Classical Music

STRAUSS: FOUR LAST SONGS DIE

Okay, there are no cannons in the 1812 Overture, but when the playing is this amazing you’re hardly going to care. These performances are fabulous. You also get Tchaikovsky’s Marche slave and the Marche miniature from his Suite No. 1; Mendelssohn’s Fingal’s Cave Overture; Kabalevsky’s Colas Breugnon Overture; Glinka’s Ruslan and Lyudmilla Overture; Borodin’s Polovtsian March; Liszt’s Mephisto Waltz No. 1; and Mussorgsky’s A Night on Bald Mountain. In this latter work, particularly, you’re not going to believe the precision and transparency that Reiner commands, as well as a climax that will blow you away. The couplings may be something of a grab-bag, but when everything you grab out of the bag is sensational, there’s no point in complaining. Vintage Living Stereo sound too, excellently restored. Wow!

— David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Chicago has long been a welcoming home to the working composer, and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra at the heart of the musical life they found in the city. The three American composers whose music is performed on this recording all have important ties to the CSO, from Philip Glass’ formative years as a student listener in Orchestra Hall in the 1950s, to Jessie Montgomery, who is the Orchestra’s Mead Composer-in-Residence today, and Max Raimi, who is both a prolific composer and a longtime member of the Orchestra’s viola section. 

The works by Montgomery and Raimi were both their first CSO commissions, and these are their world premiere performances. Montgomery’s Hymn for Everyone is a meditation for orchestra that speaks to the significance of her emergence in today’s cultural climate through its reflection on the personal and collective challenges of the spring of 2021. In it, a hymn-like melody traverses different orchestral choirs to poignant effect. For each poem in Raimi’s Three Lisel Mueller Settings, he selects an admired colleague to enter into a dialogue with the soloist, mezzo-soprano Elizabeth DeShong. This highlights the talents of Principal Clarinet Stephen Williamson in a frenetic waltz, Principal Bassoon Keith Buncke in a tragic elegy and Principal Bass Alexander Hanna in a metaphor for hope, with soaring, song-like phrases that transcend standard conceptions of the instrument’s expressive possibilities.

Glass’ Eleventh Symphony is part of the symphonic tradition that captivated him as a student. Each movement has its own unique character — the first bold and driving, the second crowned by a slowly unfolding melody and the third a barrage of cascading energy and racing percussion.

For Glass in the 50s, it was Fritz Reiner. Now Riccardo Muti champions the compositional voices of the age with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. “It takes courage,” says Glass of the Orchestra’s legacy of performing contemporary music, “and that courage becomes a tradition.”

REVIEWS:

This album stands as testimony to the Italian master’s innate musical understanding and ability to bring out the best in almost everything he conducts.

-- Gramophone

Glass delivers a variant of the crowd-pleasing movie music he has trademarked for decades. It is hard to gainsay America’s most prolific and popular serious composer. Muti’s performance is all that it could be, and the orchestra lends glamour to the score.

-- Fanfare

"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

Reiner's claims as a Mahler interpreter are rarely appreciated as they should be. His account of the Fourth Symphony— strikingly different from the conventional view in some ways—has always struck me as among the most convincing, and here he directs a superbly clean-edged account of what is for the interpreter the most problematic of Mahler's works.

Like Walter and Klemperer, Reiner was a Mahler pupil and disciple. Thanks to the violent contrasts between Walter and Klemperer we have now readily accepted that there is no one true way with Mahler, and Reiner provides a third 'authentic' way, equally distinct. Those used to the more affectionate treatment of Walter, or for that matter Bernstein, will initially find Reiner's straighter style disconcerting. Deliberately the tone of voice is cooler, but that brings many benefits. One could argue that the Chinese poems of their nature demand a certain detachment. What is more Reiner's comparative coolness allows him to observe Mahler's markings much more meticulously than Walter. The obvious and most striking example comes at the climactic point of the final "Abschied", where Mahler, knowing the fondness of performers to reserve a fruity fortissimo for the big tune at the end, puts "ppp!" (the exclamation mark is Mahler's) over the great passage "Die liebe Erde". Walter and Ferrier ignore it completely and carry one, heart-throbbing, eyes-welling, to the end—a marvellous moment in recording history. But Reiner with exquisite tenderness, persuades Maureen Forrester to attack her high Fs and Gs with a genuine half-tone. The whispered murmurs of "Ewig" at the end have no premonition of death about them as they have with Ferrier: the end brings instead the feeling of sinking back on the eternal feather-bed of ecstasy, and that, I assume, is closer to what the Chinese poet and Mahler intended.

Though precision is his keynote, and phrasing is never mannered, Reiner does secure very beautiful pointing from his Chicago players, whether in the yearning phrases of the slow songs or the chattering opening of "Von der Jugend" which is more beautifully 'sprung' than I ever remember before. In the fifth song, "Der Trunkene im Frithling", too, the sharp brightness of the opening gives way to the drowsiness of "Ein Vogel singt im Baum" with superb control of mood—matched by very understanding singing from Richard Lewis; a lovely moment achieved here more effectively even than in the Walter.

