MOZART ON THE 1793 FORTEPIANO

OFRA HARNOY COLLECTION VOL 5 -

Nobody could call Scriabin a fussy man. All he asks of a pianist who would traverse his early sonatas is that he manage to be as sounding brass (Sonata No. 1), to walk on water (No. 2), to burn and be not consumed (No. 3), to fly (No. 4), and to dematerialize (No. 5). In that order. Oh yes, and stretch a twelfth.

Boris Berman, of Yale University by way of Moscow and Tel Aviv, is ready for this or any decathalon. Born and raised in the one country where Scriabin is as securely ensconced in the Pantheon as Bach or Beethoven, he believes in the music the way Sofronitsky did, the way Horowitz did, the way you will after you've heard him play. I must say his performances of the First and Second Sonatas were revelations to me. These are the sonatas one only encounters in integral recordings, and the other complete Scriabins I've heard (Szidon, Ponti) have not been satisfactory. In Berman's hands the first movement of the First, composed by a twenty-year-old just out of the Conservatory, is one of the great Scriabin experiences. It may be as yet conventional in form and only vaguely suggestive in its harmony of the composer's mature idiom. But it already has his inimitable rhythmic fluidity (yes, literally inimitable; God knows Stravinsky and Prokofiev tried) and his unique command of three- and four-handed pianistic textures. Berman sprouts as many hands as are required, and he has an ability to phrase in long periods—plus the pedal technique to support it—that keeps the music airborne despite its sequential construction. He also has his teacher Lev Oborin's famous way with inner voices; how many pianists could bring out the tenor in the chorale section of the funeral-march finale within an overall marking, scrupulously observed, of pppp?

When, beginning with Sonata No. 3, Berman hits the big-time competition, he more than holds his own. He knows the idiom to the extent that his eighth-note triplets are regularly distended, as Scriabin played them, with a hesitation on the second note and a correspondingly shorter third. His tempos are brisk and flexible, his touch remarkably like Scriabin's own, to the extent that we may judge it from the composer's Vorsetzer rolls and from verbal descriptions (e.g., that of Alexander Pasternak, the poet's brother: “I . . . had the impression that his fingers were producing the sound without touching the keys; his enemies liked to say it was not real piano playing, but a twittering of birds or a mewing of kittens“). This mercurial lightness is really indispensable in the Fourth Sonata, not only in the Prestissimo volando, but also toward the end of the Andante, where the right hand must caress a steady stream of high repeated chords while the left hand sings the tune. You will indeed have the impression that Berman's fingers are not touching the keys. When that main theme of the Andante comes back riding the crest of the Prestissimo in what James Baker (in truly excellent program notes) calls the first of Scriabin's many thematic apotheoses, Berman's effortless tone production is suitably glorious.

In fact, nowhere in this set is there the slightest sense of sweat or strain, even in the Fifth Sonata, so full of explicitly erotic gestures. (Yes, Scriabin appeals to forces mystérieuses, but we know very well what they are.) It's a very playful, aristocratic sort of ecstasy Scriabin summons up, the kind reflected in the Kama Sutra, far, oh very far from 42nd Street. Berman has the cosmic skittishness it takes to make what is often such a heavy harangue a tickly, spritzy delight. Porno-phony, perhaps, but definitely soft-core.

Volume 2, expected shortly, will require the pianist to cast spells, be like the sun, worship the devil, and ultimately become an insect. Can't wait.

-- Richard Taruskin, FANFARE [5/1990]

ADAGIOS: ROMANTIC REVERIES FOR

Phyllis Bryn-Julson has been America's foremost Lieder and oratorio singer for decades; her sensitivity to texts and intelligent singing, along with the natural beauty of her voice, have been matched by no other singer. But Schoenberg's Cabaret Songs (Brettllieder), written for a Berlin nightclub—virtually his only means of support during 1901—need a young, teasing chanteuse to express their coy, fey, often erotic sentiments. No problem: Bryn-Julson becomes that chanteuse for these 1990 recordings. She does not go as far as Marni Nixon, who mimics a childish voice in her 1970s RCA LP of these songs, going over the line into caricature. Accompanist Ursula Oppens, a great artist in her own right, seems not to share the cabaret atmosphere; her grand piano sounds as if it belonged on the concert stage, which is really the case for these songs nowadays. The differing attitudes do not compromise these fine performances. Unfortunately, this disc omits one of Schoen-berg's eight cabaret songs, Nachtwandler, because it calls for piccolo, trumpet, and snare drum as well as piano; Nixon includes it, as does Dorothy Dorrow on an Etcetera disc {Fanfare 12:3).

