An essential box set of Graingeresque delight.

2011 marks the fiftieth anniversary of Percy Grainger’s death and the event has witnessed the reissue of a number of important recordings. This isn’t one such, because it’s remained in the Nimbus catalogue throughout, but I did want to draw brief attention to this super-abundant, characterful, and wholly marvellous five CD set of the complete piano music, played by the indefatigable, stylistically apt Martin Jones. He’s one of the undersung masters of a variety of repertoire – as good in Iberian music as he is in British, I’d suggest.
 
Here his encyclopaedic survey acts as a modern day cornerstone. You should hear his recordings, if you are excited by Grainger, and compare and contrast them with the composer’s own recordings which fortunately – all the 78s at any rate – have recently been reissued in a five CD set by APR [7501]. The experience is both exciting and diverting. But Grainger only recorded (and re-recorded) a fraction of his own pieces, whereas Jones has collared the lot. And how!
 
The first disc starts with some classic Grainger; the brio, clarity and speed of Jones’s take on Handel in the Strand is a tonic whilst To a Nordic Princess rises to a passionate pitch of assertion. In a Nutshell is a suite the charms of which seldom pall, and in this performance Jones crafts an unusually expressive Pastoral, slow and spare then incrementally building up in sonority, power and speed. The playful and vibrant badinage of The Immovable Do is especially well realised – one of the very best moments in this opening disc - though the reflective and beautiful Colonial Song runs it, very differently, close. Those who have never come across the roistering cakewalk of In Dahomey are in for a treat.
 
The second disc is given over to arrangements. To a degree it’s of less pressing interest to the Grainger novice, but it’s essential ground for those who want to understand his enthusiasms and the musical means by which he conveyed them. The opening of the Tchaikovsky Piano Concerto makes some fearsome demands on the intrepid solo pianist whereas the Brahms Cradle song that cannily follows it is delightfully spun – lissom legato, not lion-hearted virtuosity. His arrangement of Nimrod is probably quite well known but that of Rachmaninoff – the finale of the Second Concerto – probably less so. I must admit that the Dowland transcription, of Now, O now, I needs must part, is absolutely irresistible in Jones’s performance. He really does have the touch for refinement in these works. Of the other works, it’s interesting to contrast Grainger’s own 1929 78 of the Rosenkavalier with Jones’s. Then there’s the convoluted tribute to Stephen Foster, the well-known Bach Blithe Bells and the same composer’s Fugue in A minor – it reminds one of Bach’s importance to Grainger, as performer and composer.
 
The third disc offers 28 examples of Graingeresque delight. Some are very concise folk-songs and traditional songs, others better known examples of his art. Let me just suggest a few which I think especially illuminating or unusual. If you’ve not come across The Merry King, try to do so, and you won’t regret it; it’s hauntingly beautiful. A Jutish Melody was recorded by Grainger in one of his very rarest 78s – a double-sided 1929 Columbia. He takes it a touch faster than Jones. Spoon River is played with vibrancy but Jones is ever alert as to treble colouration. There are also the simple and complex versions of One more day my John.
 
The fourth disc is a curious collection but that only makes it the more valuable for completists. We have Stanford’s Four Irish Dances, the deeply sensitive Fauré songs – what a shame Grainger didn’t record them – and the opening movement transcription of the Schumann Piano Concerto, which, like the Rachmaninoff, is probably best known by close readers of Grainger’s work in this field – a virtuosic single-voiced domestication, as it were, of the concerto literature. Another such is the better remembered Grieg Concerto first movement, also in this disc. His homage to Delius comes via the Air and Dance – but there are plenty of things to occupy the eager ears in this disc. Uppermost amongst them we find Angelus ad Virginem, a lovely carol, and then some of Grainger’s early works. These include the Schumannesque Klavierstücke in E, and the other early pieces which are variously awkward and Brahmsian or, in the case of the one in B flat, incomplete. There’s also the one in D, which Grainger dedicated to his father. The Bigelow March, an insouciant piece, was actually written by Ella Grainger, Percy’s wife.
 
