All tracks have been digitally mastered using 24-bit technology.
Includes work(s) for organ by Dietrich Buxtehude. Soloist: Hans Davidsson.

Includes passacaglia(s) for keyboard by Georg Muffat. Ensemble: Seattle Baroque Orchestra. Conductor: Ingrid Matthews. Soloist: Byron Schenkman.

This selection is a High Definition Compatible Digital (HDCD) recording.

ARENSKY String Quartets: No. 1; No. 2. Piano Quintet • Ying Qrt; Adam Neiman (pn) • SONO LUMINUS 92143 (76:56)


Anton Arensky’s String Quartet No. 1 appeared in 1888, six years after he graduated from the Leningrad Conservatory, and immediately joined the Moscow Conservatory as professor of harmony and counterpoint. (The requirements were much lighter at the time, in a culture where classical music was essentially viewed as a new Russian art form, earlier isolated musicians such as Dmitri Bortniansky, Yevstigni Fomin, and Mikhail Glinka notwithstanding.) It reveals the pronounced influence of Tchaikovsky, who became a mentor and friend of his younger colleague. Not always to the good, either, as the first and third movements meander pleasantly with little of distinction to say and less energy to convey it, all much in Tchaikovsky’s worst manner. The andante sostenuto is better, a simple, lyrical song whose charm lies in its rich accompanying harmonies, while a central section nods perfunctorily at counterpoint. The finale is by far the best thing in the work, a theme and variations (a form that, like Glazunov, Arensky excelled at) of a very Russian cast. The variations reveal the art and unpredictability of which the composer was master.


The Second Quartet followed the first by 12 years, and exists as a complete work in two versions: one for the standard lineup of two violins, viola, and cello, and one for violin, viola, and two cellos. They are musically identical, and were presumably composed to prove a point—not for the first time, since Arensky was a contrarian who would go out of his way to do something when someone else said it couldn’t or shouldn’t be done. (Tchaikovsky once reproached him for his occasional employment of unusual meters, citing the 5/4 finale to his Piano Concerto. Arensky immediately responded by composing several further works with similar metrical irregularities.) It is a more striking and imaginative work than the previous quartet. The first movement attempts the same frequent shifts of effect, textures, and harmony as its predecessor, but with superior thematic material, if with no greater ability to weld its disparate parts together. It is followed by only one other movement, a large-scale (17:28, in this reading) theme and variations on a Tchaikovsky song. With a lengthier theme that supplied more elements to vary, Arensky achieves as much as he had in the first quartet, but on a more ambitious scale. If a couple of the variations, such as the fifth, are little more than ornamentation, the overall result is successful.


The Piano Quintet appeared in 1900. Schumann’s Florestan is prominent in its opening movement, while another group of variations makes its appearance immediately afterward. As such, it’s an andante set, a rarity in Russian music, and an unabashedly sentimental, Tchaikovsky-like set, too. The scherzo is perfunctory, but the finale is more Arensky contrarianism: a 3:31 movement of which the first 2:47 consists of a stern contrapuntal prelude, leading to a fast and otherwise undistinguished reprise of the Schumann-like theme that opened the quartet.


The Ying Quartet started life in 1988 with four Winnetka, Illinois, siblings who all studied at the Eastman School of Music. When first violinist Timothy left in 2009, Frank Huang took over the chair, and when he left the following year to become the Houston Symphony’s concertmaster, Ayano Ninomiya became first violinist. It’s this final lineup that recorded this Arensky album. Their most distinguishing characteristics are an emphasis on energy, a narrow, disciplined tone, chance-taking, and intense group practice. I enjoyed their silky and at times quixotic versions of the Tchaikovsky quartets and Souvenir de Florence (Telarc 80685), and wasn’t surprised to find much the same qualities exhibited on this release. The attempts at portamento aren’t especially convincing, given that their string tone lacks the kind of “plush” necessary to bring it off, but as the central section of the Piano Quintet demonstrates, they and pianist Adam Neiman are certainly capable of employing rubato and expressive dynamics as to the romantic manner born. These are, in short, worthy performances of all three pieces.


