Classical Music

ERNANI: DEL MONACO-WARREN-SIEP

Classical Music

AIDA: WELITSCH-VINAY-HARSHAW-M

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Redline Tango launches the new line of Naxos recordings, Wind Band Classics.

TAKEMITSU Romance. Lento in due movimenti. Uninterupted Rest. Piano Distance. For Away. Les yeus clos. Les yeux clos II. Rain Tree Sketch. Rain Tree Sketch II. Piano Pieces for Children. Litany • Kotaro Fukuma (pn) • NAXOS 8.570261 (63:57)


Kotaro Fukuma (b. 1982) received high praise from Susan Kagan in Fanfare 29:2 for a program of Robert Schumann’s works; she called his technique “dazzling” and opined that his version of the Fantasiestücke “leaves nothing to be desired.” The piano music of Toru Takemitsu would seem to require a total reconsideration of touch and temperament, but Fukuma rises to the challenge. He’s certainly capable of phrasing with delicacy, as the opening of Les yeux clos II reveals, with the addition of a biting modernity to the gestures of Piano Distance and a sharp, pointed attack in Uninterrupted Rest . Even so, he continually highlights the lyrical nature of the music, not by emphasizing its flowing qualities, as does Kumi Ogano (Philips—see Fanfare 16:3), or its contemplative breadth, per Roger Woodward (Etcetera), but through a thoughtful balance of dramatic detail and atmospheric resonance. And though his Litany may lack the warmth and sensitivity of that of Peter Serkin (RCA—see Fanfare 20:3), it reinforces Takemitsu’s connection with Debussy.


Another advantage to this disc is its completeness—which is not to say it is complete. Fukuma omits realizations of Takemitsu’s two graphic scores, Corona and Crossing , as does everyone else except for Woodward, who’s recorded them twice (Etcetera and Explore). But Fukuma does include several previously overlooked or rejected pieces—a pair of charming, songlike, albeit ordinary miniatures for children; Lento in due movimenti , the unedited original version of Litany ; and, most interestingly, a Romance from 1949, the composer’s earliest surviving piano work, which combines Japanese modes, elements of Impressionism, and a brusque urgency unheard in his later music. Given the fact that both the Serkin and Woodward discs are not presently available, Fukuma deserves strong consideration for both the quality of his playing and the opportunity to hear these rare pieces.


FANFARE: Art Lange

This CD contains four of Adam's beautifully shimmering, texturally rich compositions for various combinations of one or two pianos and various percussion instruments. Features performances by noted pianist/conductor/new music champion Stephen Drury, who is on the faculty of the New England Conservatory and has recorded for Tzadik, New Albion, Mode and more.

Among Carl Philipp Emanuel Bach's last works are quartets for piano, flute and viola, composed in 1788. His reasoning for composing these works is unknown bu tin several respects they represent a climax in chamber writing. Stylistically, they may be seen as an extremely elaborate synthesis of Classical writing and the individual style that caused Bach to be referred to as an original genius even during his lifetime.

PAGANINI (arr. Kreisler) Violin Concerto No. 2: Rondo, “La campanella.” Variations on Non più mesta. Moto perpetuo. Caprices: Nos. 13, 20, 24. Le streghe. Variations on Di tanti palpiti • Philippe Quint (vn); Dmitriy Cogan (pn) • NAXOS 8.570703 (60:20)


Fritz Kreisler made a rather large number of arrangements of Paganini’s music, and a great deal of them appear in Philippe Quint’s collection. In addition to these, Kreisler arranged the First Concerto’s first movement in a version that he himself recorded (though not until 1936, when he had entered his 60s—it’s the only Paganini he recorded), as, later, would Alfredo Campoli and Guila Bustabo. August Wilhelmj also arranged the first movement of that concerto, snipping here and there, reorchestrating, and adding romantic transitions—but Kreisler’s version bears the imprint of both Vienna and his own personality. While Heifetz, early on, reportedly played Wilhelmj’s arrangement with piano (Váša P?íhoda recorded it that way), I’m not aware of a tradition of performing Kreisler’s version. So this roster of works arranged for violin and piano seems pretty much complete.


