On RCA the voices, solo and choral, are set in a more spacious acoustic, which helps in giving bloom to the soprano's soaring phrase, "Dulcissime" in the final section, "The Court of Love" (Barbara Hendricks on RCA sweeter and more sensuous-sounding than Judith Blegen on Telarc)... As to performance, Mata underlines the fun element in the work... John Aler's high, refined tones on RCA strike me as near the ideal...

-- Gramophone [9/1981, reviewing the original LP release of Carmina burana]

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This was one of the very first orchestral Compact Discs to reach my ears and I shall not forget the thrilling first impression of the opening brass fanfares in the Tchaikovsky Capriccio italien, richly and resonantly caught, overwhelming in impact but naturally balanced. The sound is sumptuous throughout, a little bass-heavy perhaps, but lovely to wallow in. The performances are vivid and nicely paced. The Tchaikovsky is the best, the Enescu Rhapsodic has comparable elegance of style and rich colours, but lacks something in unbuttoned exhilaration at the end. The lushness of the sound removes any starkness from the Rimsky scoring of the Mussorgsky piece, which fails to sound in any way sinister. The elusive L'apprenti sorcier is affectionately characterized, but again there is a lack of adrenalin—no sense of real calamity at the climax. But the recording is very persuasive, the strings have appealing ambient lustre, and as a whole this concert is easy to enjoy.

-- Gramophone [6/1983, reviewing the Mussorgsky, Tchaikovsky and Enescu works, RCA 4439]

Toscanini took up Ravel's orchestration of Pictures at an Exhibition very soon after it became generally available, and it remained in his repertoire until the end of his career. He clearly relished the work's virtuosity and colour, rather more, I think, than its evocative, dramatic qualities. His performance is very brilliant, quite extrovert in fact, but a little lacking in strong characterization. Even such a characterful piece as ''The Hut on Fowl's Legs'' is given a very straight, four-square emphatic reading, and only ''Catacombe'' conveys a vivid sense of atmosphere. I think a better recording would have conveyed a more favourable impression, but the sound is pinched and shallow.

Toscanini's interpretation of the Enigma Variations remains as controversial to traditional Elgarians as when he first conducted the work in London during 1930 (it had been in his repertoire since 1905). It was imaginative of RCA to partner the Mussorgsky Pictures with Elgar's ''friends pictured within''. Though the Elgar recording predates the Mussorgsky by over a year it is greatly superior, and has plenty of depth and sonority. I found the performance very satisfying. By and large it seems perfectly idiomatic to me, it is beautifully played, and has many imaginative and affectionate touches. Only three variations struck me as outside the norm. ''H. D. S-P.'' and ''Troyte'' move at a comparatively sedate tempo, which spoils their vigorous effectiveness. I was interested to find that Toscanini takes both movements at a conventionally faster tempo in his 1935 live performance with the BBC Symphony Orchestra (EMI, 2/88). In both performances his way with ''W. N.'' is a bit too brisk and lacking in warmth and humour. Otherwise there would seem little to offend traditionalists. Highly recommended.

-- Gramophone [2/1992]

"Where opera is concerned, our generation will undoubtedly be remembered for its emphasis on restoring scores to their pristine state, or at least attempting to divine and then execute the original intentions of the composer. Whether it be Gluck, Mozart, Verdi or Mussorgsky, authenticity and completeness have been the order of the day, perhaps going even beyond the composer's own wishes. In the case of Boris nobody has been more diligent than Abbado over the past 15 years, since he first presented the epic at La Scala, in seeking the truth about this vast canvas. Now we have the latest fruits of his efforts. Incidentally, this work forcibly reminds us how little has changed in Russia regarding conflicts of power: fanaticism and religion competing for attention with cruelty and intrigue. Plus ça change ...

As happens most often today, Abbado plays the definitive 1872-4 version, adding scenes, including the complete one in Pimen's cell and the St Basil's scene from 1869. To avoid the Simpleton losing his kopek twice he omits the repetition of this episode, cutting from fig. 20-25 (in the OUP full score) in the Kromy Forest scene; a sensible solution.

