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

Edwin Fischer: The Legacy of a Great Pianist (1943-1953)

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,

Fresh from his recent double Grammy win, innovativ e composer, vibrant performer and double bass virt uoso Edgar Meyer premieres two new concertos and rediscovers music of Italian composer Giovanni Bot tesini on this new Sony Classical recording. Celli st Yo-Yo Ma and violinist Joshua Bellare featured guest soloist on the CD.

This 1961, Wieland Wagner directed Bayreuth Tannhäuser, conducted by Wolfgang Sawallisch, stars Victoria de los Angeles as Elisabeth and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau (at his last Bayreuth Festival) in the role of Wolfram. This discovery in the radio archives of a Tannhäuser from the first of the subsequent performances to a less-than-optimal initial performance is a real find, and is here released on CD in the series of historical recordings of the Bayreuth Festival. By a stroke of luck, all the protagonists were on form on this early August evening, as can now be heard for the first time.

Mendelssohn: Songs Without Words - Variations serieuses - Ch

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

In Honor of Rudolf Kolisch (1896-1978) is Music & Arts' six-disc tribute to a key figure in twentieth century music whose name is invoked in a number of historic contexts, yet whose actual recorded work remains almost unknown. Rudolf Kolisch was the leader of the Kolisch String Quartet, the "house band" at Arnold Schoenberg's ISCM conferences in the 1920s and a group that formed the first line of defense in the avant-garde musical movements in Europe before the rise of Nazi Germany. As the Kolisch also recorded a fair amount of standard quartet literature, this set is limited mainly to this and Kolisch's other groups' recordings of the Second Vienna School and Bart k, although the Kolisch Quartet recording of the Schubert Octet in F, performed with additional guest players, from the Library of Congress in 1940 is included as a bonus. The program opens with an extraordinary and audacious series of private recordings, made on a United Artists soundstage in Hollywood under the aegis of Alfred Newman, of all four of Schoenberg's string quartets dating from late 1936 and early 1937. The Fourth Quartet hadn't even premiered yet - this would occur the day after recording, on January 8, 1937, at UCLA. from this same session are included some of Schoenberg's spoken comments, in which he offers thanks to Newman and United Artists, and even addresses the "friends" of his music that belong to the future, presumably not yet born. These recordings have been issued a number of times, despite their "p-r-r-rivate" (pace Schoenberg) provenance, and unfortunately little can be done to rescue them from their noisy and somewhat dim audio perspective. They have never been dealt with, in a sonic sense, with more proficiency than here. From an interpretive standpoint, this Kolisch performance of the String Quartet No. 1 in D minor remains one of the best made, simply because the group has a thorough understanding of the Viennese milieu in which the quartet was conceived and does not try to make it sound more "modern" than it is. from there we jump ahead to 1950 and the Pro Arte Quartet of the University of Wisconsin, a pre-existing group that Kolisch took over in 1945 and retrofitted for performances of contemporary quartet literature. We get a second shot at the Third Schoenberg quartet with this group, and the performance is tighter and even more intense than that with the Kolisch Quartet, not to mention heard in excellent mono sound taken from a Dial LP. for some reason the sonic perspective is a little more cramped in Berg's Lyric Suite and some of the other Dials, but it is still astonishing to realize that in hearing the Berg you are listening to a performance led by the same person who premiered this now standard work at a 1927 ISCM Festival. The tempi observed here are faster than in most performances - indeed, the pace of the Allegro misterioso is downright dizzying. The three discs that follow are an embarrassment of riches: Kolisch heard in a rare context as soloist, playing the Schoenberg concerto at the University of Wisconsin, the Bart k Sonata for solo violin, and Schoenberg's Fantasy, Op. 47, with his colleague Gunnar Johansen. With the Pro Arte Quartet, further Dial recordings are heard - the Webern Opp. 5 and 9, Schoenberg's early String Quartet in D of 1897, and Bart k's Fifth Quartet Apart from the purely historical value of the recordings, and their highly variable sound quality, what is Kolisch like? In his time, all of this music was unfamiliar, and in the twenty-first century nearly all of it is familiar - in a sense some of it has reached a point of perfection that approaches fossilization. Kolisch certainly isn't looking to make his Schoenberg or Bart k warm and cozy, and he doesn't have a problem dealing with it as "difficult" music; after hearing his Bart K Sonata for solo violin, some might wonder if Kolisch is not making it a bit more diff.

Debussy: La mer, Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune, Danse &

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

Walter Gieseking (1933-1947)

The incomparable flutist James Galway celebrates Christmas in Bavaria. Newly reissued by ArkivMusic and originally released in 1991, this wonderful release features the Munich Radio Orchestra with the Regenburger Domspatzen.