Quint begins with the finale of the Second Concerto, often played as an encore. He possesses not only the agility to make the harmonics tinkle (the movement’s subtitle, “La campanella,” suggests the ringing of bells) but the stylistic sensitivity and adaptability to play the occasional passage as though it had been written by Kreisler rather than Paganini (and the accompaniments—Kreisler, like Heifetz, played the piano almost as well as he did the violin—indulge Kreisler’s tendency to gemütlich chromaticism). Occasionally here, as in other pieces, Kreisler simplifies or omits, but the excisions and emendations hardly ever disfigure the torso he’s left. And Quint plays with such authority that it’s hard to hear these arrangements as anything but definitive, though inspection reveals otherwise.


Paganini’s variations showcase many of his most difficult technical innovations (there’s nothing in the caprices, for example, to equal the accompanied pizzicatos or double harmonics of the variations on God Save the King ). They’re difficult enough to make a dazzling impression even when some of the terrors have been shorn, as in Kreisler’s arrangements. He certainly didn’t blanch at the double harmonics that figure so prominently in the Variations on Non più mesta , and neither does Quint, though they’re not 99 and 99/100 percent pure in his reading.


The young Jascha Heifetz and the young Michael Rabin made electrifying impressions, each, in the Moto perpetuo . If Quint doesn’t bite as deeply into the string as they did even at their lickety-split tempos, he still manages to make a lively impression; his reading takes 4:11, with Heifetz’s (1918) and Rabin’s (1960) and Ricci’s, 3:59, 3: 13, and 4:00, respectively, but Rabin didn’t repeat the first section. It’s impossible to distinguish the difficult passages from the easy ones. Next in Quint’s program come the three caprices Kreisler arranged for violin and piano (Heifetz used to play the 13th and 20th in Kreisler’s way). Quint plays the 13th at a tempo so deliberate that it’s hard to maintain focus, even though the piano part’s interesting enough in itself, but there’s nothing soggy about his approach to the staccatos in the middle section; in his rendition, what had become known as the “Devil’s Laugh” comes closer to a devil’s sigh. In No. 20, he realizes much of the lyricism suggested by the rich piano accompaniment (compare it at this tempo with the even richer one by Karol Szymanowski and see how adept it seems). And he brings a strikingly playful sense, reminiscent of Kreisler’s own, to the middle section (he doesn’t return to the opening after it—-Kreisler reworked the middle section’s ending).


Le streghe —at least its theme—has become familiar to most violin students working their way through the Suzuki literature, but the piece from which it has been drawn has been recorded with an infrequency that may be due to its difficulty. Quint makes a crisp impression in the double- and triple-stopped passages, reminiscent of Ricci’s performances of the composer’s works, and more advanced recording techniques provide a truer tonal portrait. Quint is as ardently insinuating on the G string as he is commanding in those multiple-stops. And he’s as Kreislerian in the seemingly obvious interpolations as he is Paganinian in the original material.


Paganini’s 24th Caprice has perhaps been played and recorded in the original version more often than in arrangement, but Heifetz used to play Leopold Auer’s reworking. Kreisler’s represents, in a way, a different kind of work, with flintier sparks but some of the original variations replaced (think of what he did with Tartini’s Variations on a Theme of Corelli—there’s a variation here that sounds very much like the multiple-stopped one he created for that Tartini piece). The variation in descending thirds sounds languid in this version (and in Quint’s performance).


Once again in the introduction to Paganini’s variations on Di tanti palpiti , the music suddenly sounds like Kreisler. That happens so often in Kreisler’s arrangements that it would attract little notice. But Quint plays with a special Kreislerian sensibility that renders the effect a magical one.


The engineers have captured Quint and the capable Dmitriy Cogan up close, and in this case cozying up like this doesn’t yield an HD image that reveals warts and skin blemishes; Quint is nearly flawless. Kreisler obviously had a good working technique, even if he might never have rivaled Heifetz or Ricci or Kogan or Milstein—and the list might go on longer. Perhaps, however, he had other fish to fry. Or perhaps he didn’t and he might have been, as his wife embarrassingly insisted in public, a fine violinist if he’d only have practiced. Be that as it may, Quint gives these pieces idiomatic performances that Kreisler himself might have envied. That’s a mouthful. Strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Nikolai Medtner's fortunes have risen on disc insofar as his solo piano works are concerned, while his substantial violin output remains relatively obscure. One explanation for this has to do with the fact that the Second and Third Violin Sonatas each take nearly 45 minutes to perform and require the utmost in technique, musicality, and concentration from both players.

The Third Sonata dates from 1938, and its basic melodic and rhythmic material draws upon Orthodox liturgical chants and gutsy folk-dances. A 1996 Erato recording with violinist Vadim Repin and pianist Boris Berezovsky has long held a reference position for its virtuoso bravura and paragraphic sweep. Laurence Kayaleh and Paul Stewart offer a different yet no less convincing point of view by way of slightly slower tempos, more lyrical rumination (their expansive, flexible parsing of the slow movement), plus thoughtful attention to detail.

