One of a group of Russian-born composers which is now being recognized as the New Jewish School, Joachim Stutschewsky (1891-1982) is featured on this new release. Stutschewsky’s Jewish heritage comes through in his compositions with his usage of Mediterranean sounds and klezmer influences. Cellist Aron Zelkowicz, pianist Luz Manriquez, violinist Jennifer Orchard, and clarinetist Marissa Byers perform this music with expert technique and sensitivity.

Classical Music

RAFF Violin Concertos: No. 1, op. 161 (ed. Wilhelmj); No. 2, op. 206. Cavatina, op. 85/3 (orch. Singer). Ungrischer (à la Hongroise), op. 203/5 • Michaela Paetsch Neftel (vn); Hans Stadlmair, cond; Bamberg SO • TUDOR 7086 (70:05)

Swiss-born Joseph Joachim Raff (1822 82) occupies an ambiguous position in music history. He was a hugely prolific composer of symphonies (12), quartets (7), songs, operas, sonatas, suites, and concertos, but even so his 216 opus numbers are swollen with loads of salon pieces. He had the reputation of being difficult, but managed to be personally and professionally respected by Liszt as well as Clara Schumann, Brahms, as well as Tchaikovsky. Somehow he combined the influences of Mendelssohn and Wagner. In his time he was regarded as a great composer, but upon his death was reduced to being the author of the Cavatina and The Mill, a string quartet excerpt. His reputation revived a bit in our time, when some conductors became interested in a few of the symphonies. Now we have this recording of two large-scale, technically very demanding violin concertos.

Inventive without being actually tuneful, both are marked by robust, even brassy orchestration, and solo parts then get right to business after brief orchestral introductions. And, alas, both soon clog really fine melodic ideas with unyielding and bombastic technical violin passagework, some of a difficulty to suggest that Raff looked to Spohr, Ernst, and Paganini for ideas about violin-writing. The Concerto No. 1 in B Minor of 1870-71 has a second movement that at first sounds truly inspired. It opens with hushed, muted strings, rich and colorful chords, and a soaring violin heard over a wind choir. But alas, Raff soon dissipates this sumptuous effect with tiresome violinistic embroidery. The third movement opens with a trumpet blare, lapsing into a mock-serious march that the violin mocks even more by it playing straight against a totally effete pizzicato accompaniment. An odd, novel passage for drum leads into a short cadenza, followed by a grand finale of octaves, double-stops, fast scales, and other such virtuoso fireworks. An inconsistent but entertaining work, and an impressive showcase for the American-born soloist.

The Concerto No. 2 in A Minor of 1877 has a pretentious program—the struggle of the soul— but the listener mostly hears the calisthenics of the violinist. Again, Michaela Paetsch Neftel has truly mastered this bristling solo part to the point of audible comfort, with nothing cautious or tentative about her approach. The second movement, meant to convey consolation, warmth, hope, and peace, is tender, wistful, and really lovable, and it is prettier than that of Concerto No. 1. The third movement's program, joy and pleasure, ends up sounding mostly just frothy, but with contrasting passages of great emotional warmth and impact (Raff could support a theme with affecting harmonies worthy of the best of Bruch or Saint-Saëns), but again a tendency for the solo part to simply be overloaded with difficulties rather than just sing. In the cadenza there is a high-flying reminder of Paganini's Concerto No. 1. On balance, a successful display work but not music of the first rank. The disc is filled out with nicely turned performances of the Cavatina of 1859 and Raff's own orchestration of a charming piece from his Volker Suite.

Both concertos have their exasperating moments, and I'll be tempted to just skip the first movements in future hearings; but they hang together structurally, melodically, and as show-off pieces, with many excellent opportunities for Paetsch Neftel to shine. She came in ninth in the 1985 Queen Elisabeth of Belgium competition, not, as the notes say, third, but she certainly sounds like a topflight artist on this release, which provides a welcome revisit to the entire genre of the Romantic violin concerto.

-- David K. Nelson, Fanfare

Includes work(s) by various composers.

