The highly talented Eduard Kunneke is known above all as a German operetta composer. The operetta Der Vetter aus Dingsda (1921) became his most famous work. Since he had not exactly experienced positive things in the United States, he evidently was not so eager to go into exile. As a result, during the Nazi era he became known as the "Master of the German Operetta," even though he hardly made concessions to the regime and repeatedly ran into trouble because he refused to separate from his "half-Jewish" wife Katarina. Along with his operettas, Kunneke regularly composed »serious works« for the concert hall that were almost completely neglected – wrongly so. For example, his Piano Concerto is a work very much displaying higher aspirations and qualifying as top-quality musical entertainment. His concerto is certainly the most original and spirited example of a genre of works engaging in dialogue with classicism and swing in the 1920s and including contributions by Gershwin and Ravel. The "game of musical catch" played by the orchestra and piano at the beginning of the first movement is simply astonishing. In the Gypsy Melodies and Serenade for Orchestra, pieces with which Kunneke demonstrated his early mastery around 1907, he styled himself as a very creative heir to Brahms and the late romanticist Max Reger, who had taught him the craft of composition.

Louise Farrenc, a fine early romantic-era composer, led a charmed life as a youngster. Born into a ‘high art’ family, she also had the advantage of coming into contact with dozens of other artistic families at the Sorbonne. With an impeccable cultural background and artistic bloodline, Farrenc was certainly in excellent position to learn piano and music composition. She also was trained by some of the most esteemed musical artists of the time: Antoine Reicha, Johann Hummel and Ignaz Moscheles.

Although Farrenc had to deal with restrictive views concerning acceptable female roles in life, she always considered herself first and foremost a composer of music. Her works were widely performed in Europe during her lifetime, but her current reputation is slim indeed. Her obscurity likely derives from two considerations. First, unlike Clara Schumann or Fanny Hensel, Farrenc was not aligned with a famous relative. Second, Farrenc’s music was of the Germanic tradition, and this style was not popular in 19th century France.

Of the best composers of Farrenc’s era, her music most reminds me of Beethoven’s with a dash of Chopin added into the mix. Her works display an expert sense of construction, ample variety of form and emotional content, and a fine penchant for attractive melodies. However, readers should not think that Farrenc possessed the musical inspiration of a Beethoven or Chopin. Farrenc’s musical magic is more in the range of Hummel and Reicha, which makes her music highly desirable as opposed to essential.

This is not CPO’s first Farrenc recording. The company has already issued a disc of Farrenc symphonies and another of her large-scale chamber works. Those recordings were well received, and I have no doubt that this new solo piano disc will also garner fine reviews. I should also relate that being a pianist, Farrenc’s early compositions consisted primarily of piano music, and that the works on the new disc are from her early career.

Konstanze Eickhorst has the honor of performing Farrenc’s piano music. Ms. Eickhorst is no stranger to Farrenc’s music, performing the piano parts of CPO’s previous chamber music disc mentioned above. Eickhorst currently enjoys a busy concert schedule that started with winning the Clara Haskil Competition in 1981 at the age of twenty. She has also won other piano competitions and performed with many of the most prestigious orchestras and conductors in Europe in addition to chamber music groups such as the Melos Quartet, Carmina Quartet, and the Linos Ensemble. Eickhorst has played a wide range of keyboard music from the Baroque period up to contemporary pieces. Her recordings include Bach’s Goldberg Variations for Bella Musica and Clara Schumann’s piano works on CPO.

Eickhorst programs three types of Farrenc’s piano music: works based on a basic theme with variations, character pieces and Études. Of the two variation works, the Air russe varié is the more contemplative and consists of a Preludio, Theme, eight short variations and a Finale. This expansive structure is expertly crafted by Farrenc and quite distinctive. The Preludio is a serious Moderato of a pleading and compelling nature that is followed by the basic theme that I must admit is rather simple in the manner of the Diabelli theme that Beethoven made into a marvel of variation technique. Although not at Beethoven’s exalted level, Farrenc gives us eight inventive variations. The Finale is rather special, having a first section of Bachian fugue proportion with overlapping voices and a second section of exuberance and triumph.

The other variation work, the Variations brillantes, takes its basic theme from the cavatina "Nel veder la tua costanza" from Gaetano Donizetti’s Opera "Anna Bolena". Although of equal length to the Air russe varié, there are only four variations, which does lead to greater thematic development. Further, the Variations brillantes is very much a work for public display with its virtuosic requirements and exhilarating nature.