The final disc has bigger works, ending with The Warriors. It also includes those pieces written for four hands on one piano, four on two pianos, six on one piano and six on two pianos. Children's March: "Over the Hills and Far Away" is a sonorous and ebullient example of Martin Jones and Richard McMahon playing on two pianos. But all these pieces are richly exciting and attractive. In the midst of all this don’t overlook the calm solo Grainger fashioned from William Byrd – The Carman’s Whistle or indeed Gershwin’s Embraceable You. The resilience of the performers and the clarity of the six-handed, two-piano, arrangement of The Warriors elevates it to a must-hear experience.
 
I hope this has given some indication of why this is so essential a box for admirers of the composer. I appreciate that Nimbus’s sound in these 1989-91 recordings is not to everyone’s tastes, but it will certainly do, and the booklet notes are classy. What a splendid undertaking this was.
 
-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

...Ricci's performance of the Adagio [from the Spohr Concertante] could not be bettered and he has a worthy partner in Susanna Mildonian... Louis de Froment is an admirable accompanist and the recording...is admirably clear and well balanced.

-- Gramophone [6/1979, reviewing an LP release of the Spohr]

-----------------------------------

The chromatic harp is an idiosyncratic and, outside certain simple formulae, difficult instrument to write for; it has also been hard for it to escape from its 'romantic' image. Think of the harp, think of arpeggios (isn't that what the word signifies?), and those traversed with a sweep of the hand are inevitably colourful because you can't do it with a simple triad. Harp concertos have never been numerous and, other than Mozart and Handel, have come and gone like recorded ships in the night. Glière's has survived but Zabaleta's account of Reinecke's has long gone (DG 138 853, 11/63). Hard to realize the Glihre was written as late as 1939 —broad but fairly commonplace tunes, ultraconservative structure and language, arpeggios galore are its lot, music to relax and dream to. Michel is a fine harpist and her Glibre fully matches Ellis's older and less crisply recorded version on Decca, but neither can transmute the music's pewter to gold. The Reinecke is a more demonstrative and developed work, not written 'Out of its time', exploiting the resources of the harp in both solo and subsidiary roles, the flanking movements with cyclic connections.

The slow movement is exceptionally beautiful, the opening theme given by harp and trombone in hushed unison, and later, in ethereal harmonies on the harp with quiet responses from the strings. Michel presses a little ahead of her colleagues at times (notably the unisoni trombone) but generally benefits from skilful orchestration, sensitive support and well balanced recording. Written for a 'commoner' instrument the Reinecke might have become an oft-heard standard in the repertoire- it may still find favour with anyone following my advice to buy this recording.

-- Gramophone [4/1980, reviewing the LP release of the Gliere and Reinecke concertos]

-----------------------------------

The novelty for me—and I daresay it may be for others too—was Roussel's Serenade of 1925, refreshing music that while keeping well clear of profundities, is yet most elegantly fashioned, urbane and full of wry charm. Here you will find the Melos Ensemble more smiling and certainly more kaleidescopic in colour. The Turnabout team are a bit more serious about the musical argument, a bit less bemused by effects of tone colouring. The flautist, Wilhelm Schwegler, also unfortunately has to breathe, whereas Richard Adeney's instrument (I presume it is Adeney) miraculously seems to play itself without audible intakes of air. It is Adeney's tonal bloom, his wider range of dynamics and colour and more malleable phrasing that in the first place succeeds in making Debussy's sonata sound more beguiling than the cheaper version, and especially in the opening Pastorale—considered by many critics no less seductive than the famous L'apres-midi. In this movement the Turnabout team do not react subtly and sensitively enough to detail, whereas the Melos are constantly reading between the lines and yielding rhythmically to this and that. But perhaps you could argue that the graver pulse chosen by the Germans for the Minuetto emphasizes its archaic, hieratic quality. I also thought they manage to define individual notes a bit more precisely in the finale than the Melos, who are sometimes a bit too impressionistic in their fluidity for this movement, where Debussy, "Musicien Francais", is very definitely looking back to seventeenth-and eighteenthcentury French classicism.

The performance I enjoyed most was the old, familiar Ravel from the Endres Quartet with Helga Storck, Konrad Hampe and Gerd Starke. The music, of course, is much less equivocal than the Debussy, and these players respond to its sensuous languor and tingling darts with more immediacy than I detected anywhere else on this record.

