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

Strange how fashion moves on. It has left any piece for solo instrument and orchestra having the effrontery to call itself anything other than concerto in the wasteland. Such pieces now have a life on CD alone except for the rarest concert exceptions and competitions (and then usually in a version with piano). So be it. Though it is strange that when the public is more easily captivated by the 3 minute sound-byte that these shorter pieces are not more popular in concert.

These bon-bons are dispatched with affectionate zest by Rosand who plays them for every subtle turn and dexterous twist and every gramme of neon excitement. He is in total rapport with his orchestra and conductor. The recordings are all excellent given their twenty years worn lightly except for the harsh Berliox Reverie et Caprice.

The Northern sun and moon play in brilliantly poetic limelight over the Sibelius Humoresques. I learnt these utterly lovable pieces from this recording when it was issued with a recording of Nielsen's Symphony No. 6 on Turnabout LP. These are the distilled quintessence of Sibelian temperament - romance in all its cool lunar intensity. The benign Tchaikovsky Serenade is done with meditative reserve. The brash edge on the solo violin in the Berlioz piece compromises what is otherwise a sentimentally doleful performance. The Saint-Saens Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso has been well done by many violinists (Ulf Hoelscher is one of my favourite recordings - EMI). Rosand turns in an exotic performance - accented balletically and not short on crackling energy bursts. In the case of the rather revolutionary Chausson Poème I have recently heard the Vadim Repin version on Teldec and prefer the richer air brought about through the plusher modern EMI recording. The Chausson is a terribly neglected work forward-looking, meditative, with touches of Delius. Hearing the Rosand again I am torn. Rosand seems to put his all into this music and it pays in dividends of eloquence. The Ravel Tzigane I first heard during the early 1970s on a Philips Universo LP played by Arthur Grumiaux - a most affecting performance more effective, I thought, in its fanciful introspection than in the flyaway acrobatics. Rosand is good in both.

The second disc breaks the mould by including a work which calls itself 'concerto'. Saint-Saens' Third is a true warhorse having been much recorded by all and sundry amongst the violinistic brethren. The three Saint-Saens concertos have charm, Beethovenian gravitas (from the violin concerto, that is) and some flashy witchery but they lack the exoticism of the Caprice Andalou (would that Rosand would tackle that work!), the Havanaise, and the Introduction and Rondo Capriccioso. Rosand matches the requirements of this work most beautifully but I do not find this concerto the most involving of pieces at the best of times lacking the very melodic distinction that marks out his second piano concerto and third symphony. It always strikes me as a work that is going through the romantic motions.

The Havanaise is a different matter altogether and while I have fond memories and great affection for the Leonid Kogan version Rosand is all quiet grace, restful smiles, sprinting brilliance, sparks flying everywhere. Next time Class Fm (or its equivalent elsewhere ) wants to try a soupçon of soothing music which has true character they should reach for this track. A recording and performance to count alongside the best. You will want to play it again and again.

From Havanaise it is a natural progression to move to Lalo's once ubiquitous Symphonie Espagnole. With its glaring Brahmsianisms, stock Spanishry, deep reserve of charm and mercurial mood changes it is a work still capable with small effort of winning friends. I wonder what would have happened if Lalo had just called it a concerto. By the way the Rhapsodie Norvégienne is also well worth seeking out. I remember it being coupled with the Martinon recording of the Namouna suites and making quite a splash. The Repin on Teldec is a richer recording but for the same price you can have Rosand and almost three times as much music as the Teldec offers.

There is some stunning playing on offer here: stunning both in the depths of expression and in spark-striking pyrotechnics. Recommended.

-- Rob Barnett, MusicWeb International

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

"Yes, the pundits were right. This is the Rachmaninov Third to end all Rachmaninov Thirds, a performance of such super-human pianistic aplomb, pace and virtuosity that it makes all comparisons, save with Horowitz himself...a study in irrelevance...The ultimate wizard of the keyboard is in expansive mood in the Tchaikovsky...The perfomance ends in what I can only describe as a scream of octaves and an outburst by an audience driven near to hysteria." - Gramophone

Historic record of the year. (1998) - Classic CD - (Recordings from 1940 & 1941.)

