In these days of megaboxes and reissues, it’s surprising and delightful to see a new release that couples two beautiful quartets, immaculately played, just because–well, just because. OK, the cover art makes Tetzlaff look like a cult leader hanging out with his three sister-wives, but happily his eponymous quartet doesn’t fall prey to any Svengali-like mind control from its first violin. Their work is that of a true quartet, well-balanced, precise, and with a welcome give-and-take between the parts.

This is particularly true of the Schubert, a work whose strange harmonies and endless tremolo textures foreshadow Bruckner, and which demand a particularly sensitive handling of the relationship between melody and accompaniment. The first movement relishes its quasi orchestral textures, but without ever letting us forget that this really is chamber music. In both of the outer movements tempos are particularly well judged, with the constant seesawing between major and minor in the finale producing a truly disturbing, almost queasy effect.

Haydn’s Quartet in G minor, Op. 20 (No. 3) makes an ideal disc mate, even leaving aside its complementary tonality. Its first movement, particularly, offers plenty of uneasy emotional ambiguity that’s very well captured here. Charles Rosen, in The Classical Style, presented a typically penetrating analysis, calling its handling of rhythm and motivic development positively upsetting; and in this interpretation the evident care with dynamics and sense of timing conveys the darkness just below the surface particularly well.

In short, this is a throwback: a classical music release without a stupid title or ridiculous concept, one that lets the greatness of the music speak for itself and offers interpretations that justify the program through purely musical means. Wonder of wonders. It deserves your support, and will reward your close attention. - ClassicsToday.com
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A MusicWeb International Recording of the Month!

Is there, I wonder, a greater string quartet than Schubert’s D.887, Beethoven’s notwithstanding? Certainly it is one of the most profound, moving and indeed disturbing works in that genre, rivalled only by the same composer’s string quintet and characterised by an eternal paradox in its typically Schubertian endless melodic stream and its equally typical sense of impending death, doom and destruction. The finale must emerge as a Dance of Death, a startlingly brutal musical depiction of dissolution almost two hundred years before Stravinsky utilised that trope in “The Rite of Spring”, a brave and desperate defiance of the inevitable masked by enforced jollity - and the Tetzlaff Quartet really nail the mood.

Their playing is swift and invariably tightly focused, never “prettified”, sometimes raw, with sparing use of vibrato, and technically flawless execution of the frequent tremolos. The recorded sound is very detailed and more intimate than, say, the Alban Berg or Allegri Quartets; their broader acoustics match their grander, more overt manner, but where the Tetztlaff really excels is in its scrupulous and invariably unanimous application of dynamics, which greatly enhances the intensity of its playing. That attention to nuance is reinforced by their observation in the booklet notes regarding how the dynamic markings go “from triple piano with diminuendo to triple forte with crescendo”. Those notes provide little factual information on the music itself, being a transcription of a conversation about its emotional hinterland and impact of this constantly questioning music. Mahler’s wry aphorism comes to mind: “If a composer could say what he had to say in words he would not bother to say it in music” – although perhaps a review should be wary of smugly borrowing his bon mot given that the same principle could apply to reviewing.

The first movement is chilling and gripping, its grotesqueries fully realised. The Andante contains some of the most beautiful and unsettling music ever written, exhibiting wonderful control of pianissimi and concluding in almost serene and consolatory mode. The Scherzo is featherlight and delicate in the Mendelssohnian manner, the waltz-time Trio ideally elegant.

If Schubert’s quartet represents some kind of apex in the form then there is an evident logic in including in the programme here a work which was seminal in its inception and establishment. However, there is also the programmatic rationale of establishing a thematic link between these two quartets. If Goethe’s dictum is correct, that the string quartet is “a conversation between four intelligent people”, then in the case of these two works all the participants are to some degree disordered, yet we undoubtedly hear four equal voices, each claiming conversational ascendancy in turn, such is the virtuosity and equilibrium of the Tetzlaffs’ playing. Haydn’s work is disturbing in a manner similar to that of Schubert’s, in that the music evinces a frequent and shocking undercurrent of dissatisfaction and even anger, although it hardly achieves the same scorched emotiveness as Schubert’s masterwork. This is wild, erratic and fragmented music by early Classical period standards; even the supposedly courtly Menuet is more melancholy and unsettled than “galant” and three of the movements conclude by simply tailing off in a piano muttering in a manner most unconventional and even unsatisfactory by the measure of the age. The Trio of the Scherzo is incongruously cheerful as if it hardly belongs in the quartet at all while the Adagio, exquisitely played here, provides another such interlude of unexpected serenity in an otherwise fitful and capricious work whose restlessness goes a long way towards justifying its kinship with D887. A final irony is that there is no evidence that this or any other string quartets were ever performed in Esterházy; it seems that Haydn wrote them out of an inner compulsion to exorcise his demons while marooned in that civilised but remote gilded cage.