The two character pieces on the disc, the Valse brillante and the Nocturne, were both published in the early 1860s but may well have been composed in the early years of Farrenc’s musical career. Neither piece displays the brilliant artistry of Chopin’s character pieces, but both are rewarding in their own right. The Valse brillante is true to its title and consists of a series of contrasting dance themes of a generally upbeat and vivacious nature. The Nocturne is in the style of Chopin’s works in this genre and is quite lovely and poignant.

I have left the best for last: Eickhorst’s selection of nine of the thirty Études of Opus 26. With this body of music, Farrenc shows her expertise in conveying a compendium of the piano techniques used during the first decades of the 19th Century, employing the extended ‘circle of fifths’ as her structural guide. Of course, we are not able to follow the architectural path when only given selections, but Farrenc often programmed just a few of her Opus 26 Études in piano recitals. Each of the pieces is in ABA form and ranges in length from under two minutes to over four minutes.

The Études Nos. 22 and 19 are so propulsive and concentrated that they take on a relentless quality that is compelling. No. 7 is a gorgeous and uplifting Andante, while No. 4 is thoroughly invigorating. Contemplation and melancholy pervade No. 10, and No. 11 has the relentless qualities mentioned for Nos. 22 and 19. My personal favorite is No. 12, another Bachian style fugue that clearly reveals Farrenc’s affinity for baroque form and counterpoint.

In summary, the new CPO disc of Farrenc solo piano music is a highly rewarding effort having both excellent music and performances. The recorded sound is fine, although a little thin compared to current standards of piano richness in recordings. This enjoyable disc represents great entertainment value and should appeal to piano enthusiasts and anyone wanting to travel the byways of the early romantic period.

-- Don Satz, MusicWeb International

Four years after CPO issued an initial volume of David’s invigorating symphonies (Nos 1 and 6 on CPO 777 741-2 – Gary Higginson’s enthusiastic recommendation can be read here), we now get a second helping in performances that were seemingly laid down some three years before those on that disc. In contrast to death and taxes, CPO’s recording and release schedule are a mystery to us all (and a source of frustration to some). Having said that, those of us who feared for the recording of rare repertoire when CDs first emerged should simply be grateful for the stalwart work CPO actually do; who, thirty-odd years ago, could possibly have foreseen complete recorded cycles of Searle, Frankel and Wellesz symphonies, to name but three ‘Brits’ off the top of my head?

I can only reiterate my colleague’s enthusiasm for David’s symphonies. On paper, an expectation of ersatz Hindemith or Hartmann would be quite understandable. Descriptions of David’s music have often suggested dry, competent academicism – the reality seems very different. There is a clutch of stylistic allusions and comparisons one could make, but there is a great deal that is fresh, inspired and enjoyable about these works. Above all, they don’t meander; they appear to be really coherent and well-formed. This was my abiding impression of the first disc, and it applies here too. Indeed, the splendid Second Symphony on this disc lasts almost three-quarters of an hour – and I would argue that is not a moment too long.

Scored for a big orchestra, this work was completed by David in the summer of 1938 while he was holidaying in the upper Austrian highlands. It begins with a mysterious, chromatic theme played on a solo flute, before other solo woodwind instruments take on the melody and the sound and structure begin to fill out. These understated chamber-like wind textures belie what is to come. There are a lot of exposed solo lines in this work, which hint at a hibernal solitude. However, frenetic strings eventually join the fray, projecting a virility which certainly evokes Hindemith. The material evolves naturally from the original theme (indeed David embraces monothematicism throughout his symphonic corpus) and is developed most skilfully. Vibrant colours are achieved via judicious washes of tuned and untuned percussion which sporadically perforate the fuller orchestral textures. The mood of this music seems untouched by the date and place of its provenance – although it’s neither ecstatic nor joyful, it instead projects a sense of cautious optimism. One passage at 9’13 strongly evokes Hindemith’s great Harmonie der Welt symphony - David’s work pre-dates it by 13 years! As the movement heads toward its conclusion, with more adroitly played solo clarinet and bassoon, the mood briefly becomes more melancholy and terse. But this is a momentary reflection; the busy string gestures soon return and see us to the movement’s energetic, meaty conclusion which, in turn, suggests this composer’s true hero, Bruckner. Notwithstanding David’s fiercely twentieth century idiom the spirit of the Linz master is rarely far away in this music.

