Emilie Mayer, born in 1812 in Friedland, Mecklenburg, produced an extensive oeuvre in a wide range of musical genres unmatched by any other woman composer of the nineteenth century. Influenced by her studies with Carl Loewe, she mainly occupied herself with works by Haydn, Mozart, and Beethoven and developed a compositional style of her own deliberately following outstanding classical models. In 1850 she organized her first concert exclusively featuring her own compositions at the Berlin Playhouse. She was able to realize what remained a wish dream for most women composers of her generation: highly acclaimed by the critics, she successfully established herself as a composer. Piano chamber music accounts for the largest share of Emilie Mayer’s oeuvre. The main motive of the first theme of her Piano Trio op. 16 functions as the sole thematic figure and pervades the entire development section, while in her op. 13 she more closely adheres to the classical practices of thematic elaboration. The greater formal freedom of the Notturno forming her last composition and op. 48 offers her the opportunity to move far away from classical formal language. In a loosely connected, practically associative sequence she develops a peacefully flowing narrative from the basic theme initially presented in choral style. The narrative explores the theme from constantly new angles of vision and develops it in a strongly expressive manner.

Classical Music

In the category of widespread attention and recognition during the first half of the 19th century, the composer Louis Spohr was second, only to the master, Ludwig Van Beethoven. Spohr's music was recognized as the complete opposite of the type of music Beethoven composed. Since Spohr withdrew his tenth symphony, it is found on this release as it's world premiere.

German opera composer Giacomo Meyerbeer (1791-1864) is considered by many to be the most successful stage composer of the nineteenth century. His compositional style merged Italian vocal tradition with German orchestral style. His opera Dinorah is a French opera comique in three acts which premiered in 1859. The story is based on two stories by Emile Souvestre, “Le Kacouss de l’Armor”, and “La Chasse aux tresors.” This production features Der Chor der Deutschen Oper Berlin and Das Orchester der Deutschen Oper Berlin.

As a composer coping with the symphonic legacy of Beethoven, Handel, and Brahms, it was difficult for Felix Woyrsch to develop his own idea of the symphony, especially since he did not aspire to break with the past but sought a negotiable path on which he could continue the symphonic tradition of the nineteenth century in his own personal way. However, our previous two releases featuring this composer’s symphonies clearly show that he belonged to a generational group including Richard Wetz, Wilhelm Berger, Felix Weingartner, and Paul Juon whose members exercised due caution in the further development of the classical-romantic tradition, each one in his own way, and specifically enriched the generic history of the symphony with important nuances. Woyrsch’s Symphony No. 4 is about the same length as his third such work but in contrast to it built on melodic ideas of greater concision not rarely generating sharp contrasts within a short space. It is a work of abrupt changes and unforeseen modulations. In his Symphony No. 5 Woyrsch very much continues on the path taken by him in his earlier symphonies, though here he presents his ideas in extraordinarily concentrated form. He prescribes an orchestral ensemble almost just as large as the one in the fourth symphony but its dimensions are clearly more compact. “And again something of compelling force emanates from this music.” (klassik-heute).

Classical Music

Atterberg's piano concerto, as I noted in discussing its previous incarnation on Sterling, comes perilously close to self-parody. The endless Romantic heaving and gesticulating, capped by a finale whose main tune sounds like a demented cross between two Tom Lehrer tunes ("Be Prepared" and "The Irish Ballad"), may well make it hard for some listeners to take seriously (believe me, Atterberg was dead serious). Still, if you just sit back and wallow in its billowing excess, there's much fun to be had, and this performance improves on its predecessor being better played by both soloist and orchestra, and better recorded. In particular, the slightly less frantic, but even more rhythmically emphatic approach to the last movement carries the music forward with every bit as much conviction and less suspicion of embarrassment. I also prefer the couplings: two very appealing (and gratifyingly concise) works for piano and orchestra (whereas its competitor featured a pretty awful rendition of the Violin Concerto). Indeed, the Ballad and Passacaglia, based on a Swedish folk tune, could very well become a popular hit. In short, this is another winner in CPO's ongoing Atterberg series. --David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Joachim Raff (1822–82) does not exactly fall into the category of obscure or off-the-beaten path, but he is clearly not well known or widely recorded. Here was an exceptionally prolific composer— just look at the opus numbers above—who wrote in virtually every genre of the day: opera, oratorio, concerto, chamber works, tone poems, symphonies, piano sonatas, solo piano pieces. Largely forgotten, too, is the fact that Liszt, who early on was not particularly adept at orchestration, turned over the piano scores of some of his early tone poems to Raff to orchestrate. Yet Raff receives short shrift in most of the music histories, and I can’t recall ever hearing anything by Raff programmed in concert. It is worth quoting at length from an article by Dr. Alan Krueck, professor of music at California University of Pennsylvania:

