TCHAIKOVSKY Violin Concerto 1. BARTÓK Violin Concerto No. 2 2 • Isaac Stern (vn); 1 Lorin Maazel, cond; 2 Ernest Ansermet, cond; Swiss Festival O • AUDITE 95624 (69:37) Live: Lucerne 1 8/23/1958; 2 8/18/1956


This release is of particular interest to me, for as one who was born, raised, and lived most of my life in San Francisco, I probably saw and heard Isaac Stern perform live in concert and recital more times than any other single artist. That, of course, was because of Stern’s close ties to the city in which he grew up and studied violin under Louis Persinger, one-time teacher of Menuhin, and with Naoum Blinder, the San Francisco Symphony’s then concertmaster. In 1936, Stern made his debut with the orchestra under the baton of Pierre Monteux, and though he would soon leave San Francisco to pursue a career as one of the world’s most recognized and sought-after violin virtuosos, he returned often to the city that had nurtured him to appear with the orchestra and in recital with his long-time accompanist, Alexander Zakin.


In 1945, Stern signed a recording contract with Columbia, an association that lasted uninterrupted for 40 years, one of the longest such artist/record company alliances in history. And during those years, Stern joined forces with famous conductors, orchestras, and chamber musicians to record the entire mainstream violin concerto and chamber music repertoire, and beyond, often more than once. If you grew up in the 1950s and began collecting records in junior high and high school, as I did, the chances are you grew up with Isaac Stern spinning on your turntables. He was Columbia’s intended rival to RCA’s Heifetz, and I readily admit that I learned much of the violin literature from Stern’s recordings before I discovered those by other celebrated artists.


These versions of the Tchaikovsky and Bartók concertos—let it be stipulated that we are dealing with Bartók’s Violin Concerto No. 2, the more famous one, so it needn’t be repeated on each subsequent reference—are not only previously unreleased, they’re claimed to be quite rare, as Stern was seldom recorded live. A 1959 Brahms Concerto with Monteux and the Boston Symphony at Tanglewood was captured live and released by West Hill Radio Archives, which, I presume is still available since it was reviewed by Richard Kaplan as recently as 35:3. But that was the Brahms, not the Tchaikovsky or the Bartók; and while Stern revisited the Tchaikovsky on a number of occasions with different conductors and orchestras, his track record with the Bartók, as far as I know, is limited to his one and only other version, a commercial studio recording he made two years after this one, in 1958, with Leonard Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic. That, of course, makes this Audite release all the more valuable.


Of the Tchaikovsky—not counting this live performance—there are four others I’m aware of: (1) a 1949 recording with Alexander Hilsberg and the Philadelphia Orchestra; (2) a 1958 recording with the same orchestra under Eugene Ormandy, released in both mono (ML 5379) and stereo (MS 6062) and originally coupled with the Mendelssohn Concerto, but reissued a number of times in various sets and singles, including one coupled with the Sibelius Concerto; (3) a 1973 recording with Bernstein and the New York Philharmonic; and (4) the violinist’s last, a 1978 recording with Rostropovich and the National Symphony Orchestra.


Let me deal with the Bartók first, since there’s only one other Stern version to compare it to, the aforementioned studio recording with Bernstein. Before proceeding, however, I need to voice a disclaimer. I’ve had Stern’s Bartók with Bernstein on LP for longer than I can remember, but I haven’t dusted it off and listened to it in ages because, frankly, I never liked it. The reason goes back to my opening paragraph, where I reminisce about seeing and hearing Stern live on numerous occasions in San Francisco, though never in the Bartók.


It was around that same time, however, that another San Francisco-bred violinist, who also returned regularly to the city to play with the orchestra, appeared in 1957 to perform the Bartók. I’m referring, of course, to Yehudi Menuhin, and that was my very first time hearing the Bartók. It made a deep and lasting impression on me.


In that same year, Menuhin made his classic recording of the piece with Antal Doráti and the Minneapolis Symphony Orchestra, which was released on a Mercury Living Presence LP, and which I promptly acquired and haven’t parted with since. Menuhin had a special affinity for the piece—he’d recorded it four years earlier for EMI with Furtwängler and the Philharmonia Orchestra—and I found his reading of it not only more idiomatic than Stern’s but more rapturous. Nothing in Stern’s performance transported me the way those magical moments did towards the end of the second movement in Menuhin’s recording with Doráti.