My direct comparisons tended to a surprising degree to favour the new Reiner against the Walter, but returning to a complete performance of the Reiner I saw more clearly what reservations will almost certainly strike Mahlerians. However free Walter is with some of the markings, his performance gets inside the music, wrings one's emotions, makes one feel the performance, recorded or not, as a great occasion. I shall not say that Reiner's is not a great performance, but in the last resort one remains detached to a degree that I do not experience with any of the other three versions in their different ways—Klemperer and Bernstein as well as Walter. As I say, there is a clear argument for suggesting that that is apt for the work. At one point I felt tempted to place this version, with its remarkably good stereo and bargain price, ahead of all three of its rivals, but the chances of disappointment are too high. The sound is a little harder than in the very latest recordings from Chicago, but unless the last degree of high fidelity is essential, it will be very acceptable—better than some recent issues. The clarity of texture and vividness of atmosphere are most impressive, and both the voices are very well caught. Maureen Forrester has rarely if ever sung more expressively on record, and though Richard Lewis's tone is not always as sweet as one would like, his musical precision and imagination are always most satisfying. Neither singer is immaculate in German, but one has rather less to put up with on that score than with, say, Ferrier, who for all her glorious projection of feeling was not always comfortable with the words. Another marvellous addition to the Reiner discography: I hope the RCA Victrola label will be providing still more.

-- Gramophone [10/1969]

The most recent release from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra Resound label is an impressive recording of Mahler’s Second Symphony. Based on performances given in late November 2008, this recording preserves the memorable readings CSO principal conductor Bernard Haitink gave this work last year. While comparisons can be awkward, the previous point of reference for CSO audiences was the series of performances by Michael Tilson Thomas in early 2006. At that time Tilson Thomas conducted the work dynamically, but some elements did not emerge readily as, for example, the portamento in the strings in the second movement. Haitink’s approach may be characterized as attentive to the details of the score, and his mastery of those various elements has resulted in an intensely moving interpretation.
 
While it is possible to distinguish the first three instrumental movements from the last two vocal ones, Haitink fused the five movements into a convincing whole in the concerts he gave in Fall 2008. It may be difficult, at times, to perceive such cohesiveness in a recording, since listeners can stop and start at various points. Nevertheless, the disc captures the style Haitink achieved in live concerts in a fine recording of Mahler’s Second Symphony.
 
In this recording, it is possible to hear the attention to detail which Haitink brought to those live performances. Such integrity allowed the score to play as intended by the composer, an intention implicit in the various revisions Mahler made after the premiere of the Second in 1894 - particularly the refinements he published in the 1906 edition of the score. From the start Haitink made the work resonate, with the tremolo with which the first movement opens as intense as a climactic moment in an opera. The opening tempo is engaging, and Haitink is able to propel the movement forward by drawing from the orchestra nicely etched articulations at cadences and other structurally important places, as indicated in the score. He broadens the tempo when necessary and, when marked in the score, allows various passages to push forward. The swells of sound Mahler orchestrated have a clear shape, as the sonorities build to fullness and decay naturally. While some of this ambience may be the result of the acoustics of the hall, the tight ensemble of the CSO must be acknowledged as the source of the solid and mature sound in this masterful performance. With the strings at the core, the orchestra offers equally strong sonorities from the woodwinds and brass. At the same time, the percussion deserves recognition for the effective use of the timpani, along with support from the non-tuned instruments. With its immediate and upfront sound in this recording, the softer passages are never lost in the mix; however the tutti passages at the end of the first section of the first movement, to cite one example, can be overwhelming. The passages which conclude the movement reveal an appropriate pacing, with the final gesture bringing the movement to a resounding conclusion.
 
While some labels issue Mahler’s Second Symphony on a single disc, CSO Resound offers it on two, with the one devoted to the first movement, the piece Mahler once entitled “Todtenfeier,” in the manner of a tone poem Mahler once intended for the piece. The remaining four movements are found on the second of the two CDs. This division also assists in adhering to the marking Mahler put in the score to allow some time before proceeding with the second movement. In the medium of a sound recording, this physical separation supports that kind of stage direction. Likewise, the placement of the second through fifth movements on the second disc helps to prevent any kind of artificial separation of the instrumental movements from the vocal ones.
 
In contrast to the dramatic effect Haitink brings out in the first movement, the second conveys a delicacy implicit in the score. This emerges not only in the softer, more restrained playing, but in the clean articulations of the accompanying figures. In a similar way, the woodwinds are not just soft, as marked in the score, but seem sotto voce in approach, with a reedy blend prominent in the second section of the movement. With the return of the first area, Haitink’s hesitant gestures helped to distort the expected melodic pattern before the variation proceeds. Even within the delicate shadings of the movement, full sounds of the central section never seemed to be a compromise. Rather, the plaintive effect fits into the sometimes elegiac character of the movement.
 
The Scherzo in Haitink’s hands is relatively brisk, and the tempos convey a sense of the instrumental idiom of the movement. While the music from Mahler’s Wunderhorn setting Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt (“St. Anthony of Padua’s Sermon to the Fish”) is recognizable, Haitink allows the other ideas in the movement to emerge easily from that vocal model. Those brisk tempos set up the middle section of the movement, where the brass fanfare introduces music by Mahler’s deceased colleague Hans Rott, specifically the opening of the Scherzo from the Rott’s Symphony in E. When the thematic content from both Rott’s Scherzo and Mahler’s Wunderhorn song combine near the end of the movement, Haitink sustains the tension of the orchestral outburst sufficiently to allow the remainder of the movement to dissipate naturally.
 