The two central movements, largo e cantabile and scherzo, are both relatively brief. The note quotes a contemporary critic as detecting a hint of Pfitzner’s operatic masterpiece Palestrina in the slow movement. Adopting an arch-like structure, it is an enigmatic, ambiguous essay which generates an uneasy calm. The string writing at its centre is glowingly beautiful. Rhythmically speaking the Scherzo is even more Brucknerian; here I detect something approaching bucolic joy, albeit one that’s oddly claustrophobic. The central trio section delights in strummed string effects. Some of the wind writing is almost jazzy and certainly gloriously sophisticated. The main theme soon gets under one’s skin. It ends abruptly - seemingly a David trademark.

The finale is a massive and ambitious passacaglia. I found it deeply impressive, but it requires effort on the part of the listener. It portentously reconstitutes the main theme from the first movement, initially stated in lower strings, and presents 31 superbly contrasting and interesting variations, seamlessly woven together with richly imaginative orchestration and plenty of opportunity for the principals of the ORF band to show off. There is a suppressed and not necessarily benign power at work in this compelling and measured movement. The ORF orchestra may lack the weight and sheen of their better- known Viennese counterparts but they invest this strange music with real passion and exceptional commitment. I suspect it would require a cold heart for a keen listener not to be moved by it. While I certainly found David’s Symphonies 1 and 6 to be technically accomplished and compelling, I believe this Second Symphony trumps them both. Needless to say, one cannot help but repeat the oft-asked question: where has this music been all my life?

The Symphony No 4 is harder work; it is effectively David’s ‘War’ Symphony. He made three attempts at writing it: the second draft was destroyed with his home in Leipzig during an air-raid in 1944. In fact, according to the booklet note, David rushed back into his burning house and rescued his son’s parakeets and what he thought was the almost-completed symphony. As it turned out it wasn’t – he thus reconstructed it from memory in a third and final draft which he completed in 1948. The opening dirge-like theme emerges gradually in winds and strings in the opening, brief slow movement. The brass provide more ominous colours which add to the prevailing solemnity - given the circumstances of the work’s gestation, this material seems more than apt. Gary Higginson mentioned Rubbra in his review of the earlier disc and there is again a hint of that composer’s controlled power in this movement. The pent-up energy is released in the following Allegro moderato, a terrific and compelling fugue. It builds inexorably with ripe timpani rolls and imaginative counterpoint towards a brass-dominated conclusion which again ends abruptly. Another Brucknerian Scherzo follows. The first half of this is oddly wistful and as light as air, suspended by what the note describes as “…impressionistically shimmering sonic ornaments…”. The orchestration in the middle section thickens momentarily before serene harp figurations puncture the flowing strings and winds. The movement concludes with a mercurial sense of urgency. At the outset of the fugal finale, the material heard at the opening of the work returns, somewhat shorn of any residual sentiment. It generates a somewhat muted, but not unappealing momentum. The orchestration throughout the finale is both transparent and vivid although its ending is somewhat troubled and ambiguous.

David’s Fourth Symphony then is a terse and rather compressed affair. It doesn’t disclose its qualities immediately and is the archetypal tough nut to crack. I’ve given it a few listens now and although I am beginning to like it, I feel it lacks some of the easier-going charm of its coupling here. Wildner leads the ORF Radio Symphony Orchestra in searching and committed accounts of both works, although I didn’t find their efforts here quite as polished as those on their previous David disc. As mentioned, that was recorded three years later and I suspect the orchestra by then had better found their way with this composer’s distinctive idiom. The recording is faithful without being spectacular and I am happy to report that CPO’s documentation is first-class – there is a wonderfully detailed introduction to these works by Dr Bernhard A. Kohn (the keeper of the David archive) which has been translated into perfectly comprehensible English (not always the case with CPO). As with the previous volume it includes several musical examples of David’s thematic material. I hope we aren’t kept waiting too long for the next instalment in this fascinating series.

– MusicWeb International (Richard Hanlon)

“The two concertos are distinguished by their classical musical language rich in ideas and their colorful instrumentation. Eberl’s music radiates with a lightness similar to that of Mozart, which is why the later confusion about the authorship of their works comes as no surprise. The piano part has a glistening and brilliant sound, while the orchestra forms a richly instrumented accompaniment. The melodic invention and harmonic structure are of timeless beauty.” This is what klassik.com wrote of the Vol. 1 featuring the piano concertos of Anton Eberl. Vol. 2 with his Concerto for Two Pianos op. 45, a work highly esteemed by his contemporaries, has a stylistic design adhering to the ideals of Viennese classicism and stands out for its multifaceted instrumentation. Eberl too seemed to have had a high opinion of this work. Whenever it was possible, he performed it during his concert tours throughout Germany, for example, in Berlin with Giacomo Meyerbeer, who was not even fifteen years old at the time. The release also includes the two Sonatas for Piano Four Hands op. 7, works proving to be very demanding in their piano parts as well as in their compositional structure.

