Liszt's Donizetti transcriptions tell as much about their transcriber's singular bravura as they do about the prolific Italian opera composer's unstoppable melodic invention. The ideal interpreter should be able to make light of the enormous technical challenges without forgetting to let the tunes take shape in the manner of a great opera singer. Fortunately William Wolfram commands the right stuff to bring these chestnuts to life. He may not always match Leslie Howard's pearly nuances in slower, quieter passages, yet Wolfram brings much more drive and scintillation to the huge Lucrezia Borgia paraphrase's notey climaxes. He also finds varied colorations that prevent textural stagnation in the Dom Sebastian funeral march's frequent bass-register rumbles. The Valse de concert consistently demonstrates Wolfram's unflappable workmanship and sheer professionalism. While he negotiates the Lucia di Lammermoor sextet's thickets without a hitch, I can't erase Jorge Bolet's aristocratic cantabile from my inner ear, or from my hard drive for that matter! No doubt that Liszt mavens will want to know about this fine, often outstanding release.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Among Liszt's operatic paraphrases and transcriptions, those based on Verdi operas constitute some of the composer/pianist's most effective and satisfying efforts in the genre. Since Claudio Arrau's reference recording of all seven can be had only as part of a boxed set, Naxos' excellent single-disc edition featuring Alexandre Dossin is all the more welcome. Like Arrau, Dossin is a big virtuoso who obtains huge sonorities without banging, and is not averse to underlining Liszt's expressive directives in red ink, with broad, rhetorical strokes.

At times Dossin's melodic pushing and pulling is a bit much (the Rigoletto Paraphrase's exposition), yet more than enough moments reveal the work of a caring keyboard master. For example, Dossin coaxes great tonal variety and emotional impact from the murky low-register passages in the Miserere from Il Trovatore. Also note the I Lombardi paraphrase's beautifully gilded arpeggios, Dossin's sense of long-lined control throughout the taxing left-hand octaves in Reminiscences De Boccanegra, or the way he conveys both power and luminosity in the Ernani paraphrase's bushels of chords. No doubt that Naxos' ample, detailed sonics enhance my observations. I hope that the label has further projects in store for this talented pianist.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

The second Mephisto Waltz dates from the years 1878/9 to 1881. In it's orchestral version it was heard in Budapest in the latter year. The piano version was dedicated to Camille Saint-Sa�ns. The dance starts tentatively with the notes that suggest the diabolus in musica, the devil in music, the awkward interval of a tritone, and it is with the same allusive interval that the piece ends, after moods that swing from diabolic energy to more relaxed passages, still suggesting, after so many years, the literary inspiration that was it's original source. The third and fourth Mephisto Waltzes are also the product of Liszt's later years. The third piece was written in 1883. It was dedicated to Marie Ja�ll, now living in Paris, a former pupil of Liszt, who described her as 'artiste �minente qui est hors ligne au-dessus de la r�putation qu'elle a acquise'. From the outset the third Mephisto Waltz makes use of ambiguous intervals of a fourth that, in outline, make up the tentative opening, and remain a continuing feature, suggesting at times an inversion of the tuning of a violin. There are lyrical passages in a dance that largely lacks the diabolical fury that had impelled it's predecessor. The fourth Mephisto Waltz, dated March 1885, remained unpublished and apparently unfinished, since it's seems that Liszt intended to incorporate a contrasting Andantino section, for which he left sketches. As with other compositions of this last period of his life, the harmony is ambiguous, dominated by the scale motif of the opening. The first of the two Elegies was written in 1874 in memory of Madame Moukhanoff-Kalergis, n�e Countess Marie Nesselrode, a gifted pianist and pupil of Chopin, a leading member of Liszt's circle, commemorated in a concert in Weimar. The deep-felt mourning is expressed in a descending interval, heard at the outset and remaining a feature of the whole piece. The second Elegy, composed in 1878, was dedicated to Lina Ramann, Liszt's biographer, initially in a collusion with the Princess Sayn-Wittgenstein that later proved troublesome, and editor of his writings. She had a piano school in Nuremberg and had made a name for herself as a teacher, notably with her Grundriss der Technik des Klavierspiels (Ground Plan of the Technique of Piano Playing), adopted, on Liszt's recommendation, by the Royal Hungarian Music Academy in Budapest. A work of tender melancholy, the Elegy includes a gently lyrical passage marked dolcissimo amoroso, which leads to a passionate climax, resolving into final evocative simplicity. Liszt's Grosses Konzertsolo was written in 1849-50 for a competition at the Paris Conservatoire and was dedicated to the pianist Adolph von Henselt. Whether it was played then is unknown, but it presented daunting technical difficulties. Clara Schumann, to whom Liszt had sent a copy, refused to play it, privately criticizing what she regarded as empty virtuosity, while suggesting to Liszt that it was beyond the grasp of a mere woman, a work to which only Liszt himself could do justice. The first performance was apparently given by Carl Tausig. Liszt also arranged the work for piano and orchestra as Grand Solo de Concert, a version that remained unpublished, and for two pianos as Concerto Path�tique. The work represents a development of the now traditional sonata, including in a single movement contrasting elements of other movements, united by a single theme, from which others are derived. The principal theme of the Grosses Konzertsolo is heard at the start, the first part of the work moving to a chordal G major passage marked Grandioso, followed by a lyrical Andante sostenuto, opening in D flat major. A cadenza is followed by a continuation of this quasi-slow movement, now in more majestic and ornate form. The principal theme returns in something approaching it's original form, followed by the secondary theme, now in E minor and marked Andante, quasi marcia funebre, it's progress accompanied by a simulated muffled drumbeat, melting into the E major of the earlier Andante sostenuto and capped by a triumphant conclusion.