The quieter sounds and thinner textures at the end of the Scherzo fit nicely into the chamber-music-like sonorities at the beginning of Urlicht, the fourth movement. In this movement Christianne Stotijn uses her full mezzo sound to color the text from Des Knaben Wunderhorn. Her voice blends well with the middle-string sounds, yet is never obscured within the orchestral textures. The calm and paced song gives way, in turn, to the choral Finale, and in this movement Haitink delivers a compelling reading of Mahler’s cantata-like structure which centers on the famous “ Auferstehungs” Ode of Klopstock.
 
The contrasts found in the score are realized nicely in this recording, with the thunderous opening of the movement serving as a foil for the relatively quiet sounds from the off-stage brass which follow and, later, the development of the opening theme on solo instruments. Haitink restrains the horns in the first part of the movement, with the fanfares from that section quite rich in color, but never as prominent as they are later in the movement. Likewise, the low brass are wonderfully clear and resonant, without overbalancing the ensemble - not only in the reprise of the “O Roschen rot” idea from Urlicht, but also later, Mahler develops motifs around the interval of the tritone. Ultimately, the repose which accompanies the instrumental presentation of the Aufterstehungs-Motif from the third act of Wagner’s Siegfried (the passage in which the character Brünnhilde sings "Ewig war ich, ewig bin ich" -- "I was eternal, I am eternal") serves as a further foil for the various off-stage and solo instruments in the section before the a capella chorus enters.
 
At this point, it is difficult to recall a more satisfying interpretation of the choral entrance with the words “Aufersteh’n, ja aufersteh’n, wirst du, mein Staub” (“Arise, yes, arise, my dust”), with the vocal textures full and rich. Miah Persson’s soprano solo plays off the choral timbre with ease and assurance as her passages emerge clearly. When Persson interacts with Stotijn in the duet which follows, both women’s voices blend well in conveying not only the meaning of the text but also the emotional pitch of the music. This sets the tone for the choral sections which follow. The full sounds of the male voices are impressive for the textured sonorities they create. Haitink is good to allow the passage “Bereite dich” to resonate, and then to linger on the passages that follow. In such a way, the text and music build to a fitting and appropriate conclusion, which climaxes on the phrase “Sterben werd’ ich um zu leben” (“I perish in order to live”) before the reprise of the text “Aufersteh’n, ja aufersteh’n” (“Arise, yes arise”). Here the combined sounds of the chorus, soloists, and orchestra have free rein in bringing this monumental work to its conclusion, as Mahler creates a vocal tableau as the culmination of his Second Symphony.
 
The recording does justice to the performances on which it is based, and also points to the affinity between Haitink and the CSO when it comes to interpreting Mahler’s music. This recording is a worthy addition to the already fine set of recordings from these performers, which include the two symphonies which frame this one, the First and Third, as well as Haitink’s incisive recording of Mahler’s Sixth Symphony. Whether these will result in a cycle is less important than the fine interpretations each recording contributes to the legacy of recordings for these works. With this newly issued disc, Haitink and the CSO offer a powerful reading of this important score. It stands apart from others not only for the interpretation Haitink offers but also for the execution of the score by one of the finest orchestras in the world. Available both on CD on a two-disc set and also as a download, this recording bears careful listening for the detailed reading it brings to Mahler’s familiar score.
 

-- James L Zychowicz, MusicWeb International

Riccardo Muti leads the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, men of the Chicago Symphony Chorus and bass soloist Alexey Tikhomirov in this poignant performance of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 13, Op. 113 (Babi Yar). Recorded live in September 2018, the ensemble shines throughout—from passages requiring the sheer sonic force of the first movement to the indelible moments provided by single instruments, reminding the listener that despite the enormity of its theme, this is, after all, a symphony of individuals. Muti and musicians expertly navigate the intricacies of the five movements, each set to the poetry of Yevgeny Yevtushenko and expressing themes that were dear to Shostakovich—revolution and war, the individual’s role in society, idealism in the face of easy compromise, prejudice and intolerance. Yevtushenko said, “Over people like Shostakovich death has no power. His music will sound as long as humankind exists. . . . When I wrote ‘Babi Yar,’ there was no monument there. Now there is a monument.”

-----

REVIEWS:

There are American ensembles with a more sustained Shostakovich tradition than the Chicago Symphony but the present recording, taken from the opening concerts of the orchestra’s 2018-19 season, can stand comparison with any of its distinguished predecessors, however different in tone. Strongly recommended.

– Gramophone

The tone virtually throughout is dark and intense, most particularly the opening movement which sets the title poem. Muti confirms his identification with this work in its subsequent movements. Tikhomirov, rich-toned and sentient throughout, is backed by a superbly characterful Chicago Symphony Chorus.

– BBC Music Magazine

The CSO’s performance, with bass Alexey Tikhomirov and the men of the Chicago Symphony Chorus, revealed Muti’s continuing devotion to Shostakovich’s often-shattering music. It was the first concert of the CSO’s new Symphony Center season, and the audience’s mood was festive. Muti channeled that excitement into rapt, almost reverent attention with a searing performance of a dramatic work that is very close to his heart.

– Chicago Sun-Times

Tchaikovsky: Symphony No. 1 & The Nutcracker Suite

...Another later release, the 1962 Zarathustra, suggests greater spaciousness and dignity than its predecessor [Reiner's 1954 Zarathustra] due partly to the freed-up string sound, partly to Reiner’s broader tempi. On the same disc, he argues his own gaudy arrangement of the Rosenkavalier waltzes with tremendous panache and Byron Janis glitters with Lisztian transcendentalism in the Burleske.