They aren’t without competition, however. The Lajtha Quartet with Nona Prunyi offered an identical lineup of music on Marco Polo 8.223911, though with slightly less technical virtuosity and a lot less theatricality. Among recorded performances that offer one of the works, the String Quartet No. 2 receives a vigorous, almost impatient reading from the Raphael Ensemble (Hyperion CDA 66648), while a more spacious account is offered by the Arienski Ensemble on Meridian 84211 (deleted, but still available from some sources). I’ve also enjoyed the warmly expressive live reading of the Piano Quintet on the three-disc set titled Martha Argerich and Friends , recorded at the 2008 Lugano Festival, though the Yings supply more finesse in the middle movement.


In short, while there’s no clear winner when it comes to a single version of the Second String Quartet, the Ying Quartet is my preference for all three works combined. With excellent sound, definitely recommended.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

Alexander Borodin's Second String Quartet has vastly superceded the First in popularity. Musicologists tend to bemoan this fact, citing the earlier work's greater compositional ingenuity. Yet most listeners are understandably drawn to Quartet No. 2's irresistible tunefulness (two of its melodies were used as songs in the Broadway musical Kismet). The St. Petersburg Quartet emphasizes the intellectual rigor of No. 1, making a connection between it and Beethoven's late quartets. The playing, with its smoothness and clean intensity, lends an especially bleak cast to the rhapsodic Andante con moto, sounding here like a precursor to the quartets of Shostakovich.

This ensemble takes a more lyrical approach for No. 2, which is full of feeling yet maintains a strong sense of line (the first movement's argument is seamlessly realized here). Both performances are quite satisfying and are recorded in wonderfully clear, detailed, dynamically realistic sound by Dorian. Fine as these performances are, the Borodin Quartet on EMI displays even greater imagination throughout both performances (especially in the finale of No. 2), and a more deeply felt passion (No. 1's first movement and No. 2's Notturno). However, the cavernous Melodiya recording tends to blur some detail and adds an element of gigantism to the readings. So, it looks like the Dorian is the more generally recommendable version. It's quite enjoyable, and if you don't know these pieces, you've got quite a treat in store.

--Victor Carr Jr., ClassicsToday.com

Prized for its amazing variety of sounds and for its technical complexity, the organ has been used to celebrate powerful rulers and religious institutions since its invention in the third century BC. This CD presents some of the earliest music written for organ, both sacred and secular, played by a leader in the field of early performance practice.

Complete Track List:
From the Faenza Codex: Kyrie cunctipotens genitor Deus; Bel fiore dança; Or sus, vous dormés trop.
From the Robertsbridge Codex: Estampie: Retrové; Motet: Firmissime/Adesto/Alleluya.
From the Groningen MS: Asperance; Empris domoyrs.
From the Ileborgh tablature: Praeambulum 4/Mensura 1; Praeambulum 5/Mensura 3; Praeambulum 3/Mensura 2.
Untitled, from the treatise De musica arte.
From the Buxheimer Orgelbuch: Redeuntes in la; Praeambulum super f; Praeambulum super mi; Praeambulum super C; Redeuntes in Idem.
Chanson settings: Praeambulum super d; Adieu mes tres belle; Praeambulum 1 from the Ileborgh tablature; J’ay pris amours; Praeambulum super G; Portugaler; Praeambulum super C; Se la face ay pale.
Kyrie de Sancta Maria Virgine.
Gloria de Sancta Maria Virgine.

Mompou, F.: Piano Music, Vol. 3 - Paisajes / Impressions In

THE PACHELBEL CANON & OTHER BA

Includes work(s) by Morton Feldman. Ensemble: Barton Workshop.