In the 1899 Four Songs, op. 2, Schoenberg writes in the late-Romantic style of Brahms and Wolf. Bryn-Julson's true pitch is a blessing to the ear after Susanne Lange's velvety but unreliable mezzo {Fanfare 14:3). The Book of the Hanging Gardens gets an exceptional performance; Bryn-Julson makes every word intelligible, her precise diction aided by the digital recording. Jan De-Gaetani, in another fine performance, goes in for more exotic vocal effects, at the cost of some intelligibility; perhaps the loss is also due to the analog Nonesuch recording (also Fanfare 14:3). This disc's otherwise excellent recording goes momentarily over the edge on the final word of Erhebung in op. 2, as the engineer underestimates the joint power of this voice and this piano. The close-up sound is totally appropriate for the heavy atmosphere of op. 15, and the cabaret songs are recorded with more space. The booklet includes texts of all these songs, with English translations. Those who have Jan DeGaetani's Nonesuch disc of Pierrot lunaire already possess a superb Book of the Hanging Gardens; the stronger coupling makes that disc the more generally recommendable, but there will be many who will want to hear Phyllis Bryn-Julson's views on all this music.

-- James H. North, FANFARE [1/1992]

An inspired duo creates one of the most enjoyable cello discs in years.

With Steven Isserlis and Stephen Hough an inspired duo, natural recording artists both, this is one of the most enjoyable new cello discs I have heard in years. I should be sorry if the sentimental title, “Forgotten Romance”, taken from the shortest and least ambitious piece in the collection, deterred any serious listener from investigating it. The logic of the grouping is that the five cello pieces of Liszt, all of them brief and all of them adapted from earlier works, are used to frame the high romantic cello sonatas, by Grieg and Rubinstein, that are in danger of neglect. As Isserlis suggests in his engagingly argued note, “The unabashed emotionalism, the thrilling climaxes and memorable melodies of all such works are all too easily sneered at nowadays, and concert programmes are thus deprived of a host of 19th-century treasures.”

His advocacy is well founded, for in these exhilarating performances he and Hough challenge each other in spontaneously imaginative interplay to bring out all the qualities he mentions. The point is that with performances like these, as sharply disciplined as they are passionate, all the emotion is very well founded, with sentimentality firmly kept at bay. Romance oubliee, adapted from an early song, was originally written for viola, with an added arpeggio passage at the end reflecting Berlioz’s Harold in Italy, which Liszt had arranged for viola and piano. As Paul Coletti and Leslie Howard demonstrate on their Hyperion recording (11/93), Romance oubliee is rather better suited to that instrument, but makes a pleasant ‘song without words’ here to introduce the magnificent Grieg Sonata. Written when Grieg was considering composing a second piano concerto, its material and manner very much reflect the A minor Concerto, with Grieg at his most richly distinctive. Compared with, say, Truls Mork and Jean-Yves Thibaudet, Isserlis and Hough are lighter and more imaginative, never running the risk of sounding sentimental, choosing speeds that flow easily and naturally. Paradoxically that makes the result more moving than any underlining of expression.

One could say the same about all these performances. The two Elegies – with Isserlis most persuasive in the improvisation-like passages – lead to the Rubinstein First Sonata. It has the lyrical directness and honest four-square construction which make the Mendelssohn cello sonatas so attractive. After a strongly characterized first movement Isserlis and Hough adopt a genuine flowing Allegretto for the siciliano rhythms of the central movement, made charmingly fresh, and the exuberant finale finds Hough at his most brilliant in the shimmering piano writing. The disc is rounded off by two Liszt pieces slightly more substantial than the others – Die Zelle in Nonnenwerth (“The Cell in Nonnenwerth”) – a late adaptation of an early song, spare in texture, and Liszt’s tribute to Wagner after his death, La lugubre gondola, one of many different adaptations. It would be a pity if such inspired playing failed to be appreciated, when, as Hough says, all this music so richly deserves to be better known.