While the music world is getting ready for next year’s 250th anniversary of Ludwig van Beethoven’s birth, this year’s bicentennial of the birth of the Polish national composer Stanislaw Moniuszko has gone practically unnoticed outside Poland. For this reason, this new recording of his two string quartets is all the more welcome. The composer who would become the celebrated master of the operas Halka and The Haunted Manor wrote these quartets during or shortly after his Berlin study years and in a style continuing to draw on the vocabulary of classical models. At the same time, the twenty-year-old student displays a sense of humor, melodicism, and chamber finesse that not only make for a genuinely rewarding listening experience but also are worth hearing again and again. A “late” creation by Moniuszko’s young fellow Pole Juliusz Zarebski is being presented here together with the quartets. At the end of his life this favorite pupil and confidant of Franz Liszt wrote an absolutely “avant-garde” piano quintet that might have launched a bold and daring oeuvre but ended up serving as a farewell: when this virtuoso pianist and composer delighting in experiment died in 1885, he was a mere thirty-one years old.

Classical Music

The works of the late Romantic composer Felix Woyrsch stand as eloquent defenses of the creative successor. Perhaps it is precisely this too often disparaged generation of "late-born" artists who laid the groundwork for the great masters. By absorbing earlier achievements and reshaping them to serve their own expressive aims, they laid the foundation for later greatness. The Silesian-born Woyrsch, who established himself permanently in Altona-then still independent of Hamburg-demonstrated that even diametrically opposed models could be reconciled. He succeeded in bringing together Wagner, Bruckner, and Brahms almost imperceptibly, without sacrificing his own artistic identity. On the contrary, the cycle of six symphonies, now completed with the present release, emerges as a distinctive artistic statement-made all the more impressive by the fact that Woyrsch remained genuinely receptive to the developments of modernism.

Any close engagement with the later works of the Austrian composer Karl Weigl soon-and almost inevitably-becomes an exercise in tracing origins. Driven into American exile by the delusions of a self-proclaimed master race, he, like many of his contemporaries, remained so firmly bound to his cultural roots that a nostalgic backward glance across the Atlantic becomes perceptible even where his music ventures into comparatively advanced musical language. He never relinquishes tonal gravity, nor does he lose the unmistakable grace he carried with him into exile. As a result, even in one of humanity's most tragic moments (1939), when he entrusted his quartet with a deeply heartfelt and intimate prayer, he placed his faith in the healing power of beauty. And two years later, he was able to compose Three Intermezzi that, from first bar to last, reveal the Viennese artist he remained throughout his life.

How the reputation of a musician could spread throughout Europe without today's means of communication is something the modern mind can scarcely comprehend. This is all the more remarkable in the case of Giacomo Carissimi, who spent his career in the service of a single Roman institution devoted to education and worship. Yet by the middle of the seventeenth century, he was attracting visitors from across Europe, drawn by his incomparable mastery in giving musical expression to every emotion and every word. In their current production, the members of the Boston Early Music Festival-fresh from winning the Grammy Award for Best Classical Solo Vocal Album for their most recent Telemann recording-follow in the footsteps of this extraordinary composer. Alongside Latin motets and an Italian cantata, the program features two intimate oratorios whose influence long outlived their creator. Even decades after Carissimi's death, George Frideric Handel could not resist reworking substantial portions of the famous Jephte for his own purposes.

Franz Ignaz Beck was a "Mannheim pupil" from the very beginning. The son of the court oboist Franz Aloys Beck, he was taught by other court musicians after his father's early death before studying in Venice with Baldassare Galuppi and ultimately making his way via Naples to France. He was twenty-three when three of his symphonies won acclaim in Paris; yet he was soon drawn onward-to Marseille and then to Bordeaux, where, until 1798 (for more than thirty-five years), he served as Maître de Musique, overseeing operas and concerts as well as the performance of both his own works and those of others. The six symphonies Op. 4 date from his early years on the Garonne and are now presented complete. They represent Beck's final contributions to the genre in which he undertook bold yet successful experiments-stormy and urgent, filled with striking turns that electrified audiences and explain why he was sometimes hailed as the "Berlioz of the eighteenth century." The music from the melodrama Pandora, composed some twenty years later, forms an illuminating counterpoint.

