This new release makes a distinguished follow-up to Laura Mikkola's Naxos recording of Rautavaara's First Piano Concerto. When works are new, as these are, it's always fascinating to listen to previous recordings and compare. The Third Piano Concerto, composed for Ashkenazy and recorded by him for Ondine, benefits from having a conductor independent of the pianist. Eri Klas leads a performance more flexible in tempo than Ashkenazy's, though I find him to be marginally the finer pianist, especially in the Adagio assai central movement, where his playing reveals a finer touch, just as the Helsinki Philharmonic is marginally the superior orchestra despite the fact that this newcomer offers more clarity of orchestral detail. Similarly, in the Second Piano Concerto Ralf Gothoni's ever-so-slightly more impulsive way with the music strikes me as preferable to Mikkola's otherwise quite admirable effort, while Klas provides her a finer accompaniment than does Jukka-Pekka Saraste and the Bavarian Radio band for Gothoni (while still being very good). Isle of Bliss is beautifully done, though it does not sing quite as well as Segerstam's Helsinki rendition for Ondine.


Because of the ease of comparison, all of this may sound as if Klas and Mikkola's efforts amount to "second best" performances, but that really isn't true. The differences between them and the only available competition are very small, and very much a matter of personal preference. By any standard, these newcomers do full justice to this lovely music. Furthermore, Mikkola is a first-class artist with a fine sense of the music's flow and a terrific technique to boot: listen to the admirable independence of right and left hands in the Third Concerto's finale, for example, a couple of minutes into the movement.


She's also very well recorded. As suggested above, the orchestral textures have greater transparency here than they do on the Ondine recordings, if perhaps not as much warmth and tonal richness. In the final analysis, I can recommend this disc without reservation, even while acknowledging the fact (not always true, of course) that the premiere recordings of the two concertos by the artists for whom they were originally composed still convey a certain special authority. But if those performances establish the works as worthy additions to the Rautavaara canon, then these attest to their ongoing viability as repertoire items, and that's every bit as important.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

STRING QUARTETS 1-3

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BAROQUE VIRTUOSO • Michala Petri (rcr); Lars Hannibal (lt) (period instruments) • OUR RECORDINGS 6220604 (SACD: 67:48)


VITALI Chaconne. TELEMANN Sonata in d, TWV 41:d4. BACH Sonata in F, BWV 1033. VIVALDI/CHÉDEVILLE Sonata in G, RV 59. CORELLI La Folia, op. 5/12. TARTINI Sonata, “Devil’s Trill.” HANDEL Sonata in B?, HWV 377


This disc presents some of the most beautiful and most intricate music of the Baroque era. Tomaso Vitali may or may not have composed the Chaconne in G Minor that was credited to him in the 19th century by violinist Ferdinand David. Nonetheless, the work has been very popular with violinists. Jascha Heifetz played it in his first New York recital, for example. Here, Petri and Hannibal play it with great care and considerable bravura. Although it was written to be played by amateurs, the artists on this CD play an intricate decorated version that no amateur is likely ever to attempt. Needless to say, it charms the ear.


The Flute Sonata in C Major was originally thought to have been written by Johann Sebastian Bach. It may, however, have been composed by one of his sons in collaboration with the father. In any case, the scintillating four-movement work has been transposed to the key of F so it can be played on the recorder and it is rendered with glorious virtuosity by Petri with Hannibal providing the well-balanced continuo.


Antonio Vivaldi, the red-headed priest of Venice, was a very popular composer. For that reason he had many imitators. One of them was the French composer Nicolas Chédeville, who passed off some of his own music as having been written by the Venetian. The Chédeville/Vivaldi Sonata in G opens with a simple Largo that caresses the ear. It is followed with a truly Baroque Allegro in which Petri and Hannibal play with abandon. The Pastorale is an invitation to enjoy nature, possibly on a pleasant spring day. Then it is followed by a catchy Allegro finale that seems to invite the listener to a musical party. Petri and Hannibal serve it up with gusto.


Perhaps the best-known works on this disc are the Corelli La Folia and the Tartini “Devil’s Trill” Sonata. Both are played with intelligence and precision, but that is true of all the works on this disc. The Corelli gives us a memorable tune with which to stay grounded for a few moments. Tartini made up a great public relations story of having heard the devil play the trill he put in the sonata. Petri plays all the lustrous silvery decorations that illuminate the background provided by Hannibal’s lute. The disc finale is Handel’s B?-Major Sonata, with its memorable songlike base.