Classical Music

Joachim Raff’s symphonies have a reputation as being diffuse, bloated, and just not terribly interesting. On the basis of some of his programmatic works in the form, perhaps this is true, at least some of the time, but his Second is a lively, compact, formally shapely and melodically rich work that does not deserve its neglect. Maybe the first movement, which is based on a triadic theme not terribly susceptible to development, lacks drama, but it certainly moves well, as does the entire symphony for that matter. The finale in particular maintains its momentum from start to finish, unlike so many other romantic symphonies. At only 33 minutes (in this performance), you can’t say that the piece outstays its welcome. Järvi typically does not see profundity where none exists, but leads the orchestra in a joyful romp through the piece that proves consistently entertaining.

The four Shakespeare preludes also prove to be lots of fun. All are relatively short but well-orchestrated and atmospheric. Perhaps Romeo and Juliet is the tamest–it’s only nine minutes long and it’s not Tchaikovsky, but Othello is punchy and tense (and even shorter); The Tempest opens with an effective storm and features music that challenges you to figure out who the characters are that Raff illustrates; and Macbeth, possibly the best of all, spends a lot of time focused on the witches and, seemingly, the final battle. It’s great to have this music recorded, and terrifying to realize that the symphony is Raff’s Op. 140 and the preludes his WoO 49-52. My but that man could churn it out, couldn’t he? Fine playing and excellent sonics round out a release that deserves your attention.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Classical Music

BRAHMS Piano Sonata No. 2. Scherzo, op. 4. 4 Ballades, op. 10 • Eric Le Van (pn) • GALLO 1203 (60:56)


RAFF Sonatillen for violin and piano, op. 99. 6 Morceaux de salon for violin and piano , op. 85 • Michaela Paetsch Neftel (vn); Eric Le Van (pn) • TUDOR 7109 (67:45)


I’m reviewing these two CDs under cover of a combined double headnote because neither of them is new—the Brahms dates from 2001, the Raff from 2003. The Brahms, however, is a follow-up to an earlier Gallo disc containing Brahms’s First and Third sonatas, which was reviewed by Bernard Jacobson in 22:2. As for the Raff Tudor disc, to the best of my knowledge, this was the first, and thus far, only recording of the composer’s op. 99 Sonatillen and op. 85 Morceaux complete. Spread over two CPO CDs, violinist Ingolf Turban recorded the Sonatillen Nos. 4 thru 7 (on 999769) and the Nos. 1 thru 3, 9, and 10 (on 777006). Both were reviewed by Robert Maxham in 28:2 and 31:3, respectively; but as you can see, No. 8 is conspicuously absent. As for the Morceaux —there are six of them—only the third in the set, the “Cavatina,” shows up on a Profil recording by Patrice Fontanarosa, which was likewise reviewed by Maxham in 32:5.


Let me address Le Van’s Brahms CD first. I haven’t heard the prequel containing the First and Third sonatas, but this album containing the Second Sonata, the E?-Minor Scherzo, and the Four Ballades is a real stunner. Launching into the powerful opening of the Sonata with hands and fingers of steel, Le Van commands enormous muscular strength as well as fearless musical conviction. Brahms may have been only 20 when he composed this formidable score, but it strides with a manly swagger that would turn into a somewhat more modest bearing in his later works for solo piano. Le Van pulls out all the stops and goes full throttle in the big, showy passages, but he also demonstrates he’s capable of sustaining the long line in Brahms’s gloriously sweeping Romantic gestures. The recording, too, made in Mechanics Hall in Worcester, Massachusetts, with Le Van playing a Hamburg Steinway D, is simply amazing, one of the best piano discs I’ve heard. The instrument’s bass has tremendous depth to it, and the acoustic of the hall is open and spacious without imparting any blurring reverb.