-- David Nice, BBC Music Magazine
reviewing these performances previously reissued as part of RCA 68635

TCHAIKOVSKY: SYMPHONY NO 6 JA

This recording was originally released in 1954.

Throughout his career Fritz Reiner showed a particular affinity for the music of Richard Strauss. Here he delivers an exceptionally vivid account of Don Quixote – each bizarre episode from the eccentric knight’s adventures is portrayed with razor-sharp insight. One notices, in particular, Reiner’s miraculous attention to detail, his unfailing grip on the structural direction of the work and the superb response from both soloist and orchestra. With its flashes of sardonic wit, the earlier Burleske makes for an excellent coupling, and illustrates Reiner’s formidable prowess as a concerto accompanist. By any standards, a self-recommending issue.
Performance: 5 (out of 5); Sound: 5 (out of 5)

-- Erik Levi, BBC Music Magazine

BRAHMS: PIANO CONCERTO NO 2 B

Selections recorded January 30 and February 3, 1991.

BRAHMS: PIANO CONCERTO NO 1 A

*** This title is a reissue of a Japanese release with liner notes in Japanese. ***

BIS' first-ever DVD is dedicated to one of the label's most charismatic and longest-standing artists: Christian Lindberg. It forms an extensive - 3h 40 minutes - portrayal of this multi-faceted musician who has since his début in 1984 almost single-handedly turned the trombone into a solo instrument.

The 1980 Deutsche Grammophon debut of violinist Shlomo Mintz re-issued on Pentatone’s Remastered Classics series, with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra conducted by Claudio Abbado. Mintz then still in the fresh bloom of both critical and popular acclaim chose his program well in this debut featuring the penultimate pieces in Romantic era violin repertory: Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E minor, and Bruch’s Violin Concerto No. 1. Inescapably an essential musical snapshot which contains impassioned playing giving freshness to these much performed pieces. Originally recorded in quadraphonic sound.

Also available on Blu-ray

SOLTI – Journey of a Lifetime Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of the birth of Sir Georg Solti A film by Georg Wübbolt

Featuring:
Valerie Solti
Valery Gergiev
Christoph von Dohnányi
Sir Peter Jonas
Clemens Hellsberg
Ewald Markl
and many more as interview partners as well as several musical excerpts conducted by Sir Georg Solti

Bonus:
Dmitry Shostakovich: Symphony No. 1 in F minor, Op. 10
Sergey Prokofiev: Symphony No. 1 in D major, Op. 25, “Classical”
Modest Mussorgsky: Khovanshchina: Prelude

Chicago Symphony Orchestra
Georg Solti, conductor

R E V I E W:

SOLTI: JOURNEY OF A LIFETIME • Georg Solti, cond; Chicago SO • C-MAJOR 711708 (DVD: 106: 00) A film by Georg Wübbolt

MUSSORGSKY Khovanshchina: Prelude. PROKOFIEV Symphony No. 1, “Classical.” SHOSTAKOVICH Symphony No. 1. Live: Chicago 1977

What is Georg Solti’s place in the pantheon of podium titans? He gained celebrity when he led the first complete recording of Wagner’s Ring to be issued. He created a comparable sensation when he took over the Chicago Symphony and led that orchestra in concerts and recordings that dazzled with their brilliance, virtuosity, and tonal splendor. In the 1970s Harold C. Schonberg, the influential chief music critic of the New York Times , pronounced Solti and Karajan the two most significant conductors of the age, characterizing Solti’s sonority as “molten gold,” in contrast to the “silvery” Karajan sound. As is usual, extravagant acclaim soon led detractors to weigh in, and Solti’s recordings began to be criticized as crude, unyielding, over-driven, excessively muscular, and lacking in nuance and refinement. Although he holds the record for the number of Grammy awards, his many recordings of standard symphonic repertoire rarely turn up today on lists of preferred versions, and he did not make BBC Music magazine ’s list of the 20 greatest conductors, as selected by a poll of 100 currently active conductors. (Nor, astonishingly, did Otto Klemperer or Bruno Walter.)

The centennial of Solti’s birth in 2012 saw the release on DVD of two documentaries about his life and career. The other one, which I have not seen, was reviewed by Lynn René Bayley in Fanfare 36:3. It is nearly three times as long as the one under review here and apparently more thorough and detailed, with a lengthier supplement of complete performances. The C Major release combines a 52-minute documentary with 54 minutes of performances by the Chicago Symphony. Filmmaker Georg Wübbolt was also responsible for a documentary on Carlos Kleiber that I reviewed in 35:1. As in that earlier effort, he follows the standard technique of interspersing commentary by those who knew the conductor, worked with him, or followed his career, with clips from rehearsals and performances. Solti himself is much more of a participant in the commentary than was Kleiber, who stopped giving interviews early in his career. Wübbolt also follows his earlier practice of shifting rapidly from one commentator to the next, which generates a fast-paced narrative but also leaves loose ends and unanswered questions. As in his earlier documentary, there are issues one would like to have discussed in greater detail. It is also sometimes hard to keep track of the identities of the commentators and their connection to Solti, since they are often not again identified when they reappear. They include Solti’s widow, Valerie, Christoph von Dohnányi, who served as his assistant in Frankfurt, Valery Gergiev, and the critic Norman Lebrecht, along with musicians and officials of the Chicago Symphony, the Vienna Philharmonic, the Frankfurt and Munich opera houses, the Bayreuth Festival, and others. Considering the importance of opera in Solti’s career, the absence of singers with whom he worked from the ranks of commentators is surprising and regrettable. The film is mostly in German, with English subtitles, although there is some narration and comment in English. Solti himself speaks in German.