"There is perhaps no other composer so admired, enjoyed, honored, and respected whose music fell victim to such profound neglect and even derision within so short a period after his death, than Joseph Joachim Raff. From 1860 to 1900, the name of Joachim Raff was mentioned in the same breath as Richard Wagner, Franz Liszt, and Johannes Brahms as a leading master in German music. Recognized internationally as one of the truly great composers, every concert guide existing at the turn of the century exalted him to a level of post-Beethovenian symphonic achievement otherwise reserved only for Mendelssohn, Schumann, Brahms, and Tchaikovsky. Tchaikovsky not only openly admired Raff but used him as a model as well, imitating Raff to the point of subconscious quotes, so deep was the influence."

By 1920, after the First World War, even Raff’s most celebrated works had faded from the repertoire, his name synonymous with the silly and the sentimental, a periwinkle tunesmith engendering teardrops at tea time in the salon. The derision was often laced with malice—a biographer of Edward MacDowell claimed that the noted American composer had ruined his talent by studying with Raff.

Born in Lachen, Switzerland, of a family originally from German Swabia, Raff was auto-didactic in his musical education—encouraged first by Mendelssohn and later by Liszt. Liszt took him on as amanuensis and musical confidante at Weimar in the early 1850s. From 1855 to 1878 Raff worked independently in Wiesbaden, writing most of his successful compositions. In 1878, he was named the first director of the recently founded Dr. Hoch’s Conservatory of Music in Frankfurt-am-Main, where he remained until his death four years later. Allied early in his career with Liszt and the New German School, Raff dared to question Wagner’s ideas polemically. Unwanted by the conservatives, and himself rejecting the circle with which he was most often associated, he isolated himself between the two most important poles of musical politics during his life. An impeccable craftsman for whom all matters of music were second nature, he could be totally uncritical of the materials he used in his compositions, placing movements of soaring inspiration and incredible invention next to ones of embarrassing dross, pairing the simpleminded with the sublime.

The last four of Raff’s 11 symphonies, written between 1876 and 1878, set out an ambitious project, to write not just four movements of a single work each depicting one of the four seasons, but four full-scale four-movement symphonies depicting the seasonal cycle. Chronologically, they were composed neither in the normal procession I’ve given in the headnote nor in the order they are laid out on the discs (which is No. 8, “Spring;” No. 10, “Autumn;” No. 9, “Summer;” and No. 11, “Winter”). The actual order of composition seems to have been Spring, Winter, Summer, Autumn. Does it really make a difference? And the answer is no; for other than the fact that Spring is in a major key (the only one of the four that is), absent from these scores are the two elements you would most expect in such a cycle. There is no obvious tone painting, an attempt to depict musically the various and sundry physical and emotional characteristics we tend to associate with the seasons of the year. Secondarily, as the excellent booklet note points out, “the existence of a motivic inventive core varied and inserted into changing contexts is among the obvious expectations of such a tetralogy, but such a core is lacking.” In other words, there is nothing that ties these four symphonies together, that makes them part of a unified cycle. Each can be listened to as a completely separate, self-contained work. All are essentially abstract music, with little or no tone-painting allusions to their titles; and none is related contextually or motivically one to the other.

