Sleep, Holy Babe is a collection of Christmas lullabies which reflect the old traditions and restful, contemplative nature of the nativity story.

Drawing on the romantic spirit in music, Schubert’s moving setting is of a poem by Goethe which compares a rushing waterfall to the soul of man, while Strauss’s gorgeous Mittagsruhe depicts the peace of a summer noontide. Narrative vocal traditions are heard in Sibelius’s nationalist Vapautettu kuningatar, Bruckner’s heroic Helgoland, and Grieg’s Landkjenning, which tells of the 10th-century Norwegian king Oleg Tryggvason. Das Liebesmahl der Apostel anticipates the religious ecstasies of Wagner’s Parsifal, while Debussy’s early cantata Invocation resonates with Gallic sparkle.

Classical Music

Classical Music

This disc represents an easy first choice in Finzi's Intimations of Immortality, one of the masterpieces of the English choral literature and a surprisingly neglected one too. Its only serious competition comes from Richard Hickox on EMI (if it's still in print) and Matthew Best on Hyperion (a very good version, if not quite as orchestrally polished as this). David Hill has one advantage over everyone: his is simply the most exciting performance available, not just a function of swift tempos, but also in terms of the acuity and enthusiasm of the instrumental response to the music's bold contrasts and driving climaxes.


With James Gilchrist, a very fine tenor soloist, singing with impressive clarity of diction and very little of that traditionally English, pinched tone quality, the overall picture only gets better. It may be that in his own Corydon Singers Best has a finer contingent of massed voices, but the Bournemouth choir certainly does as well as Hickox's Liverpool forces. The coupling is equally impressive: a resounding performance of the ebullient ceremonial ode For St. Cecilia (Hickox offers the Grand Fantasia and Toccata for piano and orchestra, Best the gentle cantata Dies Natalis). At Naxos' budget price, this is an easy call. Buy it! [7/24/2006]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Includes cantata(s) by Gottfried H. Stölzel. Ensemble: Michaelstein Telemannisches Collegium. Conductor: Ludger Rémy. Soloists: Dorothee Mields, Jan Kobow, Christian Immler.

Telemann impresses once again with this Kapitänsmusik - the characters are perfectly portrayed.

One of the many duties of Georg Philipp Telemann as Musikdirektor in Hamburg was the composition of the Kapitänsmusik. This was to be performed every year during the convivium, the festive banquet of the sixty-seven members of the officer corps of the civic guard. This event took place on the first Thursday after St Bartholomew's Day (24 August). The Kapitänsmusik consisted of two parts. It started with an oratorio which was performed during the midday meal; the serenata was played in the evening. Telemann composed 36 such works, of which only nine have survived.

In the (sacred) oratorio the many blessings of Hamburg are spelled out, mostly by a character called Hammonia (Hamburg). She calls on the citizens to praise God for his blessings. Here this is expressed, for instance, in a chorus of Hammonia with her children: "Holy being, you source of good, blessing and prosperity issue forth from you. You make sure that Hamburg's wall forever stand. Take from us the thanks for this." allegorical characters turn up which declare their bond with the city: Die Andacht (Devotion), Die Gerechtigkeit (Justice), Die Wahrheit (Truth) and Das Vertrauen (Trust). As in most such pieces there is an opposing character: Die Unachtsamkeit (Negligence). He acknowledges that there is much to enjoy in Hamburg, but for him the blessings are rather the earthly pleasures, like food and drink: "I look forward to the oyster season". He doesn't want to waste any time thinking about "the source of the blessing and its surplus". The other characters react with abhorrence, as Negligence "forgets that our God is the origin of good", as Devotion says. Hammonia then says he should "avoid my domain". The oratorio ends with the last stanza from the hymn 'Herr Gott, wir danken dir' (Johann Franck, 1618-1677).

The serenata is quite dramatic. This is to be expected because Telemann was a successful opera composer; from 1722 until its closure in 1738 he was the director of the Oper am Gänsemarkt. But this serenata is more dramatic than those in other Kapitänsmusiken in that its central subject is war. There was a historical reason for that. Hamburg was part of the Holy Roman Empire of the German Nation, and its emperor, Charles VI, had been involved in a war against the Ottoman empire since 1737. Although Hamburg was not directly struck by the war, it was part of the empire and therefore involved in the conflict. The serenata begins with a 'Chorus of the Heroes' in the form of a battaglia: "The drum calls with rolling beats, the mortars roar, the swords flash - this brings joy to our brave hearts". The warriors are encouraged by Der Kriegsgeist (The Spirit of War), the Elbe asks the shepherds to end their joy and "lay down your gentle flutes". It is then Die Zaghaftigkeit (Timidity) who describes the horrors of the war: "My heart beats in my horrified breast to think of the ominous gloom of signs of misfortune. (...) O who, who will save us from ruin?" Then Der Friede (Peace) enters and declares that "I am the one who watches over you". This gives Timidity new strength.