The documentary provides a succinct overview of Solti’s career: his musical training in his native Budapest under Bartók, Ernö Dohnányi, and Leo Weiner; his 1937 visit to Salzburg, where he met Toscanini and was recruited to serve as a repetiteur; his second meeting with Toscanini in Lucerne in 1939, on the eve of World War II, which resulted in his being stranded in Switzerland for the duration of the conflict. In postwar Germany, he finally had the opportunity to begin a conducting career, since most German conductors were temporarily barred by the victorious Allies from performing. He first headed the Bavarian State Opera in Munich, where life for him was very difficult. The opera orchestra (“all Nazis” according to Solti) did not take kindly to being led by a young Hungarian Jew and showed it. In 1951 he moved to the somewhat friendlier territory of Frankfurt. His career took a giant step forward when producer John Culshaw selected him for the Ring project over more senior and established figures, perceiving him as someone who was more amenable to the demands of the recording studio and capable of achieving the results Culshaw envisioned for this ground-breaking effort. The Decca Ring is said to have led to Solti’s appointment to head London’s Royal Opera, although most of Ring operas had not yet been released when this selection took place. After his successful although controversial tenure at Covent Garden (1961-71), where he brought the company to “the highest international standards,” he had had enough of presiding over opera houses and wished to devote himself to symphony orchestras. As music director of the Chicago Symphony (1969-91), he perhaps reached the peak of his career, bringing the orchestra to a level of world-wide acclaim it had never before approached. Not so successful was his brief tenure with the Orchestre de Paris (1972-75), described in the film as “a terrible orchestra” where “no one goes…except for the money.” Curiously, the documentary does not mention his involvement with the London Philharmonic, which he led in the years 1979-83 and with which he recorded Elgar’s symphonies and several Mozart operas, among other works. When Karajan died in 1989 prior to the Salzburg Festival, Solti was urgently requested to take over the production of Verdi’s Un ballo in maschera, which he did with some reluctance. Up to then he had never been invited to conduct at Salzburg or at the Berlin Philharmonic. There was no love lost between the two conductors, but they did listen to each other’s recordings to find out how the other was approaching a work. In Solti’s final years, he renewed his ties with Munich in guest appearances with the Bavarian Radio Symphony and returned to his homeland to lead the recently founded Budapest Festival Orchestra in a recording of works by his three teachers.

When the commentators attempt to characterize Solti’s style as a conductor, words like energy, vitality, and fire crop up repeatedly and are underscored by images of his abrupt, even violent movements on the podium. These movements, according to one observer, provoked orchestras to play loudly, and he had difficulty getting them to play more softly. In addition to fire, according to Gergiev, he possessed “icy control.” Other commentators mention his perfectionism, focus on detail, and special concern for rhythm, which are reflected in his practice of singing, or rather chanting, a passage to demonstrate how it should go. The Vienna Philharmonic cellist Werner Resel emphasizes and, I think, exaggerates the role of recordings in establishing Solti’s reputation, arguing that Solti “didn’t make a career by conducting concerts and delighting audiences but by making records that turned out to be great.” This gentleman apparently missed the decades in which Solti was thrilling audiences with his Chicago Symphony concerts, in Europe as well as the U.S. Peter Schmidl, another VPO musician, makes the surprising and demonstrably false claim that “Solti’s great career as a conductor became possible only when Böhm had stopped conducting and Karajan had died…and when Bernstein was no longer around,” in other words, in the last seven years of Solti’s life. The same observer, however, expresses regret that Solti was not called earlier to Salzburg, where he could have achieved great results.

The concert performances included as a supplement are drawn from a 1977 telecast featuring Russian music. The Khovanshchina Prelude is performed in Rimsky-Korsakov’s smoothed-out and comparatively bland revision. In the Prokofiev “Classical” Symphony, Solti’s weighty approach and the massive sound of the Chicago Symphony are perhaps not the best fit for this light and frothy music, but the piece is brilliantly played and enjoyable to hear. The fast-paced, forceful, and once again brilliantly played Shostakovich is the most satisfying item on the program. As was his practice, Solti tends to set a tempo and stick to it, without much inflection for expressive purposes, and with the solid, steady rhythmic underpinning that was one of his hallmarks. Others may bring more mystery and sense of underlying menace to this work, but with Solti the menace is quite overt. The sound is free from distortion, brilliant in tutti, and wide in dynamic range, if a bit opaque and lacking in spaciousness.

Returning to the question I posed at the beginning of this review, I have no definitive answer. Solti’s Ring , which has just been reissued in an expensive, hefty “super deluxe” edition and is said to be by far the best-selling classical recording of all time, retains its status, as does his Mahler Eighth, although even they are not without their detractors, as witness Lynn René Bayley’s unfavorable comments in 36:3. Solti’s legacy as an opera conductor, in Wagner, Strauss, Verdi, and, somewhat surprisingly, Mozart, seems to me secure. Although he was never one of my favorite conductors, he was one who engaged my interest, and I have a good many of his recordings of Beethoven, Brahms, Bruckner, Mahler, and others on my overburdened shelves. I will retain these performances as having enduring value, even if they would not necessarily be among my first choices for the works in question. Solti remains a worthy contributor to the almost infinite variety of performance that enriches our experience of music. For those interested in his life and career, the Wübbolt documentary, despite the shortcomings noted, offers a concise overview with many insights.