Comparison with the esteemed Buchberger Quartet in the Haydn reveals that the Buchberger is more assertive and plays in a more overtly “con spirito” manner than the Tetzlaff, who are perhaps occasionally almost too refined but thereby bring out the subtleties of this extraordinary music; I would not let that count as a demerit, especially when the pairing here succeeds so triumphantly.

– MusicWeb International (Ralph Moore)

A hundred years ago it was absolutely the greatest hit everywhere in Europe – the oratorio Quo Vadis by Feliks Nowowiejski, based on Henryk Sienkiewicz’s novel of the same name and magnificently scored for soloists, mixed chorus, organ, and orchestra. We at cpo are now releasing this gigantic work in an interpretation by the Poznan Philharmonic under the conductor Lukasz Borowicz and with outstanding soloists and the Chorus of the Podlasie Opera and Philharmonic of Bialystok. Nowowiejski composed his oratorio in 1903, and during the following thirty years it was performed more than two hundred times throughout Europe and in North and South America – not least because its literary source, Henryk Sienkiewicz’s novel with this title, was very well known. The Polish writer Sienkiewicz was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1905, and the popularity of his novel Quo Vadis must have substantially contributed to this decision. Many of Nowowiejski’s works are the expression of a quest for identity, and here the oratorio Quo Vadis leads the search. After all, it embodies generally humanistic values – like Sienkiewicz’s literary oeuvre – and was and is situated beyond the realm of partisan politics.

The discovery of Telemann’s previously unknown Altona Jubel-Music von 1760 in an omnibus manuscript belonging to the Hamburg State and University Library but first returned in 1998 from Armenia, where it had been deposited for wartime safekeeping, is remarkable in several respects. »Already immediately after the first performance of the work in Altona’s principal church on 16 October 1760, an unknown reporter writing in the Altonaer Mercurius judged that it was ‘a superbly beautiful composition.’ And it is in fact a qualitatively outstanding composition ranking with the best that Telemann composed during his last years. One more top-quality work increases our knowledge of Telemann’s late oeuvre. Until a few years ago it was also not known to what an astonishing degree Telemann had been active as a composer in Altona (at least twelve festive compositions written from 1741 to 1764), which then belonged to Denmark, or that at the time there was even a noteworthy musical scene in Altona. The two-part composition consisting of sixteen numbers to the text of an unknown poet honors King Frederick V of Denmark on the occasion of the hundredth anniversary of the hereditary sovereignty of the Danish royal house« (Jurgen Neubacher, Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek Hamburg).

Award-winning composer Jane Antonia Cornish, having already made her award-winning mark in film scoring, is shown in her concert mood, still lush and atmospheric, on her new innova album, Continuum. • Performed by Decoda – the first ever Affiliate Ensemble of Carnegie Hall – these four world premiere recordings of chamber works explore terrain as disparate as the cyclic nature of the ocean’s tides, our relationship to space and memory, and deep connections to place. • This release follows Cornish’s Duende, “a program of bold, thoughtful, mesmerizing chamber music.” (American Record Guide)

While little is known about Dario Castello (before 1600-1644), we are left with his Sonate concertate in stil moderno. This work by Castello, published in two books in 1621 and 1629 enjoyed great popularity, and were continually reprinted. Castello’s music is known for its virtuosic solos. The Musica Fiata performs these works with grandeur.

GREAT VIOLIN CONCERTOS (10-CD Box Set)

The essence of a concerto is the contrast and combination of a solo instrument with a larger instrumental ensemble. Having developed out of the Baroque concept of concerto grosso, the concerto genre was fully established in the eighteenth century, and many works dating from this period are still a key part of the repertoire today. The opportunity for virtuosic display from the soloist has resulted in the concerto becoming a vital musical force on the concert platform.

