Recorded in: Henry Wood Hall, Glasgow 1 April 1987 Producer(s) Brian Couzens Sound Engineer(s) Ralph Couzens Philip Couzens [Assistant]

Here's a Franck D-minor Symphony in the classic French tradition of Paray and Munch: fast and exciting. In fact, at less than nine minutes, Tortelier's finale may very well be the swiftest ever, and tempos in both of the other movements never look back. Still, there's no trace of stiffness or lack of rhythmic flexibility. Others may well call it the "slim fast" approach or "Franck-lite," and the lack of self-indulgence does rob the quieter moments of some of their inherent mystery. I'm thinking here particularly of the symphony's opening, or the calm interlude in the finale just before the coda, where the "motto theme" returns accompanied by rich harp arpeggios, but it's not a major issue. Tortelier also isn't afraid to let the enthusiastic brass swamp the strings now and again, as at the end of the first movement's second subject, but my word, how those trumpets do ride the climaxes! In short, I'm not tossing out my favorites (aside from those listed above, these include Monteux/Chicago and Bernstein's DG remake), but this is much more than just another run-of-the-mill version.


The couplings also go well. Les Eolides has just the right skittish charm, and the Symphonic Variations pack considerably more energy than usual, though Louis Lortie's capable pianism must yield to Artur Rubinstein (RCA) and Ivan Moravec (Supraphon). I am less the impressed with Chandos' sonics. As with their recent Glinka CD, the big, reverberant acoustic works against the thrust of the performances. Something drier and crisper, with a better focus on cellos, basses, and timpani would have complimented Tortelier's approach much more readily. Nevertheless, if you love Franck's symphony, you'll enjoy this.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This volume of Richard Hickox's ongoing series of recordings of the music of Ralph Vaughan Williams gathers some of the composer's works related to his opera 'The Pilgrim's Progress.' The opening work has an obvious connection, as a setting of a speech of one of John Bunyan's characters. The disc's centerpiece, the Fifth Symphony, was begun in 1938 using themes from the opera, which Vaughan Williams feared might not be performed. The remaining semi-religious works are in somewhat the same spiritual vein.
Although the entire program is well-performed, the Symphony stands out beyond mere length. Hickox and the London Symphony play their hearts out, bringing some of Vaughan William's best music to exquisite life. The stunningly beautiful Romanza and final Passacaglia alone make this disc well worth the price. Add three premiere recordings (including "The Pilgrim Pavement," composed for the Dedication of the Cathedral of St. John the Divine in New York City) and vivid recording, and the result--like the discs which preceded it--is no less than essential.

The works on this disc represent some of Boris Tchaikovsky's finest orchestral music, and the release marks the start of a mini-series of Boris Tchaikovsky's historical recordings which will feature some major Russian artists. These recordings from the 1980s, two of which are premieres, are here released for the first time.

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"The whole disc is a great success. Recording quality is first rate, with the necessary clarity tempered by warmth and just the right amount of resonance. Excellent notes are by Dr. Christopher Hailey. Recommended, even if you still find Webern hard work."

The Schoenberg Quartet continues its traversal of the chamber music of the Second Viennese School (plus certain of their contemporaries) with this very well filled survey of the music of Anton Webern. Having found their Berg disc to be rather cool and under-powered for some of that composer’s overheated textures, it’s good to report a much more satisfying result here.

To have all this music on one single disc makes this excellent value anyway, regardless of quality of performance. There are other good discs of Webern’s chamber music, but none are as comprehensive as this. It gives the listener a virtually complete picture of the composer’s output, from the early Romantic pieces right through to his maturity. The posthumously published works are well worth hearing, even if the composer himself disregarded them and may well have been uneasy about them being included. In fact the longest work on the disc is the String Quartet from 1905 which, at over 17 minutes, is one of the longest pieces in the entire Webern canon! Its lush harmonies and wandering melodic lines clearly indicate an affinity with early Schoenberg (himself still under the spell of Wagner) and one can detect Verklärte Nacht at many turns. But though the tonal centres are clear and the harmony recognisable, there is a hint of things to come, particularly in the way that the main melodic motif’s angular quality signals its serial potential.