Stern, of course, didn’t suffer the deterioration in bowing that was already quite evident in Menuhin’s playing by 1957, but it may have been because of that, rather than in spite of it, that Menuhin’s performances took on a sense of vulnerability which made them all the more moving. Stern’s live Bartók under Ansermet in 1956 on the present CD is markedly different than his studio Bartók under Bernstein in 1958, and in some ways I like it better. At first glance, as you can see from the timings below, there’s an overall difference of only 16 seconds between Stern/Ansermet and Stern/Bernstein, which would suggest that despite different conductors, Stern’s view of the work hasn’t changed.

Stern/Ansermet (1956)	Menuhin/Doráti (1957)	Stern/Bernstein (1958)
15:39	15:30	16:22
9:47	9:08	10:01
11:33	11:08	10:52
36:59	35:46	37:15

But a closer look at the timings of the individual movements tells a different story. Under Bernstein, the first movement is almost a minute slower, which is just enough to make it sound a bit slack and lacking in thrust. Compare Stern/Ansermet to Menuhin/Doráti; they’re much closer, with Menuhin being only nine seconds faster. But tempo aside, in both cases, they project the music with a greater febrile intensity. Similarly, in the second movement, though Stern/Bernstein isn’t much slower than Stern/Ansermet, it loses even more of a sense of momentum under Bernstein, and considerably so compared to Menuhin/Doráti.


I think it’s in the last movement, though, that there’s a more serious interpretive misconstruing of the score under Bernstein. Bartók, as is well known, was intrigued by formal symmetry and proportional balance; many of his works exhibit both micro and macro mirroring structures, such as arch forms. The Violin Concerto is no different. The second movement is a set of variations, while the third movement is a variation on the material presented in the first movement. Therefore, it’s important for a performance to present the Finale in a way that reflects the tempos and thematic connections to the first movement. Stern/Ansermet and Menuhin/Doráti manage that better, in my opinion, than does Stern/Bernstein.


It wasn’t until receiving Stern’s previously unreleased Bartók that I was able to make this three-way comparison, and it reinforced for me my general lack of appreciation for the Stern/Bernstein version. Of course, one could make many other comparisons as well, for Bartók’s Concerto has been quite lucky on record. There are superb performances by Henryk Szeryng with Bernard Haitink and the Concertgebouw (another favorite of mine, next to Menuhin), Gil Shaham with Boulez and the Chicago Symphony, and for something more recent, a recording by James Ehnes with Gianandrea Noseda and the BBC Philharmonic on Chandos.


I’ve limited my comparisons to the above three because of their proximal dates, because of the San Francisco connection (both Stern and Menuhin coming of age there, and my hearing the Concerto for the first time performed there by Menuhin), and because Menuhin had a special association with the piece, though he was not the first violinist to play it. Zoltán Székely gave the premiere with Mengelberg and the Concertgebouw in 1939, while Tossy Spivakovsky gave the American premiere in 1943 with Artur Rodzi?ski and the Cleveland Orchestra.


Stern’s Bartók with Ansermet is a fine one, and preferable, I think, to his effort with Bernstein. When it comes to the Tchaikovsky Concerto on this disc, there isn’t much to say. Something that can be said of Stern is that he was a remarkably reliable, even-tempered player. He wasn’t an artist prone to either spontaneous white-hot inspiration or to having off days. When you bought a ticket to a Stern concert or a new Stern recording, you knew in advance what you were going to get, and what you got was never less than good, solid, professional musicianship of a very high caliber.