This superb disc is number 21 in Naxos’s projected series of Liszt’s complete piano music. Given that Leslie Howard’s Hyperion series (to my knowledge, the only one that is yet "complete" although he keeps finding more to record) ran to 57 volumes, some with multiple discs, this still has some way to go. I mention this because, in one of life’s coincidences, the discs in the series I have acquired previously are numbers 7 and 14 (respectively containing Rossini transcriptions and Bunte Reihe transcriptions of music by Ferdinand David), both of which were also excellent.

But, hang on a minute, this music certainly doesn’t sound like Liszt and, of course, it isn’t – it’s Beethoven. Although I have been aware of Liszt’s transcriptions of his symphonies for some time, this is my first experience of them. I approached the disc with several questions in my mind: Why did Liszt transcribe them? Why, when I can easily choose between recordings by Klemperer, Karajan, Böhm and Zinman, should I want to listen to a piano version? Even if I am interested in piano transcriptions of Beethoven’s symphonies, should I really be starting with the Ninth?

I would presume that Liszt was motivated to produce his transcriptions as a vehicle for his own performance and to increase the possibility of their performance more generally; although they would only ever be accessible to great virtuosos. My initial reason for wanting to listen to this was curiosity but I will re-listen in the future because the experience was much more compelling than I had expected. It made me think afresh about a work I thought I knew well. Each time I have listened to it I have marvelled at Beethoven’s music, Liszt’s conception for the piano, and Scherbakov’s musicianship and virtuosity.

My feeling is that the difficulties of playing the 9th Symphony on the piano must increase progressively throughout the work. The first movement is relatively straightforward compared to the scherzo, for which there is an incessant rhythmic challenge; despite this Scherbakov takes all the other repeats except the last one. In the adagio the difficulty is obviously not one of hitting the notes but conveying the feeling normally imparted in the string writing. Sensibly Scherbakov adopts a relatively fast tempo (although the duration of 12 minutes is similar to Zinman, Böhm takes about half as long again) and yet he convincingly conveys the spiritual essence of the music. But all this is nothing compared to the finale! As this began, I was really sceptical. Hadn’t Liszt thought of bringing at least a tenor along with him? Can a piano really sing like four soloists and a chorus? Of course it can’t but Scherbakov’s piano sings for all it is worth and the words went round in my head. The experience was quite different but still a rich broth rather than a consommé. Scherbakov handles the various contrasting sections of the finale with the same skill as a great conductor and he brings off a magnificent conclusion. The fantastic glow that you should feel at the end of this work was just as intense as ever.

Second time round, listening to this disc with the orchestral score was an interesting experience. The most striking thing was how many of the notes are in the piano version, a very high proportion and certainly all the ones that matter. Curiously though, there seems to be a small cut in the scherzo of eight bars just before the last repeated section (at 9’52" on track 2). This section (on page 133 of the Dover edition of the score) is played on all the orchestral versions mentioned above. Essentially it is a repeat of the opening eight bars of this movement. I don’t know whether Liszt, Scherbakov or Naxos is responsible for the omission. It would be surprising if it were Liszt because this short passage is so straightforward that even I could transcribe it for the piano (you couldn’t say that for more than 99% of the rest of this work!) although perhaps these bars were not in the edition of the score he used. Whatever the explanation, I raise it as a point of interest and do not feel that it detracts significantly from his truly magnificent rendition of this movement.

The recorded sound is not absolutely top-drawer and the piano initially seemed a little harsh in tone (this is not entirely inappropriate at the beginning of this work) but my ears adapted. The booklet is rather disappointing – no need here for a biography of Liszt, rather some more detail about the transcriptions would have been appreciated. But, for me, given music-making like this, these are minor considerations.

