J.C. BACH: SINFONIAE CONCERTAN

The result of a brand new collaboration between two of the finest modern day exponents of classical music, this exquisite disc brings fresh lifeblood to Fauré's peerless 'Requiem' and injects imaginative invention and poetic phrasing into two of Mozart's choral masterpieces. Recorded at the 2007 Mostly Mozart Festival at London's Barbican Hall, this disc reflects the unique live experience of a concert performance that captivated its audience. Conducted by Harry Christophers, The Sixteen and the Academy of St Martin in the Fields are joined by four soloists for this recording. '...the singers of The Sixteen evoked an unearthly expressiveness. Fauré once said: 'here it was as if we had stumbled upon some private memorial, and caught a haunting glimpse of paradise.'' - The London Independent

R E V I E W S:

"This is a live recording of a concert given at last year’s Mostly Mozart festival...Despite its title, Mozart’s pithy Solemn Vespers mostly bristle with a joyous, late-Haydn-like energy, though the lilting Laudate dominum is an expressive high point within the psalm sequence. The solemnity comes with Fauré’s Requiem and the curtain-raiser, Mozart’s late motet Ave verum corpus, which are expressive and both emotionally and spiritually profound. Harry Christophers, the Sixteen and the Academy of St Martin-in-the-Fields straddle the styles and approaches impressively. Roderick Williams is an excellent, rich-toned baritone soloist, while Ruth Massey conveys just the right measure of fragility in her Pie Jesu."
-- Stephen Pettitt, Sunday Times (London) [3/9/2008]

For anyone new to Hanson’s works this CD is a brilliant introduction to a really inspirational composer.

This is the fifth volume in Gerard Schwarz’s fervent traversal of the seven Hanson symphonies for Delos. The three pieces are drawn from DE 3160, 3092 and 3130. As with the earlier volumes Schwarz brooks no dilution of the music. Nothing is routine or careless.

The old passionate munitions and the aggressive air-burst energy is still there in the six-movement Sixth Symphony. Hanson was writing way against the prevailing current of the times – it was 1968 – but the fuel still ignites! This work initially took a while to take a hold on me but now its swaying Nordic romance will not let go. The music has exuberance, chattering Sibelian zest, an epic stride and the benefit of a resplendent recording. It was dedicated to Leonard Bernstein and the NYPO. Schwarz takes things at a faster lick than Siegfried Landau and the Music for Westchester Symphony Orchestra version from the early 1970s. Landau was first issued on Turnabout LP TV-S34534, revived on CD on Excelsior and also as part of a VoxBox CDX5092.

Lumen in Christo growls with awe. Somewhere in there we are told that there is material by Handel and Haydn. It is deeply subsumed. The choir sings texts with light as their subject from the Latin Requiem and from The Bible. The music has a symphonic mien so do not expect much in the way of relaxation after the rippling power of the Sixth Symphony.

The Seventh also uses the Seattle Symphony Chorale. It’s a setting for choirs and orchestra of texts by Walt Whitman. Hanson – then within four years of his death - sticks to his last. The style essays no change. Indeed he even incorporates that long-breathed treasure of a melody – the grand theme from The Second Symphony. He first set Whitman’s verse in 1915 and latterly in Drumtaps (1935), Song of Democracy (1957) and The Mystic Trumpeter (1970; rec. Delos DE3160). This is not the work’s first recording. That honour rests with the World Youth Symphony Orchestra Interlochen and the National Music Camp High School Choir who recorded it in August 1977 on Bay Cities BCD 1009. Atmospheric though that original is it cannot hope to compete with Schwarz’s fully professional version.

Let’s keep our fingers crossed for a final Schwarz Naxos disc including the Piano Concerto and The Mystic Trumpeter. In due course I would guess that Naxos will also issue a boxed set as they did for Barber and Schuman.

– Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

Diamond dedicated his Symphony No. 8 to his friend and mentor, composer Aaron Copland on the occasion of his sixtieth birthday. The work was completed in November 1960 and received it's premi�re with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic on 27th October, 1961. While essentially tonal in harmonic language, Diamond incorporated highly chromatic elements and even a twelve-note tone row, not unlike what the Symphony's dedicatee was doing during this same period in his Connotations, though Diamond's work is far less aggressively dissonant in overall sound. The composer provided these notes for the premi�re performance: I. Moderato-Adagio-Allegro vivo. The basic row is proclaimed in the very opening bars of the introduction; it is in two halves. The first, a forceful rhythmic theme of five notes (4/4), is thundered out by the orchestra tutti. The second, a more lyric theme of seven notes (3/4), is sung softly by a single clarinet. Thematically, the second phrase is destined to be the more important; in fact, the row is immediately rearranged and presented by a solo horn, which starts with this second phrase in an even more lyric version, and concludes with a lyric transformation of the thundering five-note opening. The fast body of the movement, a free sonata-allegro structure, starts with a heavily syncopated version of the row as presented by the French horn. This is the principal theme; a contrasting second theme is presented at a more relaxed tempo by a solo clarinet, ben cantando, over a soft counterpart of strings. Both themes are developed, and return in very nearly their original form during the course of this long but highly concentrated movement. The conclusion is a stunning climax compounded of the essence of both themes. II. Theme (Adagio), Variations and Double Fugue. After a two-measure introduction, which turns into a sequential accompaniment, the first violins begin a high, flowing melody that is the theme (3/4). Soon the orchestral basses and cellos enter with this same melody, while the violins continue the forty-measure theme. Variation No. 1 is a canon, in which the violins lead and cellos follow with the same melody, always at a distance of one measure. There are seven variations in all, the last of which repeats a long section from No. 1, and then leads without pause into the lively double-fugue. The first principal theme of this is derived from the principal theme of the first movement. Other themes from the first movement make their appearance, too, as the Symphony moves on to it's climax and conclusion.

The Sixteen and Harry Christophers have long been applauded for their dedication to the works of Victoria, and this CD is a superb example of the composer's depth and the artists' performance. 'Scholar, mystic, priest, singer, organist, and composer - six persons all rolled into one and that is, quite simply, why Victoria is the most outstanding composer of the Renaissance.' (HC) This Holy Week music combines an intensity of expresion with a sombre passionate and mysterious quality often thought of as peculiarly Spanish. Victoria's own intense faith imbues every note, and is expressed in the words of his own dedication of the piece to the Holy Trinity, 'God, most high Trinity, may every soul praise you. For ever reign over those you save through the Mystery of the Cross.'

On two previous discs, London Baroque has explored the genre of the trio sonatas as it unfolded in 17th Century France and England. Both these issues met with great acclaim. The ensemble has now arrived in Germany, or more correctly: the German-speaking world of the time, as the programme also features works from the Low Countries and Austria. The great masters of the period, Buxtehude and Biber - are both among the ten composers represented here. But included are also other, less well-known names, such as Johann Schmelzer and Johann Rosenmüller. The great variety of styles and forms found on the disc fully reflect the diversity among the composers, while also serving to remind the listener of the fact that the trio sonata genre was just becoming established during the period.

SACRED MUSIC

Gabriela Lena Frank is the real deal: a modern composer with a personal style, one that manages to integrate a wide range of sounds and performing techniques into a cohesive language that unapologetically includes melody and tonal harmony without ever sounding anachronistic. She clearly manages to remain true to herself, but she doesn't have to write down to her listeners in order to share her thoughts and feelings. This is just good music.

Hilos is a quartet for clarinet, violin, cello, and piano inspired by Peruvian weaving. The music is colorful, vibrant, and consistently inventive; the Latin element is pervasive, but not cheap, and not overwhelming. Danza de los Saqsampillos is an arrangement for two marimbas of an earlier piano piece, and it sounds like a blast to play; Adagio para Amantaní (for cello and piano) is a soulful meditation inspired by an island landscape in the middle of Lake Titicaca. Quijotadas is a string quartet based on Cervantes' Don Quixote. Its second movement, Sequidilla para la Mancha, has to be one of the most charming pieces of its kind since the scherzo of Ravel's Quartet, which it resembles in some ways (lots of pizzicato).

The performances, with the composer's participation where the piano joins in, and presumably her supervision where it does not, are uniformly excellent, and so are the sonics. A wonderful disc of inventive, fresh, characterful music, plain and simple.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Followers of The Sixteen will recognize this Coro title as identical to the choir's 1997 release on Collins (now deleted). Of course, you have to open the package and read the very small print on the back of the liner booklet to find out for sure--just one of several annoying, user-unfriendly design features present on Coro's first batch of discs (including the near-impossible-to-remove "security" tape and the listing of tracks and timings only on the back of the disc box). Fortunately, the music and performances are outstanding, the sound is vibrant, and we're treated to first-rate interpretations of rarely heard repertoire.