You'll notice how Kayaleh projects the contrasts in the enormous first movement's themes by generously dipping into her vast portfolio of articulations and nuances, while Stewart differentiates various degrees of non-legato phrasing without ever exaggerating. While the Scherzo is more "meno" than "molto" vivace, the violin's ricocheting passagework gains melodic clarity and shape with extra breathing space, and the pizzicato chords truly speak. The players' tightly unified pacing in the finale's canonic passacaglia stands out for its easy contrapuntal repartée.

The smaller-scaled Nocturnes and the effective Heifetz arrangement of the B minor Fairy Tale also receive sensitive, poetic readings, where the timbre Kayaleh obtains from her two lowest strings has a memorable, viola-like richness. A warm ambience arises from Naxos' close microphone placement, and the pianist's booklet notes are informative and well written. Watch for the second and final volume.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

TomAs Bret n, a native of Salamanca, rose from relatively humble circumstances to become a leading figure in Spanish music, director of the Madrid Conservatory and an important conductor.

KUHLAU Piano Sonatas, op. 59: in A; in F; in C. Sonatinas, op. 20: in C; in G; in F • Jen? Jandó (pn) • NAXOS 8.570709 (59:07)


Ill-fated Friedrich Kuhlau (1786–1832) suffered a number of life’s mishaps. The first, at age seven, was the loss of his right eye in a street accident. The second, many years later, was the loss of all his unpublished manuscripts in a fire that burned his house to the ground. But perhaps the greatest misfortune of all to befall him was Beethoven, or, more specifically, to have been born and lived in Beethoven’s shadow. Born in Germany, Kuhlau fled to Copenhagen in 1810 to avoid conscription in the Napoleonic Army. What? No 4-F exemptions for one-eyed musicians? He remained in Denmark for the rest of his life, never gaining much traction as a composer except for his Danish opera, Elverhøj ( Elf Mound ). He did, however, achieve some recognition as a concert pianist; as a great admirer of Beethoven, Kuhlau introduced a number of Beethoven’s works to Copenhagen audiences. Of Kuhlau’s manuscripts that escaped the flames and made it to publication, there are approximately 200, consisting mainly of chamber works, solo piano pieces, and enough pieces for flute to have earned him the nickname “the Beethoven of the flute.”


Kuhlau is said to have been most heavily influenced by Beethoven, and as one listens to these sonatas and sonatinas, it’s clear that he had at least the more superficial aspects of Beethoven’s early style down pat. I’m speaking here of the keyboard figurations, the harmonic progressions, and the gestural articulation. A perfect example is the Adagio e sostenuto movement of the G-Major Sonatina, op. 20/2. But here the comparison ends. Kuhlau is but a dinghy caught in the wake of an aircraft carrier. Had he lived 25 years earlier, these mostly slight works might have been seen as a significant advance in keyboard style, but he didn’t; and this is what I meant above when I said that Kuhlau’s greatest misfortune was to have been born and lived in the shadow of Beethoven. Consider that the op. 20 sonatinas on this disc are dated 1820; the op. 59 sonatas, 1824. By this late date, Beethoven was done with the piano sonata as a vehicle for expressing his musical ideas. The “Hammerklavier” and the three last sonatas were behind him.


The taxonomic division of the works on this disc into sonatas and sonatinas is a bit of a puzzler. Keith Anderson’s booklet note homes in on this very point, informing us that the three op. 59 works are often published as sonatinas rather than sonatas. The crux of the matter is that in musical lexicography a sonatina refers either to a small-scaled, modest sonata or, more properly, to a sonata-allegro movement without a development section. The op. 59 set on the disc does feature the requisite first-movement development sections to qualify as sonatas, but oddly, they are all relatively brief works and in only two movements. The op. 20 set, though called “sonatinas,” are all more extended three-movement works and, at least in one case—the F-Major—there is a short development section.