This recording took place in 1993, as Richard Fairman explains on page 16, around the same time similar forces presented two concert performances in the Berlin Philharmonie, where the set was also recorded. It precedes stage performances in Salzburg (Easter and summer this year) with similar forces. As when Abbado conducted the work at Covent Garden in 1983 and at the Vienna State Opera in 1991, his is a taut, tense reading. With the Berlin Philharmonic now at his call, it has become grander, more virtuosic, at times hard-driven, favouring extremes of speed. The orchestra is very much in the foreground, sounding more emphatic than would ever be the case in the opera house. The total effect, for all its magnificence, is a shade unrelenting and the extremes of dynamics, recalling Karajan, are very marked. The precision and clarity are undoubted: whether or not Mussorgsky might not have preferred Gergiev's more understated, equally incisive Kirov reading on the Decca video version which I reviewed last month, is a matter of conjecture.

What cannot be doubted is that Michael Haas's first opera recording as producer for Sony Classical is of demonstration standard: most potent in the way it captures the wonderfully incisive and pointed singing of the combined choruses in their various guises, best heard through the most wideranging loudspeakers. Here all is vividly brought before us by conductor and producer in the wide panorama predicated by Mussorgsky's all enveloping vision.

Kotcherga, the Russian bass who will also sing the title-role at Salzburg, has a superb voice, firmly produced throughout an extensive register. Even before I read RTF's report, I was astonished and delighted at the accuracy of his reading and at its complete avoidance of conventional melodrama. I was interested to read that he was concerned to show the loving father, for his scene with Boris's children is here among the most rewarding. Given the velvety, soft grain of his timbre, it may not be surprising that the inner torment is not always much in evidence as it is with Talvela (on the reissued EMI recording), even more with Ghiaurov for Tchakarov. But these may seem like quibbles when set beside the beauty and musicality of Kotcherga's concept.

The ambitious lovers are well represented. Indeed, Larin is quite the best Grigory yet on disc, sounding at once youthful, heroic and ardent, and quite free of tenor mannerisms. Lipovkk characterizes Marina forcefully: we are well aware of the scheming Princess's powers of wheeler-dealing and of erotic persuasion. A certain hardness that has now come into her tone lately is not inappropriate. Even so, I would like to have heard the lovely Elena Zaremba in the role: here she makes a lively Hostess, a part so often consigned to superannuated mezzos. Marina's scene with the Rangoni of Leiferkus is one of the set's best, accompanied with a sure feeling for its many undercurrents of religious bigotry, voluptuousness and cant.

Ramey is classy casting for Pimen, but – for all his fine singing – he doesn't quite convince me that he is inside the part. Ghiuselev (Tchakarov) or Morozov (Gergiev) show just how much more subtlety can be read into the old monk's narration through variations of colour, tone and phrase deriving from long experience in the genre (Tchakarov is also gentler, more yielding here than Abbado). Langridge certainly knows everything there is to know about Shuisky, a role he has often sung with Abbado and though his tone hasn't true Russian character, his range of colour is arresting.

There seems no end these days to the new talent coming out of Russia. Here we have Albert Shagidullin as Shchelkolov, the Boyar's Secretary, disclosing a baritone of infinite possibilities and Alexander Fedin, a Covent Garden Rodolfo, singing the Simpleton with plaintive beauty."

-- Gramophone [5/1994] Reviewing original release

Kissin, one of the most well known and best selling pianist performs one of the piano's most popular works, Mussorgsky's Picture at an Exhibition.

Old Russian folk melodies; the traits of human life (joy, love, illness, poverty, death, religion); a high aesthetic-musical realism as a compositional commitment. These are the ingredients in Musorgsky's Lieder, already appreciated by Liszt and Debussy, and now available in this box set.