The gorgeous little Slow Movement from the same year has many of the same characteristics, and here the use of the turn makes one think directly of Tristan, even if the bitter sweet tonality is entirely Viennese.

The Six Bagatelles of 1911-13 begin to show the sort of thumbprints that Webern became famous for, notably brevity of utterance and an aphoristic style that he was to perfect over the ensuing years. They are beautifully crafted little jewels, where the silence between the notes becomes as important as the notes themselves. The Schoenberg’s seem to understand this perfectly, making sure that weight of attack is crisp and handling of texture and dynamics is clean and clear. Most of these minuscule works last under a minute, so every note has to count.

The experienced pianist Sepp Grotenhuis joins in for a number of other works, the most interesting of which seemed to me to be the Three Little Pieces of 1914, typical Webern. Extreme brevity is again apparent (the pieces are 9, 13 and 10 bars respectively), but he still manages to convey emotion and feeling into his microcosmic world.

The Schoenberg’s utter refinement and feeling for these special textures pay real dividends in the mature Trio and Quartet, possibly the best known pieces (certainly the most oft-recorded) on the disc. The Op.28 Quartet seems to inhabit a more sober world of serialism (it became a calling card for the post-war avant-garde), and the terse, spare movements are riddled with codes and patterns which still make for demanding, concentrated listening. Only in the finale do we get a feeling of longing, of harking back to old Expressionistic tendencies, of something approaching emotion.

The whole disc is a great success. Recording quality is first rate, with the necessary clarity tempered by warmth and just the right amount of resonance. Excellent notes are by Dr. Christopher Hailey. Recommended, even if you still find Webern hard work.

- Tony Haywood, MusicWeb International

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Just occasionally Chandos receives an unsolicited demo that is really special. This recording is a case in point - a disc of music by a composer little known outside her native Poland, presented with such passionate and persistent advocacy by violinist Joanna Kurkowicz that it was quite impossible to resist. The CD is the result of many years of research by Kurkowicz, who refers to the music, quite simply, as 'amazing'. Kurkowicz hopes that this recording will expand awareness of Bacewicz's importance as a major composer of the twentieth century.

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This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.


Anyone familiar with this repertoire, so intimately associated with Russian culture and religious tradition, who happened to be looking for an exemplary recording, might understandably assume that the ideal performance would be owned by a Russian church or concert choir; after all, these groups, theoretically at least, possess both the singular vocal quality and practiced technique, along with the inherent interpretive understanding, to set the standard for all others. This new recording from Charles Bruffy and his combined Phoenix and Kansas City Chorales not only destroys any such notion, but stands both as the All-night Vigil’s reference–a stunning rendition a world apart from any other recording of the work–and as a major achievement in the history of choral recordings.

That judgment is derived from decades-long listening to thousands of choral recordings, and, in this specific case, a comparison of the current release with more than a dozen past recordings of the All-night Vigil–from the St. Petersburg Chamber Choir, Estonian Philharmonic Chamber Choir, and USSR Ministry of Culture Chamber Choir (along with assorted other Russian ensembles) to the Robert Shaw Festival Singers and very fine choirs from Finland, Latvia, the Czech Republic, and Sweden; and in each instance, the difference is not subtle. Less than one minute into this new recording you know you’re in a world unlike any other for this work.

First, this performance begins with introits by Deacon and Priest–most recordings eliminate this, but without this brief intro the opening chorus has an unsettling and liturgically weird abruptness; and in spite of the fact that their names are Bryan Taylor and Paul Davidson, Bruffy’s two bass soloists are as Slavic-sounding as you’ll hear on on any Russian recording. And when you hear those interpolated low-Cs in the opening choral “Amen”, well, you know there’s no longer any distance, musically speaking, between Moscow (where this work was premiered–in 1915 by the Moscow Synod Choir) and Kansas City, Kansas (where this recording was made).

And somehow, the sound of this 56-voice choir, captured in Kansas City’s Cathedral of St. Peter the Apostle, creates a strangely affecting resonance, vibrant, timeless, eternally echoing. I have no idea how the performers and recording engineers achieved this sound–all other recordings of the work pale in comparison–but at least part of it must be attributed to the large and formidable bass section (16 voices), the nearly as large (15 voices) tenor section, and to Bruffy’s insistence on giving full flower to the glorious harmonies–to not rushing the tempo, which (aside from shady, stuffy, or spongy sound) is the primary problem with virtually all the other competing recordings.

