KORNGOLD String Quartets Nos. 1-3; Piano Quintet 1 • Aron Qrt; 1 Henri Sigfridsson • CPO 777 436-2 (2 CDs: 103:24)


“I feel it—and can’t comprehend it—can’t retain it—and yet can’t forget it; and if I grasp it all, I can’t measure it. … No rule would fit it, and yet there was no error in it.”


Hans Sachs’s rumination from the act II “Fliedermonolog” of Die Meistersinger is a perfect summation of Erich Wolfgang Korngold’s music. At once gay yet wistful, familiar yet elusive, inviting yet unsettling, it aurally distilled all the complex contradictions of fin de siècle Vienna, preserving it for generations to come and carrying it into exile in America after the debacle of World War I. If the waltzes of Johann Strauss Jr. embody a carefree present moment, the works of Korngold preserve and nurture nostalgic memories of a lost past, ardently clinging and seeking to re-create those, that it might still dwell in them rather than an alien present.


The four works in this set, spanning almost a quarter-century from 1921 to 1945, offer refractions of those memories over a generation. The Piano Quintet and First String Quartet, composed almost simultaneously, present two decidedly different faces. The Quintet acts as if nothing has been lost; it is gay and brilliant, with unabashed romantic ardor emphasized by sweeping runs in the keyboard part. The outer movements are energetic, while the lyrical second movement employs an utterly haunting, gorgeous theme from Korngold’s song “Mond, so gehst du wieder auf” (Moon, Thus Risest Thou Again) from his op. 14 song cycle Lieder der Abschied (Songs of Farewell); once heard, it simply won’t leave one’s head. The First Quartet, by contrast, is more introspective and even melancholic at points; its backwards longing has a certain assertive determination to it. A far greater reliance on chromaticism and freer employment of spicy dissonance give it a constantly edgy, unsettled character, with an antsy, off-kilter Intermezzo and quirky Finale that includes a jaunty, almost Vaughan Williams-like march fragment as a second subject (Korngold inscribed the movement’s opening page with a quote from Shakespeare’s As You Like It ).


The Second Quartet dates from the summer of 1933, near the close of a period of several years’ involvement by Korngold with operetta, and just before his first visit to Hollywood. It is a microcosm of melodic and harmonic devices that Korngold would employ so brilliantly in years to come as a composer of film scores. Given Hitler’s recent assumption of power in neighboring Germany, the first, second, and fourth movements would almost seem to be a perverse denial of reality. The opening Allegro epitomizes the skittish music of the Hollywood light romance; the Scherzo is all charming, gently smiling bustle; the Finale is, improbably, a witty, chatty waltz, but one of a decidedly un-Straussian character. All the more surprising, then, is the third-movement Larghetto, beginning with open harmonics like an icy chill (almost hinting at the Second Viennese School), eventually succeeded by a melody of melancholic yearning that seeks to cling to a wistfully remembered but unrecoverable comfort and security.


The Third Quartet dates from 1945, at a juncture in Korngold’s Hollywood exile when, dispirited by academic critical disdain and convinced his film scores were destined for oblivion, he had secretly decided to turn back to composition in more “serious” genres. Dedicated to a longtime friend and near neighbor in exile, the conductor Bruno Walter, it shows Korngold adopting a leaner, more astringent melodic and harmonic language. The melodic material is more fragmentary and questioning; the dissonances more frequent and unresolved. The scherzo has a jittery, almost neurotic character to its outer sections, as short, choppy interjections repeatedly disrupt an incipient moto perpetuo , from which a brief lyrical interlude provides only momentary relief. The slow movement bespeaks stifled grief and haunting bitterness over shattered hopes, with searing pain expressed by violins playing in the higher register as the viola and cello grind out clashing chords below. Only the finale, with its Stravinskian flavor and vigorously offbeat cascades of 16th notes, offers a somewhat hesitantly upbeat finale.