The violin concerto owes a great deal of its development to the technical achievement of performers, and to this day many works are renowned for their fierce technical demands. Indeed, many composers who have written for the instrument were superlative players themselves—Wieniawski and Paganini among them. The fascinating history and capabilities of the instrument can be traced through the compositions contained herein; from the gossamer threads of Vivaldi to the exhilarating fireworks of Prokofiev, via the lilting swagger of Lalo and Saint-Saëns and nationalistic panache of Sibelius and Glazunov.

Reviews of some of the original recordings that make up this set:

Spohr: Concerto no 8
"Louis Spohr, once considered to hold a place among the greatest composers of his era, subsequently fell into a gray oblivion, only to be resurrected several times during the 20th century. Although his compositional output might have been more encompassing than those of many of his fellow violinist-composers, he may for practical purposes remain in contention principally for the honor of being one of the greatest of them rather than one of the greatest of composers in general.

The Eighth Concerto, written for Italian audiences, depends more heavily on Italianate forms and procedures. It’s soaring aria-like slow movement, its showy finale, and, most of all, its extended first movement recitative—all three encrusted with breathtaking ornamentation—provide a violinist with an ideal showcase. Heifetz, like Ethel Merman, could belt a tune in a way that defied audiences not to listen, and he played this Concerto, cutting down the tuttis, as he often did, with irresistible authority. Spohr denigrated Paganini’s manner of producing staccato off the string, and though Heifetz’s flying staccato, which he claimed to have had difficulty mastering, became one of his trademarks, he could electrify audiences with Spohr’s more solid staccatos on the string, so many passages of which adorn this Concerto. Albert Spalding’s recording of the work appealed to many who may have considered Heifetz’s a bit over the top, but it’s hardly as visceral; and, more recently, neither Uto Ughi (Dynamic 522, 31:1) nor Hilary Hahn (Deutsche Grammophon 000718802, 30:3) could recreate that magic. Though not nearly as confident as Heifetz, Lamsma still generates high voltage in, for example, the slow movement’s fast episode, and she plays with congenial sensitivity in the Adagio’s main sections. And unlike Heifetz, who succumbed to the temptation to add thirds to the last movement’s passages (as his teacher, Auer, did in Tchaikovsky’s cadenza to his Violin Concerto), she makes a case for it even while playing it straight. The Sixth Concerto’s misterioso returns enhanced in the 11th, which begins with an Adagio introduction that, if it’s not the Wolf’s Glen scene, may be the closest thing violinists have, and that introduces a main theme that postures squarely but stylishly as do some of Schumann’s melodic ideas. Warsop suggests that this Concerto might profitably be revived; it’s lucky that a sympathetic violinist like Lamsma has done so. Here’s a worthy counterpart to Bruch’s concertos (listeners might notice a similarity between the style of writing for the violin in Spohr’s concertos and in the first movement of Bruch’s Third) and a worthy champion. Listeners and would-be aficionados of Spohr may still find it a sort of stumbling block to full admiration that so many of Spohr’s harmonic turns and violinistic passages sound all too familiar—the 11th Concerto’s finale, for example, suggests, however obliquely, the Duo, op. 67/2. Violinist-composers have a notoriously hard time not following their fingers’ lead. Naxos’s program of Spohr concertos deserves a hearing for the young soloist’s’ bravado tempered with sensibility as well as for the orchestra’s generally sympathetic and competent accompaniment. But above all, it stands out for its version of the once famous Gesangszene, as it’s often called, perhaps the best after Heifetz’s—and, with Lamsma’s personal approach, a creditable alternative. Many violinists don’t have a sufficiently strong personality to project Spohr’s; Lamsma already does."

Paganini: Concerto no 1
"lya Kaler is a Russian virtuoso (born in Moscow in 1963), a pupil of Leonid Kogan and a very good player, too. Paganini's once fiendish pyrotechnics hold no terrors for him, not even the whistling harmonics, and how nicely he can turn an Italianate lyrical phrase, as in the secondary theme of the first movement of the First Concerto. Then he can set off with panache into a flying staccato, bouncing his bow neatly on the strings when articulating the delicious spiccato finales of both works. Stephen Gunzenhauser launches into the opening movements with plenty of energy and aplomb and is a sympathetic accompanist throughout—he is never heavy in orchestral writing that can easily sound vapid or stodgy...Kaler's intonation is above suspicion and he is naturally balanced: there is none of the scratchiness that can ruin one's pleasure in Paganinian pyrotechnics."