In the last part of the serenata the enemy is specifically mentioned. The Spirit of War says: "The eagle leads the legions before Istanbul's now horrified gate. He displays in sharpened talons, the sword drawn for Turkish ruin". He is encouraged by the Elbe: "Go, let German courage accustom the wild Saracens even more to servitude". This is followed by an aria which has again the form of a battaglia. As in the oratorio there is an opposing character. This time it is Der Neid (Envy) which expresses his "pleasure in Germany's misfortune". "I even see now with happy eyes the whole burden and your demise coming". But then Der Schutzgeist Deutschlands (Germany's Guardian Spirit) turns up and declares: "Germany is loved by heaven itself. Up, heroes, up to the fight". The serenata ends with a chorus: "Germany's glory shall always stand, and your happy prosperity, Hamburg/Schwerin, is ordained by God".

Considering that Germany was no political unity, but a patchwork of largely independent territories the use of the term 'Germany' is remarkable. It was hardly used in those days, and in his liner-notes Eckart Kleßman sees it as an expression of the wish "to put an end to the notorious threat posed to the practically defenseless German states, to strengthen their self-confidence, and to reinforce this self-confidence with military security". Whatever the reason may be, this aspect and the pronounced treatment of the subject of war makes this Kapitänsmusik rather unique in this part of Telemann's oeuvre.

One of the dramatic features of the serenata is the representation of the characters. In particular The Spirit of War and Timidity are remarkable, as well as Envy. The characteristics of these protagonists are impressively explored by the singers. In the oratorio it is the role of Negligence which attracts attention. Here Immo Schröder shines in his humorous portrayal of this character. Veronika Winter gives an immaculate performance of the role of Hammonia. As Germany's Guardian Spirit she sings the last aria of this work, 'Ergreifet den Degen' (Grip the sword) which is quite virtuosic. But most arias are pitched at a considerable technical level, and Telemann again shows his creative spirit, not only in the vocal parts but also in the instrumental score.

This Kapitänsmusik was first performed in modern times in 1965 in the former GDR, but its text had to be changed in many respects, for political reasons. Therefore the live performance in 2007 in Knechtsteden which was recorded by the German classical channel WDR Cologne and released by CPO, is the work's first modern performance in its original state. Hermann Max and all other participants deserve our gratitude for bringing this very fine piece of music to our attention. I am looking forward to the Kapitänsmusiken which are still waiting to be recorded.

-- Johan van Veen, MusicWeb International

"The trick to mastering counterpoint lies in mastering it completely...herein lies the glory of this magnificent, essential release. The balance of seriousness with humanity comes through as much as the balanced voices...Patterson clearly has genius in selecting just the right tempos and dynamics...serious, winning, and convincing. If we have ever had a finer Palestrina recording available, I've not heard it."
—Heuwell Tircuit, In Tune Magazine

"They [Gloriae Dei Cantores]have demonstrated a polished musicality, combined with a versatile command of a wide-ranging repertoire of literature and styles...the richness and sonority is almost hypnotically beautiful. Palestrina was, after all, one of the great composers of music for grouped human voices, and there is no reason why we should not enjoy such luscious, expansive (yet stylistically sensitive) realizations of his music. Good notes; full texts and English translations. Alike to the Palestrina collector or the lover of wonderful choral sound, this release is warmly recommended."
—John W. Barker, American Record Guide

GOUVY Oedipe à Colone • Joachim Fontaine, cond; Christa Ratzenböck ( Antigone ); Joseph Cornwell ( Polynice ); Stephen Roberts ( Thésée ); Vinzenz Haab ( Oedipe ); Kantorei Saarlouis; La Grande Société PO • CPO 7778252 (2 CDs: 93:05 Text and Translation)


