensibility approaching that in Prokofiev’s March from The Love for Three Oranges. But Shaham brings a cheekier strut to the final movement, “Masquerade.”

Compared to Kiss, Lin sounds relatively sweet-toned, and the timings of his movements fall between those of Kiss and Waltman. But while those two-odd minutes may seem insignificant in a four-movement work, they also can represent a sort of general relaxation that makes the work sound more discursive, though Lin and Loeb play with plenty of energy and attack the more aggressive passages in the first movement, for example, with plenty of gusto and plenty of sharp-edged panache at the movement’s climax. The duo also takes command in the large-scale Scherzo (at 10:37 in this recording, that movement occupies almost a third of the Sonata’s duration), and though there may be a degree of roughness in Lin’s attack, he brings a sense of excitement to the movement. Lin’s purity of tone on the E string generates thrilling intensity in the slow movement, powering its leaps into the stratosphere. If the Sonata’s dedicatees inspired its seriousness, Korngold certainly rose to the occasion, and so do Lin and Loeb.

The shorter pieces begin with the Serenade from Der Schneemann, a rapt miniature that shows off Lin’s tonal command but also his wide and rather slow vibrato, which, for some listeners, may even threaten to grow annoying. From Korngold’s opera, Die tote Stadt, come the two short pieces, “Tanzlied” and “Marietta’s Lied,” the first a delicately wistful song that’s immediately ingratiating, and the second, an affecting lyrical outpouring that could vie successfully with the most popular works in the genre. The Caprice, subtitled “Wichtelmännchen,” or “Goblins” could similarly almost take the place of several similar pieces, like Bazzini’s Dance of the Goblins or Paganini’s “Witches’ Dance” on recital programs, though it’s more atmospheric than brilliant. Lin sounds a bit more polite in this miniature—and occasionally more ardent, by turns—than does Shaham, who plays it with more suggestive macabre energy.

Naxos’s issue offers yet another chance to ponder the question posed above: did Korngold’s work in Hollywood debase his musical coin or polish it? Lin and Loeb make a great deal of this repertoire, and their readings deserve a recommendation to anyone interested in it, in young violinists (the release appears as part of Naxos’s “Laureate” series), or in Korngold—or even to more general listeners. Recommended."

FANFARE: Robert Maxham