Scarlatti's Stabat mater has received several decent recordings--nearly all of which appear on programs with works by other composers--but the rest of this all-Scarlatti disc fills gaps in the catalog that are important more than just for musicological reasons. The Te Deum, the Missa Breve "La Stella", and the lovely hymn setting Iste Confessor are significant works that extend the common view of this composer from essentially a keyboard master to a more detailed and rounded picture that includes a serious facility for choral writing. The Sixteen is in top form--just listen to the last minute or so of the Te Deum--and Scarlatti often surprises with an unusually clever fugal idea or flashy harmonic sequence (again, the ending of the Te Deum). If you have the Collins disc, you won't need to replace it; if you don't, then grab this and enjoy.
--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

Continuing its work with the rising stars of the early music world, CORO is delighted to present its second recording with one of The Sixteen Orchestra's principal members - Robert Quinney. This album, which was recorded at Trinity College, Cambridge, on the beautiful Metzler Organ, features a number of virtuosic works from Bach's early years including one of the most famous pieces of organ music in the repertory - the Toccata and Fugue in D minor (BWV 565). The disc also includes the Toccata and Fugue in F (BWV 540) and the Passacaglia (BWV 582) - one of Bach's most well-known and important organ works. Robert Schumann described the variations of Passacaglia as 'intertwined so ingeniously that one can never cease to be amazed.'

This is the second of a planned series of eight discs promising to trace the development of the trio sonata, the archetypal Baroque chamber form. The first, devoted to music from London Baroque’s home country, was reviewed in Fanfare 28:3 with considerable enthusiasm by Laura Rónai, and by myself elsewhere in a review that largely mirrored my colleague’s findings. Now London Baroque has turned its attention to what was happening during the same period across the English Channel, with equally commendable results.


The ambivalent French attitude to the sonata, an Italian invention, was famously and sardonically expressed in the words of playwright Fontenelle: “Sonate, que me veux-tu” (literally “Sonata, what do you want from me?”). A more balanced view came from the theorist François Raguenet who, although a stern critic of Italian opera, declared that he had “never met with a master in France but what agreed that the Italians knew much better how to turn and vary a trio than the French.” A number of French masters, indeed, sought to integrate the spirit of the Italian sonata, specifically the Corellian sonata, into their own style, among whom François Couperin attempted a fusion that reached a climax in the two sets of L’apothéoses , dedicated respectively to Corelli (1724) and Lully (1725). (Both have already been recorded by London Baroque on BIS CD1275, not reviewed in Fanfare. )


The selection made by London Baroque provides a representative cross section of writing in trio style, taking us chronologically from Lully to Clérambault (one assumes the series will include a second French disc devoted to the 18th century), and managing to include at least one unfamiliar name in the shape of Jean Nicolas Geoffroy (?–1694), a shadowy figure whose obscurity is not helped by the fact that there was more than one composer of that name working in Paris at the time. According to gambist Charles Medlam’s note, his Dialogues were probably originally intended for organ, but they work well enough in this form, if too diffuse to lay any claim to the structural balance of the true trio sonata. Much the same can be said of the little pieces by Louis Couperin, which provide no indication as to instrumentation. Lully’s trios for the ceremony of Le coucher du Roi , performed daily at Versailles by the petits violons , do achieve true equality between the two violins, but, true to form, the Italian-born Lully firmly implanted French style on the music. Although Marais’s Pièces en trio (1692) were the first works to be published in France in trio form, they are in fact a collection of mostly dance movements that following tradition could be arranged in suites. As such, they too bear little relationship to the true trio sonata, preferring to explore the French love of varying sonorities rather than the symmetrical balance of the Italian sonata, an observation that applies equally to the Suite by Gaspard le Roux (1660–1707).


It is only with the next generation that an awareness of the Italian model emerges. François Couperin’s La Superbe is well named, being a majestic work that pays overt homage to Corelli in the suspensions of its opening movement, and the fugal writing of the second, while Jean-Féry Rebel’s tombeau in honor of Lully largely remains loyal to native style, but also betrays Italian leanings in some dazzling solo violin-writing and furious tremolandos in its fourth movement. Most Italianate of all is the work by Louis-Nicolas Clérambault, significantly the only one included here to bear the name “sonata.”


With the proviso that, as with the disc of English works, London Baroque’s style of playing manifestly owes more to the 18th than the 17th century, these performances can be thoroughly recommended. The technical expertise, splendid sense of balance between the players, finesse, and spirited approach are by now all familiar assets, while the music is of generally high quality and well worth hearing. The engineering occasionally imparts a glassiness to the violins’s upper register, but is otherwise fine. I look forward to further issues in this interesting series.