Back in 34:3 I reviewed a premiere recording of Louis Théodore Gouvy’s secular oratorio Iphigénie en Tauride , conducted by Joachim Fontaine. While admiring the composer’s “usual fastidious craftsmanship and superior technical command of orchestration and of vocal and instrumental part-writing,” I expressed reservations about “a lack of dramatic contrast and real passion” and added: “The music is too cultivated for its often harrowing subject....Instead, one elegant and decorous set piece follows another, all inhabiting a temperate emotional climate zone that fails either to inflame or chill. There is also a certain stasis and lack of flow from one number to the next.” Having had a similar reaction to another one of the composer’s oratorios, Électre , I speculated that “Gouvy may deliberately have been cultivating a degree of emotional restraint in these works in order to convey a stylized sense of classical antiquity that would have fit 19th-century sensibilities.”


Fontaine now leads the same choral and instrumental forces, though with mostly different vocal soloists, in the premiere recording of yet another oratorio by Gouvy on a mythic Greek subject, Oedipe à Colone . What a difference from Iphigénie ! Here there is no such emotional restraint or stasis; the beautiful and inventive music positively surges with genuine dramatic contrast and intense passion. While still remaining mostly within the melodic and harmonic bounds cultivated by Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Max Bruch, the richness of orchestration reflects Gouvy’s expressed admiration for the masterful orchestration (though not the vocal writing) of Wagner. This is by far the finest oratorio I have heard (and I’ve listened to a fair number) from the half-century interval between Mendelssohn’s Elijah and Elgar’s Dream of Gerontius . At its premiere in Leipzig on December 6, 1881, it enjoyed a tremendous success—indeed, to such a degree that Gouvy told his sister that it was the happiest day of his entire life. While it received further performances during his lifetime, upon his death it immediately fell into the same neglect that all his works have, until recently, so unjustly suffered.


The libretto of Oedipe has a somewhat complex lineage. As with Iphigénie , Gouvy once again did not write or commission an original libretto, but instead borrowed and adapted an existing one penned by the 18th-century librettist Nicolas-François Guillard (1752–1814). In this case, the original tragedy of Sophocles was first adapted by the great 17th-century tragedian Pierre Corneille (1606–1684). Guillard then turned it into a libretto for a tragédie lyrique by the composer Antonio Sacchini (1730–1786), premiered in 1785 at the royal court in Versailles.


The action of the plot, divided in the oratorio into three parts, is subsequent to that of the better-known Oedipus Rex . Oedipe (the French name for Oedipus), having blinded himself after learning that he had unwittingly fulfilled the prophecy that he would kill his father and marry his mother, was exiled from Thebes with the consent of his sons Etéocle (Eteokles) and Polynice (Polyneikis), to wander as an exile with his daughter Antigone as his guide. In Part 1, the citizens of Colonus offer sacrifices to Poseidon in thanksgiving for the safe return of their king, Thésée (Theseus), who brings with him Polynice. The latter, having lost out in a power struggle with Etéocle for the throne of Thebes and being now also an exile, is filled with shame and remorse for having spurned his father. He has gathered a band of armed supporters and hopes to launch an attack to regain the Theban throne. The two men kneel before the altar to discern the will of the gods and implore their favor, but are answered first by ominous silence and then by a thunderstorm that extinguishes the altar’s sacred flame and terrifies the people.


In Part 2, Oedipe and Antigone approach Colonus, which the gods have prophesied is where the blind refugee shall at last find rest. Oedipe longs for death, while Antigone pleads for him to live. The exiled king experiences a terrifying vision of being pursued by the Eumenides, and curses Polynice for betraying him, before Antigone brings him back to his senses. The two of them unknowingly trespass on the sacred precincts of the temple; Thésée confronts and denounces them for sacrilege. Antigone begs for mercy and reveals the identities of herself and her father. The people react with horror and demand that the accursed pair be driven away, but Thésée angrily opposes the mob and, taking pity on the duo instead, offers them refuge.


In Part 3, Antigone and Polynice are reunited. Antigone brings her brother to their father so that Polynice can confess his guilt to Oedipe, beg forgiveness, and seek support for his scheme to dethrone Etéocle, offering to restore his father to the throne instead by way of atonement. Oedipe, however, rejects him and curses both of his sons, whereupon Polynice flees in horror. Oedipe then declares to all that the hour of his death has come, as he will descend to a secret burial place at the banks of the river Acheron. Antigone begs to be allowed to join him, but is commanded to live instead. Thésée leads Oedipe away as the people implore the mercy of the gods for the exile’s final moments.