Frankly, I hear little difference between this 1958 Tchaikovsky with Maazel and the violinist’s studio recording with Ormandy and the Philadelphia Orchestra that same year. If there are any differences worth noting, they relate to the orchestral playing. The Swiss Festival Orchestra is an ad hoc assembly of musicians who come together annually for the Lucerne Festival. The players are all professionals, but they’re drawn from various ensembles around Switzerland and from various European orchestras. Well-rehearsed as they are, it would be disingenuous of me to say that they’re a match for the Philadelphia Orchestra in its prime under Ormandy. So, if you have the Stern/Ormandy Tchaikovsky in one or another of its various incarnations, I don’t think this one adds anything of any special merit to Stern’s recorded legacy. The Bartók, however, I believe does, so recommended to all audiences for the Bartók and to Stern fans in particular for a heretofore unpublished live performance recording of the Tchaikovsky. FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

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This young star bassoonist has brought a great deal of attention to solo repertoire for her instrument. Gorgeous French Romantic and Impressionist music (including works by Debussy and Faur) in an intimate chamber recital.

"Howard Shelley has made a project of recording Hummel’s eight piano concertos. This C-Major concerto is the composer’s first mature work in this genre, written in 1809—the same year that Beethoven wrote his “Emperor” concerto. There are surface resemblances between the two concertos. In their outer movements, we catch a whiff of the military parade ground (if not the battlefield). The middle movements are long-breathed songs of limpid beauty. Of course, the difference between the two is that Beethoven’s concerto is surprising and innovative, while Hummel’s is (for the most part) safe and rather predictable. Let’s face it, though: aren’t there times when you are relieved by things that are safe and predictable?

The Rondos brilliant date from approximately 1814 and 1822, respectively. Each is just over 16 minutes long. The first one is musique pour les dames, and the second is based on Russian folk material. (Hummel was touring Russia when he wrote it.) If the relatively lengthy C-Major concerto (34:49) is a panoramic canvas, these two works are concertos in miniature—perfectly formed, thoughtfully appointed, and precise... Shelley’s performances, leading the London Mozart Players from the keyboard of a Steinway concert grand, do not attempt to make Hummel into the firebrand that he was not. This is stylish, always genteel playing, reminding us that Hummel was a young protégé of Mozart. Although Hummel’s slow movements sometimes anticipate Chopin, particularly in the decoration of the piano part, that sort of pre-Romantic freedom is not emphasized here. The musicianship overall is small-scaled, but not disappointingly so. Chandos’s engineering is bright, and Derek Carew’s booklet notes are informative."

Raymond Tuttle, FANFARE

What pushes this release over the top is the brilliant fiddling of James Ehnes, combined with the incredibly intelligent idea of putting all of Bartók's string concertos together on a single disc. Ehnes, for his part, is just as comfortable on the viola as he is on the violin. He digs into the rustic Hungarian melodies in the finale of the Viola Concerto or the beginning of the Violin Concerto No. 2 with a richly resonant gusto that never turns crude, while at the same time his impeccable intonation gives the slithery chromatics of the First concerto real shape and direction. He's a phenomenal artist, make no mistake. Gianandrea Noseda's accompaniments are very good--bracing and very well paced. As so often from these forces, however, the orchestra is a touch bland--never less than proficient, most of the time a good bit more than that, but also not as arresting and colorful as it could be. Still, as I said, the quality of Ehnes' playing and the value of the program earn this disc a top recommendation. Anything less would be churlish.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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Hungarian pianist, Klara Wurtz, one of Brilliant Classics's most prolific artists brings us a delightful collection sure to enchant children of all ages. Piano Music for Children features such instantly recognizable classics as Beethoven's Fur Elise and Mozart's Alla turca alongside some classic works lesser known to the average listener such as Tchaikovsky's Album for the Young, Robert Schumann's playful Kinderszenen, and Debussy's Children's Corner. Wurts is joined by the orchestral players of Prima La Musica for the well known andante from Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21, rounding out this varied collection sure to delight young and old alike.

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In September 2013, in NYC, Richard Dunn conducted the Palisades Baroque in all nine Telemann concerti for horn(s) and strings, with soloist R. J. Kelley performing on a baroque horn. Many of Telemann's horn works are a kind of hybrid. Some, called "concerto," show elements of a suite, while some show elements of both chamber music and orchestral music at the same time. In their selection, they included TWV 43: F8, a composition resembling chamber music but with a solo-tutti indication, and excluded others called "concertos", but in reality are either a suite concertante or chamber music.