FANFARE: Brian Robins

I have to confess that I was a bit concerned at the opening of this new performance of Roy Harris' Third Symphony, where Marin Alsop and the otherwise very good Colorado Symphony fail to match the urgency and passion of Bernstein's benchmark Sony recording. Once the piece gets moving, however, the music quickly builds to an explosive account of the big fugue, with brilliant contributions from the brass, while the tragic conclusion with its pounding timpani pedal is perhaps the most intense yet captured on disc. Certainly no one has made the final bars sound more convincing or inevitable. Just a touch more drive at the very beginning and this might have been the new reference recording for the work, but as it is my reservations are minuscule and it's definitely a "keeper".


Having a modern recording on hand of the delightful "Folk Song Symphony" certainly adds to the disc's attractions. There's only one other that enjoyed general circulation, Golschmann's on Vanguard, and heaven only knows if it's still available. In any case, this one is definitely superior sonically, though I marginally prefer the earlier version's quicker tempos in Western Cowboy and Negro Fantasy (the second and sixth movements, respectively). Alsop still has the edge, though, in terms of both singing and playing, and her quicker sections pack an even bigger punch than the Vanguard release. This is a really attractive work that ought to be better known. If the composer in question had been English/Irish (and some of the tunes actually are: The Girl I Left Behind Me, a.k.a. The Wandering Laborer, also appears in Hamilton Harty's "Irish" Symphony), we'd no doubt have a plethora of modern recordings from which to choose. Never mind: this one will do very nicely.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

COATES, E.: London Calling - Music for Wind Band

The competition is full-priced, from Nonesuch, and the formidable Glass-specialist and collaborator Dennis Russell Davies. On sonic grounds, I’d prefer this new Naxos disc of two symphonies from the mid 1990s. Davies is irreproachable as a Glass conductor, but in the case of these works, I find the Nonesuch recordings a touch claustrophobic, with much of the air sucked out of the acoustic. The older Glass/Naxos disc was even more successful in this regard (the Violin Concerto on 8.554568) but this is pretty good sound, captured by Tim Handley in the Concert Hall, Lighthouse, by the busy harbor at Poole in Dorset, England. The bustling, maritime setting seems to infect the music-making, especially for the rousing finale of the Second Symphony, like an Olympic yacht-race through a choppy sea on a bright, bracing morning. American symphonies used to stumble at the finale obstacle (so did symphonies everywhere) but through patient application of his familiar style, and his patented modal, orchestral dynamism, Glass whizzes around the course with no faults or penalties. This should make converts of anyone who enjoys symphonies from Bax to Bernstein.

Elsewhere, the dark and brooding moods are never overplayed or undersold by Marin Alsop. This isn’t the world’s most virtuosic band, but they rarely, and only very slightly sound strained by Glass’s high-lying violin lines. More performances from the big-name orchestras would bring a more expressive, forthright performing tradition, and maybe a faster finale for the Third. Glass’s Indian roots are often on display (there’s an Eastern cut to his thematic jib, here), but expressive results are fruitful. There are some reminders of other symphonists. In the Second it sometimes seems Alan Hovhaness, Lou Harrison, and Bill Schuman have met up for a drink with Sibelius, who is playing the Widor Toccata over there in the corner. Glass’s individual symphonism works, though, in this 43-minute piece, thanks to the skillful manipulation of orchestral contrasts as a structural device, a legacy, maybe, of his film-score experience. The Third Symphony is closer to the Glass mainstream, in four short movements for strings alone. Here, Alsop’s patient approach brings out the meaning in the music, away from the talk of polyrhythm and process. There’s fear, anxiety, and dismay (the world) behind some of those sunny repetitions, and physicality in the dance rhythms. Well-caught pizzicatos in the second movement, too, and an expressive solo display from the violin in the edgy, pulsating third section, which is a major success in this tense, sensual reading.

I wholeheartedly recommend this release (the first of a cycle, I trust), and again salute Philip Glass for doing it his way. The music deserves the widest exposure and popularity, and it deepens with acquaintance. This Naxos CD transformed my opinion of these works.