It’s a beautiful program and every bit of it is magnificently rendered. The balance between the instruments is excellent and the sound gives the feeling of a fine, small concert hall.


FANFARE: Maria Nockin

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BYU Singers, BYU Concert Choir, BYU Men's Chorus, BYU Women's Chorus, and BYU Philharmonic Orchestra combine to celebrate the season in song. Whether you were there live in concert or are listening to this new album for the first time in your living room, your Christmas is sure to be a little brighter when BYU is a part of it. CD includes favorite carols as well as new arrangements of lesser-known Christmas music.

DVO?ÁK Piano Quartets: in D, op. 23; in E?, op. 87 • Members of the Vlach Quartet; Helena Suchárová-Weiser (pn) • NAXOS 8572159 (71: 11)


In the history of chamber-music-ensemble configurations, the piano quartet is a relative newcomer to the scene. The first such works are believed to have been written by Mozart in response to a commission from composer-publisher Anton Hoffmeister. His first, in G Minor, appeared in 1785, and a second, in E? Major, followed in 1786, but not before Hoffmeister, who was expecting string quartets, had expressed his displeasure and released Mozart from further obligation. Around this same time, however, a teenaged Beethoven, still living under his parents’ roof in Bonn, also penned three piano quartets (see Fanfare 33:2 for further details). Whether he came upon the same idea as Mozart simultaneously but independently, or the light bulb went on when he heard Mozart’s quartets during a visit to Vienna in 1787, remains unknown. What is known, or strongly believed, is that before Mozart and Beethoven, the piano quartet did not exist. For all of his string quartets and piano trios, Haydn never made the leap, nor, as far we know, did anyone else.


It seemed like a really good idea—better than a string quartet in not being so treble oriented with two violins, and better than a piano trio in not sacrificing the alto viola string voice. Yet, for some reason, the piano quartet never caught on like its older siblings, and even among those composers who did make the effort—Weber (1), Mendelssohn (3), Marschner (2), Schumann (1), Theodor Kirchner (1), Dvo?ák (2), Brahms (3), Fauré (2), Enescu (2), Martin? (1), Walton (1), Bridge (2), Copland (1), Turina (1), and one or two others—the results are not generally cited at the top of their best works lists (except perhaps in the cases of Brahms and Fauré). Moreover, the number of piano quartets written following Mozart and Beethoven pales in comparison to the number of string quartets and piano trios.


Dvo?ák tried his hand at the medium twice, once in 1875, and again in 1889. Dvo?ák is a composer I periodically fall in and out of love with; currently, I think I’m in one of my not so loving phases. As I’ve had occasion to say before, his predisposition to prolixity seems to present itself in inverse proportion to the interest and sustainability of his musical material. In simple terms, the less he had to say, the longer he went on about it—not unlike some of my reviews. The D-Major Quartet is an excellent example. At 34-and-a-half minutes, it’s only two minutes shorter than its E?-Major companion, but one must take into account that the earlier work is in only three movements, compared to the more standard four-movement layout of its sibling. To be sure, the piece has some charming Czech-inflected melodies and lovely moments, but in between is much that would have ended up on the cutting room floor if Brahms had been the editor. The most memorable movement is the Andantino con variazioni, in which Dvo?ák spins a number of very imaginative variations over a plaintive, dumka-like theme.


The E?-Major Quartet is a much more tightly constructed work, and its movements are more proportionally balanced. Dvo?ák’s writing is also bolder, more assured, and more technically demanding, especially of the pianist. By this time, the composer had learned there was more to the art of thematic development than simply padding a piece with filler. The Lento, in the hideous key for the strings of G? Major (six flats), is clearly indebted to Brahms for its melodic outlines, harmonic vocabulary, and keyboard figuration. This is not your Dvo?ák of the dumka-colored slow movement. The Allegro moderato, grazioso is also not Dvo?ák’s typical high-spirited scherzo. It’s more of a waltz, and anyone really familiar with the composer’s work will instantly recognize the opening strain (after the introductory chords) as being almost identical to the fourth item in the set of Romantic Pieces, op. 75. Only with the last movement do we finally get the ruddy-cheeked Czech peasant dance that is so characteristic of Dvo?ák’s music.


