MARLBORO FEST 40TH ANNIVERSARY

There is terrific atmosphere to this marvelous seasonal celebration of Praetorius works.

The Sony Vivarte box is a marvellous seasonal celebration heard through the works of the too-neglected German composer Michael Praetorius.

His polychoral ‘In dulci jubilo’ is magnificent here, and his astonishing variety takes us from the showy, echoing duets of ‘Ach mein Herre’ to the tender reverence of ‘Verleih uns Frieden’. Just occasionally the singers are overwhelmed by the busy instruments and by the acoustic (as in ‘Gelobt seist du’), but there is a terrific atmosphere to these performances.

-- Anthony Pryer, BBC Music Magazine

Mozart: Divertimento, K. 334, Al desio di chi t'adora, K. 57

MARLBORO FEST 40TH ANNIVERSARY

Includes work(s) by various composers. Ensemble: Niederaltaich Scholars. Conductor: Konrad Ruhland.

This is playing of distinction. With all 13 players being of the highest quality and Mehta at his sympathetic best, everything unfolds impressively, with a sense of joy in the music-making.

A big work, this, written for the kind of wind ensemble that became popular during the 1780s at the Austrian imperial court and its aristocratic imitators. In fact, the usual combination was of pairs of oboes, clarinets, horns and bassoons, but here Mozart adds two more horns, a pair of bassett horns and a double-bass; the effect is thus even more massive, although his mastery of texture is such that it never feels overblown and a contemporary described this piece as "herrlich und gross, trefflich und her", which the insert-note here translates as "glorious and grand, excellent and sublime".

Since the 13 players here are of the highest quality and Mehta is a sympathetic conductor, everything unfolds impressively, and there is a sense of joy in the music-making. Over and over, I find this playing natural, easy without slickness and expressive (sometimes even passionate) without mannerism. To experience the blend of weight and grace that the music and performance offer, listen to the first Minuet, the second of the five movements. The tempo is just right and the shaping of phrases (not least in the delicately scored first trio and the bouncy secondone) elegant. Altogether, this is playing of distinction. As for the sound of the Adagio which follows, the music which awed Salieri in Shaffer's play Amadeus, this is no less poised. Indeed, here is an excellent performance that is complemented by a clear and atmospheric recording made in the Berlin Philharmonie. Strongly recommended and earning first place among current versions.

-- Gramophone [9/1995]

LEONARD BERNSTEIN - THE ROYAL

One can share in a more carefree expression of joy here. Many fine conductors have presided over these traditional Strauss tributes, but none with such élan as the late Carlos Kleiber. The music swings and sways in terpsichorean ecstasy. Kleiber appears blissful as he inscribes elegant arcs with his baton, and the players beam.

-- Gramophone [4/2008]

...A must-have... I implied earlier that very little of Agricola’s sacred music has hitherto been available. In fact, this is the first ever recording to include his Mass music. Under the invented title Missa Guazzabuglio (a word meaning hotchpotch or mishmash) van Nevel has assembled individual movements from different Masses, after the fashion of his ‘La Dissection d’un Homme Arme’...

Van Nevel is easily as eccentric as Agricola ever was, and while the singers of the Huelgas Ensemble cope admirably with even his most bizarre directions, some ideas seem to be almost beyond the pale. He claims that fully vocal performance of the instrumental music is at least plausible. In the case of the six-voice Fortuna desperata (now, with at least four recordings, a staple of the Agricola repertoire) one can hardly disagree, but to hear the soprano clambering up two-and-a-half octaves in semiquavers (Dung aultre amet) forces admiration and disbelief in equal measure... The amazing thing is that the singers’ sheer athleticism and musicality lends such dotty notions an air of plausibility. More than that, they confirm the growing perception of Agricola as a composer of the very first rank. I have no hesitation in singling out [this recording] among this year’s high points.