FRENCH MUSIC FOR HARP

"Gilels made two recordings of this concerto. The later version was made for DG in the early 1970s with Eugen Jochum and the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra and has earned a high reputation over the years. This earlier version, made in January 1958, is no less remarkable and very different. Perhaps it was the temporary transatlantic influence of Reiner and his orchestra which persuaded Gilels to see the concerto as a vehicle for a display of brilliant virtuoso playing, with fast tempos and little relaxation except in the third movement. certainly the playing in the overture has the same characteristics. But when this approach was harnessed to Gilel's intellectual strength the result was a performance of great power." -- The Gramophone

Live recordings, 1972-1882. Ervin Nyiregyházi (1903-87) is largely forgotten today, but he was one of the greatest and most idiosyncratic pianists of the twentieth century, and his eccentric personality and bizarre career have few parallels in the history of music. These late concert recordings, all but four released here for the first time, are representative of Nyiregyházi's art, and should help to rehabilitate a lost genius whose reputation has rarely matched his artistic stature.

Born in Long Beach, California, on August 9, 1928, Camilla Wicks led a stellar career in the dozen years after World War Two; one of a select group whose achievements helped to establish women violinistsí prominence on the concert stage. It is worth considering that around that golden time, the likes of Heifetz, Milstein, Menuhin, Francescatti reigned supreme; the veterans Szigeti, Elman and Thibaud were still active and beloved; Stern was a firm favorite, Rabin a prodigious sensation, and Oistrakh and Kogan were just resoundingly breaking through the Iron Curtain. In this illustrious company, Wicks was considered one of the great soloists on both sides of the Atlantic, upheld by many as a queen among violinists. At the peak of her fame and subsequently, she retired more than once to devote herself to her family, but remained an outstanding if intermittent performer for many more decades. While her vinyl records have long been revered by collectors, this CD release of early live performances offers a vital opportunity for a more widespread audience to discover this astonishing artist. Wicks was recently featured in a long article in Strad magazine which mentioned this upcoming CD.

...an abundantly characterful, often exquisitely observant reading of the Enigma Variations set down at Walthamstow towards the end of 1954... Beecham sifts Elgar’s textures with rare mastery, and there are some delectable sounds throughout from his RPO wind principals (above all, Jack Brymer’s wonderfully hushed solos in the ‘Romanza’). Elsewhere, ‘Troyte’ fairly tears out of the blocks (distinctive, gun-shot timpani), and the finale struts with an irresistible physicality and unbuttoned thrust. By contrast, ‘Dorabella’ skips along in a more leisurely fashion than usual, and I love the tender intimacy Beecham imparts to ‘Ysobel’. A pity about the botched opening of ‘RPA’; otherwise, an Enigma to savour, if not quite ousting such legendary near-contemporaries as the evergreen Monteux or Barbirolli’s inspirational 1956 Halle account from the head of a very long list. It’s preceded by a terrific, swaggeringly exuberant Cockaigne (whose ripe coda heralds a startling change in both ambience and perspective) and a wholly disarming, gently affectionate reading of the Serenade for Strings.

-- Gramophone [8/2001]

"The gem of this disc is the Wieniawski concerto, with which Heifetz not only created a sensation on his American debut at the age of 16 but which he was the first to record. A virtuoso work par excellence, it affords him infinite opportunities to display his phenomenal brilliance, impeccable intonation and (in the Romanze) beautiful phrasing and soulfully emotional tone—which, as all violinists observe with fascination, owes much to his individual fingerings. The tuttis in this work have been somewhat cut, but that is of little consequence in a purely solo vehicle like this. The perfection of his rapid spiccato bowing in the finale is enough to make mere mortal string players despair. The recording still sounds well after nearly 40 years."

-- Lionel Salter, Gramophone [11/1992]

Classical Music

This installment of the William Kapell Edition charts but one more corner of the Russian piano repertory for which the pianist achieved an early fame. Kapell's 1946 recording of the appealing Khachaturian Concerto was the work's premiere recording, and the pianist immediately became associated with what became a jukebox favorite.
The gem of this disc, however, is Kapell's 1949 recording of Prokofiev's Third Piano Concerto. In the explosive Allegro of the opening movement, Kapell moves between rippling pianissimo passages to lashing sforzando chords with consummate ease. A greater testament to Kapell's musical and technical skills comes in the variations of the second movement. His shifts from the mood of one variation to the mood of the next are immediate, passionate, and thoroughly convincing. He moves from the lush chordal lyricism of the first variation to the breathless abandon of the second, flying across the keyboard and never losing his way. The entire performance sizzles with a nervous energy that will most likely captivate any listener.