Harrison: For Strings

This is the extraordinary recording debut of jazz phenomenon Anaïs Reno, who made it in 2020 at the age of 16. Reno has already won accolades for her dedication to the Great American Songbook. She recently received the Julie Wilson Award, and in 2019 won the Mabel Mercer Foundation competition for high school students. For this album she has chosen 12 tunes by two master writers: Duke Ellington (1899-1974) and Billy Strayhorn 1915-67), creators of some of the most challenging and sophisticated material in the Great American Songbook. Reno combines beloved hits such as "Mood Indigo," "Take the 'A' Train," "Lush Life" and "Caravan" with lesser-known but equally memorable tunes like "A Flower Is a Lovesome Thing" and "It's Kind of Lonesome Out Tonight," all backed by a stellar group of jazz musicians led by pianist Emmet Cohen, who also did the arrangements with Reno. "I have a very personal relationship with these songs," says Reno. "Somehow I believe that the music of Ellington & Strayhorn understands me. This is why I want to honor it." Acclaimed jazz historian Will Friedwald, who has written the liner notes for the 12-page booklet, comments that "At 16, Anaïs achieved what precious few adults ever accomplish: namely, to actually enhance our appreciation and enjoyment of the Ellington-Strayhorn canon. Whether working together or separately, the two of them were always on the same page, both metaphorically and literally. And now, so is Anaïs Reno."

Includes work(s) by Edgar Meyer. Soloist: Edgar Meyer.

This is a DSD (Direct Stream Digital) recording
Includes work(s) by various composers. Ensemble: Empire Brass Quintet.

This recording represents a tour de force on the part of all concerned, so much so that the entire text of the booklet is devoted to explaining how it was accomplished. There is one concerto for solo trumpet (Michael Haydn), one for two (Vivaldi RV537), two (Telemann, in B flat and D) and an arrangement of the ubiquitous Canon of Pachelbel for three, and Biber's Sonata in A major for no less than eight trumpets, but Marsalis is the only trumpeter present. There is nothing new in over-dubbing—the jazz guitarist Les Paul did spectacular things with it in the 1950s, but in the realm of art-music Marsalis must have earned a place in the Guinness Book of Music, aptly aided by Telemann, who is already in there. I leave you to read about it and to marvel at the sheer skill of it all. If any living trumpet player is in more awesome command of his instrument than Marsalis I do not know who it might be; all things seem possible to him, and easily at that. Ivan March noted (1/86) a certain lack of lyrical warmth in his playing and I must agree with him; jazz musicians often feel constrained to be on their best behaviour when 'crossing the tracks' but I find even his jazz playing cerebral rather than emotionally stirring, so that is probably just the way he is—and it shows just a little in the slow movement of the Haydn. However, the programme has much to do with ceremonial magnificence (coupled in the Biber with stunning spatial antiphony) and sheer virtuosity, both present in abundance and delivered with wonderful roundness of tone, free from aggressive brassiness and any sense of strain, as an ex-trumpet player it frightens me to death! The recording is superb in its quality, balance and sense of space, making this a 'must' for anyone who does not actually hate the trumpet.

-- John Duarte, Gramophone [6/1988]

1965 CARNEGIE LIVE UNEDITED

CHEN / HE: Butterfly Lovers Violin Concerto (The) - Lu Siqin

Alan Hovhaness’ Symphony No. 48 is subtitled “Vision of Andromeda”, and anyone who has seen the Hubble photos of our neighboring galaxy knows just how gorgeous that must be. For years I used one of those magnificent vistas as my computer’s screen saver. This four-movement symphony, lasting just under half an hour, is typical Hovhaness. There are lovely, modal fugues in the second movement and finale; evocative, vaguely oriental melodies all over the place; luscious string chorales, and interludes for bells and tam-tam. Check out the opening of the finale. Fabulous, isn’t it? Does it do justice to Hovhaness’ “vision”? It’s plausible.

The truth is, Hovhaness always has had his detractors. Bernstein rather maliciously called his First Symphony “ghetto music” (which would be a compliment today), and his 67 symphonies and other works can sound rather the same–but then, so does a lot of Bach. For me anyway, there’s something disarming about his childlike joy in consonant harmony, in the fluidity of his fugal writing, and his utter unconsciousness of the fact that his melodies often tread dangerously close to kitsch. Say what you will, his music is unfailingly honest. It is what it is.

There are also moments where it achieves an astonishing, passionate intensity. The Prelude and Quadruple Fugue is, in its way, a masterpiece in considering the means by which it accumulates energy as each distinctively-wrought fugue subject enters and gets combined with its predecessors. It’s so clear, so easy to follow, and so much fun that you entirely forget the sophisticated contrapuntal mind at work behind the scenes. And that is as it should be.