-- Edward Greenfield, Gramophone [4/1996]

When the first volume of sonatas turned up (Music and Arts CD-605, Fanfare 13:5), Richard Taruskin wrote of Berman that, “Born and raised in the one country where Scriabin is as securely ensconced in the Pantheon as Bach or Beethoven, he believes in the music the way Sofronitsky did, the way Horowitz did, the way you will after you've heard him. ...“ Indeed, in the complete traversal sweeps—Ponti, Laredo, Taub—Berman's most consistent competition comes from Ashkenazy (London 425 579-2, two silver discs), who, needless to say, shares Berman's distinctions. In fact, heard after other pianists, Berman and Ashkenazy seem remarkably at one in their view of Scriabin and in their effortless projection of it—even their timings are often identical ! Within this basic similarity, however, one may say that Berman favors a voluptuously febrile approach, couched in veiled, bass-rich, pedal-held sound (abetted by a lushly resonant acoustic), while Ashkenazy opts for an almost crystalline (though seldom dry) clarity, crisper articulation, and brighter color. In the later sonatas, with their incantatory repetitions flaring into great washes of sonority, Ashkenazy's larger, more pointed climaxes bring these hallucinatory soundscapes into sharper focus, though Berman s accarezzevole touch and cumulative power awaken the music's daimonic eroticism with an hypnotic sureness scanted in Ashkenazy's patrician brilliance.

Both are high-voltage players, though neither quite matches Horowitz for sheer nervous energy, sinister intimations, trembling-on-the-verge spellbinding, eruptive grandeur, or overall éclat— though we are close: if Horowitz overwhelms, Ashkenazy compels, while Berman seduces. It is only fair to add that Ashkenazy recorded his cycle over a period of years, going back to 1975, where Berman committed his to the microphone in a matter of days—a staggering achievement. As noted, Music and Arts's aural perspective, while immediate and detailed, favors the bass. James E. Baker's extensive notes are a decided bonus, though his placement of Scriabin in the cultural history of his time and place will probably amount to obscurum per obscurius for most readers, to whom the likes of Solovyov, Balmont, lvanov, Baltrushaitis, Gippius, et al., are unlikely to be even superficially as familiar as the also named Nietzsche, Rudolf Steiner, and Madame Blavatsky. Hearing the sonatas together is one of music's great adventures, and Berman, aside from being an astounding pianist, is also gifted with that touch of the psychopomp which enables him to convey us unerringly to the heart of Scriabin's mystery. Enthusiastically recommended.

-- Adrian Corleonis, FANFARE [9/1991]

Recorded live at the Coolidge Auditorium of the Library of Congress, January 3, 1947 and January 4, 1952.

Includes work(s) by Martin Peerson, François Couperin, Louis-Claude Daquin, Franz Joseph Haydn, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Soloist: Igor Kipnis.
Includes work(s) for harpsichord by William Byrd, Louis Couperin, Jean-Philippe Rameau, George Frideric Handel, Johann Sebastian Bach. Soloist: Igor Kipnis.

In this 1983 performance, Maazel conducts Beethoven's liberation opera full of energy and precision, partnered by a highly dramatic Leonore, a Florestan in heroic voice and the Vienna Philharmonic in brilliant form.

I suppose the music lover within takes precedence over the sound freak, but not by much. Delighted as I was at my editor's decision to revive the old "Classical Hall of Fame" slot, I was hard put to decide what to write about first, until it occurred to me, as a fair and sensible thing, to praise those discs I play for pleasure between reviewing stints—the pauses that refresh, as it were.

Agreed, Turangalila's a flawed work—overlong, overblown, overacute, and, like so much of Messiaen's music, self-indulgent as only someone who fancies himself in touch with the Eternal can make it. But what a grand, fantastic-sounding thing it is! Salonen has taken Turangalila's measure most convincingly, and the Philharmonic plays it as well, it seems to me, as an orchestra can. Bud Graham's engineering wants special mention for its detail and clout, and if you've a playback system capable of delivering bodacious SPLs without imploding or crackling the glaze on your front teeth and bric-a-brac, you're dead wrong to ignore this glorious imperfection.

-- Mike Silverton, FANFARE [9/1991]
reviewing the original release, CBS 42271

Bellini’s penultimate opera was received unenthusiastically at its premiere in 1833, and has never attained the popularity of Norma. Early this century it disappeared completely until revived in 1935, as part of the centennial commemoration of the composer’s death. In recent years, its tragic heroine, the wife of a Milanese duke, falsely accused of infidelity and executed at her husband’s command, has been portrayed by such notable bel canto specialists as Joan Sutherland, Leyla Gencer and June Anderson. This dramatically vigorous and well-constructed work contains some of Bellini’s finest and most characteristic melodies, among them a ravishingly beautiful trio, ‘Angiol di pace’. Its neglect for so many years is difficult to comprehend.

Zedda conducts an ardent performance, sung by a first-rate cast. As Orombello, La Scola sings throughout with pure tone and a fine appreciation of Bellini’s long phrases. The experienced Cappuccilli is the vengeful Duke, heard at his best in ‘Qui m’accolse’, the aria in which he hesitates before signing the warrant for his wife’s execution, and the Romanian soprano Mariana Nicolesco brings a vibrant and flexible voice and a forceful personality to the role of Beatrice. Highly recommended to all who know and love Bellini’s more frequently performed operas.