TELEMANN Flute Concertos: in D, TWV 42:D6; in g, TWV 42:g2; in A, TWV 42:A3; in e, TWV 42:e3; in b, TWV 42:h1; in a, TWV 42:a2 • Claire Guimond (Baroque fl); Luc Beauséjour (hpd) (period instruments) • EARLY-MUSIC.COM 7755 (72: 19)


The six works recorded here were published in Hamburg around 1715–20 with the title Six Concerts and Six Suites for Harpsichord and Flute, or for Harpsichord, Flute and Cello, or for Violin, Flute and Cello or Basso Continuo, or for Harpsichord, Violin, Flute, and Cello. This was obviously an attempt to market these works to as wide an audience as possible. Guimond and Beauséjour contend that Telemann’s original intention was to compose these works for harpsichord and flute, which is the way they are performed here. The flute and harpsichord engage as two equal voices. The “concertos” or “concerts” of the title do not imply a work for solo instrument and orchestra. Rather, they are more closely related to the trio sonata, written in the sonata da chiesa style of four movements, slow-fast-slow-fast.


These six works display Telemann’s ability to write genial, attractive music, though it must be admitted they are not among the most compelling compositions to flow from Telemann’s ready pen. Guimond plays with grace and has good control of her instrument. Beauséjour provides excellent support.


These concertos are not available elsewhere as a group; I only found one concerto otherwise available. This is certainly not an essential purchase, but it makes for pleasant listening.


FANFARE: Ron Salemi

This is one of the "new" Lyritas, in the sense that the recordings on this CD have never been issued before, even though they were made thirteen years ago. Though it’s a matter for regret that the recordings have lain in the vaults for so long it’s cause for unqualified rejoicing that such a delightful collection, all in sparkling performances, should now be available.

David Pyatt is an outstanding young British musician. I recall his victory in the BBC Young Musician of the year competition in 1988. At that time he was aged only 14 – he’d only taken up the horn six years earlier, I believe. He has since gone on to build a highly successful solo career, combining that with the post of Principal Horn in the London Philharmonic Orchestra, an assignment that he took up in the 1998/9 season.

All the works included here, with the exception of Ruth Gipps’s concerto were closely associated with the great Dennis Brain. I’m sure he played all of them superbly – he gave the premières of the Jacob, Arnold and Bowen works - but it’s hard to imagine stronger advocacy than all the pieces receive from David Pyatt. He’s recorded relatively closely, though not aggressively so, and not in such a way as to eclipse the consistently interesting orchestral parts. The closeness of the balance allows us to appreciate to the full his rich, round, golden tone as well as his seemingly effortless technique. This is, in short a superb demonstration of horn playing. There are other links within the programme too, besides the "Brain factor". For example, both Malcolm Arnold and Ruth Gipps were pupils of Gordon Jacob and the first broadcast performance of the Gipps concerto was given, in 1982, by Frank Lloyd, David Pyatt’s own teacher.

The concerto by Ruth Gipps seems to me to be the most serious of the pieces on this disc – not that any of them is exactly frivolous. She wrote it for her son, who gave the first performance. The first movement offers the soloist frequent opportunities for virtuosity but it’s predominantly a thoughtful movement. Unusually the middle movement is not slow in tempo; instead it’s a scherzo, featuring what Lewis Foreman memorably describes as a "thistledown tune". There’s a vivacious start to the finale but before long we reach a more lyrical and pensive section and this music alternates thereafter with livelier episodes. The accompaniment to this concerto features the fullest orchestration of the four and the scoring is consistently resourceful and interesting. Nowhere is this more apparent that in the short passage in the finale that Lewis Foreman highlights in his notes. Here, beginning at 4:30, the soloist duets with the celesta in a most imaginative and unusual piece of scoring. Like its companions on the disc this concerto cries out to be heard more often and David Pyatt is a splendid advocate for it.

He’s no less admirable in the splendid concerto by York Bowen, himself a horn player. The more I hear of Bowen’s music the more I like it and the more I marvel at its neglect. This is an inventive and tremendously enjoyable work in which a short, reflective slow movement catches the listener’s attention. The finale is cast mainly in a lively frame of mind but the romantic in York Bowen can’t resist pausing along the way for a lovely middle section in a slower tempo – and thank goodness for it.