In reviewing Iphigénie , while I was a bit cool toward the work itself, I thought it received a fine performance from a very good, though not great, quartet of soloists. Here, to my considerable frustration, the situation is reversed: I am unabashedly enthusiastic for the music, but have reservations about the solo quartet. Easily its best member is the one holdover from the recording of Iphigénie , Vinzenz Haab, whose soft-grained, mellow bass-baritone makes a most sympathetic figure of Oedipe, even if it lacks the granitic timbre needed to make the most of the passages of imprecation. While all of the other singers are sensitive interpreters who capture all the varied dimensions of their roles, they all have problems with control of vocal production. Baritone Stephen Roberts as Thésée has a persistent unevenness to his vibrato that verges on a full-scale wobble; tenor Joseph Cornwall as Polynice has an attractive voice that repeatedly becomes unsteady when he attempts to push and swell a note for intensified expression; soprano Christa Ratzenböck lacks vocal sheen and turns both harsh and squally to some degree in her upper register. None of them is so defective as to be unlistenable, but compared to their predecessors in the recording of Iphigénie they are collectively a disappointing step downward. By way of compensation conductor Joachim Fontaine, who I previously said “has a conscientious command of the score, though I can imagine podium maestros who would give the work considerably more punch,” here delivers a first-rate interpretation that combines and balances elegant lyricism and dramatic urgency in equal measure. As before the orchestra and chorus are excellent, and CPO once again provides its trademark excellent recorded sound, detailed booklet notes, and a trilingual French-English-German libretto. Despite my reservations about some of the soloists, this recording is enthusiastically recommended, especially as another version is unlikely to appear any time soon.


FANFARE: James A. Altena

Drawn from David Lloyd-Jones' excellent set of Bax symphony recordings, this collection competes in four out of five works with Bryden Thomson and the Ulster Orchestra on Chandos. Whereas Thomson has Summer Music, Lloyd-Jones offers The Tale the Pine Trees Knew, a more interesting and substantial work. In general this Naxos issue offers tauter, livelier performances than does Thomson, and this prevents the music from degenerating into a typically shapeless Baxian blob, as it has a tendency to do, particularly November Woods and The Garden of Fand. Lloyd-Jones also has the finer orchestra and a leaner basic sonority, less atmospheric than Thomson to be sure, but with a rhythmic crispness that puts a bit more muscle and sinew on Bax's opulent textures (check out Tintagel, which delivers a real rush of excitement in its central section). The engineering complements the performances, having fine clarity and impact. If you're in the market for a single disc of Bax tone poems, or even a single disc of Bax, then this one certainly fills the bill. [7/25/2005]--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

GRAUN Grosse Passion • Hermann Max, cond; Veronika Winter (sop); Hilke Andersen (mez); Markus Schäfer (ten); Ekkehard Abele (bbar); Das Kleine Konzert; Rheinische Kantorei (period instruments) • cpo 777 452 (2 CDs: 122:28 Text and Translation) Live: Dusseldorf 9/2008


This is my third exposure to Carl Henrich Graun’s music, the other two being his operas Montezuma (libretto by Friedrich II, King of Prussia) and Cleopatra and Cesare (libretto by Giovanni Gualberto Bottarelli). He is best known for his passion oratorio Der Tod Jesu (1755), which was so popular it rivaled Messiah . Graun wrote two other passions: Ein Lämmlein geht und träght die Schuld and this Grosse Passion that is often referred to by its opening lyric “Kommt her und schaut” (Come here and see). It is a large-scale work: 66 numbers, with some alternatives available, calling for a large chorus and orchestra with the usual quartet of soprano, alto, tenor, bass. Supplementing the recitative-aria combinations are 10 choral numbers, five duets, and one quartet.


The libretto is somewhat of a rambling affair. Unlike Messiah , there are only a few Biblical quotes; instead, the narrative flow is often interrupted by reflections and even some lyrics that are redundant of previously expressed sentiments. Much of the libretto is over-written doggerel, especially in the early pages. The music, however, is a different matter.