The only other complete set of the quartets is by the Flesch Quartet, originally recorded for ASV and now available on a budget reissue from Brilliant Classics. In Fanfare 23:2 Martin Anderson had high praise for its rendition of the Third Quartet and Sextet (the filler there instead of the Piano Quintet here). If those performances were more competitive, the budget price would tilt a recommendation toward the older set. However, the new cpo set completely outclasses its predecessor at every level, both interpretively and sonically. The Aron Quartet plays with immaculate ensemble and intonation, with far richer tone and irresistible zest and tenderness; the Flesch ensemble is almost lethargic in comparison, with its overall timings averaging almost 15 percent slower. (For example, the respective timings for the First Quartet movements are 7:26, 7:41, 4:42, and 8:07 vs. 8:47, 9: 56, 4:37, and 9:09.) Although its spirit may be willing, the Flesch is relatively weak. Henri Sigfridsson is a perfect teammate for the Aron players in the Quintet, which is likewise far ahead of rival versions such as the uninspired Marco Polo recording. The recorded sound is exemplary in every way. One complaint: This is shockingly short timing for a two-CD set. There is no reason that all three quartets could not have been put on a single CD, and another work such as the Piano Quartet included on the second disc. Nevertheless, this album is a stellar contribution to the ongoing and much needed Korngold renaissance, and is urgently recommended for all devotees of that once unjustly maligned but now belatedly appreciated master of late Romanticism.


FANFARE: James A. Altena

Iris Vermillion (mezzo-soprano), Juliane Banse (soprano), Andreas Schmidt (baritone) & Helmut Deutsch (piano)

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Felix Weingartner's 1912 violin concerto is decidedly late-romantic in style, its violin writing ranging from Mendelssohnian to the kind of thing you would hear in 1930s movies whenever the subject called for something "magical" or "mystical". Weingartner's melodic material is fetching if not particularly memorable, and this--along with the composer's facility with orchestration--makes the concerto a briefly transporting and enjoyable experience. Violinist Laurent Albrecht Breuninger's stylish performance shows his able command of and respect for the work. He's ably accompanied by Alun Francis and the SWR Rundfunkorchester Kaiserslautern.

Schubert's Symphony in E major (the so-called Symphony No. 7) is considered a fragment due to its being only partially scored--about three-quarters of the first movement, the remainder ranging from instrumentation on four staves down to long stretches of a single melodic line. Weingartner's completion views the work from a late-19th-century perspective, with some passages (particularly in the finale) clothed in a Brucknerian timbre. The slow movement draws on Brahms' woodwind style, while the scherzo features a distinctly Mahlerian-flavored trio. Weingartner unfortunately makes a number of cuts, something not done by Brian Newbould in his "realization", which sounds markedly closer to Schubert's actual style.

Even so, the music itself, with its many pre-echoes of the Unfinished and Great C major symphonies, is compelling as it forms a bridge from Schubert's "juvenilia" to the mature masterworks of his "late" period. Francis leads the orchestra in a lively rendition, though he doesn't supplant the earlier recording by Heinz Rögner with the Berlin RSO. CPO's resonant recording places the orchestra to the rear, but at least in this case the violin doesn't dominate the acoustic. A novel and worthy release, especially for Schubertophiles.

--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

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This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.
Recording information: Peter-und-Paul-Kirche des Klostergutes Holthausen bei B (05/18/2007-05/19/2007).

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GRAUN Grosse Passion • Hermann Max, cond; Veronika Winter (sop); Hilke Andersen (mez); Markus Schäfer (ten); Ekkehard Abele (bbar); Das Kleine Konzert; Rheinische Kantorei (period instruments) • cpo 777 452 (2 CDs: 122:28 Text and Translation) Live: Dusseldorf 9/2008


This is my third exposure to Carl Henrich Graun’s music, the other two being his operas Montezuma (libretto by Friedrich II, King of Prussia) and Cleopatra and Cesare (libretto by Giovanni Gualberto Bottarelli). He is best known for his passion oratorio Der Tod Jesu (1755), which was so popular it rivaled Messiah . Graun wrote two other passions: Ein Lämmlein geht und träght die Schuld and this Grosse Passion that is often referred to by its opening lyric “Kommt her und schaut” (Come here and see). It is a large-scale work: 66 numbers, with some alternatives available, calling for a large chorus and orchestra with the usual quartet of soprano, alto, tenor, bass. Supplementing the recitative-aria combinations are 10 choral numbers, five duets, and one quartet.