The E?-Minor Scherzo actually predates the Second Sonata by a year or two, though it was published with a later opus number. Many of Brahms’s recognizable fingerprints are on the score, but it seems to be a bit lacking in the formal discipline and coherence the composer would soon come to impose on his works. The piece is said to be influenced by Chopin’s scherzos, an allegation Brahms denied. Le Van certainly plays it as brilliantly as anyone I know, which would include Julius Katchen, Wilhelm Backhaus, and, more recently, Hardy Rittner, who has been working his way through Brahms’s solo piano music on instruments of the composer’s day.


The Four Ballades offer more recorded versions to choose from than does the Scherzo, and while Le Van’s performances are beautifully done—caressed by an obvious love of the music and the Romantic poetry that inspired it—I can’t say that his readings surpass those by Nicholas Angelich, one of my favorite Brahms pianists, on Virgin. Still, Le Van is quite wonderful in what is some of Brahms’s most lyrical writing, and his knockout performance of the Second Sonata makes this a must-have disc for all fans of Brahms’s piano music.


Moving on to the Raff violin and piano album on Tudor, I freely admit to not having heard the above-cited CPO CDs featuring violinist Ingolf Turban, and to having had no prior knowledge of these pieces. So, naturally, my inquisitive mind wanted to know, “What in the heck is a sonatille ?” Was it some sort of fanciful term coined by Raff to describe a diminutive sonata? And if so, was a sonatille bigger or smaller than a sonatina? Or, was it an entirely different species having no relation to a sonata at all, just as a tomatillo is unrelated to a tomato?


The answer, dear reader, is that Raff originally composed these 10 movements in 1861 for piano solo, publishing them as three separate mini-sonatas in A Minor, G Minor, and C Major, containing three, four, and three movements, respectively. It wasn’t until 19 years later, in 1880, that he disjoined them into individual numbers arranged for violin and piano, and published them as the Sonatillen , op. 99.


At first I was a bit hesitant to categorize these pieces as salon music, though some of the movements, like the Cavatina (No. 3), would substitute in a pinch for a sugar fix if you were hypoglycemic. Other movements, however—mainly the fast-paced ones—are quite virtuosic and technically tricky sounding for both violin and piano. But then I realized that my hesitation at calling these pieces salon music was based on the unfounded notion that there’s something second-rate and bourgeois about the genre. Nothing could be further from the truth, when you consider that great composer/performers, such as Chopin, Paganini, and Liszt dazzled European salon audiences with highly virtuosic works.


So yes, Raff’s Sonatillen are salon pieces in the best sense of the term, and even more so are the Six Morceaux , op. 85, whose official title is Six Morceaux de Salon . Today, of course, Joachim Raff is not held in the same high esteem he enjoyed in his own day. He was very prolific, some would say too prolific, producing over 200 works with opus numbers, and another 50-plus without opus numbers, in just about every musical genre imaginable. Yet, his music often falls short of genuine inspiration and originality, and his importance in the historical scheme of things rapidly declined after his death. By the 20th century, Walter William Cobbett (1847–1937), an admirer of Raff, could write of the composer in his Cobbett’s Cyclopedic Survey of Chamber Music , “He composed at rare intervals music which alternates between extreme brilliance and sentimental tenderness, but he also poured out incessantly masses of pot-boilers with which, unfortunately, his name is only too often associated.”


Violinist Michaela Paetsch Neftel is a native of Colorado Springs. After early home training by her parents, she studied under Szymon Goldberg at Yale University and at the Curtis Institute of Music in Philadelphia. She made her debut as a soloist at the age of 11, playing the Mendelssohn Concerto. A Wikipedia entry claims that Neftel is the first female violinist to record Paganini’s 24 Caprices. That appears to be true. Her recording, originally released on Teldec, was made in 1987, a year before Midori made her recording for Sony. I haven’t heard Neftel’s Paganini, but based on this 2003 Tudor recording of works by Raff, I’d have to say that she certainly possesses the technical wherewithal to play anything she likes; for as indicated above, these Raff pieces are quite virtuosic sounding, and not just for the violin. There’s quite a bit of fancy finger-work for the pianist as well, which Eric Le Van tosses off with stylish aplomb.