-- I.M., Gramophone

Dvorak and Glazunov Concertos
"Kaler’s playing of these Romantic, sweetly-tuned works is excellent. His technique copes more than adequately with the technical demands of the Glazunov, a composer considered bourgeois in post-1917 Russia and dealt an uncharitable blow here by a critic who said he led Russian music in a comfortable decline into ignominious mediocrity. Not so, his work deserves as high a profile as Dvorák’s whose concerto is sympathetically presented."

-- Christopher Fifield , BBC Music Magazine

Vieuxtemps: Concerto no 5
"Keylin...plays the concerto as a grand dramatic statement, with a largeness of conception that may not be altogether fashionable—but then, neither is the concerto, and there’s really no better way to play it if you’re going to play it at all. He takes advantage, as he does in all the concertos, of Vieuxtemps’s singing passages on all four strings, finding the appropriate individuality for each on the 1715 Baron Knoop Stradivari, lent to him for the performances. If his passagework lacks Heifetz’s or Kogan’s effortlessness, his sense of the pieces’ perfect adaptation to their medium, together with his big sound and serious approach to works all too often dismissed as trivial, make adequate amends."

-- Robert Maxham, Fanfare

Field: Piano Music, Vol. 2

Smetana’s cycle “My Country” is a pinnacle of symphonic literature. There is nothing quite like it: six musical poems which, while independent of each other, form an organic whole. As a composer, Smetana was in the vanguard. This visionary work is unmistakably personal, connected to the Czech nation’s tragic history and to the Bohemian-Moravian landscape; it is not only about memory, it also gives hope for the future, brilliantly describing landscapes of the human soul. As such it goes beyond time, to create something of a lasting significance. This is music of nostalgia, which sets thoughts and emotions free. After hearing “My Country,” one emerges stronger. Every one of these six pieces has a tremendous energy, and enables one to live with melancholy and sorrow: the work transforms the listener and enriches his soul.

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BENDA, F. / BENDA, J. J.: Violin Concertos in G Major, D Maj

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Mysteriensonaten

Harking back to a golden era in recording, when the ensembles of the Eastman School of Music under the baton of the legendary Frederick Fennell made dozens of pioneering recordings for Mercury Living Presence, the Eastman Wind Ensemble celebrates its 60th anniversary with its first recording for AVIE Records featuring two seminal works by Stravinsky. The composer's music figured early on in the EWE's history - his Symphonies for Wind Instruments was performed in 1951 on a program conducted by Frederick Fennell that led to the establishment of the Eastman Wind Ensemble. And in 1966, at the age of 83, Stravinsky made his one and only visit to the Eastman School of Music, overseeing performances of several of his works. Under Mark Scatterday, who continues in the prestigious lineage as only the fourth conductor in the EWE's history, the superior student ensemble performs Stravinsky's Octet, while Eastman Virtuosi, made up of the Eastman School's renowned faculty members, turn in a devilishly fine rendition of A Soldier's Tale. Jan Opalach delivers an exceptionally nuanced narration as well as portraying the folk tale's two protagonists, Joseph the solider and the Devil. critical acclaim for Eastman Wind Ensemble and Eastman Virtuosi "sonorous recordings ... extraordinary depth" - Gramophone "insightful, interpretive, passionate readings" - The New York Times "America's premiere wind band" - Fanfare

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GÁL Serenade in D, Op. 41. Trio in f?, Op. 104. KRÁSA Tanec (Dance). Passacaglia and Fugue • Ens Epomeo • AVIE 2259 (67:08)

Hans Gál has been receiving some well-deserved, if belated, attention on disc lately. Just a couple of issues back, I reviewed a must-have recording by cellist Antonio Meneses performing Gál’s very beautiful Cello Concerto. And now, here on the present release, we have what is advertised as the complete string trios of both Gál and his close contemporary Hans Krása. Though born only nine years apart— Gál in 1890 and Krása in 1899— Gál was fortunate to escape the advancing Nazi forces into Austria, fleeing to the U.K. in 1938 and eventually settling in Edinburgh, where he died in 1987. Krása was not so lucky. He was deported first to the Theresienstadt concentration camp and then transferred to Auschwitz where he was killed in 1944. Given Krása’s much shorter life, it’s understandable that his output is considerably less than Gál’s. Neither composer, however, apparently devoted much effort to the string trio, since the contents of this CD are said to be the extent of it.