The libretto is somewhat of a rambling affair. Unlike Messiah , there are only a few Biblical quotes; instead, the narrative flow is often interrupted by reflections and even some lyrics that are redundant of previously expressed sentiments. Much of the libretto is over-written doggerel, especially in the early pages. The music, however, is a different matter.


Graun was in his mid-twenties when he composed this Grand Passion . It is a surprisingly mature work, full of subtle gems. When first listening to this two-CD album, I wrote: “The music is very pleasant. Although it is quite tuneful, little of it is memorable and at two hours tends to wear out its welcome. There is almost a monotonous similarity of one number to the next. It needs something rousing like the ‘Hallelujah’ chorus.” Repeated hearings of this album have increased my appreciation considerably. Even Handel liked this Passion , and quoted some of its music in his own works.


Graun establishes a musical mood and varies little from it. The music in the Grosse Passion is not as flamboyant as Graun’s operatic work, but careful listening to the Passion reveals a wealth of interesting details, especially in the orchestrations. The textures are very clean and transparent and occasionally command more of the listener’s attention than do the vocal lines. One number (CD 1, track 22, Choral: “Die Lust des Fleisches dämpf in mir”) sounds like a distant cousin to the familiar Doxology, Praise God from whom all blessings flow . Instead of the virtuoso showpieces found in Graun’s operas, the Grosse Passion is very reflective and subdued.


Conductor Hermann Max and his musical forces deliver a sincere and beautifully sung and played performance. The soloists have attractive voices and pay devout attention to the musical details. If you like this musical genre, you’re likely to find this a lovely recording, performed with sensitivity and expression.


FANFARE: David L. Kirk

"Here is a disc I’ve been waiting for—not necessarily this one specifically, but any CD containing works by Louise Farrenc (1804–1875) that I would be able to review so that I could share with you my admiration and affection for this mid-19th-century French Romantic composer.

If any woman deserves to be recognized as the greatest female composer of the 19th century, it’s Louise Farrenc. But I will go even a step further and say that during the period in which she was active as a composer—roughly the mid 1820s through the late 1850s—few composers of any gender persuasion, save for Felix Mendelssohn—could hold a candle to her when it came to writing symphonies and large chamber-ensemble works.

If ever there was a composer whose praises I’ve wanted to shout from the mountaintop, Louise Farrenc is it. This is sure to be on my Want List in this same volume. And it should be on yours as well. But please don’t stop there. Get her symphonies too. You won’t regret it."

--Fanfare (Jerry Dubins)

REGER Piano Concerto. BACH-BUSONI Keyboard Concerto in d, BWV 1052 • Michael Korstick (pn); Ulf Schirmer, cond; Munich RO • cpo 777 373 (63:12)


So many factors go into the making of a successful recording! One would think that great artists, committed to the music, would be primary. The classic recording of Reger’s Piano Concerto is by Rudolf Serkin, a committed Regerite if ever there was one, accompanied by no less than the Philadelphia Orchestra under Eugene Ormandy, on a Columbia stereo LP, later a CBS Masterworks Portrait CD. When that recording proved underwhelming, one’s natural reaction was to give up on the music, and later performances supported that decision. Korstick, Schirmer, and Munich do not suggest comparable levels of quality—or at least of fame; yet right from the opening bars the music grabs our attention, holds it, and satisfies on every count.


So, what happened? First off, spectacular recorded sound brings Reger’s Concerto to life as never before. One’s auditory senses, and that means more than just hearing, immediately leap to attention. I envision ears standing up, hairs on the back of the neck rising, like our dog when a deer appears in the yard. Of course, sheer sound is not enough, and the artists whom I so unthinkingly dissed perform at a high level. The orchestral introduction sings with a white-hot passion not previously realized, and the piano’s entrance bursts upon us like a thunderclap. In Fanfare 32:3, Peter Burwasser admired Korstick’s “muscular virtuosity” in Beethoven sonatas, but decried his “lack of grace.” That sounds like a prescription for Reger’s mighty finger buster, and Korstick delivers big time, maintaining golden tone with no apparent strain, which Serkin—one of my favorite artists—was not able to do. But this Concerto is not all bluff and bluster; it has its tender moments, even in the pugnacious opening Allegro moderato (the moderato is an indication of tempo, not of character). Korstick is reasonably convincing in the brief, calm second theme and its reoccurrences. Although Reger’s notorious harmonic progressions keep this music from sounding like Brahms, that master’s impetuous First Concerto is an obvious influence on this movement.