Malcolm Arnold’s concerto is probably the best known of these concertos. Another work inspired by Dennis Brain, he gave its first performance at the Cheltenham Festival in July 1957, just a matter of weeks before his tragic and untimely death. Arnold, himself an orchestral trumpeter and therefore well versed in brass instruments, appears to write with complete understanding not just of the solo instrument but of the personality for whom he had written the work. The main material of the central slow movement is a nostalgic slow waltz that David Pyatt clearly relishes and which offers a few moments of relative repose before the headlong virtuosity of the finale.

The Gordon Jacob concerto is a delight from start to finish. The first movement frequently has the strings playing in motor rhythms but over the top of this material the soloist has interesting and lively music. There’s a substantial and lovely lyrical core to this movement and a demanding cadenza (from 7:20). The slow movement is a wonderfully atmospheric nocturne, which is imbued with a fine sense of lyrical repose. Pyatt is most eloquent here. Most of the time the finale dances along giving the soloist ample opportunity for display but there are some disarming lyrical stretches too.

This generously filled disc concludes with an encore in the shape of Hunter’s Moon. by Gilbert Vinter. This wasn’t written for Dennis Brain but he took it up towards the end of his life as something of a party piece. I hadn’t encountered it before and I found it most engaging. The outer sections, which contain a bouncy little march, frame a gorgeous cantabile central section. The whole piece breathes the atmosphere of A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

I enjoyed the Vinter piece, but then I enjoyed the whole disc immensely. The music is of high quality and the standard of performance is consistently superb. In this last comment I include not just the marvellous solo playing of David Pyatt but also the fine support given to him by Nicholas Braithwaite and the LPO. The recorded sound is first rate and Lewis Foreman’s authoritative and enthusiastic notes are a model of their kind. For sheer listening pleasure this is one of the best discs to have come my way for a long time.

-- John Quinn, MusicWeb International

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Scriabin: Le poème de l'extase, Piano Concerto in F-Sharp Mi

Antonio Soler was a scholar, musicologist (he wrote about the history of Spanish music), composer and virtuoso keyboard player. He was in the service of the Spanish Royal family, and personal tutor of the Infante Gabriel de Borbon. Soler wrote a great quantity of solo keyboard sonatas for the use at the Royal court. They are one movement works, much in the style of the sonatas by Domenico Scarlatti (whom he knew personally). The sonatas abound in instrumental virtuosity, daring harmonies and attractive melodies in pre-classical style. Soler wrote the 6 Concertos for 2 Harpsichords for his royal pupil. Judging by the brilliance and vitality of these popular works the composer and his pupil must have hugely enjoyed themselves playing them. These important works are performed here by the harpsichord duo L’entretien dex clavecins, formed by Agustin Alvarez and Eusebio Fernandez-Villacanas, playing magnificent copies, build by Andrea Restelli, of a Taskin and Donzelague harpsichord.

This Zig-Zag Territoires release, a second collaboration between the label and cellist Marco Ceccato (the first, Vivaldi, highly praised), focusing on Luigi Boccherini, illustrates two important aspects of output. The two quintets and the divertimento feature the combination of the string quartet - of which Boccherini was, in a way, a co-founder with Haydn - with guitar and flute respectively; on the other, the cello, of which he was a leading exponent. His use of the guitar and flute's sound capabilities is always a delight; the Cello Concerto in G major a summary of virtuosity and lyricism.

Les trésors cachés d'italie

Les Ambassadeurs launch a series of recordings devoted to the repertory of the Dresdner Hofkapelle at the time of Bach, with the aim of rediscovering the splendid sound of an ensemble then regarded as the orchestral ideal. Although the concertos compiled by Les Ambassadeurs bear no explicit dedication to the Dresden orchestra, they feature the instrumentation typical of the court Kapelle.

"This recording presents violinist Kati Debretzeni leading the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment in Antonio Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. From the commanding heat of the Summer sun, to Winter’s foreboding darkness, the power of Vivaldi’s masterpiece is inescapable. The booklet includes a ‘Guided tour of the Four Seasons’, allowing listeners to follow the poetry that inspired Vivaldi as they hear the performances on the disc, including additional composer notes from Vivaldi’s own scores."