No claim is made that the pieces on this disc constitute great music, but taking them for what they are, they make for over an hour’s worth of pleasurable and entertaining listening. Or, to quote from Eric Le Van’s self-authored album note, “It becomes possible to set aside everything that Raff was not, and simply appreciate him on his own terms.” Amen to that, and recommended.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Classical Music

This release includes one of Joachim Raff's major chamber works, the sonata for Cello and Piano of 1973, in its first recording. All the pieces here underline the importance of melody in Raff's music. This anthology is a treasure trove of lovely tunes, which Raff can spin with Schumannesque urgency and Schubertian charm.

JOACHIM Violin Concertos: in G, op. 3; in d, op. 11, “in the Hungarian Style” • Suyoen Kim (vn); Michael Halász, cond; Staatskapelle Weimar • NAXOS 8.570991 (65:57)


From a position of near-obscurity in the early 1960s (at least in so far as recordings went), Joseph Joachim’s Hungarian Concerto received a lift-off from Charles Treger’s early complete recording with the Louisville Orchestra (Louisville LS 705) and from Aaron’s Rosand’s more brilliant but cut-down version on a Vox LP, reissued many times; while Takako Nishizaki recorded Joachim’s Third Concerto for Marco Polo (now available on Naxos 8.554733).


That leaves the First Concerto, a one-movement affair lasting about 20 minutes from the early 1850s, when Joachim had hardly reached or passed the age of 20. Already the work displays a certain individuality: Joachim integrated the violin’s first entry into the opening tutti, after which initial statement the orchestra continues on its own. The solo part offered its youthful composer a great number of opportunities for virtuoso display, but the Concerto’s high symphonic seriousness sets it apart from more display-oriented vehicles written for their own use by his contemporaries Ernst and Wieniawski. In its harmonic and melodic style, so heavily tinged with nostalgia, the work resembles the first (or only) movements of Bruch’s later works (such as his Allegro appassionato and, especially, his Third Concerto). Suyoen Kim, producing a slender but pure tone in all registers (but with a steelier core on the G-string) from a 1742 Camillus Camilli, nevertheless projects the mix of pyrotechnical excitement and poignant lyricism the score demands. Joachim exerted a strong influence on the history of violin playing through his students, who included personalities as diverse as Jenö Hubay, Bronislaw Huberman, and Leopold Auer (who, having studied with him for two years, claimed that Joachim had opened his eyes). If the Concerto seems to wander, that’s neither Kim’s fault nor Halász’s.


The Second Concerto, “in the Hungarian style” has been described as the most difficult of concerted works for the violin (although certainly not for the listener); it requires strength and stamina as well as sustained brilliance, demanding a very occasional sacrifice of tonal beauty to achieve the requisite tonal strength. Kim demonstrates a rock-solid technique and the same compound of brilliance and warmth she displayed in the composer’s First Concerto, while the Halász and the Orchestra find both imposing rhetoric and human warmth in the orchestral part (as in the First Concerto, the engineers have balanced the solo and orchestra parts, creating a striking profile for the former against the highly detailed backdrop of the latter). Both soloist and orchestra emphasize the Concerto’s overt ethnicity (an element perhaps most obviously missing from alternative recordings by Treger, Rosand, Elmar Oliveira (Masters 27, 15:3), Rachel Barton Pine (Cedille 90000 068, 26:6), and Christian Tetzlaff (Virgin 502109, 31:6), all of whose readings nevertheless realized a great deal of the Concerto’s potential—except for Treger’s, which fell somewhat short of the work’s technical demands, and, in any case, isn’t any longer available. But Kim’s brilliant while offering a structurally synoptic view of this prolix Concerto (just over 45 minutes in this performance), brings an occasional poignancy that relieves the dramatic tension in the first movement—compared to Tetzlaff and Dausgaard’s thrustingly craggy symphonic reading of that movement, she and Halász take by comparison a more relaxed, expansive view (skirting the danger in such a long-winded movement, that offers no extra time to pause and smell the flowers). And after a long respite in the slow movement, a passage hardly bereft of difficulties and violinistic posturing, she opens the finale with an energetic flash that rivals Rosand’s and surpasses it in Hungarian verve.