These are excellent performances from members of the Vlach Quartet joined by pianist Helena Suchárová-Weiser, thoroughly idiomatic, as one might expect from this venerable Czech ensemble, and an excellent recording made at the Lobkowitz Palace, Prague, in 2008. Surprisingly, there isn’t as much competition as one might expect, at least not that couples both piano quartets on the same disc. Two that have long occupied favored status in my collection—one with the disbanded Domus on Hyperion, and the other with the Ames Piano Quartet on Dorian—are both still listed. But they are also both full-priced albums, and I wouldn’t argue that either holds a significant edge over this budget-priced Naxos disc. If you don’t already have one or more versions of Dvo?ák’s two piano quartets on your shelf, this is a sure bet for when you’re in one of your own Dvo?ák-loving phases.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

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These captivating performances are a salutary reminder that, while Dvo?ák's chamber music is readily accessible to musicians and listeners alike, it uniquely blossoms when performed by native Czech performers - and, as we shall see, by their well-trained fellow-travelers - who bring it an intuitive sense of expressive phrasing and an understanding of its various components.

The D major quartet's opening theme, the first thing we hear, underscores the point. It includes a hiccough of a syncopation: hit it too hard, and it impedes the motion; underplay it, and it's just a distraction. These players articulate it within the overall arch of the phrase, so the rhythmic gesture intensifies the forward impulse as it should.

Such felicities abound in these performances. The players launch all the cantabile phrases with a sure sense of their broad, arching shape. The waltzlike passages - the 6/8 variations of the D major's central movement, the Allegretto scherzando of its Finale, and the third movement of the E-flat - go with a lovely lilt and swing, and carry an authentic, open-hearted lyricism.

The D major quartet is formally rather interesting. It begins with a fully-fledged Allegro moderato sonata movement, fifteen minutes long. There follows a lovely eleven-minute Andantino with five variations. The seven-minute Finale begins with the brief Allegretto scherzando cited before heading into an Allegro agitato, thus encompassing elements of both a scherzo and a conventional finale. The structure looks as off-balance in the track-listing as it undoubtedly sounds in this description, but in fact the two latter movements constitute a plausible counterweight to the first. The four-movement E-flat quartet shows Beethoven's influence. The themes are no less fetching than in the earlier work, but they lend themselves more readily to "symphonic" working-out and development, and the whole leaves an impression of greater weight and importance.

Of the players, I was particularly taken by cellist Mikael Ericcson - who, I imagine, is probably not a native Czech - whose dusky, deep tone provides special pleasure on the numerous melodic phrases the composer supplies. At the piano, Helena Suchárová-Weiser spins out pearly, articulate passagework with full tonal weight and "support", and her well-balanced chords ring out. Violinist Jana Vlachová never quite soars as one wants; her tone is thinner and her articulation less meticulous than ideal. But she's a stylish and effective player, and violist, Karel Stadtherr, produces a tone sufficiently darker than hers to render their sounds easily distinguishable.

The engineers capture just enough hall resonance to enhance the beautiful playing, but not so much as to obscure it. One would have expected to find this sort of release on an expensive, imported Supraphon disc, where it still would have been a must-buy; at Naxos prices, it's absolutely a steal.

-- Stephen Francis Vasta, MusicWeb International

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Tianwa Yang is ‘an artist of exceptional technique and musicianship’ (BBC Music Magazine) and has established herself as a leading international performer and recording artist, winning the Annual Prize of the German Record Critics 2014 for her acclaimed recordings of Sarasate’s complete violin works. Her ‘stunning effortless virtuosity’ and ‘uncanny affinity for Spanish music’ (All Things Strings) make her the ideal advocate for the music presented on this recording. The Introduction et Rondo capriccioso is a glittering showcase imbued with the passion of Iberian dance, while the Havanaise in E major is a languorous habanera. Less frequently heard are the evocative Caprice andalou, the songful Romance in C major, the rhapsodic Morceau de concert, and the improvisatory La Muse et le Poete.