Paul Ingram, FANFARE

Philip Glass' symphonies are unique among the composer's output for their relative harmonic and thematic complexity. Listeners put off by Glass' endlessly repeated arpeggios will be relieved to find scant evidence of them in these works. Instead, like his opera Beauty and the Beast, Glass spins long melodic lines that go through many harmonic permutations before they are inevitably repeated. Thus, Symphony No. 2's first movement creates an air of expectation, something that Glass maintains through shifting instrumental timbres and stimulating dynamic contrast as the movement builds, Bolero-like, to a grand climax. After the soothing, somewhat meditative sonic environment of the slow movement, the finale breaks in with its agitated dance rhythms. This movement has the least harmonic variety of the three, and listeners unsympathetic to Glass' method may experience repetition fatigue.


Symphony No. 3 is almost radical in its use of traditional forms, including chaconne and rondo. Glass replaces the expansiveness of the earlier work with a highly concentrated thematic process that packs substantially more musical ideas into only slightly more than half the former symphony's duration. The second movement is particularly interesting, with its compound meters and hints of Bartók. Marin Alsop brings her long familiarity with the composer's music to her convincing performances of both works, although she faces strong competition in the No. 3 from Glass specialist Dennis Russell Davies, who leads a slightly more compelling rendition with the Stuttgart Chamber Orchestra. For its part, the Bournemouth Symphony plays keenly, maintaining enthusiasm and rhythmic exactitude even in the more repetitious passages. Naxos' warm and spacious recording presents the music with a compelling impact. [12/03/2004]
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

The turbulent years of Reformation and religious change in England presented composers working for the church with the continual challenge of having to adapt to rapidly changing musical requirements. Although little is known about the personal religious affiliation of composers such as Christopher Tye, Robert Parsons and Robert White, their Latin music represents by far the most interesting and significant musical thought of its time.

This anthology brings together representative works from the mainstream of contemporary American choral music. Charles Ives's Psalm 90 evokes a mood reminiscent of congregational Sunday singing in New England.

This disc substantially duplicates the repertoire on an all-Copland program produced by DG with the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra. However, where DG included the Short Symphony, Naxos offers the Clarinet Concerto. While the Nashville Chamber Orchestra doesn't offer quite the tonal refinement and polish of Orpheus, it basically plays just as well, and its slightly weightier, gutsier, more rustic sonority arguably suits the music even better. In the famous rehearsal disc that accompanied Copland's own recording of the original chamber version of Appalachian Spring, he can be heard exhorting his players not to sentimentalize the music: "...it's a little too much on the Massenet-side," he tells them. Obviously Paul Gambill understands this point, for he offers interpretations ideally poised between warmth and simplicity, full of those clean and clear sonorities that Copland made his own.

It should come as no surprise that, as a major musical capital, Nashville offers a large pool of excellent professional performers from which to draw, and as with its full-sized symphony, the Nashville Chamber Orchestra obviously employs some major talent, particularly among its strings. Copland's music is full of complex rhythms, often combining them with stratospheric violin writing. At such moments as the "Danza de Jalisco" from Three Latin American Sketches, or the initial allegro of Appalachian Spring, the Nashville players offer impressive accuracy of both rhythm and pitch. Quiet City benefits from some smooth-as-silk trumpeting from Scott Moore, while Laura Arden (principal clarinet with the Atlanta Symphony) turns in a masterful performance of the Clarinet Concerto. She commands a lovely, liquid tone in the lyrical opening movement (her pianissimo playing at the end is exquisite) and captures the finale's jazz elements without ever turning raucous.

The version of Appalachian Spring offered here is billed as the "Original Ballet Suite". It is not. The "original" ballet suite is the full orchestral version most familiar to music lovers, dating from just after the premiere in the mid-1940s. More than a decade later, in 1958, Copland published a new orchestration of the suite in which he returned to the chamber instrumentation used in the full-length ballet, allowing the option of a few extra strings (which I assume are used here), and this is what Naxos gives us. Gambill conducts this piece as well as anyone ever has; he's particularly adept at sustaining the flow of the slower sections without letting the music sag, and he gets an astonishingly full sound from his ensemble (listen to the focused tone of the basses when they first enter in the "Simple Gifts" variations). Sonics of ideal transparency and presence set the seal on a disc that's practically perfect from just about any perspective. [12/14/2002]

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Leonard Slatkin’s Copland is always first rate, and this release is no exception. He already recorded the complete Billy the Kid in St. Louis for EMI, but that disc could be anywhere right now, except readily available, and so if you want the entire work this performance is just the ticket. I actually prefer the full-length ballet to the suite. You get about ten minutes more music, all of it worth hearing, and the result is a work that has a more compelling range of narrative and less of that picture postcard Americana feel that just might be starting to sound a tad old. It only remains to be said that throughout the disc the Detroit Symphony plays terrifically.