FANFARE: Daniel Morrison

1977 Video Production

Picture format: NTSC 16:9 (documentary) / 4:3 (bonus)
Sound format: PCM Stereo
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Languages: English, German
Subtitles: French, Spanish, Korean
Running time: 52 mins (documentary) + 55 mins (bonus)
No. of DVDs: 1 (DVD 9)

Note: This Blu-ray Disc is only playable on Blu-ray Disc players and not compatible with standard DVD players.

Also available on standard DVD

SOLTI – Journey of a Lifetime
Celebrating the 100th Anniversary of the birth of Sir Georg Solti (Blu-ray Disc Version)

Featuring:
Valerie Solti
Valery Gergiev
Christoph von Dohnányi
Sir Peter Jonas
Clemens Hellsberg
Ewald Markl
and many more as interview partners as well as several musical excerpts conducted by Sir Georg Solti

Bonus:
Dmitry Shostakovich: Symphony No. 1 in F minor, Op. 10
Sergey Prokofiev: Symphony No. 1 in D major, Op. 25, “Classical”
Modest Mussorgsky: Khovanshchina: Prelude

Chicago Symphony Orchestra
Georg Solti, conductor

1977 Video Production

Picture format: 1080i High Definition (documentary) / 4:3 (bonus)
Sound format: PCM Stereo
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Languages: English, German
Subtitles: French, Spanish, Korean
Running time: 52 mins (documentary) + 55 mins (bonus)
No. of Discs: 1 (BD 25)

The Chicago Tribune described the Chicago Symphony Orchestra's May 2007 performance of Bruckner's Symphony No.7 as a 'glowing and eloquent account.' Now available to the world as the second release from CSO Resound, this recording showcases the remarkable chemistry between the CSO and Principal Conductor Bernard Haitink, who perform with what the Chicago Sun-Times calls 'an almost extrasensory connection.' Recorded live in Orchestra Hall at Symphony Center in Chicago on May 10, 11, 12 and 15, 2007.

Classical Music

Also available as a hybrid Super Audio CD

Also available as a hybrid Super Audio CD



MAHLER Symphony No. 1, “Titan” • Bernard Haitink, cond; Chicago SO • CSO RESOUND 901 902 (CD: 57:39) Live: Chicago 5/1–3/2008


This is the third installment in a series of Mahler symphony recordings under the direction of the Chicago Symphony’s principal conductor; it may be too much to hope that they will eventually comprise a complete set, but for the time being we can savor each new release. Haitink recorded this work most recently in 1994 in Berlin (for video), and there have been several changes in his interpretation since then (he’s shaved five minutes from the total timing of the earlier recording for a start); what hasn’t changed is the attention to detail and consummate musicianship on display.


It would be overly simplistic to suggest that the first movement is “expansive”; Haitink’s is a slowly evolving interpretation. The exposition isn’t the impetuous one of Zander (Haitink observes the exposition repeat) or (more egregiously) Gergiev, nor is it tentative; rather, it is one of increasing confidence and power. In the development, the horn fanfare is portentous rather than declarative; the end of this section is one of anticipation, which is heightened by the very gradual buildup to the eruption for full orchestra, which is anything but subdued. One is aware more than usual that the whole movement has been leading up to this moment.


The second movement was marked (in the Hamburg autograph of 1893) both scherzo and langsames Waltzertempo (“slow waltz tempo”), and Haitink has both markings in mind for this performance—its tempo is measured and just a bit clumsy, evoking “the village pub” (in the words of one contemporary critic), while the Trio is a more refined dance. Listeners expecting the music of “Under full sail,” with its connotations of vigor and pace, may be disappointed, but I think this is a perfectly valid alternative.


The third movement opens with a shock of sorts: missing is the sour bass solo, and in its place is the entire bass section, producing a less grotesque funeral procession (according to Michael Steinberg, as late as 1893 Mahler had this passage played by the basses plus the cellos). The pall of gloom hangs over the entire movement, unleavened even by the band and klezmer-style music; the overall effect is of muted formality. Haitink plays down the parody and injects a genuine feeling of melancholy, especially in the lovely “Wayfarer” quotation.


The Chicago percussion do themselves proud in the opening of the finale, producing an effective accompaniment for the superb brass “scream.” I usually find this effect to be either overblown or underwhelming, but here it is perfectly gauged, analogous to the onset of the storm in the Beethoven Sixth (and anticipating the finale of the Mahler Second). The later love theme is just as calming and welcome as the opening is jarring. Haitink produces a performance that captures Mahler’s quickly shifting moods with stylish grace and precision, capped by a coda that is splendidly triumphant. The sound production (in the hands once again of the estimable James Mallinson) projects a very effective sense of acoustic space (especially in the offstage fanfares of the first movement), with extremely transparent imaging and lows that ground the soundstage without becoming too prominent. In two-channel playback, the SACD (CSO Resound 901 904) adds presence and even more precise instrumental definition than the excellent stereo version; in short, this performance is custom-made for the kind of clarity one encounters here—in whatever version.