The Concerto for Soprano Saxophone and Strings also sounds vividly tuneful and unfailingly attractive. When Hovhaness calls the finale, perhaps naively, Let The Living and The Celestial Sing, it’s easy to scoff, but the music is just so bloody pretty. Greg Banaszak plays the solo part with the suave timbre that the work requires, especially in the Adagio espressivo at the start of the second movement, while Hovhaness specialist Gerard Schwarz does his usual fine job with all three works, galvanizing the players of the Eastern Music Festival Orchestra to a welcome degree of corporate integrity. It helps, of course, that Hovhaness’ music is as straightforward to play as it is to hear. Beautiful.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

A gifted cellist himself, Zoltán Kodály wrote a small but consistently excellent amount of works for his own instrument. After the monumental Sonata for cello solo and that for cello and piano (Naxos 8553160), Maria Kliegel completes her survey of Kodály's cello music with a series of shorter works, all blessed by a strong sense of color and a deep feeling of nostalgia. The Prelude and Fugue in E-flat minor from Bach's Well-Tempered Clavier (1st Book) works well in this clever transcription written for Pablo Casals in 1951. The Sonatina and the Hungarian Rondo both explore thematic material with folk origins or inspiration, the former in a darker, more impressionistic style, the latter with an abundance of bold rhythms and tuneful, rhapsodic, Hungarian-flavored outbursts. With its rich polyphony and relentless motion, the short and vehement Capriccio makes an impressive addition to the solo cello literature, while the moving Adagio walks along the same Debussian harmonic path as the Sonatina. Finally, the three-movement Duo for violin and cello (1914) sums up the different qualities described above to realize a perfect masterpiece, where broad melodies are matched by sumptuous textures to create an atmosphere of passionate introspection. Thanks to her incisive playing, splendid musicianship, and round, warm tone, Maria Kliegel easily finds the music's expressive heart. Her partners show an equal affinity for this fascinating sound world. An excellent introduction to Kodály's music. --Luca Sabbatini, ClassicsToday.com

This is a DSD (Direct Stream Digital) recording

Purcell: Tempest (The)

Ursula Oppens has been a steadfast and masterful champion of Elliott Carter's music for more than three decades, and her recital encompassing the prolific 100-year-old composer's complete piano music clearly is a labor of love. What is more, her interpretations have evolved. For example, Oppens' 1998 Night Fantasies recording (Music & Arts) abounds with dead-on accuracy and drive. However, it sounds relatively earnest and literal next to this far more flexible, overtly contrasted, and color-conscious remake. Oppens also has rethought and internalized "90 +" to the point where her detached and legato articulations now are more sharply profiled and truer to Carter's written dynamics.

In her vivid, incisive performance of the early Piano Sonata Oppens particularly relishes the grand sonorities and overtones resulting from the composer's imaginative use of the sostenuto pedal, although her softest playing ultimately lacks Charles Rosen's magical tonal allure. Two recent works appear in their first recordings: Oppens imparts a strong sense of line via her precise yet unhurried handling of Caténares' rapid repeated notes (shades of Ravel's Scarbo); conversely, she forges a welcome, multi-dimensional tonal landscape from Matribute's continuous single-line texture. Superb production values (thanks to producer Judith Sherman and the Academy of Arts and Letters' marvelous acoustics) and informative booklet notes add further value to a significant release for Carter's centennial year, or any other year for that matter.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

REVIEW:

On the face of it, it makes good sense to group these three relatively early works by Schnittke together on one disc, and the documentary interest of the issue is enhanced by the fact that both sonatas are dedicated to Mark Lubotsky. The downside is that Schnittke is rarely at his best in these pieces, and the recording allows the piano too great a degree of rather harsh prominence.