REVIEW:

Tianwa Yang’s Saint-Saëns performances are totally spellbinding, not just in technical matters, but in their stylish sensibility as well. Her partners, Gabriel Schwabe and the Malmö Symphony Orchestra conducted by Marc Soustrot, are in peak form on this highly exciting disc.

– Pizzicato

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Daniel Shafran, Vol. 1: Shostakovich & Davidov

MOERAN Overture for a Masque. In the Mountain Country . Rhapsodies Nos. 1 and 2. Rhapsody in F? 1 • JoAnn Falletta, cond; 1 Benjamin Frith (pn); Ulster O • NAXOS 8.573106 (57:06)


Vernon Handley, a conductor whose service to British music should be praised in the same breath as that of Adrian Boult (but too seldom was in his lifetime), recorded these works with the Ulster Orchestra for the Chandos label between 1987 and 1989. This was the first integral set of the three rhapsodies, and very fine it is, too—still a significant part of Anglo-Irish composer Ernest John Moeran’s discography, split onto two mid-price Chandos reissues. Now, 25 years later, the orchestra revisits this repertoire, under the direction of its American principal conductor JoAnn Falletta.


The Rhapsody No. 1 in F Major is a student work. It was completed in 1922 after Moeran had returned wounded from World War I to finish his studies at the Royal College of Music with John Ireland, to whom it is dedicated. It and In the Mountain Country , a rhapsody in all but name, are works written under the spell of folksong. Moeran had resumed his collecting of such songs while composing these two pieces, and though the themes he uses are original, they could easily pass as traditional. The other major influences on these, and in fact on all of the works presented here, are the music of Frederick Delius, Jean Sibelius, and friend Peter Warlock, and—perhaps most importantly—the picturesque landscapes of the east of both Ireland and England. The blend creates a bucolic lyricism and nostalgic tonality which makes him the target of those who sneer at the so-called “pastoral” school of English composition. This is a label Vaughan Williams’s reputation has been able to rise above, but not so much that of Moeran. Yes it is tuneful, and sometime the influences show too much, but it is hard to understand why this beautifully crafted, colorfully orchestrated, and immediately engaging music should be so neglected. It cannot be, even in the more youthful works, for want of refinement or emotional depth. And the two later works, the Rhapsody in F? for piano and orchestra and the Overture for a Masque , though written for the more populist needs of wartime audiences, are works of substance that achieve their audience appeal with real artistry.


The least obscure of the works on this program is the Rhapsody No. 2 in E Major, written just two years after the first, and notably the more mature work. It still sounds rather like Delius—that common criticism of Moeran’s earlier works—but the succession of great tunes is stitched together with impressive skill. Adrian Boult’s more expansive and Impressionistic reading for Lyrita has been my favorite, but I find that Falletta’s cooler and somewhat swifter approach—less Delian, it might be noted—with its emphasis on the characterful wind writing, brings out a delightful Celtic swagger. I think Falletta’s may be my new favorite.


Otherwise, if I was looking for differences between the two complete rhapsody editions—none of them all that significant—it would be that Falletta is consistently more direct, a quality to which these pieces respond well. Handley is inclined to emphasize dynamic and tempo contrasts, and to bring out an undercurrent of melancholy. The result, at slightly slower tempos, is more thoughtful but less engagingly jaunty. The Ulster Orchestra is, if anything, more polished and expressive than its counterpart of a quarter-century ago. Soloist Benjamin Firth is not as assertive in the Rhapsody in F? as Margaret Fingerhut was for Handley, in part the work of the engineers who integrate him more into the orchestral texture. That, and his somewhat less fulsome approach to the part, is at one with Falletta’s easygoing approach, and delivers much in the way of subtle beauty while yielding little in exuberance when the score demands it. I welcome both approaches, and am thrilled to have both conductors’ readings in my collection. This new disc joins the equally fine Falletta/Ulster release on Naxos of the cello concerto, serenade, and Two Pieces for Small Orchestra . Both discs are highly recommended.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

CATALANI Ero e Leandro. Scherzo. Andantino. Contemplazione. Il Mattino “Sinfonia romantica” • Francesco La Vecchia, cond; Roma SO • NAXOS 8.573072 (54:48)