Nine years before achieving an enduring worldwide success with the operetta A Waltz Dream, Oscar Straus scored a notable success in March 1898 in Mainz-where he was then earning his living as a conductor-with his symphonic poem based on Franz Grillparzer's play Der Traum, ein Leben. As the local press rightly observed at the time, the "very appealing composition, distinguished by it's melodic flow and subtle harmonization... earned the composer, who was present, warm ovations and repeated curtain calls." Today, the work has, quite incomprehensibly, been omitted even from the most exhaustive encyclopedias. Only slightly better was the fate of The Princess of Tragant, a ballet-pantomime that in November 1912 even opened the doors of the Vienna Court Opera to Straus. Although the title has not entirely vanished, the charming tale of a decidedly choosy princess and her suitors-so warmly received by audiences at the time-was soon cast into the impenetrable shadow of A Waltz Dream.

Shortly after the end of the Thirty Years' War, the Protestant Friedenskirche (Church of Peace) was erected in the Silesian town of Schweidnitz (Swidnica). It is for the most natural of reasons that Marcin Swiatkiewicz and Arte dei Suonatori chose this remarkable building as the recording venue for the present production: Johann Gottlieb Janitsch, composer of the four works heard here, was born in the town when the magnificent half-timbered structure was already half a century old. As Swiatkiewicz suggests, he may well have absorbed lasting impressions from it's genius loci-impressions that accompanied him throughout his later life. After receiving his first musical training there, Janitsch went on to study law in Frankfurt an der Oder. He subsequently entered the service of the Prussian minister of war and later joined the court of Crown Prince Frederick in Rheinsberg. There, he was permitted to present regular concerts with his own ensemble for a civic audience-an innovative step whose success was surely due in no small measure to the refined galant and empfindsam style that characterizes the music heard here.

The symphonic oeuvre of the still little-known composer Franz Ignaz Beck, the "Berlioz of the 18th century," is so crazily unconventional and bold that even today one can only marvel at the "modernity" of the contemporary Parisian audience, which was virtually at his feet. Beck turned out to be a progressive and individual "striker and pusher" in the truest sense of the word, opening up the expressive possibilities of his time far into the future. From Mannheim via Italy, Beck found his way to Marseille, where his symphonies developed into true centerpieces of the famous Parisian "Concerts spirituels" and went through numerous print runs. Our new set brings together six symphonies each from Opus 3 and 4. La Stagione on period instruments under the direction of Michael Schneider gives a brilliant and highly intense performance.

Christoph Graupner must have made a deep and lasting impression on his contemporaries. Otherwise, more than two decades after his death, an admiring epitaph would scarcely have attested that he regarded church music as "so lofty, venerable, and sacred that he distinguished it from operatic and chamber styles as far as heaven from earth; the stranger who heard him for the first time marveled and believed himself transported into another world." Our catalogue now offers ample opportunity to test the truth of these words of praise. The cantatas released thus far represent only a small fraction of the nearly fifteen hundred works Graupner left behind. Yet, in every single one, we hear that he approached this genre "with diligence, punctuality, quiet serenity, and joy of heart." These same qualities have clearly inspired the performers, who now join forces for the sixth time in their commitment to the long-serving Kapellmeister of the Darmstadt court.

The Geisterinsel is a masterpiece of poetry and language: nothing more musical could be imagined. This positive judgment pronounced by Goethe in 1798 was seconded by Duke Carl August, the ruling prince in Saxe-Weimar, when he wrote in 1801 that there was "really beautiful music" in this stage work. Both men were championing a singspiel in three acts premiered at the National Theater in Berlin on 6 July 1798 and performed fifty-five more times at this house until 1825. The authors of this successful work were the Gotha-born Friedrich Wilhelm Gotter and Friedrich Hildebrand of Einsiedel and it's composer was the Königsberg native Johann Friedrich Reichardt. After a short phase as a brilliant violin virtuoso Reichardt, who was influenced by the philosophy of the Enlightenment, became a pathbreaking "thinking artist" who soon met with recognition in various European countries as a composer and versatile writer active in many fields. With simple means Reichardt's music seeks, in keeping with the particular situation, to do justice to the tension between the "gentle melodies" of delightful spirit voices and the horrors of hell. It is primarily in his ensemble and final scenes that this composer produces a complexity that he had learned from Gluck and Mozart.