Modest Mussorgsky wrote many works for the piano, most of which were published posthumously. Born in 1839, Mussorgsky began to compose at an early age, writing his first piece, Portenseigne Polka, in 1852, at the age of thirteen. Throughout his life, he composed works of various lengths for the instrument, many of unquestionable musical worth; his last compositions date from 1880, one year prior to his untimely death, at the age of 42. Mussorgsky’s best-known piano work is undoubtedly the monumental Pictures at an Exhibition (1874), made famous by Ravel’s orchestration, as well as Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov’s highly inventive orchestral version. It’s only in the original piano version, however, that Mussorgsky’s remarkable, fierce stylistic creativity is revealed. These complete works are performed by Italian pianist Giacomo Scinardo.

Modest Mussorgsky’s music drama Boris Godunov was premiered in front of St. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral in Sofia, the same location where this 2014 performance takes place. Conceived by Plamen Kartaloff, director of the Sofia Opera, this production took place 90 years after the building’s consecreation, and was dedicated to the centennial anniversary of the birth of Boris Christoff and the 85th anniversary of the birth of Nicolai Ghiaurov, two vocalists who became famous for their performances as Boris. For this performance, the role of Boris is sung by Martin Tsonev.

Picture Format: 16:9
Sound Format: PCM 2.0
Region Code: 0 (Worldwide)

The young person's guide to the orchestra (though not presented as such) and anyone's guide to orchestration coupled together: and if you like the idea, I can scarcely imagine it being better done. You may think Ravel's orchestration of Mussorgsky too sophisticated—but you can hardly deny its invention and skill.

Both works are played with very great virtuosity, to the extent that you are likely to get much pleasure from hearing a superb orchestra showing off, and also, in the appropriate places, playing with much sensitivity. In the Mussorgsky, "The Old Castle" is most beautifully played; "Tuileries" is only an allegretto non troppo, no more, and is all the more attractive for it, while "Bydlo" isn't drearily slow. But there is brilliance in plenty: in the terrific vitality of "Gnomus", in the lightness of the "Dance of the Chickens in their Shells", in the characterisation of "Goldenberg and Schmuyle", and in the market at Limoges. The brass in "Catacombs" is exceptionally well judged and Ozawa makes a link into the next piece that is not marked but is very effective.

The piece is not, as usual, complete on one side but that doesn't matter with a concoction of this kind. My test copy did a bad groove jump in the loudest part of "The Great Gate of Kiev" but that will no doubt not be a general flaw. This was the stereo—the mono played perfectly well: all the same, these pieces, both Mussorgsky and Britten gain very greatly from the spaciousness of stereo. The Britten is almost equally well done —certainly the playing is of the greatest virtuosity. I would have liked the theme 'cleaner' and more Purcellian, for even though it is fully orchestrated by Britten, I feel sure he wants the character of its composer kept: and in the final fugue, when the brass bring back Purcell's theme, very grandly, Britten's fugue theme gets swamped in both stereo and mono, which misses the whole point of the writing.

But in general the recording is very good indeed and I have the greatest admiration for the Chicago orchestra's playing under Ozawa.

T.H., Gramophone [9/1968] Reviewing Original LP

RACHMANINOFF Aleko: Suite 1. HOVHANESS Floating World—Ukiyo. MUSSORGSKY Khovanshchina: Introduction • Andre Kostelanetz, cond; 1 Simon Estes, bs; “His O” • SONY 88999 (34:11)


Andre Kostelanetz (1901–80) was involved with Rachmaninoff’s music from his teenage years, when he was a rehearsal pianist and vocal coach at the Mariinsky Theatre in Saint Petersburg. Rachmaninoff, a generation older, was the leading composer of that era before he left Russia in 1917; his The Miserly Knight had its Mariinsky premiere in 1912, a few years before Kostelanetz’s arrival. When Kostelanetz also escaped from Russia, in 1922, he brought a knowledge and love of Rachmaninoff’s music with him to New York, where he was to lead many of his compatriot’s works, in their original form and in lush arrangements for popular tastes. Although written decades earlier, Mussorgsky’s Khovanshchina had its Mariinsky premiere in 1911.