Grohg is early Copland, but much of it got reused in the Dance Symphony. Inspired by the silent film Nosferatu, the music is aptly dark and spooky, with a decadent sheen similar to what we find in, say, Bartók’s The Miraculous Mandarin. That said, you can plainly hear the composer to come in such numbers as the Dance of the Street-Walker, with its angular sonorities and burlesque atmosphere. As with Billy, Slatkin proves a completely convincing guide to a remarkably assured piece of writing. The coupling of these two works also makes for a more interesting release than usual, and justifies purchase even if you already own a Billy the Kid or three. First rate sonics too.

– ClassicsToday (David Hurwitz)

Bach: Brandenburg Concertos No. 4, 5 & 6

Don't let the brevity of this review lead to the incorrect conclusion that there isn't plenty to enjoy, for James Judd and his New Zealand orchestra offer a pair of terrific Copland performances. Billy the Kid gets a shapely, dramatic interpretation: the initial and closing evocations of the West's wide open spaces offer grandeur without bombast, while the ensuing episodes follow seamlessly, including a very exciting gunfight. In the symphony, Judd is very much his own man. He catches the simple dignity of the first movement very well, then turns in the most dynamic scherzo since the composer's own Everest recording. The Andantino, taken at a daringly slow (but never slack) pace, sets up the blazing finale with particular effectiveness. Here, Judd and his players pull out all the stops, with nicely differentiated brass timbres in the opening fanfare and some really tight, rhythmic playing in the buildup to the central development's crunching climax. The closing pages once again provide the right feeling of triumph without the excess pomposity that has bothered so many critics and performers (even Bernstein) over the years. Naxos gets good, natural sound, though some of the percussion (snare drum rim shots, woodblock, and bass drum) seems a bit too backwardly placed--not a major point. This is a very fine release indeed. [2/14/2002] --David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Charles Wuorinen' staggeringly prolific output has been remarkably consistent yet tremendously varied.

Chicago based American composer and associate professor of composition at Roosevelt University, Stacy Garrop's first album of orchestral music is a collection of world-premiere recordings. Mythology Symphony, a five-movement work inspired by famous female figures from Greek mythology with a compelling performance by conductor Alonda de la Parra leading the Chicago College of Performing Arts (CCPA) Symphony Orchestra of Roosevelt University. Thunderwalker and Shadow, described as "a moving interplay of counterpoint, shifting textures, and profound emotion" is conducted by Peabody Conservatory-based Markand Thakar. The prolific Garrop has elicited positive critical praise with Gramophone magazine spotlighting her as a composer whose work displays "vision and breadth." In 2015, her oratorio Terra Nostra will receive it's world premiere in San Francisco and her compositions ranging from choral to chamber, lieder to now orchestral have been performed by illustrious ensembles such as Avalon String Quartet, Capital Quartet and the esteemed choir Chanticleer.

FAIROUZ Tahwidah. 4 Chorale Fantasy. 2 Native Informant: Sonata for Solo Violin 3. Posh. 4 For Victims. 2,5 Jebel Lebnan 6 • 1 Mellissa Hughes (sop); 1 David Krakauer (cl); 2 Borromeo Str Qrt; 3 Rachel Barton Pine (vn); 4 Christopher Thompson (baritenor); 4 Steven Spooner (pn); 5 David Kravitz (bar); 6 Imani Winds • NAXOS 8.559744 (78:22 Text and Translation)


This exceptionally varied and complex album features five first recordings of works by young American-Arabic composer Mohammed Fairouz (b. 1985), whose Piano Sonata impressed me when I reviewed the DVD by pianist Steven Spooner. I bristled, as I always do, to read the dreaded and hackneyed words on the CD insert that Fairouz “is one of the most frequently performed, commissioned, and recorded composers of his generation ” (italics mine). Well, what the heck generation could he possibly be part of but his own? Did you expect him to be the most frequently performed and recorded composers of his father’s generation?