On its latest CD the Consortium Classicum presents entertaining Italian serenades by Rossini, Righini, Paisiello, and others. The term “serenade” derives from the Italian word serenata, which designates a musical genre of light, serene and tranquil character but with the potential for brilliance and sparkling wit. They are works of fresh and mirthful character, and Righini’s Serenade for Wind Sextet, here in a world-premier recording, stands out in this department. In contrast to the other sextets on this CD, this work contains demanding passages for the horns, which engage in virtuoso dialogue with the clarinet.

The two great musical dynasties of central Germany, the Bachs and the Abels, were closely entwined. Carl Friedrich Abel, the greatest of his clan, was a pupil of Johann Sebastian Bach in Leipzig and the friend and business partner of Bach’s youngest son, Johann Christian in London. Abel’s output of symphonies comprises over forty works, most of which were published in sets of six, the standard number for publications of sonatas, chamber works and concertos in the eighteenth century. A concert in his time would have a range of compositions by several composers and it is more likely that only one symphony would be played in a single evening. The present day listener should not feel guilty for indulging in these fine works one by one or out of sequence. They are rich and delicate, and should be savored individually. Die Kolner Akademie is a unique ensemble based in Cologne which performs music of the seventeenth through the twenty-first centuries on period instruments with world renowned guest soloists.They have receieved the highest acclaim for their outstanding performances at major festivals all over the world, many of which were broadcast live and filmed for television.

F. E. FESCA String Quartets: No. 1 in E?, op. 1/1; No. 2 in F?, op. 1/2; No. 3 in B?, op. 1/3; No. 7 in a, op. 3/1; No. 8 in D, op. 3/2; No. 9 in E?, op. 3/3; No. 13 in d, op. 12; No, 15 in D, op. 34. Potpourri No. 2 B? for String Quartet, op. 11 • Diogenes Qrt • CPO 777482 (3 CDs: 207:02)


Reviewing a release (CPO 999869) of two symphonies by Friedrich Ernst Fesca in Fanfare 31:6, Patrick Rucker described him as a “symphonist,” and came to the conclusion that “though it’s doubtful that anyone would argue for an elevation of Fesca’s status above that of a Kleinemeister , this is music of considerable skill and charm.” I think something important wasn’t stated, there—namely, that Fesca wasn’t a symphonist. He was a concertmaster and first violinist by profession in court orchestras and chapels, but his compositional métier was chamber music, and especially the string quartet. As compared to the three symphonies he wrote very early in a highly successful career cut short by tuberculosis, he composed a total of 16 string quartets, not to mention four string quintets, four flute quartets, and a Flute Quintet.


And it was as a composer of string quartets that Carl Maria von Weber praised him in a published article in 1818. He notes that Fesca’s models were Mozart and Haydn, that he is “careful and richly spices” his harmonies, and “often modulates sharply, and swiftly, almost like Beethoven,” which is both shrewd and wide of the mark: both Beethoven and Fesca learned this from Haydn, and beyond Haydn, likely back to the more exploratory quartets of Gossec. Unlike Beethoven, he “feels too soft to … suddenly seize us with a bold, gigantic fist,” but “a certain intelligent deliberation marks his works, and is coupled with depth of feeling, avoids dryness, and brings about an uncommonly fine bearing in the character both of the whole and of the individual parts. He develops his ideas clearly and manifoldly, the four voices are independent.…” Weber notes a tendency towards what we term the quatuor brilliant , with a flashy first violin part, but that the other instruments aren’t demoted to secondary roles.


This first volume in a projected series of Fesca’s string quartets in general confirms Weber’s comments. I find little mature Mozart in the mix. On the other hand, Haydn appears less in the shape of harmonies and themes than in distant modulations, a tendency towards regular motivic transformation, and subtle elements held in common among all four movements of each work. Fesca also has the interesting trick (for lack of a better term) of crafting beautiful galant themes that he tags, either midway or at their conclusion, with short motifs. These latter can be varied and developed at will, as well as making a perfect way to bridge back to the themes, themselves, usually with several transformed elements.


Even the earliest works, believed to date from before or around his 20th year, demonstrate a mastery at handling what were by then the quartet’s movement structures that would remain in place for over a century. There is also at times a sense of playfulness at work—figures reversed, details that suddenly loom out of proportion, bridges that don’t end up where they traditionally should, thematic content from one movement inserted slyly into the accompaniment of another, etc.—though it almost never takes the form of Haydn’s famous false endings. Weber’s comment about four independent voices is only accurate in a limited sense. True, Fesca is willing to give the lead voice at any time to any of his instruments, but his greatest fault (at least, to modern ears) is a willingness at times to fall back on a lead with simple, repetitive bass accompaniment. That, too, was very characteristic of French quartets from the mid-18th through early 19th centuries.