Yes, some listeners may point to exactly that–tempos–much slower-than-usual tempos in some movements–as a criticism of this performance (the well-loved “Bogoroditse Devo”, for instance). But if ever there were music that compelled the performers to take time, to extend the breath, to be magnanimous with the phrase, to revel in harmonic resonance, this is it; and Bruffy has the will and the means (those 56 exceptional voices) to do it. As you listen, absorbed in the music’s luxurious sound and the performance’s stirring effect, you realize that there are not so many recordings, nor are there so many musical works that are able to hold you so thoroughly enthralled from beginning to end. (And it’s a rare choral recording that makes you wish for, or happier to have, a subwoofer attached to your sound system!) As the choir sings the Vigil’s opening section, “Come, let us worship…”, one can only respond, “Absolutely.” Not to be missed.

– David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

"***** (5 stars) Among the most beautiful of all works for unaccompanied chorus, [the All-Night Vigil] turns away from temporal conflict and gazes calmly into eternity.... The US conductor Charles Bruffy and the Phoenix and Kansas City Chorales have long been outstanding interpreters of this repertory and their performance has a devotional intensity that is often overwhelming. … [B]y the end, you know exactly why it [is] one of Rachmaninov’s favourites among his own works, and why many consider it his greatest." – The Guardian (UK)

Addison's scores frequently pay hommage to the time-honoured tradition in film music, which dates back to the silent film era, of alluding to well-known tunes and indulging in innocent tunefulness, yet the scores have achieved iconic status and contributed to turning many of the films into the national treasures they are today. This new addition to the Chandos Movies label, which has been highly sought-after, is sure to be a highlight amongst many gems.

This excellent and most enjoyable disc will be a high quality Christmas present for a musical friend - or to give to yourself!

It’s four years now since Andrew Nethsingha moved from Gloucester Cathedral, where he had been a distinguished Director of Music, to St. John’s College, where as part of his training he had once been the Organ Scholar, under George Guest. Having established himself securely with the college’s choir he’s begun recording with them for Chandos and the partnership has already produced some impressive results. These include a very fine Howells collection, an equally good mixed recital of church music and a disc of music by Lassus, which I haven’t heard but which impressed my colleague, Gavin Dixon. Their latest offering is of music for Advent and Christmas; in every respect it maintains the high standards set by their previous releases.

Before commenting on the music, can I commend Chandos for the quality of the booklet? This label is always strong on documentation but there must be a temptation for record companies to economise a little on such releases - “it’s only carols”. In fact, Chandos provide all the texts and, best of all, a really useful and thorough essay by Martin Ennis, which includes a separate and interesting paragraph on every one of the twenty-four items on the programme. The essay, in fact, is a model of its kind and the best I can recall seeing for a release of seasonal music.

The programme has been very carefully chosen and includes a welcome mix of the familiar, the unfamiliar and the familiar in slightly less-than-familiar guise. Into this latter category would come items such as the exuberant and effective arrangement by Philip Marshall, the former organist of Lincoln Cathedral, of I saw three ships. The version of Ding! dong! merrily on high would also fall into the exuberant, indeed flamboyant, category. It was made by the Music Director of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and requires two organists. The organ features strongly - and most effectively - in Stephen Jackson’s arrangement of Noël nouvelet. Indeed, the organ writing is a key element in giving the setting its pronounced French flavour. It’s good to see Andrew Nethsingha give a bow to one of his predecessors at St. John’s, Christopher Robinson. Instead of the usual - and excellent - Willcocks descant to Hark! the herald angels sing we hear Robinson’s descant and a jolly good one it is!