Korstick is less at home with the second movement, Largo con gran espressione; a few passages become just a series of separate notes, rather than one continuous line. But that happens with Serkin, too, suggesting that we should blame the composer. When the inevitable climaxes arrive, Korstick is back in his element, pouring out cascades of tone. Serkin finds an elfin humor in the Allegretto con spirito finale, which Korstick and Schirmer—at a much slower tempo—miss. They seem to be revisiting the spirit of the opening movement, whereas Serkin is exploring another of Reger’s many facets. If the quality of recorded sound were anywhere near equal, one might prefer Serkin/Ormandy in this movement; but it is not, so it may be best to fall into step with the cpo team and wallow in Korstick’s potent pianism. All of this is not enough to bring Reger’s Concerto up to the level of Brahms, or even Rachmaninoff, but it does turn it into a fascinating, absorbing work.


This Bach-Busoni Concerto is the score that the otherwise incomparable Dinu Lipatti (and many other pianist of his era) played, heard in a 1947 live-performance recording with the Concertgebouw under van Beinum ( Fanfare 24:5, p. 277). Busoni’s concept was the exact opposite of today’s period practice: he added color, fistfuls of extra notes, and much ornamentation to the keyboard part (think Horowitz playing Mussorgsky), and he cut freely, particularly in the finale. Korstick’s interest in the Busoni version comes from his studies at Juilliard, where he met Edward Weiss, a Busoni pupil who played the Concerto under Busoni’s baton. The structure and the familiar themes may be Bach, but this is Busoni we are hearing; given Korstick’s qualities (the good and the bad) that may be just as well. Comparison with Lipatti is difficult: that recording was an amateur one, so distorted that one barely notices that he and van Beinum somehow restored Busoni’s cuts. Lipatti plays with more consistent tempos and a semblance of taste—his Adagio is deeply moving—but he is still far from Bach.


This disc is urgently recommended to Reger fanciers. Others will not care, and probably will not be convinced if they do try it.


FANFARE: James H. North

TELEMANN Trietti metodichi: 42:d1; TWV 42: G2; 42:D2. Scherzi: 42:D3; 42:A1; 42:E1. Quartet in a for 2 Violins and 2 Bassoons, TWV 43:a1. Quartet in d for Flute, Violin, Bassoon, and Continuo, TWV 43:d3 • Parnassi musici (period instruments) • cpo 777 301 (63:21)


The title of Telemann’s 1731 publication of six trio sonatas, III Trietti metodichi e III Scherzi , is unusual. No one had ever published trietti (“little trios”), nor was the term “scherzo” used for a composition in several movements. The “method” in the Trietti metodichi consists of illustration in the art of instrumentation. The slow movements of the three Trietti were published with plain and ornamented parts to illustrate ornamentation method. These six melodic works for two violins and continuo were written for amateurs looking for works that were neither too long nor too difficult. All are in three movements, fast-slow-fast, and full of attractive melodies.


The Quartet in a is the fifth of a set of six “Quartets or Trios for two flutes or two violins, and two cellos or two bassoons” published in 1733. It consists of four movements, an Andante followed by three fast Divertimenti. The Quartet in d has been attributed to Handel as well as Telemann. The theme of the first movement appears to be a variation on Handel’s Oboe Concerto No. 3 in g, HWV 287. For the rest, the music does not sound much like Handel’s chamber music, so it would appear that the association with Telemann is correct. It is in four movements, slow-fast-slow-fast, which, while appealing, are not as attractive as its discmates.


The notes to this recording tell us that “it was sheer joy in the vibrancy and virtuosity of baroque music that brought together the musicians of Parnassi musici,” and these qualities inform their work here. Their playing has been praised often in the pages of Fanfare . The continuo is varied by alternate use of archlute or guitar and organ or harpsichord in addition to bassoon and cello. I doubt that I have ever heard a more-appealing recording of Baroque chamber music.


FANFARE: Ron Salemi

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