Graun was in his mid-twenties when he composed this Grand Passion . It is a surprisingly mature work, full of subtle gems. When first listening to this two-CD album, I wrote: “The music is very pleasant. Although it is quite tuneful, little of it is memorable and at two hours tends to wear out its welcome. There is almost a monotonous similarity of one number to the next. It needs something rousing like the ‘Hallelujah’ chorus.” Repeated hearings of this album have increased my appreciation considerably. Even Handel liked this Passion , and quoted some of its music in his own works.


Graun establishes a musical mood and varies little from it. The music in the Grosse Passion is not as flamboyant as Graun’s operatic work, but careful listening to the Passion reveals a wealth of interesting details, especially in the orchestrations. The textures are very clean and transparent and occasionally command more of the listener’s attention than do the vocal lines. One number (CD 1, track 22, Choral: “Die Lust des Fleisches dämpf in mir”) sounds like a distant cousin to the familiar Doxology, Praise God from whom all blessings flow . Instead of the virtuoso showpieces found in Graun’s operas, the Grosse Passion is very reflective and subdued.


Conductor Hermann Max and his musical forces deliver a sincere and beautifully sung and played performance. The soloists have attractive voices and pay devout attention to the musical details. If you like this musical genre, you’re likely to find this a lovely recording, performed with sensitivity and expression.


FANFARE: David L. Kirk

Classical Music

Classical Music

BUXTEHUDE Benedicam Dominum. Gott hilf mir. Wie wird erneuet. Wo soll ich fliehen hin? Mein Gemüt erfreuet sich. Herr ich lasse dich nicht. Ihr lieben Christen • Roland Wilson, cond; La Capella Ducale; Cologne Musica Fiata • cpo 777318 (78:18 Text and Translation)


This collection of unfamiliar cantatas of Dietrich Buxtehude includes two first recordings, Benedicam Dominum and Wo soll ich fliehen hin? ; the program concludes with the most familiar one of the group, recorded five times before. (With reference to first recordings, colleague Brian Robins in 30:6 overlooked previous recordings of BuxWV 82 on Vox, Hungaroton, and Ricercar, and of BuxWV 25 on Metronome, neither included here.) If the familiar Ihr lieben Christen concludes the program, the first recording of the stunning Benedicam Dominum opens it. Perhaps it has been neglected because of the required forces, six choirs to be placed in the six balconies of the Lübeck church. The text from Psalm 33 (34) lends itself to a festive treatment using trumpets and drums, and the composer takes full advantage of the sonorities of the instruments. This is a real addition to the composer’s discography, and it’s worth noting that two other recordings of the piece were made at almost the same time, the sort of thing that happens in an anniversary year such as this.


Gott hilf mir , on a German text from Psalm 68 (69), is superior to older recordings under Günter Graulich and Martha Johnson, while Wie wird erneuet , a non-Scriptural poem, can be heard in Ton Koopman’s three-disc box (11:4). Wo soll ich fliehen hin? is the other first recording, a poetic text in the same style as the previous piece. Mein Gemüt erfreuet sich is also in Koopman’s box, and Herr ich lasse dich nicht has been recorded with Helmut Rilling’s group and the Ricercar Consort. Among those who have given us the concluding work, Koopman stands out for the boxed set.


The comparison of three of these performances with those duplicated by Koopman is instructive. Wie wird erneuet is more brilliant, more jubilant here than Koopman rendered it, his trumpets more restrained, his singers more subdued. Mein Gemüt erfreuet sich is a similar expression of rejoicing that Wilson, with a more forceful bass soloist, captures more effectively than Koopman. Ihr lieben Christen , like the other two duplicated here, uses the verb “rejoice” with trumpets and trombones in the first line, but Koopman again finds less to rejoice about, and he is slower in all three of these works. Wilson’s superiority in these works makes me eager to hear his new Das jüngste Gericht on Sony, not issued over here yet but a work that contrasts in mood with these pieces. This generous collection is well worth hearing, a splendid contribution to the anniversary.


FANFARE: J. F. Weber

The music of this contemporary composer hits many of the right buttons for me. It is well crafted, it has a discernible shape, and it is expressed in a confident and original voice. Because of the sleek appeal of the music, it was not surprising to read that Wojciech Kilar is primarily known as a film composer, with over 100 scores to his credit, mostly in the Polish film industry, but also for such well-known Western movies as Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula, Roman Polanski’s Death and the Maiden, and Jane Campion’s Portrait of a Lady. His style in those scores, as well as the music on this CD, is essentially post-Romantic, with strong doses of minimalism and Eastern liturgical music (think Górecki and Pärt).