Due to his premature death at age 39 from tuberculosis, Alfredo Catalani (1854–1893) is one of the tragic near misses for musical immortality. In his finals years, after four earlier and promising but flawed efforts, he produced one very creditable opera, Loreley , followed by a stunning masterpiece, La Wally , which unfortunately and unjustly remains known almost solely for a single “hit” aria, “Ebben? Ne andrò lontana.” The quality of his surviving works, and their trajectory toward ever greater excellence, suggest that had he lived a normal lifespan, he might have ranked alongside Verdi and Puccini in the pantheon of operatic masters—at the very least, equal to or ahead of Mascagni, Giordano, Leoncavallo, and similar figures. (Certainly, Toscanini thought so, going to the extreme of naming two of his children after characters from Catalani’s operas.)


Equally unfortunately, the handful of recordings that have been made of his operas and other works have not done them justice, being generally cast with inadequate or over-the-hill singers and provincial orchestras. (The one truly great performance, the 1968 American Opera Society presentation of La Wally with Renata Tebaldi and Carlo Bergonzi, was released on the long defunct Intaglio label; it should be hunted down by anyone who cares about the work.) While this release does not rectify that lamentable situation with respect to Catalani’s operas, the most significant part of his compositional output, it does provide us with solid performances of five of his orchestral compositions. While none of these works is great music, all are at least worth hearing, being typical of their composer and pointing to the genius that would be fully realized in his final stage works.


Lyricism is, of course, a given and expected trait when one looks to Italian opera composers of the Romantic and verismo periods and styles. That said, there are distinct approaches to that lyricism. Verdi and his contemporaries represent an earlier stylistic school, in which phrases within arias tend to be more symmetrical and strophically defined, and emotional expression is more Classically poised. Puccini and the verists who came later, by contrast, composed arias whose lines follow more irregular patterns, and where the emotional passion is uninhibited. Catalani falls somewhere between the two. While chronologically he belongs to the verist period, and his melodic lines partake to some degree of their more free-flowing nature, there is a good deal of Classical restraint in his style; inflections are more subtle, and there is none of the sheer gaucherie to which the verists often fell prey. Generally, his music is more introspective, infused with a gentle melancholy and reflectiveness, retaining a certain elegance even in climactic outbursts. Indeed, the greater subtlety of Catalani’s music in comparison to that of his confreres may largely account for its failure to gain a greater foothold in the affections of the opera-going public.


All of the aforementioned traits are on full display in the works presented here. The earliest of them, a brief Andantino dating from about 1871 when the composer was only 17, was one of his first works to be published and attract favorable notice. Composed in rondo form, it shows confident command of that idiom, and the opening musical material is already redolent of the atmospheric music that Catalani would use to invoke the Swiss Alps in La Wally two decades later. The equally brief Scherzo in A from 1878 belies its jocund title, savoring instead of an almost minuet-like decorum. Both works also exist in versions for piano, which are most likely their original guises. The aptly-named Contemplazione , also from 1878, is a more substantial piece (11:35 in this recording); it is a mostly quiet and dream-like nocturne cast broadly in A-B-A form.


The two most formidable works here are separated by the interval of a decade. Il Mattino (Morning), dating from 1874, is one of at least three attempts the youthful composer made at a symphony; the other two are a companion work, La Notte (Night), and a previous Sinfonia from 1872. It opens with a brief slow introduction on the woodwinds before segueing to a somewhat faster allegro section in a still moderate tempo. While the thematic material is unmistakably of an Italianate cast, Catalani here clearly has his eyes set on formal models from north of the Alps, particularly Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Brahms. In this case he struggles, somewhat unsuccessfully, to make grandly weighty musical gestures, which come off as rather commonplace instead, though I have a sense that a considerably more lively tempo would be more apt and could remedy that perception, at least in part.