What Weber in turn considers with typically Romantic regard for the individual as personally expressive reticence was probably just a pragmatic matter of writing for the largest audience without compromising standards; for make no mistake, Fesca was extremely popular during his lifetime. (His quartets continued to go through multiple editions after his death and through to the mid-century.) The one stylistic kicker in this three-disc set is the String Quartet No. 13 of 1819. It stands out from the rest both for its concentration on motivic transformation, even in the central movements, and for its tonal instability. Fesca as a rule enjoys exploring distant keys and recasting thematic content with different leads and slightly altered harmonies, but here he deliberately undercuts notions of the tonic not merely in bridges but within the themes themselves, leading to several moments of precarious tonality during the opening movement. Chromatic passages abound. It’s not later Schubert, by any means, but it is a curious sidelight that indicates one direction the composer might have pursued had he lived longer.


The Diogenes Quartet is a new name for me. They are all technically proficient if not expert, but slurs in some faster passagework commendably don’t cause them to take movements marked as presto or vivace any slower. Their tone is commendably lean, and their application of vibrato on held notes, and at cadences, warm. Founded in 1998, they apparently keep to a busy concert and recording schedule. (Their first volume of the Schubert quartets has recently been released on Brilliant Classics.) I’m glad to see that none of this has meant any less attention given to this music, and they perform it with the kind of loving detail one would expect to hear in works by the Bigger Names. They make an eloquent case for this music, and for the volumes that will follow.


FANFARE: Barry Brenesal

The ORF Radio-Symphonieorchester Wien, headed by Cornelius Meister, presents Alexander Zemlinsky's "The Mermaid". Zemlinsky's "The Mermaid" is a rougher orchestral painting, created in the spirit of Jugendstil, according to the romantic fairy tale of Hans Christian Andersen. Teresa Vogl and orchestral director Christoph Becher listen carefully: the glittering colors of the waves, the longing of the enchanted mermaid after a solid ground under her feet, the perfidious suggestion of the water witch, the splendid wedding at the court. It is true that the marriage of the prince and the mermaid is of limited duration, but Zemlinsky gives the listeners a harmonious finale - just as it is for a fairy tale.

Born in the Champagne countryside in 1837, Théodore Dubois developed his talents at the Reims Cathedral, which explains why the Catholic sacred sphere influenced him throughout his life. Even today he continues to be known in France above all as a composing organist and a composer of sacred music for liturgical use who compiled a massive oeuvre. He also continues to be much discussed in educational circles as the author of the standard manuals in music theory of a strictly conservative nature. We are now releasing three of his violin compositions, which, by contrast, have been neglected and wrongly forgotten by posterity. His Violin Concerto was dedicated to none other than the violin legend Eugène Ysaÿe. The quality of this work is manifested most impressively in the Adagio middle movement in the form a long-drawn-out melody with a mighty amplitude; the deepest depths are fathomed with big sound, and iridescent heights are scaled. Here the whole individual value of French violin culture is revealed. And his only Sonata for Violin and Piano also contains the name of a great virtuoso in its dedication – Henri Marteau – and was composed to order for him.

This new release features Carl Reinecke’s Die wilden Schwaene (The Wild Swans). This work in sixteen musical numbers is based on a Hans Christian Andersen fairy tale. Performers on this release include soprano Kirsten Labonte, alto Gerhild Romberger, soprano Shuang Shi, baritone Markus Kohler, and more.

Today Hendrik Andriessen is primarily known as the composer of some magnificent works for the organ, a few choral works mainly performed by amateur choirs, and some masses for the Roman Catholic service. In reality, Andriessen was for many decades a driving force in the Netherlands, as a versatile composer, a performing musician, a much loved teacher, the author of articles and books on music, the director of the Conservatories of Ultrecht and The Hague, and finally as a professor of musicology at the Catholic Univeristy in Nijmegen. Within a time span of some seventy years he has written a large oeuvre of instrumental and vocal works, from symphonies to songs, from masses to operas, from chamber music to organ works. The Netherlands Symphony Orchestra is the symphonic orchestra of the Province of Overijssel. This orchestra from Enschede performs with passionate dedication and virtuosity, and its broad, varied, and always exciting programs have earned it a firm place in this region and beyond. With its employmen tof historical instruments instead of modern ones in the performance of classical works, the ensemble has distinguished itself both in its immediate environment, throughout the Netherlands, and in foreign countries as a unique cultural ambassador on behalf of the Province of Overijssel.