For an imposing reading of the Hungarian Concerto, Kim’s and Halász’s could hardly be beat, and the program offers the relative novelty of the First Concerto, both in stunning performances. Strongly recommended to all kinds of listeners.


FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Joachim Raff was an autodidact. Having grown up in Switzerland, he first tried his hand with moderate success in numerous places as a composer of salon pieces. Franz Liszt became aware of the young man's talents and hired him as a kind of private secretary. In Weimar Raff orchestrated some of Liszt's early symphonic poems and gained his appreciation. This first recording by the Leipzig String Quartet shows that this was no accident. Raff's first two quartets are large-format works which reveal great ambitions. By the time Raff composed his first quartet in 1855, he was already beginning to emancipate himself from Liszt and the narrow circle of his friends. The "Neudeutsche Verein" had just been founded when Raff left him for Wiesbaden, in financially uncertain circumstances but artistic independence. And indeed, Raff's music cannot be pigeonholed either in the "New German" or the "Brahmsian" category - perhaps the reason why he was admired by such diverse colleagues as Richard Strauss, Peter Tchaikovsky or even Franz Liszt. His first quartet op. 77 was premiered by the famous Hellmesberger Quartet, who had already offered the podium to Franz Schubert and the late Beethoven. The second quartet op. 90 was also quickly adopted by the Viennese. The turning away from a harmonically fixed formal scheme is a trend-setting move; chromaticism and free harmony gain the upper hand over schoolmasterly counterpoint. Self-marketing was not Raff's thing. Rather prim in his private life, he rarely performed publicly, though he was an excellent pianist. He also gave his work away rather than negotiate reasonable fees. As founding director of the Hoch'sche Conservatory in Frankfurt he nevertheless enjoyed great recognition among his contemporaries. To rekindle this in our time, the new recording of the Leipzig String Quartet is a highly welcome beginning.

Joachim Kaczkowski, a Polish violinist, teacher and composer, was born in 1789 in the city of Tábor in southern Bohemia. He came from a family with strong musical traditions. Joachim Kaczkowski took his first violin lessons from his father. He grew up in Lviv at a time when such outstanding representatives of the musical community as Polish conductor and composer of German origin Józef Elsner and violinist, conductor and composer Karol Kurpinski were active there. The form of violin duo has never gained great popularity and attention among composers of chamber music throughout the musical eras. Due to the relatively limited sound range of the violin, this kind of works, on the one hand, severely hampered the artistic potential of composers, and on the other hand, unlike the much more popular string quartets, it did not arouse much interest among a wider audience. Therefore, Joachim Kaczkowski, an excellent violin virtuoso, had a great opportunity to experiment with a rarely exploited musical form, which resulted in numerous innovative and often surprising textural and sound effects.

Of Raff’s nine works for solo instrument and orchestra three are for piano. The Ode au Printemps is full of freshness, its atmospheric qualities and cantabile melodies enhanced by superb orchestration. Unjustly neglected but full of dreamlike delicacy, the Piano Concerto in C minor offers one of the most delightful, lyrical and stirring works in the Romantic concerto canon. The Caprice, Op. 65, heard here in its world premiere recording, balances assured development and passionate virtuosity. Tra Nguyen’s acclaimed Raff solo piano series can be heard both as a 6-CD box [GP728X] and on separate discs.

Joachim Raff enjoyed enormous prestige with a reputation as Germany’s leading symphonist of his time. He also wrote music for the violin, an instrument he had mastered when young, and for which he wrote with great sympathy. The enduring success of his first two sonatas prompted him to write three more: the charming, genial and joyous Sonata in D major, the symphonically conceived Sonata in G minor which, uniquely for Raff’s violin works, is cast in a single movement, and a Sonata in C minor that, while often melancholic in tone, is still suffused with his trademark lyricism.