The First Sonata (1963), which documents Schnittke's emergence from the cocoon of conformity to a style that owes much to Shostakovich, and its wide range of reference, from serialism to Latin American rhythms, is now less striking than the skill with which Schnittke shapes the third movement's gradually intensifying melodic line. In the Second Sonata (1968), again, it is the growth of continuity out of fragmentation that impresses, giving the single-movement structure a substance it would otherwise lack. Even so, the sonata is more a manifesto of defiance than a fully realized proposal for a new musical order. It is to the credit of both performers that they don't try to oversell the music's aura of iconoclasm, though a recording more favorable to the violin would have done these well-considered accounts greater justice.

Schnittke concocted his Suite in the old style (1972) from various film scores. It would be unduly censorious to complain of the composer's self-indulgence in music as charming as this, and in any case a more sinister note enters the final ''Pantomime''. Here, at least, the authentically alarming later Schnittke briefly stands revealed.

-- Arnold Whittall, Gramophone [4/1994]

Better late than never, these Rorem premieres are irresistible

How remarkable that two such delectable concertos should be receiving their world premieres on disc. Unapologetically romantic and accessible, those qualities may well have mitigated against acceptance among the industry’s fashion-mongers. The Second Piano Concerto (1951) was written for Julius Katchen (also the dedicatee of Rorem’s attractive Second Piano Sonata) and was given its first performance by that superb pianist in 1954. Since then it has lain dormant until its present revival by Simon Mulligan whose brilliance, ideally matched by José Serebrier, is worthy of Katchen himself. Here, the ghosts of Ravel, Françaix, Gershwin, Stravinsky and, most of all, Poulenc, jostle for attention. Yet Rorem’s idiom is as personal as it is chic. The final pages of the central “Quiet and Sad” movement, where the piano weaves intricate tracery round the orchestral theme, may owe much to the Adagio assai from Ravel’s G major Concerto but it maintains its own character. The finale, “Real Fast”, is an irresistible tour de force played up to the hilt by Mulligan.

In the Cello Concerto Rorem happily eschews a conventional form, giving programmatic subtitles to each section. These range from “Curtain Raise” to “Adrift”, offering Wen-Sinn Yang a rich opportunity, whether playing primus inter pares or revelling in Rorem’s alternating nostalgia and effervescence. Finely recorded, it’s a clear winner for the Naxos American Classics series.

-- Bryce Morrison, Gramophone [12/2007]

Naxos' ongoing series of Ned Rorem orchestral music recordings offers well-deserved recognition to a major American composer. This latest release is no less rewarding than the prior issues. The Second Piano Concerto dates from 1951 and shows the young composer writing with tremendous gusto. A large work (34 minutes) in the traditional three movements, its scoring is both vivid and at times a touch dense and "over the top", while the work's melodic generosity and rhythmic drive are undeniably infectious; its neglect must be counted a major mystery. Conductor José Serebrier's notes make much of the music's "American" qualities, particularly in the finale, but I was much more forcibly struck by Rorem's much-advertised love of French music. Whatever the answer to the "influence" question, this concerto is without doubt a major statement, and it's very impressively performed by Simon Mulligan, Serebrier, and the orchestra, who let the music speak with all of its delicious formal (in the first-movement cadenza) and textural excess.

Rorem's Cello Concerto dates from 2002, and like many of his late orchestra works it abandons traditional form in favor of a series of brief movements given cute names that may or may not have anything significant to do with their musical content. Frankly, I find this habit unnecessarily coy and distracting, but others may simply be intrigued; and if the listener's curiosity, once aroused, leads to giving the music more concentrated attention, then it's all to the good.

The sequence of eight movements is laid out for maximum contrast, and I particularly enjoyed the seventh, a characterful waltz. Indeed, Rorem is such a fine melodist when he wants to be that you have to wonder why he feels the need to venture into more aggressively "modern" territory now and then. Perhaps he's working a little bit too hard at being a "serious" composer. Never mind: this is a fine work, also strongly played by cellist Wen-Sinn Yang. Naxos' engineers have judged the balances very accurately between both soloists and the orchestra, while the occasional opacity at the climaxes of the piano concerto seems more a function of the heavy scoring than a suggestion of technical inadequacy. A fine disc.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This is Salmon’s second Brubeck disc for Naxos. Here he presents what are termed twenty-six Nocturnes though that’s something of a misnomer. They’re short character studies, mainly played straight with three notable exceptions where Salmon allows himself the luxury of some explicit improvisation – Recuerdo, Bluette and Koto Song. A number of the songs are also from recent albums and many have personal associations for Brubeck – family, travel, touring, special people and an air of nostalgia.