The two Gál works are recorded here for the first time, and, in terms of scale, they’re both major additions to the literature, each lasting over 25 minutes. Written in 1932, before the serious trouble began, the Serenade lives up to its title, in name, if not strictly in form. The piece is in four movements in what I would describe as a nod to the Baroque and Classical periods as reflected through the lens of an easygoing, listener-friendly modernist style that teases and tickles the ear with fractured and fragmented references to familiar pieces. Throughout the first movement (Capriccioso), for example, you’ll hear the distinctive three-note pattern that permeates the first movement of Bach’s G-Major Brandenburg Concerto. While I wouldn’t want to push the analogy too far, I’d say that to a degree Gál’s Serenade reminds me of some of Hindemith’s Kleine Kammermusik pieces. Gál’s score is mostly busy, breezy, and boffo, perhaps more in the manner of a divertimento than a serenade.

Just as long, but in only three movements this time, the Trio in F?-Minor is a much later work, dating from 1971, when the trouble was long over. The piece was commissioned by the London Viola d’amore Society and originally scored for violin, viola d’amore, and cello, but Gál made this version for traditional string trio at the same time. The mood is now introspective, brooding, and perhaps a bit bereft. If there’s an analog here, I’d have to say that the Trio seems to look back to the highly chromatic, freely tonal style familiar from works of the late 19th- and early 20th-century Viennese composers before they succumbed to the siren of dodecaphonism. In other words, Gál’s Trio is a nostalgic soak in a muddy pond. But mud baths are supposed to be therapeutic, and this one left me with a nice, warm glow.

The Krása pieces are considerably shorter—six minutes for Tanec and just under 10 minutes for the Passacaglia and Fugue. Tanec, or Dance, was composed in the last year of Krása’s life. With its strong rhythmic thrust, ostinato figure in the cello, and Hungarian folk flavor, the music is at first suggestive of Bartók, but as Kenneth Woods’s note indicates, the piece is meant to be evocative of trains, with the obvious reference to the boxcars that transported Krása and the millions of others to the death camps. To quote Woods, “the atmosphere ranges from eerie nostalgia, to barely contained menace, to explicit violence,” and ends in a series of manic shrieks. Written later that same year (1944), the Passacaglia and Fugue is Krása’s last completed work. It’s difficult to describe this music of broken spirit and soul. Initially, Shostakovich comes to mind in a frozen soundscape benumbed by cruel and forbidding cold. But slowly, the music rises to a pitch of bickering and physical altercation.

The recording at hand represents the Ensemble Epomeo’s disc debut. Named for the Mediterranean volcano, Mt. Epomeo, the group was founded when the three players—Caroline Chin, violin; David Yang, viola; and Kenneth Woods, cello—came together at the Festivale di Musica da Camera d’Ischia in Italy in 2008. It’s always difficult to judge an ensemble in unfamiliar repertoire, but I think I can say that the Epomeo’s musicians are more than up to the technical task of their business and that they sound intensely engaged in the emotional worlds of these two composers and their music. I would now look forward to hearing the ensemble in something more familiar, like Mozart’s great Divertimento in E?-Major, K 563, or the Beethoven string trios. Meanwhile, this new, excellent recording is strongly recommended.

FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

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This Ondine release includes Heinrich Ignaz Franz Biber's (1644-1704) 16 Mystery Sonatas, also known as Rosary Sonatas. This set of virtuosic violin sonatas is Biber's most well-known work. They also serve as unique masterpieces of the Baroque violin repertoire. In the present recording violinist Sirkka-Liisa Kaakinen-Pilch is joined by the Finnish Baroque ensemble Battalia.

Biber's Mystery Sonatas feature 15 rosary mysteries from the life of Jesus and Virgin Mary. One of the most prominent characteristics of Biber's work is the use of various tunings, i.e. scordatura. Out of the sixteen sonatas, fourteen require the use of ‘mistuned' violin.

Sirkka-Liisa Kaakinen-Pilch is nowadays in great demand as a leader of countless renowned early music ensembles and orchestras, performing music of the Baroque and symphonies of the age of Mozart and Schubert. Her solo repertoire includes works by Biber, Johann Sebastian Bach, and solo violin works of the 16th and 17th centuries. She also plays the viola and viola d'amore. Among her numerous tasks, she has also worked 10 years as the leader of Philippe Herreweghe's Collegium Vocale.