But promotional semantics aside, Fairouz is a remarkably talented and highly original composer—no more so than some others nowadays who, living in America, combine the music of their ethnic cultures with European and/or American classical structures, but certainly one of the most interesting and communicative of such composers, which I suppose is what moves him to the top of his profession. Certainly, any CD that displays the combined talents of such well-known and/or outstanding talents as the Borromeo Quartet, Rachel Barton Pine, Steven Spooner, and the Imani Winds—all of whom, incidentally, are on my short list of favorite performers whose recordings I try to seek out for review—is testimony enough to the high quality of Fairouz’s music.


We begin this journey with Tahwidah, the setting of a poem by Mahmoud Darwish for soprano and clarinet. The text—which, surprisingly, is actually included in the booklet (along with all the other sung texts on this disc)—concerns the lullaby of a mother to her son, only to discover at the end that she is singing this at his funeral. The music is thus lyrical but strangely dissonant, beginning with exotic and difficult runs and trills on the clarinet, into which the soprano voice intermixes in a surprising and interesting fashion. Thank heavens, Mellissa Hughes has a pure, radiant voice, devoid of unsteadiness or wobble, and her singing is extraordinarily well phrased and emotionally moving. As in the case of so many modern-day sopranos, however, her English diction is exceedingly poor. Without the text to follow, you won’t be able to make out a single word. A small but important criticism, not meant in a mean-spirited way, but Mellissa, please work on your diction!


This is followed by Chorale Fantasy, which the composer describes as a song that combines the Arabic mode maqam “with gentle counterpoint,” leading from a songlike melody to a whirling dance. It was commissioned by the Borromeo Quartet, which plays it here. Perhaps not so curiously, the Solo Violin Sonata—commissioned by and played by Rachel Barton Pine—almost sounds, in its first movement, like an extension of the quartet, so lyrical and songlike is its melodic structure.


I was stunned here by the extraordinary range of colors that Pine extracts from her instrument, ranging from bright, sharply pointed passages reminiscent of Heifetz to warm, rich playing in the mid and lower ranges that sounded like Oistrakh. The second movement, “Rounds,” is a vigorous Arabic round dance (as per the composer’s notes), played with tremendous passion and energy, following which is a lament for the civilian victims of the Egyptian Revolution. This movement, which begins and ends very high up in the violin’s range, moves down to mid-range chordal passages which later incorporate microtonal slides (probably Arabic influenced) and, as in so much of Fairouz’s music, an exceptional singing quality that I feel is related to the song tradition of such composers as Ned Rorem. The composer describes the fourth movement as “just plain fun,” based on “the retro spirit of New York’s cabaret music,” supposedly emulating Gershwin and Porter, but I heard this music as oddly related to Eastern European folk-dance music and Eastern European-American forms, yet with an Arabic accent. At one point, Pine is required to play pizzicato counterpoint to her own top line on the violin. The final movement, which combines the feeling of both a lullaby and a lament, is titled “Lullaby of the ex-Soldat.” Fairouz says that he also conceived this movement as a tribute to Pine’s baby daughter Sylvia Michelle as a “celebration of birth and renewal.” With the possible exception of the first movement, I’d say that Fairouz has accomplished a Herculean task here, writing a sonata for unaccompanied violin that doesn’t owe much to the solo violin sonatas and partitas of Bach. I can only hope that it becomes a staple of the violin repertoire. This is, by the way, also the longest work on this disc.


Following this is Posh, a short song cycle (three pieces totaling 8:22) based on poems by Wayne Koestenbaum. These poems are not intended to “tell a story,” but merely to give an indication of a life: one song (poem) of a baby and his inability to cope with life without help, of “deadbeat dads” and dreams of the future; the second of a hapless adolescent searching for Ned Rorem songs; and third of an adult whose father “brings to mind the self-slaughtered Walter Benjamin.” This cycle is sung by “baritenor” Christopher Thompson, who has an unusual velvety timbre and, yes, qualities of both baritone and tenor. His diction is also superb, in sharp contrast to Hughes, and in the second song he makes one smile with his unusual way of bringing humor out when he sings. As usual, Spooner’s playing is also excellent, albeit subdued in this particular role as accompanist. Fairouz’s scoring for the piano here is primarily that of gently rocking notes and/or soft chime chords.


For Victims is described as “a dramatic scene for baritone and string quartet” based on two poems of David Shapiro, but although there are two movements only the second includes the sung poems. Here the Borromeo Quartet plays with a sense of sadness combined with drama, the music in the first movement vacillating between Eastern and Western modes, occasionally juxtaposing themes rather than engaging in actual development. As it turns out Shapiro’s poems, like many similar works, are about the Holocaust, the first a memorial to its victims and the second a personal memory of his grandfather emerging “in a synagogue” with his “sweet tenor coloratura” while he wonders if the dead are “permitted to sing.” Here the quartet’s role is more subdued and subservient to the vocal line. Baritone David Kravitz, unfortunately, has a woofy and tremulous voice, and his diction is only occasionally clear, which is very unfortunate as the music is exceptionally interesting and well written.