This album features a piece from Holland that is highly virtuosic and melodious—a clarinet concerto from the late romantic era of 1885. Rising star Manz has given rebirth to this genuine masterpiece that originally enjoyed great renown and was played from Russia to America. For unknown reasons it at some point or other simply vanished from the not really all that extensive repertoire for clarinet virtuosos.

Hans Pfitzner’s 1901 opera Die Rose vom Liebesgarten sets a libretto by James Grum, which was inspired by an 1890 painting by Hans Thoma, Der Wachter vor dem Liebesgarten. While the premiere of the first act was quite poorly received, the entire opera finally received a successful staging by Gustav Mahler in Vienna in 1905. This production, featuring world-renowned vocalists Andre Riemer, Tiina Penttinen, Jona Buchner, Astrid Weber, and Andreas Kindschuh, is conducted by Frank Beerman. Beerman has gained international renown as a conductor both on the stage and with his many recordings. His always alert interest in new and undiscovered music and in new interpretations of the core repertoire has brought him numerous prizes and distinctions. His recordings feature the core repertoire as well as rediscoveries and contemporary works. They have won several awards, including Echo Klassik prizes in 2009 and 2015.

In 1737 at age 71, after more than four decades serving in numerous positions as a Court violinist, orchestra director, and part-time composer, Jean-Féry Rebel composed his profoundly unique ballet-suite Les élémens (the elements). In his description of the opening movement (included in the notes to Musica Antiqua Köln’s 1995 DG Archiv recording of the work) director/violinist Reinhard Goebel offers a telling assessment as to just how unique, if not important Rebel’s achievement was: “He [Rebel] discarded all formal fetters: neither concerto nor overture, neither sonata nor sinfonia, his ‘Le cahos’ [chaos] is the first free orchestral composition in the history of music, more tone-poem than programme music.”

Indeed, it’s doubtful that anyone new to or even familiar with this remarkable work won’t be shocked (and shocked again) by Rebel’s intention, as he states in his preface to Les élémens, to “dare to undertake to link the idea of the confusion of the elements with that of confusion in harmony”…to depict “Chaos itself, this confusion which reigned between the Elements [earth, air, fire, and water] before the instant when, subject to invariable laws, they took their prescribed place in the order of nature.” Imagine, as Catherine Cessac puts it in her insightful notes to Les Musiciens du Louvre’s 1993 Erato recording, “…a daring ‘cluster’ involving the simultaneous attack of every note in the D minor harmonic scale…”. Of course, by now you realize my point: Rebel’s Les élémens must truly be heard to be believed.

This recent 2014 CPO release featuring L’Orfeo Barockorchester directed by Michi Gaigg was originally issued on Capriccio’s Phoenix Edition in 2008. It’s an excellent performance (that brooding diminuendo and lengthy pause between the initial sustained “cluster” and the remainder of the first movement rivals Musica Antiqua Köln’s intensity) and sometimes quirky, as when the ensemble plays up the wide array of rhythmic and dynamic contrasts for dramatic effect. The tempos by and large are quicker than most, with the exception of the seventh-movement Tambourins where, like The Academy of Ancient Music (L’Oiseau-Lyre), the ensemble favors a more measured pace before gradually gaining momentum near the end. All in all, this is a beautiful and at times spectacular offering.

Rameau’s Castor et Pollux suite also receives an exemplary performance, in some respects bettering my reference recording by Frans Brüggen and the Orchestra of the 18th Century (Philips). Gaigg has better instincts in shaping the suite as a whole, as well as an ability to better draw out instrumental texture and detail (compare their renderings of “Troisième air pour les athlétes” and the “Premier passepied pour les ombres heureuses”, for instance). This makes a nice, fitting choice to conclude the program.

The sound is remarkably good with excellent transparency in the woodwinds, strings, and percussion. Given Les élémens’ relative obscurity, there have been a few wonderful recordings (including a chamber version by the Palladian Ensemble that David Hurwitz favorably reviewed here). The one not to be missed, however, remains the previously mentioned Academy of Ancient Music performance directed by the late period-instrument visionary Christopher Hogwood. It was recorded in 1980, and every performance since that one is still very much indebted to Hogwood’s ground-breaking undertaking. Kudos to CPO for reissuing this worthy successor. Highly recommended.

-- John Greene, ClassicsToday.com