There is competition, both from within Leslie Howard’s complete Liszt series and also a complete Beethoven symphony transcription set by Cyprien Katsaris (see link to review below). Obviously, I haven’t heard these discs (yet) but, regardless of their merits, Scherbakov is worth hearing as well.

I am glad I started my piano transcription experience with the Ninth because it has made me want to explore the rest of the series. Apparently Scherbakov has already recorded three discs including the first six symphonies (see links to reviews of two of the discs below) and these are already available. I shall be looking out for these and the rest of this series, whatever their place in Naxos’s grand scheme. I shall also await volume 28 with anticipation - perhaps it might contain some original music by Liszt?

This is a magnificent disc and listening to it is a truly uplifting experience.

-- Patrick C. Waller, MusicWeb International

Liszt Complete Piano Music, Vol. 20: Gnomenreigen, Waldesrau

Valerie Tryon, one of the most sensitive and poetic pianists around, turns in another lovely contribution to Naxos' ongoing cycle of Liszt's complete piano music. Her pianism is quite a different kettle of fish from Oxana Yablonskaya's, whose own Schubert/Liszt disc marks Volume 5 in this series. At first hearing, I felt Tryon's control of Liszt's textural complexities to be slightly soft-grained and lacking the last degree of suppleness and tonal solidity we expect in this repertoire. By the second and third listening, I began to appreciate the pianist's canny dynamic planning, as witness the unfolding drama of "Der Jäger" and "Die böse Farbe" from Die Schöne Müllerin, or the subtle, rippling accompaniment that gently envelops "Wohin?".


Similarly, Tryon bathes "Die Forelle"'s arpeggios in beautifully tinted shadings and takes trouble to clarify Liszt's pedal markings. Listen to how Tryon deftly keeps "Ave Maria"'s melody afloat against an accompaniment that keeps changing its textural stripes. Yes, "Erlkönig" can use a bit more clarity and cumulative power, with less heavy octaves in the left hand. But that's just one track out of 19, and what's good is quite wonderful. If you've a hankering for Schubert songs served up for solo piano as only Liszt could, you'll certainly warm to this disc.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

The problem with Naxos’ Liszt Edition is that it’s easy to overlook some really outstanding releases. If you’ve been following his career, Arnaldo Cohen is a first-rate virtuoso whose Liszt discs on BIS have been outstanding. This Naxos program is just as interesting. The transcription of Saint-Saëns’ Danse macabre almost amounts to a new work (he adds several minutes to it) and is absolutely fascinating. It was one of Horowitz’s most impressive recordings from the 1940s. Unstern: sinistre, disastro is one of those strange, dark, late works, but unlike some of them it’s one that’s uninterruptedly gripping.

Cohen has recorded the piano and orchestra version of Totentanz very powerfully for BIS, and this solo piano version is just as exciting. You may not know that the final crashing scale at the end of the orchestral version actually comes from this arrangement; in Liszt’s original the orchestra closes the piece without the piano. The bottom line: this is a wonderful recital of some of Liszt’s darker and more death-obsessed music, and it’s a tribute to Cohen’s programming intelligence, never mind his virtuosity, that he pulls it off without a trace of monotony (having the Huguenots fantasy in the middle of the program certainly helps).

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Liszt Complete Piano Music, Vol. 12: Hungarian Rhapsodies, V

Liszt Complete Piano Music, Vol. 13: Hungarian Rhapsodies, V

Liszt Complete Piano Music, Vol. 11: Transcriptions of Vocal

Liszt Complete Piano Music, Vol. 10: Scherzo and March, 3 Li

Bresciani and Nicolosi clearly have the music of Liszt in the blood.

Pianists Bresciani and Nicolosi formed the Franz Liszt Piano Duo in 1998 to advance the cause of Liszt’s two piano transcriptions of his symphonic output. Their collaboration began with arrangements of the Goethe-inspired Faust Symphony, S.108 (1854; rev. 1857) and continued with the Dante. The duo’s repertoire includes Liszt’s transcription for two pianos of his symphonic poems and the two piano arrangements of Wagner’s operas made by Liszt and his pupils.

Liszt together with his mistress Marie d’Agoult read widely. They, like many others, became inspired by the epic poem Commedia (c.1310-14) later known as The Divine Comedy written by Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) the famous Italian poet and writer. Liszt in 1839 started work on the piano piece fragment dantesque in an attempt to portray Dante’s world in music. D’Agoult wrote to Henri Lehmann in 1839 from the fishing village of San Rossore stating that Liszt had begun work on the fragment dantesque, “which is sending him to the very devil.”1 Several weeks later Liszt gave the première of the fragment in Vienna. It seems that its manuscript went missing and it was only after 1849 when living in Weimar that Liszt reworked the music as the seventh piece of his Années de Pèlerinage (Years of Pilgrimage, 2nd year, Italian volume) with the title of Après une Lecture de Dante: Fantasia Quasi Sonata (After a Reading of Dante: Fantasia Quasi Sonata).