Haitink proves in recording after recording that he is at the pinnacle of current Mahler interpretation. In comparison to Gergiev’s recent First, with its wayward impetuosity—Gergiev 52: 39; Haitink 57:42—this is an interpretation that manages to sound even more convincingly fresh and innovative, doing full justice to Mahler’s audacious symphonic “Titan.”


FANFARE: Christopher Abbot Reviewing SuperAudio Version

The sixth was the last of Mahler's symphonies to reach the United States, in December 1947, more than forty-one years after the composer conducted its premiere. Even considering the typical fate of Mahler's symphonies - launched under the composer's baton, misunderstood and often rejected by audiences and conductors during the decades that followed - the neglect of the Sixth Symphony is exceptional.

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

Haitink proves in recording after recording that he is at the pinnacle of current Mahler interpretation.



MAHLER Symphony No. 1, “Titan” • Bernard Haitink, cond; Chicago SO • CSO RESOUND 901 904 (Hybrid multichannel SACD: 57:39) Live: Chicago 5/1–3/2008


This is the third installment in a series of Mahler symphony recordings under the direction of the Chicago Symphony’s principal conductor; it may be too much to hope that they will eventually comprise a complete set, but for the time being we can savor each new release. Haitink recorded this work most recently in 1994 in Berlin (for video), and there have been several changes in his interpretation since then (he’s shaved five minutes from the total timing of the earlier recording for a start); what hasn’t changed is the attention to detail and consummate musicianship on display.


It would be overly simplistic to suggest that the first movement is “expansive”; Haitink’s is a slowly evolving interpretation. The exposition isn’t the impetuous one of Zander (Haitink observes the exposition repeat) or (more egregiously) Gergiev, nor is it tentative; rather, it is one of increasing confidence and power. In the development, the horn fanfare is portentous rather than declarative; the end of this section is one of anticipation, which is heightened by the very gradual buildup to the eruption for full orchestra, which is anything but subdued. One is aware more than usual that the whole movement has been leading up to this moment.


The second movement was marked (in the Hamburg autograph of 1893) both scherzo and langsames Waltzertempo (“slow waltz tempo”), and Haitink has both markings in mind for this performance—its tempo is measured and just a bit clumsy, evoking “the village pub” (in the words of one contemporary critic), while the Trio is a more refined dance. Listeners expecting the music of “Under full sail,” with its connotations of vigor and pace, may be disappointed, but I think this is a perfectly valid alternative.


The third movement opens with a shock of sorts: missing is the sour bass solo, and in its place is the entire bass section, producing a less grotesque funeral procession (according to Michael Steinberg, as late as 1893 Mahler had this passage played by the basses plus the cellos). The pall of gloom hangs over the entire movement, unleavened even by the band and klezmer-style music; the overall effect is of muted formality. Haitink plays down the parody and injects a genuine feeling of melancholy, especially in the lovely “Wayfarer” quotation.


The Chicago percussion do themselves proud in the opening of the finale, producing an effective accompaniment for the superb brass “scream.” I usually find this effect to be either overblown or underwhelming, but here it is perfectly gauged, analogous to the onset of the storm in the Beethoven Sixth (and anticipating the finale of the Mahler Second). The later love theme is just as calming and welcome as the opening is jarring. Haitink produces a performance that captures Mahler’s quickly shifting moods with stylish grace and precision, capped by a coda that is splendidly triumphant. The sound production (in the hands once again of the estimable James Mallinson) projects a very effective sense of acoustic space (especially in the offstage fanfares of the first movement), with extremely transparent imaging and lows that ground the soundstage without becoming too prominent. In two-channel playback, the SACD adds presence and even more precise instrumental definition than the excellent stereo version (available on CD, CSO Resound 901 902); in short, this performance is custom-made for the kind of clarity one encounters here—in whatever version.


Haitink proves in recording after recording that he is at the pinnacle of current Mahler interpretation. In comparison to Gergiev’s recent First, with its wayward impetuosity—Gergiev 52: 39; Haitink 57:42—this is an interpretation that manages to sound even more convincingly fresh and innovative, doing full justice to Mahler’s audacious symphonic “Titan.”


FANFARE: Christopher Abbot

Classical Music

This outstanding new live recording brings together groundbreaking works by Arnold Schoenberg and Dmitri Shostakovich, two of the twentieth century’s most monumental composers. Arnold Schoenberg’s Kol Nidre is set to the Jewish prayer which is said on the eve of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The work premiered in Los Angeles in 1938, four years after Schoenberg fled Europe, and one month before the anti-Jewish Kristallnacht took place across Nazi-occupied Germany. Philip Huscher described the work as a “stark, strong modernist statement.” Shostakovich’s Suite on Versees of Michelangelo Buona explores themes just as weighty, including love, morality, death, and the resilience of the human spirit, all shown through the poetry of Renaissance great, Michelangelo. The work was originally conceived to honor Michelangelo’s 500th birthday. The Chicago Tribune commented on these performances, “Such was his textual penetration that [Abdrazakov] was able to extract the full emotional weight of the words and music, abetted by Muti’s finely detailed exposition of the spare orchestral fabric.”

Intriguing; the Harrison and the Bloch are outstanding.

This is a very miscellaneous collection, but then followers of Yo-Yo Ma’s Silk Road project will have come to expect nothing less. This particular CD was recorded as the climax of the Project’s year-long association with the city of Chicago. During that year Yo-Yo Ma and the Silk Road ensemble interacted with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. This involved a series of events which celebrated and explored many kinds of intercultural musical exchange, going beyond the specific cultural meetings and transferences which the Silk Road itself facilitated.