It is likely that most, if not all, of these pieces were written for students, as Kuhlau earned no small amount of his income teaching and publishing just such sonatas and sonatinas intended for young fingers. In a 2006 New York Times article I came across on the Internet (http: //www.nytimes.com/2006/07/02/arts/music/02holl.html), Bernard Holland acknowledges that “none of these sonatinas prepare the student for Beethoven at his most ornery,” and asks “Why play Kuhlau in the first place?” He answers his own question thus: “It is easy to dismiss this annoyingly perfect music as a product of mindless rote or a series of bad habits having outlived their time. But the sonatinas have their uses.” What they are, according to Holland, strike me as a bit misguided. “Really interesting composers like Haydn and Beethoven” he continues ( leaving Mozart and Schubert out of the equation —my italics), “violated the unwritten road maps with glee; but fully to understand the originality of the violators, it is nice to have a Kuhlau or a Muzio Clementi to show you just what is being violated.” Apart from the fact that the road maps of harmonic progression and sonata form were hardly unwritten by the late 18th century, what Holland seems to be saying is that Kuhlau’s only purpose is to provide us with a sextant by which to measure the degrees of deviation from true north practiced by the “really interesting composers.”


I have a rather different take on it. In the grander scheme of things, which we cannot know, it may be that neither Kuhlau nor any of the “really interesting composers” has any purpose at all, other than to afford us some pleasure and comfort while we wait to shuck off this mortal coil. Kuhlau is never less than harmonious, pleasing to the ear, attractive, and entertaining. As music, it’s a vacant sand lot, but one I’d rather trudge through than the barren dunes of some of what passes for music today.


Jen? Jandó is one of Naxos’s “house” pianists. He plays everything they throw at him smartly and stylishly. These pieces, of course, make no technical demands that a polished professional such as Jandó isn’t up to. The recording was made in 2007 with Jandó playing a modern grand piano. While recordings of Kuhlau’s keyboard works abound, the current CD appears to be the only one currently available containing these specific opus numbers. Buy, enjoy, and be happy.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

For this new release, pianist Annhelena Schluter invites the listener into her world of admiration for J. S. Bach as she performs Das wohltemperierte Klavier I. Annhelena says of this project: “The pedal point of holiness that underlies Bach’s music is mixed with our world like a recurring ostinato in normal everyday life. His musical message is one of comfort. My work as a musician is based on experiences, memories and a sense of purpose; not on mere knowledge. Johann Sebastian is my role model; his works are based on goodness energy, joy and patience… Bach’s Wohltemperiertes Klavier extends to the heavens, always upward-looking, beckoning us at every cadence, at every fresh start, in every pause, constantly reiterating the invitation.” Annhelena Schluter has studied in Cologne, Wurzburg, and the United States. She continually performs in masterclasses, festivals and concerts across Europe and the USA. Not only is she an accomplished pianist, she has also won several writing competitions for her lyrics, poems, and songs, and she has founded several music ensembles.

Recording information: Siemens Villa, Berlin, Germany (03/10/2009-03/11/2009).

This album was nominated for the 2005 Grammy Award for "Best Chamber Music Performance."

Recording information: Conservatorio di Lugano, Switzerland (04/07/2008).

Alexandre Kantorow released his first album for BIS in 2016, performing Liszt's piano concertos to critical acclaim: "I'm here to tell you that Alexandre Kantorow is Liszt reincarnated" wrote one impressive reviewer, in Fanfare Magazine. Not yet 20 years old, the French pianist and son of violinist and conductor Jean-Jacques Kantorow now explores his Russian roots, in a recital that opens with Rachmaninov's weighty First Piano Sonata, inspired by Goethe's play Faust, and its three main characters, the scholar Faust, his beloved Gretchen and Mephistopheles, the Devil's emissary. The nostalgic intimacy of Méditation and Passé Iointain, from Tchaikovsky's Op. 72 collection, offers respite from the drama, but tension returns with Guido Agosti's virtuosic piano arrangement of three extracts from Stravinsky's Firebird. Kantorow closes his Russian recital with Mily balakirev's "oriental fantasy" Islamey, one of the iconic works of the piano literature. Fiendishly difficult, the piece famously inspired Ravel to write something that would be even harder to play (his gaspard de la nuit). A committed Russian nationalist, Balakirev himself found the inspiration for Islamey during a journey to the Caucasus when he was introduced to the local music tradition.

The focus of this album, consisting almost entirely of world premiere recordings on period instruments in modern times, is on Johann David Heinichen. Ensemble Sans Souci/Giuseppe Nalin: oboe, leader/Nicolò Dotti: oboe/Paolo Tognon: bassoon/Fabiano Merlante: theorbo, archlute, viola da gamba/Massimiliano Varusio: cello, viola da gamba/Michele Gallo: bass/Marco Vincenzi: harpsichord.