I think Dr. Krueck’s assessment is a bit harsh when he refers to movements of “incredible invention next to ones of embarrassing dross, pairing the simpleminded with the sublime.” Raff’s general style is heavy on Liszt’s tone poems, but with frequent recollections of Mendelssohn, as in the second movement scherzo of the “Spring” Symphony, aptly titled “Walpurgisnacht,” which actually bears a remarkable resemblance to the Finale of Mendelssohn’s “Italian” Symphony.

Bottom line: if you thrill to Liszt’s Les preludes and Mazeppa and would love to hear something in similar vein but by someone else for a change, or if you love the symphonies of Mendelssohn and Schumann, Raff is your man. Like many another wonderful composer of the same period whose name and works have been forgotten, Raff suffered the misfortune of being caught between the twin vortices—Wagner and Brahms—that dominated the climate of the times and scattered to the winds everything that came within their spheres. There were so many fine composers writing magnificent symphonic and chamber music during this period, and today we are barely aware they existed.

I think you are going to be won over by Raff. If the Elegie of the Tenth Symphony (“Autumn”) doesn’t “engender teardrops at tea time,” I don’t know what will. Once again cpo is to be commended for their service to the “also-rans,” and it should be noted that, arkivmusic.com notwithstanding, all of Raff’s symphonies are available on cpo. Another cycle with the Czecho-Slovak State Philharmonic (Košice) under Urs Schneider can be found on Marco Polo, but these may be even more difficult to come by. In any case, the cpo discs at hand, with the Philharmonia Hungarica under Werner Andreas Albert, are stunning. Buy this set and I promise you will not be disappointed.

Jerry Dubins, FANFARE

While in the midst of his "war sonata" trilogy in the early 1940s, Prokofiev found the sparkling fairy tale world of 'Cinderella' easy to approach, and despite the difficulties of those years, with numerous relocations and a divorce, he completed the score in 1944. It was simply one of those cases where the magic worked, and while not as well known as his 'Romeo and Juliet,' 'Cinderella' is, if anything, even more inspired, its brilliant melody and invention so vast that the action moves forward with virtually no reliance on repetition.
Michail Jurowski leads a robust performance of the complete ballet, getting just the right mixture of romantic sweetness and tart wit, with the West German Radio Orchestra sounding very fine indeed in a recording that admirably combines fullness and natural hall atmosphere.

The Original Version of L’Africaine

On 29 November 1863 Giacomo Meyerbeer noted in his journal, "Worked seven hours: the last scene with Selica is instrumented and revised, and with it the score of Vasco completed. May God bless the work and grant it a dazzling and enduring success." Meyerbeer called the opera completed by him four months prior to his death Vasco de Gama, but it came to be known to posterity as L’Africaine (The African Woman). Now how did this happen? Meyerbeer had been working on the opera since 1837, and L’Africaine was its original title. Eugène Scribe’s libretto told the story of an African princess who unhappily falls in love with a Portuguese naval officer. After some initial enthusiasm Meyerbeer soon had his doubts about the subject. Years of revision and rejection followed. It was not until 1849, following Le Prophète, that he resumed his work on it. The Portuguese seafarer now became the historical explorer Vasco da Gama. Since he had discovered the sea route to India, the setting had to be transferred from Africa to India. As a result, Meyerbeer changed the opera’s title to Vasco de Gama. The composer died prior to the rehearsals. The musicologist Joseph de Fétis subsequently examined the existing material, introducing some unfortunate changes and greatly abridging it. He was of the opinion that the work had to be presented to the music world with the title as promised: L’Africaine. And this meant that scenes featuring Indian worship of Brahma were set in Africa! The critical edition by Jürgen Schläder formed the basis of our studio production of the acclaimed Chemnitz production and now for the first time enables us to catch a glimpse of Meyerbeer’s intentions.