-- Joan Chissell, Gramophone [2/1969, reviewing the LP release of the Debussy, Ravel, and Roussel works]

Handel's violin sonatas, familiar to violinists and chamber audiences, have been inexplicably neglected on disc. These intimate, inviting sonatas show the seldom-heard side of Handel's genius.

"Violinist Rachel Barton triumphs in her first release for the Cedille label… Indeed, Rachel Barton's wonderfully vital Handel performances bring us some of the most refreshing, life-enhancing Baroque playing heard in years." -- Chicago Tribune

"[Rachel Barton] is one of the rare mainstream performers with a total grasp of Baroque style and embellishment, and the whole disc is a delight… The exhilarating bravura of her incisive articulation and sharply pointed rhythms is matched by Barton's singing line in her poised and elegant lyrical movements. Superb continuo players David Schrader and John Mark Rozendaal contribute to the real sense of ensemble teamwork." -- Fanfare

"Few non-specialists have gotten inside this procedure [of ornamentation] as convincingly as violinist Rachel Barton. Her playing is splendid on all levels - lovely tone, wonderfully expressive phrasing, secure technique, and strong involvement with the music. But the most unusual aspect of Barton's Handel is the convincing and imaginative way she embellishes the repeats in the music - adding runs, ornaments, and flourishes that give a different aspect to a phrase we've just recently heard… They help to enliven a cherishable disc." -- Classical Pulse

"A spritely partnership between violin and cello, with deft rhythmic accompaniment on harpsichord… The music's virtuosic character is rendered with superb, resonant double and triple stopping and de-emphasized dance motion in the allegros. Barton lets the music's raw, improvised feeling hang out a little, giving the recording a refreshing zest." -- Classical Net

"[Rachel Barton] uses a baroque bow with her modernized 17th-Century violin, making a wonderfully warm yet still focused sound, and her passage work is brilliant yet lyrical - much like the cascades of a coloratura - and her ornamentation is both thoughtful and virtuosic. This is a wonderful recording." -- American Record Guide

The harpsichord used in this collection is a modern instrument designed by the American David Way and it incorporates features of many French 18th century harpsichords.

I am indebted to Alan Cuckston for playing this repertoire in a 'straight' way. Too many players are so bogged down by fruitless attempts to produce 'authentic performances' that they miss the spirit of the music. Their playing is therefore inhibited and has three main annoying quirks at least. Firstly, they make far too much of ornamentation so that the essential mordents, trills and shakes are given such a dramatic exaggeration that they stand out like angry spots upon a blemished face. Mr Cuckston's ornamentation is beautifully incorporated into the natural flair of the music. Secondly, some players are afraid of lively speeds for the quicker movements ... I suspect it is because they do not have the requisite finger technique ... and so the music does not come to life. But, in these performances, it does. Thirdly, some players indulge in grinding rallentandos and, to make matters worse, hang on to cadences for an inordinate length of time so that if a cadence is crotchet, crotchet rest and crotchet at say allegro, which should take just over one second, it can take more than five times as long and has the nauseating aural effect like unto some servile servant apologising to his master, and most profusely, while backing out of his presence.

Mr Cuckston does observe some rallentandos but there is not this excess, this ghastly self-indulgence and musical fetishes!

But here Handel comes alive and surely all music should be both vibrant and alive. Players can kill music for reasons I have already mentioned and no corpse is ever pleasant and it certainly cannot communicate.

The energy and reliability of these performances are exemplary. The F sharp Suite is beset with all sorts of problems but they are not revealed here. The F minor Suite has splendid fugue and, as I have said before, couldn't Handel write a good fugue untrammelled by academia which sometimes the fugues of the great J.S. Bach may be.

The shorter pieces are a delight particularly the Capriccio and more so when it is played with such panache as this. The Air and Variations were the subject of Brahms's great Variations on a Theme of Handel (do investigate the brilliant recording by Peter Katin on Athene (ATH CD 9)).

A thoroughly enjoyable disc beautifully played and well-recorded. And all players of Handel should note. Play Handel like this and you and your audiences will reap deserved awards.