At the heart of this program is the 1997 Piano Concerto. The work is in three movements, but it is otherwise unconventionally constructed, beginning with a dreamy Andante that is large in scope but gentle in impact. With its metrical regularity and repeated melodic patterns, this is the most overtly minimalist music on the CD. The middle movement is slower still, and shares a Brahmsian melodic quality with the juggernaut-like final movement. Malicki has a firm control over the deceptively simple sounding solo part. The opening work, Bogurodzica, is the most harmonically advanced, with dissonant outbursts of choral writing for this setting of an ancient Polish hymn. It opens and closes with the beating of drums, alluding to a martial atmosphere. The work shares the composer’s predilection for extreme dynamic contrasts with the other two works on the program, and opens so quietly that you might be tempted to crank up the volume, which will put you at the risk of ear damage a few moments later.

Siwa Mgla (“Grey Mist”) and Koscielec are both tone poems, and are the pieces most like “movie music” on the program. Neither work is without merit and even beauty. Siwa Mgla is most compelling when the solo baritone enters, due in no small part to the richly expressive voice of Wieslaw Ochman. In Koscielec (named for a mountain in the Tatra range of Southern Poland), however, the bombast finally overwhelms any subtlety, in a score that would probably work well for a mass-market sci-fi flick.

I have long admired the work of Antoni Wit and the Warsaw Philharmonic. This is a great Eastern European orchestra, showing off an impressive combination of virtuosity and passion. Both orchestra and conductor contribute immensely to the appeal of Kilar’s music, to which they sound intensely committed.

FANFARE: Peter Burwasser

Classical Music

In 1440 King Henry VI of England founded simultaneously two educational establishments to show his devotion to the Blessed Virgin Mary. These were ‘the College Roialle of our Ladie at Eton beside Windsor and….the College Roialle of our Ladie and St. Nicholas of Cambridge.’ Thus were established what became two of the most venerable seats of learning – and of liturgical music – in England: Eton College and King’s College, Cambridge.

At Eton, where the college actually opened its doors in 1443, evening devotion to the Virgin was prescribed in the statutes from the start, with the singers required to sing in the chapel an antiphon in her honour every evening – in Lent it was always to be the ‘Salve Regina’. Over the years a corpus of music was assembled at Eton and by the early sixteenth century a significant amount of it had been copied into that remarkable treasury of music, which survives to this day, the Eton Choirbook.

The Choirbook contains a substantial amount of music. Some composers are represented by just one piece, whereas John Browne has no less than fifteen of his pieces preserved in it. From this vast collection Stephen Darlington has chosen five pieces, all of them quite substantial and all of considerable interest. Music from the Choirbook has been recorded by many ensembles, not least by The Sixteen, but here Darlington offers us the authentic experience of hearing it sung by an all-male church choir which is just a little larger than the Eton establishment of the time: the Eton choir consisted of sixteen choristers and ten lay clerks while for this recording Christ Church’s choir comprised eighteen trebles, four altos and five each of tenors and basses.

Just before discussing the performances, it’s appropriate to note the reason for the well-chosen title of the CD. Stephen Darlington tells us in the booklet that in 1515 an Italian visitor to Eton described the singing he heard there as ‘more divine than human’.

I’m unsure if the music is presented in chronological order in the programme. Indeed, little is known about many of the composers whose music is included in the Choirbook, still less is it possible to date with precision the date of composition of individual pieces. However, to judge from the dates of birth and death of the featured composers, it seems plausible to suppose a rough chronology. Furthermore, the pieces do seem to grow in complexity and intricacy as the disc progresses. So listening to the contents of the disc in the order in which they’re presented makes a lot of sense, I think. It was interesting to come to this disc hot on the heels of reviewing a disc by the choir of Edinburgh Cathedral devoted to the music of John Taverner. Taverner’s music was probably written a little later than anything on this present disc and his output represented the high water mark of the English florid style. There’s nothing in this programme to match the sheer exuberance of Taverner’s music though one can sense that trait developing as the pieces succeed one another. Interestingly, Darlington’s choir are not as unbuttoned and open-throated as their Edinburgh peers – that’s not an implied criticism – and their smoother, more mellifluous style is appropriate, I think, to the slightly more sober, though no less interesting music that they have recorded here.