Whatever they may or may not be these are all engaging and often wistful examples of Brubeck’s art. Since he recently announced that he won’t make any more European tours due to the fatigue of the travelling it’s a moment for those of us here to reflect on his more intimate and reflective moments. They’re captured with real understanding and affection by Salmon who’s made something of a study in things Brubeckian.

So we can admire the compression but affirmative lyricism of the charming ballad Strange Meadowlark. Similarly – and how craftily programmed it is – we can enjoy the Bachian Mexicana, or should that be Mexican Bachiana of Recuerdo, which as already noted is one of the few places where Salmon has some improvisatory leeway. He brings out its suspensions nicely as indeed he does in adducing a little Erroll Garner to its veritable charms. I enjoyed the antique air of Softly, William, Softly, which derives from a never completed opera. As its title suggests Bluette is a laid back mini blues opus. And as with so many songs of his we can hear how Quiet As The Moon aspires to the condition of song. Brubeck is a wonderfully “vocal” composer.

Home Without Iola (his wife) is imbued with tristesse but another tribute to her - (I Still Am In Love With) A Girl Named Oli – has more than its share of earthy, funky Garneresque moments. There’s a touching tribute to Audrey Hepburn as well, and a trademark waltz, Viennese style, to add variety both rhythmic and thematic to the programming. Rather odd though that his Fats Waller tribute – Mr. Fats – should be in the form of a boogie; perhaps Harlem Stride was too much Fats’s thing for Brubeck to insist upon it. The range of his classical enthusiasms and interests can be gauged by his Satie homage, the roguishly titled I See, Satie.

This is another well-judged tribute to a still vital talent. There’s warmth here and wit and the kind of miniaturised impressionism that keeps Brubeck so interesting and rewarding a figure.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

In case you missed this recording of Walter Piston works when it was first released by Delos in 1993 (under the title "The Incredible Walter Piston"), now's your chance to hear it again in the same sound and at a lower price. As part of its acclaimed "American Classics" series, Naxos has licensed several previously issued recordings by the Seattle Symphony as part of a new collaboration to bring these performances back into circulation. Nothing has changed, except that the source tapes were re-mastered by Albert G. Swanson, the former associate engineer to John Eargle on the original recording made more than 10 years ago. The new sonic treatment offers little other than to preserve the slight predominance in the bass and the dark hues of the winds. The liner notes by Steven Lowe are neatly parsed and edited from Shirley Fleming's first edition text.


Listeners new to Piston's music would do well to audition this disc, as it includes a nice cross-section of the composer's output, from his first published work (Suite for Orchestra) to his last (Concerto for String Quartet). In between and opening this disc is the delightful ballet suite to The Incredible Flutist, a piece that features a slithering tango, a lusty Spanish waltz, and a spirited Circus March that concludes with a barking dog (a real one named Nori!). This quirky work--a sort of cross between Petrushka and Parade--alone belies the academic patina that has plagued Piston's name for decades. The fact that he wrote the leading textbook on orchestration should lead more people to think that maybe he actually knew something about it.


The dynamic Suite will excite anybody who loves Bartók, full as it is with resounding canonic brass fanfares, pounding percussion (watch out for the bass drum in the third movement), and chattering strings. Piston also had a flair for elegiac melodies, as evidenced by his soulful English horn writing (a bit aridly played and closely miked in this performance) in the Fantasy for English horn, harp, & strings, and by the slow, calmer parts for string quartet in the Concerto (especially the quixotic concluding viola solo).


Piston's orchestral expertise finds expression in the superbly crafted choral works that close this disc, works that are as buoyant as they are mysterious--and unforgettable. Of course, there are other superlative performances of these individual works (Bernstein's Incredible Flutist on Sony), but Schwarz's surveys remain essential listening for both lovers and newcomers to this great American composer.
--Michael Liebowitz, ClassicsToday.com