Moving to the unfamiliar elements in the programme we find Christopher Robinson there too. I’d not heard before his setting of Make we joy - a text more famously set by Walton. I like this Robinson setting very much indeed; it’s buoyant and strongly rhythmic. Also new to me was Michael Finnissy’s Telling. Written in 2008, this is a setting for unaccompanied choir of an anonymous sixteenth century text. Martin Ennis draws attention, rightly, to the “refined harmonic sensibility” of the piece. I think it’s a beautiful composition and, in an intelligent piece of programme ordering, we find that Kenneth Leighton’s fine Coventry Carol, which comes next in the running order, complements the Finnissy nicely. Mention should also be made of Matthew Martin’s Adam lay ybounden. This is very different from some other settings - one thinks of Boris Ord’s celebrated setting, for starters. Martin’s piece is slow and reflective and it’s good to have another slant on this well-known text. I also liked the item by James Burton, perhaps best known as Director of the Oxford Schola Cantorum. His Balulalow eschews trebles - the altos take the top line - giving an interesting, darker texture. Some of the harmonies are quite close and I think it’s a lovely piece.

And so to the familiar seasonal items. It’s right to include them to give the programme balance. Nethsingha and his singers pay these pieces - and their listeners - the important compliment of taking as much care over them as they have done over the less conventional fare. Harold Darke’s classic piece is given a lovely performance and lovely too is the choir’s account of Philip Ledger’s sympathetic arrangement of Silent Night - good planning, too, to place this immediately after his equally good arrangement of the Sussex Carol. Ledger’s predecessor at King’s College, Sir David Willcocks, is represented by his justly popular Tomorrow shall be my dancing day. O little town of Bethlehem, mainstay of innumerable carol services, makes an equally welcome appearance. It wouldn’t be a Christmas programme without John Rutter. When you hear his lovely What sweeter music, which, as Martin Ennis justly observes, contains “one of his most winning melodies”, you realise just why for so many people Rutter has become synonymous with Christmas music. The present performance is first class, with every little detail of Rutter’s music nicely observed.

The singing on this disc is very fine indeed. Solos are well taken and the choir as a group blends extremely well and sings with excellent tone and great clarity. Several of the pieces are accompanied by organ and the college’s Senior Organ Scholar, John Challenger, does a marvellous job. I relished especially his splendid contributions - very different from each other in character - to the Jackson and Mathias pieces.

It only remains to say that the Chandos sound is up to the label’s usual exalted standard - I listened to this hybrid SACD as a conventional CD. This most enjoyable disc will be a high quality Christmas present for a musical friend - or to give to yourself!

-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

Chandos' Featured Release for February will be the final recording made by Richard Hickox, intended as the first in a cycle devoted to orchestral works by Goossens. Offering the premiere recording of Goossens's Phantasy Concerto for Piano and Orchestra, and the rarely recorded Symphony No. 1, this disc serves as a tribute to Hickox and his remarkable legacy of recordings on Chandos. Though principally remembered as a conductor, during the 1920s the prolific Eugene Goossens was regarded as among the foremost British composers alongside Bax, Bridge and Walton. Sadly, his music has been all but forgotten, for the colourful, expressive nature of his music fell out of fashion in the 1950s and 1960s. A recent reviewer of Goossens's music wrote, 'If you have ever gleaned the idea that Goossens is inclined to grey modernism or to windy rhetoric, prepare to have your preconceptions well and truly shattered'. His music is suggestive of fellow composers of the era, notably Holst and Bliss. Having grown up in Britain, Goossens accepted an invitation to come to the United States as the first chief conductor of the Rochester Philharmonic Orchestra in New York State. He was there for twenty years, before moving to Australia where he served as Chief Conductor of the Sydney Symphony Orchestra. His music and character proved a great influence on the Australian classical audience and he is recognised as one of the most important figures in Australian musical life. The rewarding Phantasy Concerto, Op. 60 for Piano and Orchestra was written for the celebrated Spanish pianist José Iturbi who gave its first performance in 1944. 'The work, particularly the slow movement, was influenced by my re-reading at that time of Edgar Allan Poe's The Devil in the Belfry, and might be said to reflect something of the fantastic and sinister character of that story, though in no way being a literal depiction of it', wrote Goossens. The concerto was the outcome of a discussion between Iturbi and the composer over the lack of new piano concertos and especially on a smaller scale. The result is a four-movement piano concerto in compressed sonata form. The soloist plays more of a concertante role than in a display concerto, his part tending towards being integral to the orchestral texture. Goossens used the word 'conversational' to describe this relationship between soloist and orchestra. This premiere recording is coupled with the melodious and imaginative Symphony No. 1. The Melbourne Symphony Orchestra is regarded as Goossens specialists and here perform with Howard Shelley as the piano soloist.