A. G. Brescianello’s (1690-1758) Tisbe, based on the popular tale of Pyramus and Thisbe, was the result of a commission from the Duke Eberhard IV Ludwig of Wurttemberg to his court composer to write a work to conclude the Carnival season 1718/19. Il Giusto Barocco rediscovered the opera in the Wurttemberg State Library, submitted it to musicological scrutiny, and rendered it once again performable. “Jorg Halubek and Il Giusto Barocco…demonstrate they now have a place in the first ranks of German baroque orchestras.” (Opernwelt, following the 2012 concert premiere)

Interest in conductor Kirill Petrenko has naturally increased since the announcement that he would be taking over from Simon Rattle as Music Director of the Berlin Philharmonic, so it was smart of CPO to box up their series of tone poems by Joseph Suk, led by Petrenko with the orchestra of the Komischen Oper Berlin. Interestingly, his discography to date is very sparse: this set, the Rachmaninov Second Piano Concerto on Channel Classics, and one or two other items. We are very, very far from the time when conductors were chosen at least partly on the basis of their bringing a major label contract in tow. Maybe this is a good thing, at least to the extent that musical considerations receive greater weight in the selection process.

Petrenko’s Suk is very good, for the most part, but there is a lot of competition in this repertoire and these versions are not first choices. The Asrael Symphony is well paced, exciting, and aptly intense. It’s not Petrenko’s fault that the orchestra is not the Czech Philharmonic, and the climax at the end of the first movement, or the spooky scherzo, haven’t quite the same power or bite as in versions by Talich, Neumann, Mackerras, or Pesek. The latter still offers the standout version of A Summer Tale (on Supraphon, not Virgin), followed by Mackerras on Decca, both with the Czech Phil, while Ripening, an odd piece exceeded in strangeness only by Epilog, which Petrenko did not record, perhaps makes the strongest impression if only on account of its eccentricity.

That said, Tale of a Winter’s Evening is very nice to have–it’s an attractive early piece even less familiar than Ripening, and Liadov’s The Enchanted Lake makes a good but kind of irrelevant filler for A Summer Tale. The sonics are excellent. So for those curious about Petrenko this will be a good set to have available, although your ability to judge his work will depend on how well you know your Suk. After all, this isn’t exactly a Beethoven cycle. Still, this only means is that when Petrenko takes over his new position we will have something to look forward to. I would be very surprised if he turned out to be less interesting that Simon Rattle.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

TELEMANN Herr, wir liegen für dir mit unserm Gebet, TWV 1: 781. Es wollt uns Gott genädig sein, TWV 1:544. Es spricht der Unweisen Mund, TWV 1:533a. So ziehet nun an, TWV 1:1390. Wertes Zion, sei getrost, TWV 1: 1606 • Gotthold Schwarz, cond; Siri Karoline Thornhill (sop); Stefan Kahle (ct); Susanne Krumbiegel (alt); Tobias Hunger (ten); Gotthold Schwarz (bs); Bach Consort Leipzig; Sächsisches Barock O (period instruments) • CPO 777 7532 (70:36 Text and Translation)


It is no surprise that Telemann, along with Johann Sebastian Bach and Christoph Graupner, can be considered the main composers of the Lutheran cantata during the first half of the 18th century. After all, the Harmonisches Gottesdienst was meant to provide first-rate but easily performable cantatas in cyclic form for the year for places that were missing larger vocal and instrumental forces, and this published set is only a small tithe of the works that he was to write for the church. Thus, calling this set of five works Luther Cantatas , as the title of the disc has it, rather begs the question of redundancy. Nevertheless, when three texts of that number are by Erdmann Neumeister, the main promoter of the genre, such a rubric should be accepted.