-- Charles Osborne, BBC Music Magazine

Horowitz Plays Scriabin

Although Luciano Pavarotti only took on a few roles during his career, his performances rewrote history and set a benchmark for vocalists that would follow him. This 2-disc set is a live recording of Pavarotti in his role as Riccardo in Verdi’s Un ballo in maschera. The Vienna State Opera Orchestra accompanies the vocalists in a raw, emotional performance under Claudio Abbado.

Vincenzo Maltempo's previous Alkan CD (PCL0038) received the highest praise from international critics. On his new recording Maltempo plays the famous Le Festin d'Esope, the seldom played Trois Morceaux dans le genre pathetique, the Overture in grand quasi-orchestral style, and the fiendishly difficult Sonatine. An exciting release for all lovers of transcendent pianism!

MOZART: SONATEN FUR KLAVIER &

Classical Music

Johan Botha’s unfailingly radiant and yet powerfully carrying voice established him over many years as a Strauss and Wagner singer par excellence, but most of all as a youthful hero, and not as a weighty heroic tenor. In fact, Tannhauser was something of a marginal role for him, but what a role! The recording of the Rome episode in the Vienna State Opera premiere of June 16, 2010, with which the release’s four-part Wagner portrait begins with excerpts from Vienna Staatsoper productions, movingly reveals how as a suffering yet passionate pilgrim he returns from Rome dejected and unredeemed. The bridal-chamber scene from the third act of Lohengrin looks back to Botha’s early years at the Staatsoper. Fifteen years later, he is an ideal Walther von Stolzing, who after a night of dreams reveals his Prize Song to cobbler-poet Hans Sachs, who in turn refines it and writes it down. The most moving scene comes perhaps at the close of Ariadne auf Naxos, when a figure hailed as Hermes, the divine messenger of death, proves to be Bacchus, the god of love. The recording captures one of Botha’s last appearances at the Vienna Staatsoper.

Classical Music

SCHUMANN: WALDSCENEN, ETC CAS

CORELLI: SONATAS OP. 5 NO 7 -

RESPIGHI: FONTANE DI ROMA, PIN

BEETHOVEN: PIANO SONATAS 8 & 2

These are glamorous, big-city readings, far removed from the granite-faced objectivity proffered by most recorded Sibelians. But it’s all tremendously exciting – and if Bernstein nears emotional saturation more than once, particularly in Symphonies Nos. 1 [and] 2..., the coursing adrenalin in these accounts is irresistible. The New Yorkers are on top form throughout... Despite remastering, some of the fizz and glare that goaded pre-digital CBS LP pressings still survives.

-- Michael Jameson, BBC Music Magazine
reviewing these performances previously reissued as part of Sony 87329

Cuban-American pianist Jorge Bolet (1914-1990), misleadingly labeled the "last Romantic" among 20th century pianists and marketed under this title when he achieved world fame at the end of his career, was first and foremost a gentleman of the piano. Few pianists interpreted the great piano music of the 19th and early 20th centuries with such unerring stylistic assurance and technical mastery that was at the same time completely free of vanity and striving for effect. Rather than vague sentimentality, Bolet - who studied at the world-renowned Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia with David Saperton, son-in-law of the legendary pianist Leopold Godowsky, and later succeeded Rudolf Serkin as director of ist piano department - sought a balance between musical and pianistic intelligence. Thanks to these qualities, his recordings, which include not-uncontroversial transcriptions from the golden age of piano playing before 1914, are considered benchmarks.

These recordings for the RIAS Berlin from 1962-73, featuring works by Chopin, Liszt, and Debussy along with highly virtuosic encores and arrangements by Moritz Moszkowski and Godowsky (among others), are no exception: here we experience a pianist and musician who rightly occupies a place among the pantheon of great pianists.

All the recordings in this three-CD box set are first releases from the master tapes.

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REVIEW:

Almost everything by Bolet is worth acquiring, but this collection is particularly valuable. Few pianophiles will be aware of the existence of these radio broadcasts from the early 1960s.

Disc 1 opens up with Bolet on top form, including an intense account of Vallee d'Obermnann that ends more in despairing torment than than rapturous ecstasy.

Disc 2 includes a number of superb accounts of Bolet favorites. The third disc contains a muscular, magisterial rendition of Chopin's F minor Fantasy, most characteristic of this great artist yet by no means devoid of introspection and sensitivity. All four of Chopin's Impromptus are a real joy. The Debussy Preludes selections form a beautifully played sequence of individually defined tone-poems.

– Gramophone