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A slightly older contemporary of Vivaldi, Alessandro Marcello is a less well-known composer of the early eighteenth century, whose home town was Venice and whose younger brother was the more prolific Benedetto. These well-crafted concerti, the most famous works among his output, are sadly infrequently performed. The six 'La Cetra' concertos are unusual for their wind solo parts, instrumental contrasts and combinations, and use of counterpoint within a broadly, Vivaldian style. They provide a cross-section of Marcello's instrumental style of composition and can be seen as a last outpost of the classic Venetian baroque concerto. This was a popular CD on its original release, and is sure to be welcomed as a re-issue at Classics price.

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At last a version of this legendary work for pleasure, analysis and study.

I am normally something of a 'completist' when it comes to music. And that includes works that may not necessarily reflect a composer at his or her best. If Bloggs wrote 101 songs then, if at all possible there should be at least one fair recording made of each – if for no other reason than to provide context. The best can then be compared to the not so good and can be seen to shine. Ivor Gurney may be an exception to this rule: there is much debate about his ‘unplayable and un-publishable’ songs and chamber works yet many folk want to give these an airing - even if it means damaging the composer’s reputation. Imagine a neophyte finds a CD of Bloggs’s Unknown Songs. Further, imagine that they are not very good. Could this put our friend off not only Bloggs but also English lieder? Perhaps they would be best left un-played and unrecorded? Other issues arise, such as the composer’s intentions. Did they regard these pieces as worthy? Or did they suppress them? This argument has surfaced with the repristination of the early music - which had been believed destroyed - by William Alwyn and suppressed works by RVW. I hasten to add that I am grateful for these CDs and have especially enjoyed hearing the former’s tone-poem Blackdown and the latter’s Heroic Elegy.

Let us turn to The Crown of India. Most Elgar enthusiasts will know the Suite derived from this ‘Imperial Masque’. It has been issued in a number of recordings over the years, including a fine version from Chandos with the Scottish National Orchestra conducted by Sir Alexander Gibson. The March of the Moguls has also been a popular extract. However, up until this present CD, it has not been possible to hear the complete work in its original format. The question is: is this a worthwhile project?

Firstly let’s dispose of the anti-Imperial argument. There are two (at least) approaches to history. One is, I guess relative and the other is absolute. Some people will refuse to give any credence to an historical personage if they were involved in any activity that is now regarded as politically incorrect, even if it was not always regarded in this light. Men like Cecil Rhodes and Clive of India are despised or at best belittled by ‘liberal’ society. Yet, surely it should be possible to admire the achievement of a woman or a man who did much good work with their involvement in world affairs. Obviously parts of their careers can be justly criticised, but the person themselves cannot be separated from their milieu. Few people in the world are truly forward-thinking: most of us, both living and dead are and were children of our time.

I can hear people condemning this present work as jingoistic - as imperial nonsense. It is a work that sets the British Empire up against the people of India. As such it could be argued that it should be consigned to the dustbin of musical history. We no longer think in terms of Britain Ruling the Waves (except at The Last Night) nor do we necessarily regard the British way of life as being something that must be imposed on other cultures. Things, perhaps, work the other way round these days. So can we justify listening to and perhaps even enjoying this Masque? Only if we can enter the historical setting in our mind’s ear without too many feelings of guilt! However, we ought to judge this work - or any work - on its musical and literary merits rather than its political and cultural resonances down through the years.

The Crown of India is a masque that was written and performed in 1912 to celebrate the visit of King George V and Queen Mary to Delhi. This was part of a ‘durbar’ in that city as part of the celebrations for their coronation as the Emperor and Empress of India. The masque was commissioned by a certain Oswald Stoll and combined a libretto by Henry Hamilton and the music of Edward Elgar. The work was given its first performance at the Coliseum Theatre in London on 11 March 1912. The masque ran for two performances a day for two weeks. At that time the Coliseum was a variety theatre rather than the opera house we know today. Ironically, Diana McVeagh points out that Elgar’s music was performed alongside a programme that included “gymnastic equilibrists, a ventriloquist, a Russian harpist, a scene from Barrie’s The Twelve Pound Look, continental mimes, with the Tannhauser Overture as interval music.” It must have been quite an evening!