John Fawkyner’s name was completely new to me and, it seems, nothing is known of his life. Gaude rosa sine spina is one of two pieces by him in the Choirbook. It’s not a particularly elaborate piece. I think I’d describe it as patient music, since it makes its effect cumulatively. Stephen Darlington’s fine choir sing it with suitable patience too and build it up well so that the final, affirmative stanza makes the proper effect.

There were two composers named William Cornysh, the second (younger?) of whom died in 1523. It is thought that this setting of ‘Salve Regina’ is by the earlier Cornysh, who can claim a footnote in musical history as the very first informator choristorum at Westminster Abbey. His five-part ‘Salve Regina’ shows an advance on Fawkyner’s piece in that the music is richer in texture and harmony and the polyphony is more intricate. It’s also a very beautiful composition. The present performance is a splendid one. Not only is the music very skilfully sung but a fine sense of atmosphere is generated. Listening to it, I found it quite easy to conjure up a mental picture of a candlelit evening rendition in the Eton chapel.

Walter Lambe’s ‘Magnificat’ is an alternatim setting This is a fine piece in which the polyphony frequently sounds celebratory. Stephen Darlington leads a strong performance.

Equally successful is the account of Richard Davy’s In honore summe matris. This is a luxuriantly expansive piece. The technical aspects of the music are very clever for we read in Timothy Symons’ good notes that the piece contains passages for no less than nine different combinations of two-part writing. These are all well done and the sections for full choir are no less impressive. Towards the end, leading up to and during the closing ‘Amen’, Davy employs triplets in some of the parts. In my experience this rhythmic device is not that common in music of this period and it makes an exciting effect.

Finally we hear Browne’s ‘Stabat Mater’, one of the jewels in the Choirbook. As befits the text, the tone of the music is quite sombre at the start but the music opens up as it unfolds and much of the full choir writing is texturally rich. It’s an imposing piece, which becomes ever more impressive as it progresses, and the concluding ‘Amen’ is quite magnificent. The choir perform it splendidly, sustaining the long lines, which are musically and mentally taxing, expertly.

There’s some marvellous music here. Throughout this fine disc the singing of the Christ Church is cultured and very impressive. They display excellent control and the tone is full and consistently pleasing to hear. There’s always good clarity in the delivery of the part writing, no matter whether a small group or the full choir is singing. It’s obvious that they’ve been expertly trained by Stephen Darlington. The recorded sound is atmospheric and reports the choir with clarity and presence.

-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

This recording received a 1998 "Critic's Choice" award from Gramophone
magazine.

The Execution of Stepan Razin is a sort of sequel to the 13th Symphony, in that it sets a poem by Yevtushenko and even shares some thematic elements. It really is a magnificent work, and at half an hour, a major statement. Shostakovich put all of his considerable skill as a composer of film music into making the accompaniments as colorful as possible, while the choral writing and passages for bass solo are thrilling. Why it's not better known remains a mystery: it deserves to be as popular as Prokofiev's Alexander Nevsky or Rachmaninov's The Bells.


This is a very exciting performance, with fine work from the chorus and a terrific orchestral contribution making for climaxes of terrifying impact. Bass soloist Charles Robert Austin lacks the last degree of Russian depth to his tone, and he has a tendency to shout in order to compensate for the lack of weight, but he gets through the part with his honor intact. If you don't know this spectacular piece, here at last is an easy and inexpensive way to hear it.


I enjoyed the couplings too, though they are not significant Shostakovich. October is a typical piece of Socialist Realism close in tone to the 12th Symphony, but it's very exciting and effectively written, and only the obligatory triumphant ending, which Shostakovich makes no attempt to reconcile with the tone of the rest of the piece, lets it down a bit. Once again, the performance has the necessary grit and drive.


The Four Fragments bear a slight relationship to the music of the Fourth Symphony (the goofy waltz in the finale, especially), but are so, well, fragmentary that I wonder why they are played at all. In last analysis, they remain a curiosity and little more, but I can't argue with including them to round out a program nicely organized as "sequels and prequels" to various symphonies. Very fine sound, with a big, rich bass response that suits the music well, seals the deal. Essential for Shostakovich fans. [3/22/2006]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

PRAETORIUS Nun komm der Heiden Heiland. In dulci jubilo. Vom Himmel hoch. Puer natus in Bethlehem. Conditor alme siderum. Gelobet seist du, Jesu Christ. Resonet in laudibus. A solis ortus cardine • Manfred Cordes, dir; Bremer Barock Consort • cpo 777 327 (67:33 Text and Translation)


Straightforward, “musicologically correct” recordings of Michael Praetorius’s music are more present in the imagination than they are thick on the ground. While several of his simpler arrangements of chorale tunes can be found scattered among a myriad of seasonal albums, the more complicated concerted works, which, while based often on the same familiar tunes, stake a greater claim for his brilliance as a composer, are much harder to find. So this present, absorbing account of eight of his concerted motets is especially welcome. Performed as well as they are here, one quickly forgets that it is quite “out of season” to be reviewing them in early spring.