Rachmaninoff’s first opera, written at age 19, reflects many influences, Borodin and Mussorgsky perhaps even more than Tchaikovsky. Aleko has its exciting moments and its dreary ones; as is the case with Stravinsky’s Firebird , the suite captures the wheat while eliminating the chaff. Placing the overture last produces a dramatic comedown, as it dies away gently, but this is in keeping with many of the composer’s own gentle, tricky codas. Hovhaness was one of Kostelanetz’s favorite contemporary American composers; Floating World—Ukiyo , subtitled a ballade for orchestra, was written for and dedicated to the conductor. Its colorful, lush orchestration and exotic, pseudo-Japanese harmonies take Rachmaninoff a generation further. It is exciting music to hear once, and this performance is a stunner.


“Andre Kostelanetz and his Orchestra” was contracted for each recording session; neither the booklet nor Columbia recording logs for April 2 and 4, 1968, name the players, but they were probably members of the New York Philharmonic, as Kostelanetz led both Aleko (with Estes) and Floating World in Philharmonic Promenade Concerts that spring. Kostelanetz would often specify individuals he wanted, according to the music at hand—Mitch Miller on English horn was a favorite. The Aleko performance is wild and lush, as best suits Rachmaninoff, and the analog stereo recording is gorgeous but gimmicky, as string sections are electronically pumped up and tamped down across a wide soundstage. In one of his finest performances, Simon Estes sounds like a true Russian bass in a song that encompasses the entire bass-baritone range. Despite the pop-oriented sound, the results are wonderful. The recording of the Hovhanness is potent yet clean; the unconventional nature of the orchestration obscures any electronic manipulations. The Khovanshchina Prelude, another Promenade Concert specialty, is played with instrumental brilliance but without much character, missing the early-dawn mystery of the piece—the sun shines brightly from the opening measures. The 1967 stereo sound has every instrument up too close, leaving no room for subtlety.


This is a reissue of a Columbia stereo LP; the front cover is identical to that of the LP, including “MS 7126” instead of the CD number; its claim of “First Recordings” applied in 1968. A Sony representative told me that “Collectors don’t like bonus tracks; they want their CDs to be identical to the original release.” Which is a poor excuse for a 34-minute CD. Such timings were common for Kostelanetz’s pop albums, but not for classical ones. Most CD reissues of his pop records (on the Collectables label) put two LPs on a single CD and then add bonus tracks. Nevertheless, this CD is enthusiastically recommended for the Rachmaninoff.


FANFARE: James H. North

How this terrific 1991 release escaped my piano CD radar I'll never know, yet I'm grateful to Arkivmusic.com's on-demand reprint program for bringing it to my attention. The unrelenting octaves, unforgiving leaps, and sundry stamina-testing challenges that Stravinsky heaps upon pianists in his Three Movements from Petrouchka do not faze Yefim Bronfman's stentorian technique at all. Moreover, his splendid ear for tone color and sonority often evoke the original "accordion-like" orchestrations, especially in the Shrovetide Fair's chordal climaxes.

In an era where many recent recordings of Mussorgsky's Pictures at an Exhibition are overrun with interpretive graffiti and textual revisions (if it's good enough for Horowitz, it's good enough for [fill-in-the-blank]), Bronfman's vividly characterized yet breathtakingly honest pianism is a balm, together with his perfectly judged tempos and tempo relationships.

Bronfman's performance of Tchaikovsky's Dumka is not just a makeweight, but rather stands as one of this undervalued composition's most distinctive recorded versions. The central virtuosic flourishes exude power and poise, while the lyrical sections stand out for Bronfman's suave fingerwork and heartfelt, singing tone. True, the recorded sound is slightly dry, but you hear everything Bronfman does just the same. Highly recommended.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Of Gods and Demons

Classical Minimalism

This is a DSD (Direct Stream Digital) recording

Mussorgsky: Pictures at an Exhibition; Songs and Dances of D

This is a DSD (Direct Stream Digital) recording