SCHUBERT · KALLIWODA

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HANDEL Six Trio Sonatas, op. 2. Passacaille, op. 5/4 • The Brook Street Band (period instruments) • AVIE 2282 (69:49)


Handel’s music is always such a joy to listen to, I’m not sure how much we should trouble ourselves over how his works are identified or numbered in the listings. But just to clarify what’s on this disc, the updated or modern version of the Händel-Gesellschaft catalog places these sonatas in Volume XXVII, headed “Kammermusik: Sonate da Camera.” Falling under this heading are four subheadings or Parts, of which op. 2 is consigned to Part III: Nine Sonatas for Two Violins, Continuo, and Bass, as follows: B Minor, op. 2/1 (HWV 386b); G Minor, op. 2/2 (HWV 387); B? Major, op. 2/3 (HWV 388); F Major, op. 2/4 (HWV 389); G Minor, op. 2/5 (HWV 390a); G Minor, op. 2/6 (HWV 391).


But that’s only six. The Händel-Gesellschaft catalog places nine sonatas in this grouping. So what gives? Well, here’s the scoop: op. 2/1 (HWV 386b) turns up in an alternate version as HWV 386a, but in C Minor instead of B Minor, my guess is to accommodate performance on flute in place of violin. There’s an HWV 392 in G Minor, which was not published in the original op. 2 set of six sonatas, and which is considered spurious by some Handel scholars. And finally, there’s a Sonata in E Major listed as op. 2/9 (HWV 394), again not published as part of the original set. But when the set was first published in 1733, they appeared in print as “IX Sonatas or Trios for Two Violins, Flutes, or Hoboys with a Thorough Bass for the Harpischor [sic] or Violoncello.”


The Brook Street Band gives us the standard six listed in the first paragraph above, including as a bonus, the Passacaille, which I headlined as coming from op. 5/4, but which Handel actually made use of in a number of different works. I can’t be sure why the players have ordered the sonatas on the disc as they have—Nos. 3, 2, 4, 5, 1, and 6—but a good guess would be to avoid the adjacency of minor-key sonatas, three of which are in G Minor. One other note: Though the Händel-Gesellschaft catalog places these sonatas under the category of “Kammermusik: Sonate da Camera,” all but one of these sonatas are of the chiesa (church) type, meaning they’re in four movements that follow a slow-fast-slow-fast layout. The exception, No. 4 in F Major, adds a fifth movement, an additional Allegro , at the end.


Since the original printing indicates that these sonatas or trios may be played by two violins, flutes, or oboes, The Brook Street Band, named, by the way, for Handel’s London residence, divides the pieces up accordingly; however, the ensemble, as it’s constituted, is oboe-less. Members are Rachel Harris and Farran Scott, Baroque violins; Lisete da Silva, flute and recorder; Tatty Theo, Baroque cello; and Carolyn Gibley, harpsichord.


Despite the 1733 publication date, it’s believed Handel composed these trio sonatas as early as 1722. Consider, though, that by then he was a well-established opera composer in London. Some of his most important operas date from this period— Ottone, Flavio, Giulio Cesare, Tamerlano , and Rodelinda were all composed between 1722 and 1725. I mention this because the slow movements of these trios are emotively expressive in much the same way as Handel’s arias are in his operas of these years, gorgeous cantilenas spun out with affective lyrical beauty. In contrast, the fast-paced movements anticipate the vivacious, energetic drive to come in the later organ concertos and concerti grossi. They’re full of spirited invention, and performed here by The Brook Street Band with lots of spring and bounce, along with some delightfully spontaneous-sounding embellishments added for good measure.


There is competition in these works, and it’s not insignificant, from groups like Sonnerie with Monica Huggett, and the Academy of Ancient Music, led by Richard Egarr. I have Sonnerie’s recording on Avie, and have been very happy with it. But The Brook Street Band’s playing strikes me as sounding freer, more natural, and less constrained. Perhaps the word I’m looking for is less studied. In any case, these are wonderful performances of uplifting music beautifully recorded. What more could you want? Very strongly recommended.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Includes work(s) by various composers. Ensemble: Schuppanzigh Quartet.

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