This 1987 Naxos CD has the Nutcracker and Swan Lake suites, but omits the Sleeping Beauty. The Slovak Philharmonic, directed by Michael Halasz, excels on the rather longer Swan Lake suite, with some nice playing in the brass and a lovely duet between solo violinist Josef Bogacz and an unnamed cellist. The Nutcracker is a two-act ballet, originally choreographed by Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov with a score by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (op. 71). The libretto is adapted from E.T.A. Hoffmann's story The Nutcracker and the Mouse King. It was given it's première at the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg on Sunday, December 18, 1892, on a double-bill with Tchaikovsky's opera, Iolanta. Swan Lake Op. 20, is a ballet composed by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky in 1875-76. The scenario, initially in two acts, was fashioned from Russian folk tales[a] and tells the story of Odette, a princess turned into a swan by an evil sorcerer's curse. The choreographer of the original production was Julius Reisinger. The ballet was premiered by the Bolshoi Ballet on 4 March [O.S. 20 February] 1877 at the Bolshoi Theatre in Moscow. Although it is presented in many different versions, most ballet companies base their staging's both choreographically and musically on the 1895 revival of Marius Petipa and Lev Ivanov, first staged for the Imperial Ballet on 15 January 1895, at the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg. For this revival, Tchaikovsky's score was revised by the St. Petersburg Imperial Theatre's chief conductor and composer Riccardo Drigo.

1987 release with highlights from his famous ballets. Tchaikovsky (1840-1893) performed by the Slovak Philharmonic Orchestra recorded at Concert Hall of the Slovak Philahrmonic June 20-25, 1987 & Czecho-Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra recorded at Concert Hall of the Czecho-Slovak Radio in Bratislava October 13-20, 1987 conducted by Michael Halasz & Ondrej Lenard. The music of Tchaikovsky, in spite of the reservations of contemporaries at home and abroad, must seem to US both essentially Russian and firmly in the West European tradition. In Vienna the critic Eduard Hanslick was able to complain of the "trivial Cossack cheer" of the finale of the Violin Concerto, but in Russia Tchaikovsky never went far enough to please the self-appointed leader of musical nationalists, Balakirev. While by no means a miniaturist, he nevertheless excelled in his mastery of the smaller forms necessary in ballet, writing music that displayed his remarkable gifts of melody and skill in orchestration.

Tchaikovsky's ballet The Nutcracker was first performed in St. Petersburg in 1890, damned with the faintest of praise by the Tsar, who remarked that it was "very nice". The composer himself expressed dissatisfaction with his music for The Nutcracker, a subject proposed by Marius Petipa and the Imperial Theatre Directorate in 1891 and first performed at the Maryinsky in December, 1892, again to a cool reception. The music itself, however, had already proved popular enough in a suite arranged by Tchaikovsky for a concert earlier in the year. The story of the ballet is drawn from E.T.A. Hoffmann's tale, Der Nussknacker und der Mäuserkönig. Set in the eighteenth century, initially in the house of the President of one of the German states of the period, the ballet opens with a children's Christmas party, at which Drosselmeyer, a slightly sinister adult, brings presents, a doll for Clara, the daughter of the house, and a toy soldier for Franz, her brother. When the children are told not to open their presents, Drosselmeyer quietens them by giving the two a pair of nutcrackers, promptly broken by Franz who tries to crack the biggest nut he can find. The Czecho-Slovak Radio Symphony Orchestra (Bratislava), the oldest symphonic ensemble in Slovakia, was founded in 1929. The orchestra's first conductor was František Dyk and over the past sixty years it has worked under the direction of several prominent Czech and Slovak conductors. The orchestra has made many recordings for the Naxas label ranging from the ballet music of Tchaikovsky to more modern works by composers such as Copland, Britten and Prokofiev. For Marco Polo the orchestra has recorded works by Glazunov, Glière, Rubinstein and other late romantic composers and film music of Honegger, Bliss, Ibert and Khachaturian. Ondrej Lenard was born in 1942 and had his early training in Bratislava, where, at the age of 17, he entered the Academy of Music and Drama, to study under Ludovit Rajter. His graduation concert in 1964 was given with the Slovak Philharmonic Orchestra and during his two years of military service he conducted the Army Orchestral Ensemble, later renewing an earlier connection with the Slovak National Opera, where he has continued to direct performances.

For the last several years, sacred choral music has been experiencing a resurgence in popularity. RADIANT LIGHT captures the emotion and power of the live choral performance from one of the top choirs in the United States.
Recorded at the choir's home at Trinity Church in Boston, Massachusetts, the Trinity Choir's sound is augmented by the warmth of the performance space. The three dimensional sound is of particular note on John Tavener's "The Lamb," one of the most popular compositions on the album.
Directed by Brian Jones, the Trinity Choir lives up to its reputation as a world-class choir. Accompanied by organist Ross Wood, the choir provides a winning performance that will please recent converts to choral music as well as to long-time fans of the genre.