Ero e Leandro , Catalani’s one attempt at a symphonic poem, followed in 1884. It depicts the ancient Greek myth of the illicit love between the youth Leander of the city of Abados, and Ero (Hero), the vestal virgin priestess of Venus held in a tower in the city of Sestos on the other side of the strait of the Hellespont (Dardanelles). Each night, guided by a lamp suspended by Ero in the tower, Leander swims the strait to join her in nightly ecstasies of love. (Inspired by the myth, Lord Byron replicated this feat and swam the channel in four hours in 1810, an event commemorated first by his subsequent poem and then by an annual swimming event.) One night, as Leander attempts to return home, a storm puts out the lamp, and he loses his way in the waters and drowns. His body washes up on the shore in sight of Ero, who then hurtles herself from the tower to her own death. At age 30, the composer has now arrived at full stylistic maturity. The thematic material, variously depicting the undulations and storms of the sea, the strenuous swimming of Leander, and the amorous passion between him and Ero, is well integrated into a seamless flow of ongoing variations supported by masterly orchestration. Stylistically it also shows the composer charting his own original path; while there is a distant kinship in spirit with the tone poems of Dvo?ák and Tchaikovsky, Catalani is now definitely his own man, setting an example that would later flow into the orchestral works of figures such as Respighi and Casella.


The recordings of the Andantino and Il Mattino are advertised as being world premieres. The other three works were previously issued on a Bongiovanni CD, with performances by Silvano Frontalini and the Warmia National Orchestra (a Polish ensemble) that David Johnson accorded a rather tepid review back in 15:1. Riccardo Muti and the orchestra of La Scala recorded the Scherzo and Contemplazione for Sony in 1998, a disc that Bernard Jacobson endorsed in 22:1; one wishes that Muti had taken on Ero and Leandro as well or instead. There is no question that the members of the Roma Symphony have this idiom in their blood, and play with style and commitment, and they are abetted by recorded sound that is clear and spacious but not overly resonant. My one reservation is that, while I don’t have a basis for comparison, I have a clear sense that the major works on this disc require a firmer, more energetic hand at the podium than Francesco La Vecchia provides. However, unless Muti, Gianandrea Noseda, or a figure of similar stature decides to take this music in hand (how about a disc with Ero and Leandro, Contemplazione , and all three of Catalani’s symphonies?), this is perforce the preferred choice for those who want recordings of the two major works and the Andantino . Recommended to specialists in the narrow niche of Romantic Italian symphonic repertoire.


FANFARE: James A. Altena

Antonio Janigro, Vol. 1: Bach & Boccherini

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Founded in 2009, Trio Shaham Erez Wallfisch is made up of three of the best classical musicians performing today: violinist Hagai Shaham, pianist Arnon Erez, and cellist Raphael Wallfisch. Alongside the trio, performs the Staatsorchester Rheinische Philharmonie, conducted by Daniel Raiskin. For this two disc release, the works of Brahms have been chosen.

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Profiles of three Czech composers, each of whom was imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp: this is the somber premise of "Forbidden Music", an album helmed by the fantastic young English violinist Daniel Hope. Two of these three composers, Gideon Klein and Hans Krása, were imprisoned at Terezín (Theresienstadt); the third, Ervín Schulhoff, was interned not far away. As Hope writes in his introduction, all three wrote music that is "powerful, unsentimental, and uncompromising." It's a poignant joy to hear this trio of composers given their due by three passionate and intelligent interpreters.


Gideon Klein was 21 years old and already a precocious talent when he entered Terezín. A noted pianist, he was about to enroll at London's Royal Academy of Music when he was taken away. That same year, he penned his Duo for Violin and Cello, which stands as two movements: a spiky Allegro con fuoco and a richly colored, unfinished Lento. The most affecting of Klein's pieces, however, is his String Trio, completed nine days before he was moved to Auschwitz. (He died the next year at Fürstengrube, very shortly before the war's end). This three-movement work, built upon Moravian folk themes, is a powerful example of his talent, both in terms of harmonic sophistication (from a largely self-taught composer) and its keen sense of rhythmic dynamism.


Until his internment at Terezín in 1942, Hans Krása led quite a charmed life: his wealthy parents gave him an Amati violin while he was still a child; he was mentored by Alexander Zemlinsky as a student; and he became an assistant conductor in Prague under George Szell. The vamps of his Tanec (Dance) demonstrate both his cool-eyed worldliness and his idiomatic understanding of jazz rhythms--and it's a world away from the elegiac Passacaglia e Fuga for string trio (written in 1944, two months before he was moved to Auschwitz and gassed upon arrival). Krása begins with a sweet waltz, handsomely articulated by Hope, which is shortly transmogrified into a ghostly and then increasingly distorted version of itself. It's a truly chilling work, one that defies the sensibilities of Krása's most famous piece associated with Terezín, the children's opera Brundibár (which the Nazis used as showpiece propaganda).