The work was conceived in two tableaux, separated by an interlude: it is made up of a dozen pieces or scenes. The first tableau is entitled ‘The Cities of India’ and the second ‘Ave Imperator’. The format called for the personification of ‘India’ and the cities of Agra, Delhi, Calcutta and Benares and also England (not the United Kingdom) by St. George. The chorus consisted of a cast of thousands including Mogul Emperors, Princes, Guards, Executioners, Courtiers, Fan-Bearers, Ladies Attendant Syce (grooms), Litter Bearers, Heralds, and Trumpeters. The work is scored for contralto, bass, chorus and orchestra. However it was not conceived for a symphony orchestra as such but a typical theatre ‘pit’ band of the era although it was considerably ‘augmented’.

It will be helpful to note the tableaux in a slightly simplified list:-

1(a) - Introduction, and (b) Sacred Measure
2 - Dance of the Nautch Girls
2(a) – India greets her cities
3 - Hail, Immemorial Ind! (The Homage of Ind)
4 - March of the Mogul Emperors
5 - Entrance of John Company
6 - Rule of England (St. George’s Song)
7 - Interlude
8 - Warriors' Dance
9 - Cities of India
10 - Crown of India March
11 - Crowning of Delhi
12 - Ave Imperator

In the first tableau the cities of Calcutta and Delhi, personified by the two speakers, plead to be made India’s capital city. In the second, the Emperor rather diplomatically resolves the contention. He states that “… Delhi to be his capital names, And of his Empire, further makes decree, Calcutta shall the premier city be”.

Percy Young has noted that in the early months of 1912 Elgar had moved into Severn House and was conscious “not only of its nobility but also its expense.” So it is fair to say that the commission came at the right time and contributed to the finances.

It is important not to be too critical about the text of the masque. It is easy to write off Henry Hamilton’s libretto as ‘doggerel’ but it was very much a period piece: it is what would have been expected at the time. However, the composer was not overly impressed with the political tone of the words but was able to see the possibilities it presented for producing a colourful score. Elgar was able to cut a number of the worst parts of the text and began composing the music and falling back on mining some earlier works and sketches as he did so. Music rescued from The Sanguine Fan, Falstaff and the Apostles has been identified.

So what are we to make, musically at least, of this massive period piece? Percy Young in his 1955 study of the composer has captured its mood. He writes that “despite the skilful spread of motive, there is no genuine consistency in The Crown of India, but vivid flashes of imaginative treatment, combined with instances of tenderness and charm.” It is a judgement that holds well today.

The make-weights on the second CD are useful additions to the catalogue of Elgar’s imperial, or less pejoratively, his ceremonial music. The Imperial March Op.32 was composed in 1896-7 and was the composer’s first essay in this genre. It was commissioned by Novellos to mark the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria in 1897. At the same time Elgar also received a commission to write The Banner of St George. The Imperial March received its first performance at a Crystal Place concert on 19 April of the same year. Interestingly, this piece is more in the style of what Eric Coates was to compose some quarter of a century later. There is no great pretence at writing profound music – instead it has a tune that has “a spring in its step, and a sunny dance-like trio”. Elgar was not the first to compose this kind of March. Parry had written a fine example in his incidental music for Hypatia. It was however his first essay in what was to become a long line of ceremonial marches. Diana McVeagh notes that it was the Imperial March that “first carried his name throughout the land”.

The Coronation March Op. 65 is a totally different piece. Gone is the light-heartedness of the earlier piece, to be replaced by music that has a depth of emotion and variety of mood that is rare in a work of its genre. The March was a ‘laureate’ work commissioned for the Coronation of King George V in 1911. It has been well said that the composer is mourning the death of the old King rather than cheering the accession of the new. In many ways it has the air of a funeral march rather than a rumbustious paean of welcome for the monarch. I have no doubt that this is one of the best marches that Elgar wrote – or anyone else for that matter. One strange fact associated with this piece is the fact the composer had already written the main opening theme for a projected ballet based on the tales of Rabelais! It is assumed that he abandoned this project because of Victorian prudery and pressure from his wife Alice.