-- Fabrice Fitch, Gramophone [9/1999}

WILLEM MENGELBERG CONDUCTS TCH

SYMPHONY FOR RICHARD III ENNI

LIGETI: CELLO CONCERTO, PIANO

BEETHOVEN: COMPLETE VIOLIN SON

TCHAIKOVSKY: SYMPHONY NO 5, SE

For the complete Mandarin, Boulez is still the safest bet.

-- Gramophone [10/1993]

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It is nothing less than intriguing to find Pierre Boulez's whole interpretative personality significantly modified—at least on the evidence of this disc—by contact with the orchestra which for so many years Leonard Bernstein directed. Granted that two of Bartok's more abrasive works can never sound exactly gentle, these are interpretations that so far from following the pattern of diamond precision and emotional austerity we associate with Boulez in Britain, lean towards romantic expressiveness.

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [1/1973, reviewing Miraculous Mandarin on LP, CBS 73031]

Let’s cut right to the chase: Ormandy’s Tallis Fantasia is one of the reference versions of the work, while his Delius is every bit as fine as Beecham’s. It has all of the same virtues: flowing tempos (indeed, in Brigg Fair he’s a minute quicker), magnificent orchestral playing, and a willingness to let the music unfold freshly and naturally. The only reason these performances fail to receive the acclaim that they deserve is because the English press, historically, has been quick to dismiss foreigners who dare to compete with home-grown talent in “their” music, and no one else much cares.

Still, just listen to the massed Philadelphia strings in the first great tutti of the Tallis Fantasia (first sound sample). This is great playing, and beyond that Ormandy’s tempo, a bit quicker than usual, gives the music an uncommon degree of energy without compromising its nobility of spirit. The Fantasia on ‘Greensleeves’ is basically indestructible and certainly in no danger here, while Sony offers a lovely bonus in the form of The Lark Ascending, affectingly played by Cleveland Orchestra concertmaster Rafael Druian and the Cleveland Sinfonietta under Louis Lane.

As for the Delius works, has there ever been a more purely beautiful version of In a Summer Garden? Or a more rapturously played recording of Brigg Fair (second sound sample)? Ormandy’s reputation has never been lower than it is at present, but there was a reason he was Sony’s (Columbia’s) “house” conductor in the 50s and 60s. He and his orchestra maintained a level of versatility and polish that no one else could match, and his catholicity of taste was remarkable. This surprising disc makes a fine tribute to his art, and an eloquent reminder of his achievement in repertoire for which he was, to put it mildly, not a household name.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

A two-disc cast album from Robbins's anthology show, which includes re-creations of production numbers excerpted from such shows as On the Town, West Side Story, The King and I, Gypsy, and Fiddler on the Roof. Onstage it was breathtaking; on record it makes for a sort of Broadway's-greatest-hits album, albeit with re-recorded versions.

-- William Ruhlmann, AllMusic.com

SHOSTAKOVICH: SYMPHONY NO 14

Jascha Heifetz was larger than life, but was he too big for Mozart? The stern patrician of the violin, with his intense, laser-beam intonation and diamond-hard tone, would seem ideally suited for the big romantic concertos for which he was famous, but any fears that he would be mismatched with Mozart will be allayed immediately upon hearing his serene entry in the first movement of the "Turkish" Concerto, not to mention the delicate interplay that follows, by turns witty and sensuous. For the only time in his career, Heifetz is both conductor and soloist, making this the most involving of his recordings of the work.
Unlike many virtuosos of his time, Heifetz had no qualms about appearing publicly in chamber ensembles. And, with violist William Primrose and cellist Gregor Piatigorsky, he formed a sort of permanent yet flexible supergroup that gave regular concerts in Los Angeles throughout the 1960s. These players, along with violist Virginia Majewski and legendary Hollywood session violinist Israel Baker, are heard in the G minor String Quintet, a work with intimations of the 19th century, here given a taut, urgent, almost Beethovenesque performance.

Includes work(s) for flute by Johann Sebastian Bach. Ensemble: I Solisti di Zagreb. Soloists: James Galway, Kyung-Wha Chung, Kurt Moll, Moray Welsh.