These works are all outgrowths of the Magdeburg Telemann Festival, which annually seems to unearth and perform an almost inexhaustible supply of the composer’s music, and the 21st season was devoted to the theme of his connection with Luther. As was usual with Telemann, the structure of these cantatas varies considerably. The first, Herr, wir liegen für dir , is conventional, with pairs of arias and recitatives bookended by the choral “Dictum” and a final chorale. In the second, the usual recitative is omitted altogether, and it is prefaced by a nicely suspensive sinfonia, while in the third Telemann dispenses with the arias, allowing the threefold choral repetitions (two chorales and a final chorus) to be separated by brief recitatives, the second of which does have a brief devolution into a duet Dictum at the end. The movements can be rather conventional, such as his square setting of A mighty fortress in the final cantata Wertes Zion , or the other chorale tunes. But he also inserts moments of harmonic and melodic boldness, such as the tortuous melismas of the aria “Weg, ihr Sünden” in the first cantata, which get spun out by the bass as if to underscore the text “kränkt mich nicht” (do not constrict or grieve me). The second cantata even ends with a gnarly contrapuntal “Amen” fugue that seems startling, given the almost homophonic nature of the preceding chorales. Telemann is also quite inventive in terms of his use of instrumentation. In the first aria of the first cantata, “Was ich an Gerechtigkeit,” the two flutes (traversos) weave a gentle crystalline minuet around a flowing soprano line that is like a clear brook. In the first duet of the second cantata, Es wollt uns Gott , the oboes are wonderfully throaty, with their darker tone colors emphasizing some curious harmonic inflections that support the parallel thirds of the solo voices. In the last cantata, Telemann uses his high trumpets both as soaring clarion calls and as fanfares. In the chorus, “Seid böse, ihr Völker,” the admonitions of the voices are punctuated by a militaristic brass line, which is suddenly interrupted by plaintive minor-key insertions that provide abrupt and effective dramatic contrast.


In short, these are all excellent examples of the Lutheran church cantata of the time, equal to the same sort of works that were being turned out by Bach over in Leipzig. Conductor Gotthold Schwarz keeps the ensemble clean and crisp, with a nice variety of tempos that emphasize Telemann’s contrasts. He also functions as bass soloist, with a light tone that handles the often twisting lines well. Soprano Siri Thornhill has a bright voice that can sound, as in the aria “Was ich an Gerechtigkeit,” innocent and reticent, just what the Affekt requires. Countertenor Stefan Kahle and alto Susanne Krumbiegel are flexible, as is the precise tone of tenor Tobias Hunger. In short, not only are these fine examples of Telemann’s style in cantata writing, the performances support and present them in a way that promotes their compositional features. My only quibble is that I seem to hear a pair of horns in the background of the straightforward chorale “Ein feste Burg,” which are not mentioned in the list of personnel. That does provide a nice support for the voices, but they should have been mentioned. Other than that, this is a disc that Telemann collectors will want. Recommended.


FANFARE: Bertil van Boer

Along with the smaller complete organ oeuvres of a host of North German Baroque composers, Vol. 13 of our complete organ works concentrates above all on the complete organ oeuvre of Michael Praetorius (MPC), an exceptional figure among German musicians during the late Renaissance to early Baroque transition. MPC’s few extant organ works confirm his status as one of the great masters of German organ artistry. Friedhelm Flamme uses this program to present a portrait of the Christoph Treutmann organ (1734-37) at St. George’s Monastery Church in Grauhof, near Goslar.

The lexicographers Gerber and Lipowsky vouched for Ignaz von Beecke's fame as a pianist and composer during his times, but today, we regret to say, hardly anything of his former renown remains. And yet this musician, whose early creations continued to be obliged to the style galant but whose late oeuvre from the 1790s already began to open the door to romanticism, created works of great originality and considerable quality offering opportunities for rewarding new encounters in the concert hall or on sound carriers. Very substantial creations are also found in von Beecke's string quartet oeuvre, and his quartets prove to be eloquent examples of his richly inventive compositional style, which again and again also tended toward unconventional solutions. The most interesting work among the pieces presented here, however, is his Piano Quintet. Although the piano gladly appears as a solo instrument here, the composer is concerned not so much with the display of technical brilliance; the coordinated effort of the entire musical ensemble occupies the foreground.