Here we have a sampling of such interactions, some rather more familiar and ‘mainstream’ than others. Of Jewish background, born in Switzerland, and a student in Belgium, Germany and France and resident in the USA from 1916 until his death - bar a return to Europe in the 1930s - Ernest Bloch was something of a one-man intercultural ‘event’ in himself and his music was always open to a variety of influences. Subtitled a ‘Hebraic Rhapsody for cello and orchestra’, Schelomo (Solomon) was written between December 1915 and February 1916. Bloch’s own programme notes for the piece spoke of the cello as “the reincarnated voice of King Solomon” and suggested that the orchestra was “the voice of his age … his world … his experience”. The languorous dances and slow, meditative music of much of the work’s first section are well and expressively played by Ma and the CSO under Harth-Bedova, the note of despair, of the all-embracing sentiments of Ecclesiastes (of which Solomon was, traditionally, the author) – “Vanity of vanities, all is Vanity” – never far from the surface. But perhaps this performance doesn’t quite do justice to what Bloch called the “complete negation” which characteries the work’s conclusion, where the playing seems a bit too ready to settle for rhetorical effect rather than substance. But, overall, this is a performance which puts a good case for the work and is well worth hearing.

The other familiar work is Prokofiev’s Scythian Suite - in which the CSO is conducted by Alan Gilbert - which grew from the young composer’s fascination with the nomads of the steppes, without too much in the way of direct borrowings from the music of such tribes. The modern listener is most likely to find in it a slightly politer, more westernied version of The Rite of Spring and indeed this work, like Stravinsky’s, was grounded in the composer’s collaboration with Diaghilev. Prokofiev’s rhythms are less complex and fierce than Stravinsky’s, the sense of ritualistic violence less intense, though the orchestration is brilliant and striking. The reeds of the CSO are particularly impressive in ‘The Adoration of Veles and Ala’, the first movement, while there is disciplined orchestral power galore in the opening of the second movement, ‘The Enemy God and the Dance of the Black Spirits’. Somehow, though, the performance doesn’t quite do full justice to the ominous, distinctly ‘Russian’ music of this movement, lacking the ultimate in intensity and drive. The dark evocativeness of the first part of ‘Night’ is more convincing and the final movement, ‘’Lolly’s Glorious Departure and the Ceremonial Procession of the Sun’ catches fire in the closing imagery of the rising sun. For all the efforts of orchestra and conductor, it is hard to see Prokofiev’s ballet music - striking as much of it is - as more than superficially involving any real cultural interaction.

From that point of view, Lou Harrison’s Pipa Concerto is more richly suggestive. The pipa is, to put it crudely but briefly, a kind of Chinese lute, with a pear-shaped wooden body. Harrison’s ‘concerto’ is very obviously the work of a man who, by the date of its composition, was steeped in oriental musical traditions and had given real thought to how they might exist creatively alongside western instruments and conventions. For Harrison the interface between oriental and occidental musics is familiar territory, a territory in which he can be unaffectedly and unpretentiously creative. As a result there is an ease and certainty of purpose to this concerto, which is beautifully played by Wu Man – some will have heard some of her other collaborations with, inter alia, Kronos Quartet and Yuri Bashmet. The concerto – which is perhaps better described as a suite than as a concerto if one insists on using western terminology – is various in mood and a thing of considerable beauty. In four movements - though one of them consists of four more or less distinct sections - the opening allegro balances eastern and western formality in a dialogue that has dignity and substance, while the fertility of Harrison’s eclectic imagination is evident in much of what follows. In ‘Troika’ the pipa sounds almost like a balalaika and in the brief ‘Neapolitan’ there are, perhaps unsurprisingly, but quite delightfully, echoes of the Italian mandolin tradition. In ‘Three Sharing’ the orchestra drops out and we are treated to a percussive conversation between the pipa of Wu Man, the cello of John Sharp and the double bass of Joseph Guastafeste. The most conventionally oriental episode comes in ‘Wind and Plum’, where the pipa’s cadences, against a lush orchestral background, are incisive and evocative. The penultimate movement is a lament, a ‘Threnody for Richard Locke’, a five minute elegy, powerfully melodic and exquisitely grave. By contrast the ‘concerto ends with an ‘Estampie’, in which medieval and renaissance dance rhythms meet (very fruitfully) the sounds of one of the lute’s ancestors. This whole concerto – the last of Harrison’s large-scale works – is the high spot of this disc.

In ‘Legend of Herlen’ the Mongolian composer Byambasuren Sharav draws on both native Mongolian traditions and instruments and on Western music. Western brass, in the shape of three trombones, and percussion - along with a piano - sit alongside the morin khuur, a two stringed fiddle and the sound of Khongorzul Ganbaatar, an exponent of the Mongolian tradition of ‘long song’, full of sustained and richly ornamented phrases. The results are intriguing and at times very beautiful, but perhaps most satisfying when Ganbaatar’s voice is accompanied solely by the morin khuur; the writing for western instruments is relatively pedestrian and predictable and actually seems to add very little to the Mongolian essence of the piece.

How far the Silk Road project has really succeeded – with anything like consistency – in uniting disparate musical traditions is a matter for debate. What is surely undeniable is that all their recordings have, at the very least, been stimulating, engaging and challenging. This new recording is no exception.

-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International