The last work, Jebel Lebnan, translates as Mount Lebanon, and is a lament for the lives lost at the massacres at the Sabra and Shatilla Refugee Camps caused by Phalange Party chief Bashir Gemayel. An interlude for flute is followed by a funeral march entitled “Ariel’s Song,” then a “reawakening” musically described by a celebratory dance to the resilience of the Lebanese people. The final movement, “Mar Charbel’s Dabkeh,” is yet another Arabic round dance. Since I am a huge fan of the Imani Winds, perhaps I am prejudiced in favor of nearly all their performances, which I always find to be rhythmically incisive, colorful in their manipulation of timbre and accent, and emotionally involved in every respect, thus I was immediately rapt by their extraordinary treatment of the opening passage, described by the composer as “a wild scream” for clarinet and piccolo. The music here, punctuated by interjections from the horn and clarinet, is continually underscored by a staccato ostinato figure played by the bassoon. The solo flute interlude is lyrical, yet with telling pauses in the musical line possibly indicating thought or meditation on the part of the flutist. It has a particularly forlorn sound that, to me, indicates such emotions. Interestingly, the solo bassoon line which opens “Ariel’s Song” sounds like a continuation of the flute lament. The other instruments of the quintet enter and exit, either singly or in pairs, but the bassoon generally dominates this lament. (I would also like to point out, for the benefit of those who don’t know, that the Imani Winds are four-fifths women musicians, which I believe is somewhat unique in the classical world.) The dance movement, surprisingly, also starts out slowly, only gradually increasing the tempo within the first dozen or so bars. It’s a cheerful little piece but not terribly uptempo—more of a relaxed dance than a frenetic one. After a short pause in the middle, Fairouz switches gears to his “little song,” which is more meditative and reflective than celebratory. This, in turn, leads into the “Dabkeh” or round dance, which begins with meditative passages played by the flute but then moves into a very sprightly dance rhythm. An Arabic round dance this may indeed be, but to my ears it has a great similarity to a horah!


Despite my small reservations on the diction of two of the singers and the singing voice of a third, I consider this one of the most interesting, varied, and engaging classical albums of the year so far, and one I shall undoubtedly be putting on my Want List.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

The musical world of Arvo Pärt has fascinated listeners and performers for several decades. The astonishing, breathtaking musical landscape he presents brings us to another dimension in which time seems to cease to exist. And his music reaches an audience which is wider than that of any other contemporary composer of art music today, teaching us that newly composed music can serve to fulfil spiritual needs. As BIS' contribution to the celebration of Pärt's 70th anniversary this year, we have looked back through our mirror and brought together a number of works spanning more than three decades of his career: from 1964 to 1998.

José Serebrier's distinctive conceptions and nimble conducting imbue the familiar Marche slave, Capriccio italien, and 1812 Overture with a freshness that belies their long-held "warhorse" status. By employing lighter sonorities and crystal-clear balances (all rendered with spectacular fidelity and dynamism by BIS's remarkably vivid recording) that expose Tchaikovsky's gorgeous woodwind writing and inner harmonic detail, Serebrier brings a vibrant youthful quality even to the overplayed 1812. Listen to how the bracing opening, with its cleanly phrased, rhythmically taut string playing fosters ever-increasing tension. Later, in the grand coda, the dramatic brass-and-strings interplay genuinely excites while cannons roar away in the distance (the opposite approach to Telarc's cannon-down-your-throat technique).


Serebrier's light and balletic rendition of the rarely heard Fatum is in marked contrast to the heavier variety offered by Slatkin, yet it nonetheless doesn't shy away from the raucous percussion that makes this rather naïve piece a real kick (just what does all that booming and crashing have to do with an inexorable "fate" anyway?).


Tchaikovsky's elegant and sweetly melancholy Élégie, and Serebrier's own arrangement of the Andante cantabile from the String Quartet No. 1, come as relaxingly gentle interludes between the noisier selections on the disc, all of which receive probing and polished performances by the Bamberg Symphony. Even if you think you've heard this music one too many times, you'll likely find this disc a rewarding listening experience.
--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com