Most of his motets—or at least most of the ones that people bother to record—are built on famous hymn and chorale tunes penned much earlier, ranging from the ubiquitous In dulci jubilo to the most famous Lutheran melodies from the previous century, including Vom Himmel hoch and Nun komm der Heiden Heiland. Puer Natus in Bethlehem and Gelobet seist du Jesu Christ derive from less familiar source material, but are no less compelling. In some cases, Praetorius built his compositions on versions of the texts that interleaved the Latin original.


However, the surprisingly sparse discography of the nearly 1,000 hymns and concerted motets by this earlier (1571–1621) contemporary of the great Heinrich Schütz makes it difficult to assess his full range. The most direct competition for the present disc would seem to come from a now 10-year old Sony anthology on two CDs of concerted motets with Musica Fiata conducted by Roland Wilson (Sony 62929). But Praetorius composed multiple responses to the most familiar hymns, and none of the five similarly titled items is actually duplicated between the releases. Moreover, the two recordings present Praetorius on two different scales: the earlier disc opts for grander polychoral versions, fleshed out with a full 17th-century orchestra of strings, trumpets, cornettos, and sackbuts. Cpo’s Bremen release scales the works to medium grouping of four recorders, four violas da gamba, harp, and an organ positive, accompanying a seven-voice choir. Even these pointed differences, though, do not prevent comparisons, because the different repertoire items present shared challenges of ornamentation, textural clarity, and rhythm. Now over 10 years old, the Roland Wilson release was undercut by a muddier soundscape, with recessed strings and a longer echo in cavernous surroundings. The occasionally resplendent solo singing was inconsistent, falling short of the madrigalesque incisiveness of Manfred Cordes’s assembled singers for cpo. Even on its lighter, 17th-century scale, the brass tended there to overwhelm the male voices. And, while Wilson often succeeded in conveying the monumentality of some of this music—though surely not as powerfully as Paul McCreesh in his fabled “Praetorius Christmas Mass” recording (Archiv 439250)—it often lacked engagement and rhythmic excitement, qualities Cordes supplies in abundance.


Immediately one is struck here, by not only the strength and thoughtfulness of the solo vocal work, but also by Cordes’s sonic imagination, particularly the different colors massaged from his foregrounded gambas and harp. The recorders are also more adept and well tuned than Wilson’s. This pays dividends in the more complicated numbers like the thrillingly canonic In dulci jubilo setting and in the Vom Himmel hoch and Puer natus in Bethlehem , both of which are straightforward multi-verse settings of the complete hymns.


The recording opens with a fascinating, nine-minute “variation concerto” on the hymn tune Nun komm der Heiden Heiland , but listeners may be drawn more immediately to the hypnotically over-layered canons of Resonent in laudibus/Joseph lieber, Joseph mein or the aforementioned In dulci Jubilo . The recording is caught in the natural but not overly reverberant acoustic of the Stiftskirche in Bassum, a small town about 25 kilometers south of Bremen. Of much more than seasonal interest, this disc draws a glowing recommendation.


FANFARE: Christopher Williams

In conjunction with the Martin Luther Decade and in preparation for the celebration of the 500th anniversary of the Reformation in 2017, cpo presents the two-part oratorio Luther in Worms by Ludwig Meinardus (1827-96) in a recording from the 22nd Knechtsteden Festival. After harsh judgments pronounced upon him by Schumann and Mendelssohn, Meinardus joined a pietistic, nationalist and Protestant-combined revival movement. Nevertheless, his principal work does not go over into empty bombast and heroic posing but holds in store many musical refinements, cast in an operatic design.

Includes work(s) by composers. Ensembles: Sächsisches Vocal Ensemble, Batzdorfer Hofkapelle. Conductor: Matthias Jung.