NASIDZE, TSINTSADZE: QUARTETS

MOZART: SINFONIA CONCERTANTE,

Mendelssohn: Songs Without Words - Variations serieuses - Ch

Rubinstein Collection, Vol. 41: All Brahms: 3 Violin & Piano

Petri was in his youth something of a multi-instrumentalist. We remember him as Busoni’s greatest pupil and a Lisztian of coruscating brilliance but he was also a violinist – not surprising as his father, Henri, was an internationally renowned performer and teacher – but also, less predictably, as a French horn player good enough to take a place in the Dresden Symphony. Petri was a musician of the utmost clarity, distinction and directness with a technique remarkable even into old age and whose conception of space and tonal value gave him a persuasive insight into music of intellect and weight. As a Beethovenian he was distinguished - as a Chopin player he maybe reflected something of his teacher Busoni’s own professed ambiguity and duality of response. Petri’s pre-War Columbias have been collated on APR and demonstrate his strengths in abundance. Music and Arts has here brought together his concerts and broadcasts from the period covering 1954 to 1962, the year of his death. His reluctance to travel, his physical lack of flamboyance, indeed his active distaste of extravagance and extraneous gesture and detail, meant that audiences didn’t much clamour to hear him. Their loss is evident from this uneven but nevertheless exceptionally significant series of survivals.

There’s a caveat to be made about the actual piano sound on some of these off-air and private recordings; it can be rather harsh but it’s not at all unlistenable. There are also some imperfections to be expected – some wow and distortion (minimal and fleeting) some dropouts (ditto) as well as pitch distortion. These are all honestly noted in Music and Arts documentation and I should mention them here; they didn’t unduly trouble me. The repertoire is very much Petri’s canonical one – the last Beethoven sonatas, Busoni, Chopin as well as Bach-Busoni and Bach-Petri. He was always a charming exponent of Gluck, a more unexpected one here of Medtner. Of Liszt there’s but a fleeting glimpse – Venezia e Napoli, taped in the last year of his life.

We start with his Chopin Preludes Op. 28. Well, best to get this over with I suppose. I find his Chopin rather disappointing. His rubati in the Agitato opener are well judged if unexceptionable (he was known to scorn the emotive exaggerations of some of his colleagues) but he is very, very cool in No. 4, the Largo in E. There’s a dispassionate control in No. 6, a Lento from which, however, he seems to wish to expunge feeling. He is fine though in another Largo, No. 9 in E – his truly noble sound is affecting – but there isn’t enough distinction between the hands in No. 11, where he fails to differentiate the melody line in the right hand. There’s even a distribution between hands – something that seems to me afflicts No. 13 in F sharp as well. The Sostenuto in D flat (No. 15) is very dry playing indeed – Petri adamantine in his refusal to indulge colouristic potential; in addition his left hand covers the right at some crucial moments. He improves considerably for the B flat Presto and the power contained within as he does for the virility and energy of the Allegro appassionato conclusion (he omits Nos. 21 and 22 for some reason). Throughout I felt him most comfortable with the athletic, technical side of the Preludes and rather less indulgent towards the lyrical side that Busoni himself felt most ambivalent about. Of his Busoni indeed I could hardly say anything other than that it is magnificent. The Song of Victory from the Indian Diary is 1.16 of powerfully sustained pianism of an exalted level whilst the eloquence of the Bluebird Song shows that what he failed to do so glaringly in Chopin he could manifestly do in Busoni. The final dance shows off Petri’s superb rhythmic control, his colour and his sheer depth of tone (never overdone). He was seventy-seven when he was taped in Busoni’s All’Italia – sheer virtuosic panache. The disc finishes with twenty-five minutes of Petri with the eminent pianist Carlo Bussotti in a stratospherically impressive Fantasia Contrappuntistica; the two men seemingly joined at the musical hip so intense and marshalled their decisive vision.