The third composer showcased here is Ervín Schulhoff, who was interned not at Terezín, but at the nearby Wulzburg camp. The two works of his included here provide a greater context for the other music on this collection. 1925's brilliantly colored Duo for Violin and Cello, which was dedicated to Janácek, is replete with Czech and other folk undertones--particularly in the wild and technically demanding second-movement Zingaresca. Similarly, his 1922 Sonata for Solo Violin, masterfully played by Hope, winds its way through a panoply of moods, from a sizzling Allegro con fuoco to an elegant Andante cantabile. To end (and, in a way, consecrate) this disc, Hope includes his own arrangement of Ravel's Kaddish for solo violin. "Kaddish" is the Jewish prayer for the dead, and although brief, Hope's plangent eloquence speaks worlds about lives lost and mourned.


Although in many ways this is Hope's endeavor, his partners match him in technical mastery and emotional depth. The sound also is first-rate, the presence so realistic that you feel as if you're sitting next to the musicians. This album is an important project, and it receives the love and care that it deserves. [Editor's note: for an excellent recording of Krása's Brundibar, look for the version on Channel Classics, conducted by Joža Karas; for the most authoritative account of the Terezín story, read the book Music in Terezín 1941-1945 by Joža Karas, published by Pendragon Press.] [4/20/2004]
--Anastasia Tsioulcas, ClassicsToday.com

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Members of the Mosaiques together with Patrick Cohen reawakened us to the delight of yet another evolving genre in which Haydn, once again, had ‘to become original’, in their piano trio recordings on Harmonia Mundi (11/91, 9/93, 9/95 and 5/96); now the Vienna Piano Trio, following hard on the heels of their own excellent Dvorak and Beethoven Trios (9/97), fill in some of the gaps, in close, sometimes breathy, but always thrillingly true new recordings of four of the Haydn trios.

The Gipsy Trio may have been written in and for London, but this ensemble’s short, snappy bowing, stomping piano accents and, above all, uniquely instinctive fluctuations of tempo and pulse in the finale, locate the work unmistakably in the grape-treading, Romany heart of the Burgenland. The steps of the dance shape and pervade the ETrio, too, in the jauntily sprung rhythms of the opening Allegretto, and the splendidly boisterous and cross-accented Allemande of its finale.

Among countless other delights in these bold and addictive performances is the sensitivity to the power of silence, and the short, hushed half-tones within the long-breathed lines of the Andante of the A major Trio. And, not least, the perceptive understanding and judgement of the shifting qualities of an Allegro which so well supports the structure of the outer movements of the D major, as well as enabling many a clearly articulated yet fanciful variation in the Gipsy Trio.

-- Hilary Finch, Gramophone [12/1997]

The 15 two-part Inventions and 15 three-part Sinfonias (BWV 772-801) first appeared in the Clavierbüchlein, a colelction of 62 short works for keyboard put together by Bach in 1720 for his nine-year-old son Wilhelm. In an earlier version the Inventions were called "Praeambulae" and the Sinfonias "Fantasias". Like all the works in this collection, the Inventions and Sinfonias had an explicity didactic purpose, reflected in the title of the clear autograph written by Bach: "Straightforward Instructions, In which amateurs of the keyboard, and especially the eager ones, are shown a clear way not only (1) of learnign to play cleanly in two voices, but also, after further progress, (2) to handle three obbligato parts correctly and satisfactorily, and above all arriving at a cantabile manner in playing, all the while acquiring a strong foretaste of composition." Like most of Bach's works, the Inventions and Sinfonias were not published during his lifetime. Nevertheless they became widely known in multiple handwritten copies and were used as teaching material for young keyboard students. In spite of their didactic purpose, these are works of the finest quality, concise and precise articulations of the basic principles of Bach's musical logic and procedures for handling his material. There is one creative power that governs our consciousness, out perception of the world. It manifests itself through patterns, numbers, the play of elements, our senses and emotions. It defines the way we see and recreate our world in each and every aspect of our lives. It is a high task indeed to recognize and accept this power, to let it guide you in all endeavors and pay back a worthy tribute to it. J.S. Bach did just that.