I have always had a soft spot for the Empire March even if it is not the best of the bunch. This work was composed in 1924 to inaugurate the British Empire Exhibition held at Wembley in that year. It is interesting, if somewhat poignant, that this is one of the very few works to be completed after the death of Alice in 1920. The Elgar Society webpage suggests that “it is but a pale shadow of his earlier marches, lacking the distinctiveness and decisiveness of melody which so characterised his more successful marches …” Yet there is an interest in these pages and a certain backward glance to happier times.

I am not quite sure why Chandos have chosen to give two versions of The Crown of India – one with the spoken text and one without. I would have thought that a single version would have sufficed for what is a very uneven work. However, if it had been a single CD, there would have been no room for the three Marches. Furthermore, I doubt if this work will receive many concert performances, in spite of the fact that the Elgar Society have just published the full score. I imagine that if it is performed it will be in the edited version.

All this being said, and I have not really made my mind up about this piece yet, this CD is a must for all Elgar cognoscenti even if they are, like me, not over-enthusiastic about the main event. I enjoyed some of this music. I certainly enjoyed the fine performances by Sir Andrew Davis, the soloists and speakers and the BBC Philharmonic. I appreciate the amount of work that Anthony Payne has invested in this project to realise the score. But was it worth it? I will probably not listen to this work again but I will occasionally play The Crown of India Suite. However, it is important to know that a version of this legendary work is available for pleasure, analysis and study. The amount of effort that has been required to realise this masque may seem to some a little excessive and perhaps misdirected.

Perhaps the project can best be summed up in two quotations from the sleeve-notes. The first is from Nalini Ghuman: “( The Crown of India is) a fascinating work of imperialism: historically illuminating and often musically rich, it is nevertheless a profoundly embarrassing piece - a significant contribution to the orientalised India of the English imagination.” And the second is written by Andrew Neill. He concludes his essay by suggesting that ‘although Elgar’s subject is now out of fashion we can hear how, despite its tendentious nature and poor quality, Elgar rises above Hamilton’s text with colourful music of great variety … it may not be India, but it is Elgar, who did this sort of thing better than anyone else.”

-- John France, MusicWeb International

Triple Feature.

These amazing chants caress the human soul, exposing it to goodness, light and beauty, assuaging suffering and implanting in it the great meaning of Life. The tradition of monophonic church singing came to Russia from Byzantium as the most important aspect of the divine service. The history of the origins of Russian church singing has come down thanks to the chronicler of the Book of Degrees. The oldest chant of the Russian Orthodox Church is teh znamenniy chant. Its name derives from the Slavonic word ''znamya''. The maliy chant appeared as a counterbalance to the bol'shoy, being an abbreviated version of the znamenniy chant. The works of Russian chant writers have remained basically anonymous to this day; only certain names have come down through the ages.

2009 release. BBC Philharmonic Fionnuala Hunt leader, conducted by Rumon Gamba. Recorded in Studio 7, New Broadcasting House, Manchester, England December 9 &10, 2008. Premiere recording of Electra, Op.79 (1963) Ballet in One Act.

Cramer was a virtuoso pianist and composer of German origin who lived mostly in London. A pupil of Clementi and friend of Beethoven, he is best known for his piano studies. He founded the publishing company J.B. Cramer & Co. which still exists today. This is the only available recording of these works. Recorded in: St Silas The Martyr, Kentish Town, London 29 & 30 January 2002 Producer(s) Rachel Smith Sound Engineer(s) Jonathan Cooper Michael Common (Assistant)

Also featuring the BBC National Chorus of Wales is several selections.

Brian Easdale was a prolific composer whose extensive output covered most genres, from orchestral pieces, concertos, and choral works, including a mass for the new Coventry Cathedral, to chamber compositions. However Easdale is today most well-known for his film scores, particularly The Red Shoes and Black Narcissus

Part of Chandos’ film music series with Rumon Gamba, the works on this release showcase Easdale’s career in film with music from, among others, The Red Shoes, Black Narcissus, and The Battle of the River Plate.