After the success of the first fourteen reissues, which restored to the limelight some of the gems of the early music repertory in the catalogues of our labels, here are fourteen new titles to allow listeners to renew acquaintance with further treasures of the Renaissance and Baroque (and even a journey through time thanks to Raphaël Imbert’s album Bach Coltrane), performed by some of the leading interpreters of the genre; most of these discs won one or more awards on their first release. As with the first series, the artists have been asked to contribute to the booklets, in which, with a few years’ hindsight, they talk about their conception of the works and how they went about recording them. The photographers of the Magnum agency illustrate the covers of the series with their work; this time the common design element is the colour yellow.

Stephen Schultz takes on the daunting task of playing all five parts of these Concerti for Five Flutes from Boismortier - a feat never before attempted or accomplished! The French composer Joseph Bodin de Boismortier wrote a great deal of popular music. The transverse flute was his favorite instrument and he considerably extended its repertory. Boismortier's music demonstrates great facility, and one regrets that he wrote so few works on a large scale.

Vivaldi, A.: Chiaroscuro

A fine production which sheds light on a composer whose violin concertos need to be further explored.

The Graun brothers, Carl Heinrich and Johann Gottlieb are important representatives of the generation of composers between the baroque and classical eras. Johann Gottlieb attended the Kreuzschule in Dresden and later studied at Leipzig University. He received lessons on the violin from the then most prominent violinist in Germany, Johann Georg Pisendel. He also travelled to Italy, where he became acquainted with Giuseppe Tartini. Back home he was appointed concertmaster of the orchestra of the Prussian Crown Prince Frederick, while Carl Heinrich secured the position of Kapellmeister. Graun held this position until his death. He was also active as a violin teacher; among his pupils were Franz Benda - from 1733 onwards also a member of Frederick's orchestra - and Wilhelm Friedemann Bach.

Graun composed many concertos, mostly for violin, which were to be played by himself and reflect his own skills as a violin virtuoso. Burney reports that he was greatly admired as a composer who combined pleasant melodies with counterpoint and was generally considered "one of the greatest violinists of his day".

The concertos on these two discs show that he gradually moved away from counterpoint. The Concerto in c minor is the earliest piece in this set and was written in 1730 or even earlier. Particularly beautiful is the largo in which the violin moves over a tutti which is dominated by a motif of three notes. Although the scoring includes two oboes they have no independent parts but play colla parte with the violins.

That is also the case in the Concerto for two violins in G. The scoring includes two parts for horns, and these are independent and play a noticeable role in the fast movements, but are silent in the adagio. This movement is dominated by Seufzer and descending figures, both in the solo parts and in the tutti.

Graun's acquaintance with Giuseppe Tartini has had a strong influence on his compositional style. The Italian master didn't avoid virtuosity, but gave priority to expression. That is also the main feature of Graun's concertos, and it is no coincidence that in two concertos the slow movements are the longest. In the Concerto in F the second movement, mesto, is almost twice as long as the fast movements. That is different in the Concerto for viola in E flat. It is one of only two concertos for this instrument which are known from Graun. It is a particularly beautiful work, with a magnificent cantabile solo part in the middle movement, with the character indication 'adagio, un poco andante'.

The only piece which is not by Graun is the Concerto in A, which is attributed to Markus Heinrich Grauel. He is an almost completely unknown quantity, and has no entry in New Grove. The concerto is to be found in the archive of the Berlin Singakademie, and it says 'del Sigr. Grauel'. The man to which it is attributed was cellist in the court orchestra in Berlin from 1763. Considering his style he is thought to have been a pupil of Graun. It is less virtuosic but quite beautiful. The first movement is dominated by drum basses, a feature of many compositions from the mid-18th century.

Ilia Korol and Piroska Batori give excellent performances of the solo parts. The dialogue between the two violins is very well worked out and there is a good balance between the two violins. The viola concerto is definitely one of the highlights of this set, and the viola is brilliantly played by Ilia Korol. The horn parts are impressively executed by Oliver Kersken and Stefan Oetter, and also well recorded as they are clearly audible.

In short, this is a very fine production which sheds light on the oeuvre of a composer whose violin concertos need to be further explored.

-- Johan van Veen, MusicWeb International