Widely known today as the Dante Sonata the substantial single movement work is considered one of Liszt’s most daunting piano scores. In this case we have an arrangement for two pianos by Vittorio Bresciani; without a composition date given. Liszt approved no programme for the Dante Sonata apart from the brief title of Après une Lecture de Dante (After a Reading of Dante). According to biographer Alan Walker, “The Dante Sonata remains one of Liszt’s unique creations, little played and little understood for a half a century after its initial publication in 1858.”2 Neglected for many years a quick google has shown that there are now several versions of the Dante Sonata available although, it is programmed a lot more sparingly by performers in recital.

From the outset Bresciani and Nicolosi establish an atmosphere of dark foreboding which develops in intensity and suggests the entrance to hell. At 5:19 a calmer mood prevails - evocative of a love scene between Paolo and Francesca. From 8:24 the weight and tempo increases as the Devil’s influence is observed. Unsettling, stormy music takes centre-stage between 9:38 and 12:09 before running a calmer course from 12:10. From 13:25 the duo convey an innate feeling of hope that then builds to a spirited conclusion.

After meeting Princess Carolyne von Sayn-Wittgenstein in 1847, Liszt’s interest in Dante’s Divine Comedy was once again ignited. It was during his Weimar years (1848-61) that he composed many of his finest works: the Sonata for Piano in B minor, S.178 (1852-53); A Faust Symphony, S.108 (1854, rev. 1857) and the Dante Symphony, S.109 (1855-57). Although Liszt had had sketches of the Dante Symphony in his folder as far back as the 1840s he only resumed work on it in 1855 completing the score in 1857. In 1859 he prepared this arrangement for two pianos.

It seems that the orchestra was seriously under-rehearsed when Liszt conducted the première of this difficult score. Reports indicate an embarrassingly inadequate performance at Dresden in 1857. Dedicated to Richard Wagner, the Dante Symphony depicts the romantic tale of struggle and redemption that traces Dante’s journey from Hell through Purgatorio. Wagner suggested to Liszt that it was impossible for a mere mortal to convey the heavenly wonders of Paradise. It consists of two sections/movements: the Inferno and the Purgatorio. At Wagner’s behest, Liszt avoids a Paradise movement and instead offers a substantial finale entitled Magnificat. This entails a chorus of angels set for female or children’s voices. Liszt gave a performance of his two piano version of the Dante Symphony in 1866 at the Paris home of artist and illustrator Gustave Doré with Camille Saint-Saëns as his partner.

In the opening Inferno Bresciani and Nicolosi open proceedings with chilling music in which they bring out a real sense of menace. A change of mood at 6:40 comes as welcome respite. Tranquil, light and amorous, this feels like music for the lovers Paolo and Francesca. The romantic mood gradually lessens and for a section between 9:37-10:48 one senses an underlying tension. Between 12:04 and 14:19 there is an especially lovely passage, full of passion and affection. From 14:20 a change of mood is discernable, gradually developing in weight and drama into a terrifying evocation of the fires of Hell.

Containing several rising figures the Purgatorio movement begins in relative tranquillity, representing the promise of hope and redemption. From 6:59 one feels a darker hue to the music. At 10:47 the music becomes more optimistic and at 11:52 the writing has a hymn-like character. From 13:00 a deep ecclesiastical quality prevails. The Magnificat links directly from the Purgatorio without a pause. The penitential-sounding children’s choir from Hungarian Radio under their conductor Gabriella Thész convey an ethereal quality. At 3:12 the treble Barbara Szmodics offers a short but radiant solo bringing out its feeling of youthful vulnerability - a convincing supplication for redemption.

The Naxos recording made at the Italian Cultural Institute in Budapest has an exceptional combination of clarity and balance. The booklet notes from Keith Anderson provide most of the essential information. The duo demonstrate that they can handle the severe technical demands with aplomb and at the same time create a convincing sense of drama. They clearly have the music of Liszt in the blood.

-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International

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

Internationally renowned soloist Lucille Chung performs a programme of virtuosic and beguiling works by Franz Liszt. One of the first female students of the iconic Russian pianist Lazar Berman at the Accademia Pianistica in Imola, Italy, Chung has won numerous awards for her performances of Liszt’s music, including the B minor Sonata that features on this programme – although Lucille describes in her introduction to the programme how Berman “... for a time doubted that a diminutive lady with hands spanning a 9th (although I can now stretch a 10th on a good day) would ever succeed in playing Liszt well ... Mr Berman came around.” Renowned for her “blazing gutsy performance[s]” (The Washington Post), Lucille Chung has been acclaimed for her “stylish and refined performances” by Gramophone magazine, “combining vigour and suppleness with natural eloquence and elegance” (Le Soir).

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