In his youth, Easdale attended the Royal College of Music, where he studied composition with such prominent figures as Cecil Armstrong Gibbs and Gordon Jacob, conducting with Malcolm Sargent, and organ with Arnold Goldsborough. As a jobbing musician he undertook arranging projects, working most notably on such scores by Benjamin Britten as the Soirées musicales and the Piano Concerto. He also orchestrated Britten’s On the Frontier for a production at the Arts Theatre in Cambridge in 1939, before spending much of the war in Ceylon and India working on documentaries for their governments’ film units. Returning to Britain in 1946, he was invited by the masterful film making team of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, also known as The Archers, to write an exotic dance for Jean Simmons to perform in their forthcoming film, Black Narcissus, and ended up composing the whole score. The film is a veritable masterpiece of melodrama with highly dramatic music to match.

The involvement of Easdale in Black Narcissus effectively launched his career in film music and led him to other projects, most notably The Red Shoes (1948) for which he won an Academy Award for Best Original Music Score. This is one of the most iconoclastic films in the Pantheon of British Cinema. Given a highly atmospheric score, the film concerns a traveling ballet company and tells the story of a young hopeful ballerina, catapulted into stardom and wrestling with her love for a composer and the pull of her career. In the end it becomes too much of a fight and while on tour with the company in Monte Carlo, she leaps to her death.

The Battle of the River Plate (1956) is also worth a separate mention. A semi-documentary account of the trapping of the German pocket battleship Admiral Graf Spee in Montevideo harbour, and her subsequent scuttling, the film was commercially very successful. The two movements recorded here are the Prelude (heard over the main titles and opening scene with narration) and a March, the concert version of which was created by Easdale after the film’s release.

Recording information: Potton Hall, Dunwich, Suffolk, England (01/19/2009-01/21/2009).

"When Debussy's String Quartet is so often partnered on disc by Ravel's, a considerable chunk of the enjoyment to be had from this recording is down to the simple fact that it's a Debussy-only programme. It's true that Debussy left slim pickings for chamber string ensembles, but the Brodsky Quartet have shown here what musical riches are possible with the combination of Debussy and string quartet forces when a bit of lateral thinking comes into play, together with a few guest artists...Just when works suitable for string quartet really are running out, in steps Brodsky viola player Paul Cassidy with his string quartet arrangement of Rêverie, originally for solo piano. Written contemporaneously to the Quartet, Debussy may have intended it as little more than a charming salon piece, but Cassidy's scoring is so similar to that of the quartet that the work has taken on a new identity. Far from feeling like an “And finally...” bonbon, its new gravitas makes it a fitting bookend to the programme, a partner to the Quartet, and an unexpected delight."

- Charlotte Gardner, BBC [04-18-2012]

The Brodsky Quartet celebrates its fortieth anniversary this year. Formed in 1972, the Quartet quickly emerged at the forefront of the international chamber music scene. It has performed more than 2000 concerts and made more than fifty highly acclaimed recordings. Now exclusive Chandos artists, the Brodsky players are releasing their second album on Chandos with guest soloists Jean-Efflam Bavouzet and the harpist Sioned Williams.

The Trio for piano, violin, and cello is an early work, written before Debussy established his own very distinctive musical language heard in pieces such as La Mer. Another early piece, Rêverie, for piano, was written by the young, struggling composer at a time when he was trying to make a living in Paris. The easiest market to break into for a composer was the salon, where songs and not-too-taxing piano music were in demand. Rêverie was one of several charming and tuneful works that Debussy wrote for this scene.

In a somewhat different league, the String Quartet is considered a defining work in the history of chamber music. Sensual and impressionistic, it employs a cyclic structure that constituted a split from the rules of classical form and pointed the way forward. In the words of Pierre Boulez, Debussy freed chamber music from ‘rigid structure, frozen rhetoric, and rigid aesthetics’.

The Deux Danses, made up of the ‘Danse sacrée’ and ‘Danse profane’, complete the disc. At the end of the nineteenth century, the Parisian instrument makers Pleyel invented a ‘chromatic harp’ which dispensed with pedals and achieved the full chromatic compass from two rows of strings that slanted across one another. Debussy was approached to write two pieces intended for a final examination of the Pleyel model. ‘Danse sacrée’ makes use of Church modes, while ‘Danse profane’ is a kind of sarabande. The ‘competition’ aspect of the pieces is highlighted by the fact that, after the opening introduction, the harpist has no more than six bars’ rest. As it happened, the Pleyel model never caught on, and the works are now always performed on a pedal harp.