-- David Wright, MusicWeb International

Messiah was written with Handel's usual speed in 1741 for performance in Dublin, some of it rehearsed briefly by inadequate singers in Chester, as he made his way to Holyhead to embark for the voyage. The first performance was given at the New Music Hall in Fish-amble Street, Dublin, on 13th April, 1742, in aid of charity. The first London performance took place in Lent 1743 at Covent Garden, but the work failed to please, in part because of reservations that some held about the suitability of such a sacred subject for a theatre. Messiah only achieved it's lasting success after performances in 1750 in aid of the Foundling Hospital, established ten years earlier by Captain Thomas Coram. At his death in 1759 Handel left a fair copy of the score and all parts to the Hospital, an institution that continued to benefit from annual performances of the work. The Scholars Baroque Ensemble: The scholars Baroque Ensemble was founded in 1987 by David van Asch with the idea of complementing the "a-capella" work of the vocal ensemble The Scholars. This group, consisting also of the soprano Kym Amps, counter tenor Angus Davidson and tenor Robin Doveton, has had worldwide success during the last twenty years. The members of THE Scholars Baroque Ensemble are all specialists in the field of Baroque music and play original instruments (or copies) using contemporary techniques, singers and players work together without a director to produce their own versions of great masterpieces such as the St. John Passion by Bach, the 1610 Vespers by Monteverdi, Dido and Aeneas and The Fairy Queen by Purcell, the Messiah and Acis and Galatea by Handel, all of which are being released by Naxos. Concert performances by the ensemble have been highly praised by critics and audiences alike.

With forty or so complete recordings and countless discs of highlights, a Japanese performance of this most beloved of English choral works may seem an unlikely contender. Yet the Bach Collegium Japan has already established itself as one of the most interesting period ensembles specialising in Baroque music, and this account has much to recommend it, not least Suzuki’s obvious affection for the piece. The sound is warm and detailed, though occasionally the voices are swamped by the orchestra; tempi are thoughtfully judged and the fresh-voiced choir sings with remarkable clarity and impeccable diction. Suzuki has chosen two very young Japanese soloists for the soprano and countertenor parts, alongside two highly experienced English singers for the tenor and bass. Soprano Midori Suzuki has a light, boyish voice, not without imperfection but affectingly naive; countertenor Yoshikazu Mera has an innocent, tender alto range that belies a surprisingly powerful lower register; tenor John Elwes is agile, lyrical, perfectly focused; and David Thomas makes an imposing, if somewhat stentorian, bass. By pitting innocence against experience, Suzuki has achieved a particularly moving account.

-- Kate Bolton, BBC Music Magazine

This almost unknown, large scale (almost 3 hour) oratorio, The Triumph of Time and Truth, was composed by Handel in Rome in 1707 and revised by him for performances in London’s Covent Garden in 1737 (the version recorded here) and then translated into English, revised again and presented, with new additions, in 1757. The performance recorded here contains, probably, everything Handel composed for this work in its various incarnations, and then some: A brief organ concerto by the composer is added to the second part’s introduction and another pops up before the final chorus; a number from the serenata Acis & Galatea is inserted at one point; and a Saraband for two harpsichords from Handel’s Almira is used as an interlude in Part III. Furthermore, some will recognize the beautiful aria from the original, “Lascia la spina,” which became “Lascia ch’io piango” in Rinaldo, set to another text and very different music.

All that aside, this windy work, in which four characters (here, two sopranos and two male altos) stand for Beauty, Pleasure, Time and Disillusion and duke it out until each characteristic opts to serve a better, higher cause, is definitely worth hearing. It contains the appealing, straighforwardly Baroque (if there is such a thing) style of Handel’s early Italian cantatas, mixed with his later sophisticated choral writing and dramatic recitatives. The singers have plenty to do. Both sopranos–Beauty and Pleasure, who sound uncomfortably alike and therefore cut somewhat into the drama–are excellent, with particular kudos going to Claron McFaddon’s Beauty for her lovely trills (especially in #29, with continuo), and both male altos are agile, involved, and just a bit weak in their lower registers.

The chorus, which is very big and appears to have been recorded from a far greater distance than the soloists, is splendid, as is the orchestra under Joachim Carlos Martini’s leadership. The resonant acoustic makes the soloists sound a bit lonely, but otherwise, no complaints. This remains the only recording of the 1737 omnibus version of the work, and Handel lovers should flock to it.

– ClassicsToday (Robert Levine)