The second disc is rather more bits and pieces – but what bits what pieces. The Medtner is very impressive playing indeed if not quite in the Moiseiwitsch or Medtner class. The Danza Festiva is rather heavier than the composer’s own recording but the Op. 20/2 Fairy Tale in B has some seismic attacks. The Schumann Fantasiestücke are in somewhat splintery sound but he plays them with rather more overt affection than he did the Chopin; the Allegro con fuoco second is sonorous, the third is affecting, without affectation, and the Vivacissimo, Dream Visions is full of filigree drive, albeit one accompanied by a degree of tape distortion. His own Bach Chorale arrangements are justly famous as are his recordings of them. Sheep may safely graze is nourishingly intimate and beautifully adept with its sudden pianissimi, whilst I step before Thy Throne grows in authority and grandeur. There’s little real difference between Petri’s 1930s recording of the Minuet (from the W.F. Bach Notebook) and this one, made in 1958. His Schubert-Liszt is duly frolicsome and the Nocturne in D flat has quite a lot more vivacity and colour than he lavished on the Préludes, albeit his rhythm is rather heavy.

The third disc gives us his trademark Gluck-Sgambati Melodie – and this time he must cede to his earlier self; he’s heavier, more emphatic, less treble oriented preferring to concentrate instead on the middle voicings. The captivating beauty of that earlier recording has been replaced by a philosophic depth that does seem rather alien to it. His Beethoven Op. 90 Sonata is characteristically plain speaking and strong; the second of the two movements is especially buoyant and decisive. The Chopin examples here, the Sonata in B and the Nocturne in F sharp, are vitiated by choppy rhythm. Petri was seventy-eight when these performances were taped so maybe that has something to do with it but whilst there are tonally delightful glints in the opening Allegro of the Sonata it sounds as if, like a mathematician, Petri were actively breaking the movement – and indeed the work as a whole – into units. The algebraic-philosophic-contrapuntalist approach here renders much of this very disappointing. I liked the lento much more though and whilst the presto finale again suffers from rhythmic insistence there are still compensatory features of colour and vivacity.

The final disc is in many ways the most consistently elevated in musical terms, principally because it finds Petri addressing Beethoven. There are some technical frailties in the opening of Op. 109, it’s true, but more important by far is the sense of powerful direction. Again the tiny Prestissimo second movement taxes him for a moment but we should concentrate on the Andante finale. Here Petri is very direct, almost casual, but as the movement advances and his architectural priorities become clearer we are aware of a mind of illuminating integrity at work. By the later variations he develops a degree of metrical flexibility that one would not have earlier suspected. There is no undue sentiment and I would certainly understand those who hold this to be a logician’s Beethoven. My own instincts are for something more overtly expressive but I can but admire the tremendous concentration of his approach. The A flat Sonata, Op. 110, again taped in 1954, certainly lacks to my ears the molto espressivo in the first movement requested of the performer. But Petri is careful to reserve the weight of his intelligence and tonal resources for the first, Adagio section of the finale. He keeps this moving with an almost Arietta delicacy, though he certainly employs weight and shading. The Fuga is strong and determined. In Op. 111 his Maestoso is fast, strong, with no great tonal beauty to it. I have to say I found it inflexible, on one level and rather superficial. It’s a performance that seeks to divide and fracture still further, rather than reconcile, the character of both movements. With a pianist such as Solomon the seemingly disparate and oppositional movements take on congruence and a retrospective sense of rightness. With Petri the implacably oppositional nature of the Sonata is starkly delineated. In that Arietta finale Petri is flexible without coming to a stop; his syncopated passages are driving, even a little peremptory, but he never seeks to extract huge weight of left hand tone or to indulge abstraction. This is intelligent, lean, technically adept and impressive playing, whatever ones view of its ability to move, which I happen to find relatively limited.

Documentation consists in the main of an interview between annotator Frederick Maroth and Petri’s English pupil, Claire James who had attended the famous Busoni-Petri two-piano London recital of 1921. They deal with the central features of Petri’s pianism with acumen, as one would expect, with some quietly revealing information disclosed along the way. This is a set of some real importance in capturing Petri’s art at a time when he was given considerably less than his due. Even at his most phlegmatic his brand of musical stoicism added an imperishable page to the annals of pianism on record in the twentieth century.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International