GILSE Symphony No. 3, “Elevation” • David Porcelijn, cond; Aile Asszonyi (sop); Netherlands SO • CPO 777518 (63:02 Text and Translation)


This is only my second encounter with the music of Jan van Gilse (1881–1944). His First and Second symphonies, recorded by these same forces and reviewed by James H. North in Fanfare 32:2, didn’t leave me with a lasting impression of the composer’s musical profile, so in requesting this release of his Third Symphony, I thought I’d give Gilse another shot.


Though he was Dutch by birth, Gilse was the product of German training, one of his teachers having been Humperdinck. Upon completing his studies, he secured conducting appointments in Bremen and Munich, but after the outbreak of World War I, he returned to the Netherlands, where he led the Utrecht Municipal Orchestra from 1917 to 1922. Apparently, his tenure was a stormy one in which a vitriolic dispute between Gilse and composer and critic Willem Pijper eventually led to Gilse’s resignation and the penning of a 350,000-word autobiography in which he heaped scorn on the heads of all those who had made his life in Utrecht miserable.


But Gilse was not all bitterness and payback. During the Second World War, he and his two sons joined the resistance movement against the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands. His life, however, ended in tragedy, as he saw both sons killed by German troops and then succumbed himself, probably to pneumonia, soon after, not living long enough to see the war’s end.


Gilse completed his Third Symphony in 1907 while still in Bremen, including in its third and fifth movements a part for soprano soloist. Unfortunately, the English translation of John Smit’s album note by Susan Marie Praeder gives no explanation for the work’s title, “Elevation” ( Erhebung in its German publication), or its connection, if any, to the score’s verses.


The third-movement text appears to be a free verse poem by Gilse himself, dedicated in gratitude to Dina Mollinger-Hooijer, wife of the director of the Netherlands National Insurance Company. The love poem, which makes no attempt to hide its erotically charged imagery, leads one to read between the lines as to the reason for Gilse’s gratitude.


The fifth-movement text draws three stanzas from the equally suggestive erotic poetry of Solomon’s Song of Songs , though the particular verses Gilse selects don’t contain some of the text’s more explicit references.


If Gilse’s Second Symphony hints at Strauss, Elgar, and perhaps a touch of Mahler, as North noted in his review of that earlier work, the opening slow movement to his Third Symphony is almost pure Wagner in Tristan und Isolde mode; one waits for the face of the famous Liebestod to emerge at any moment from the granite slab Gilse is chiseling.


The second movement tosses us right into the middle of Strauss’s Don Juan . There are moments of resemblance so close they border on plagiarism.


For the third movement, we’re back to Wagner. Without benefit of a score, I can’t be sure, but on one of the soprano’s climactic notes at 3:43, Gilse’s underlying harmony sounds darn close to Wagner’s augmented ninth “Tristan” chord.


Improbable as it may seem, the fourth movement opens with what sounds like a pre-echo of Ravel’s La Valse , and then we’re back to part Richard Strauss and part parody of the waltzing Strausses.


The fifth and final movement, at almost 22 minutes in length, dwarfs all the others. Here’s the Elgar North mentioned that’s been missing up to this point. What a gorgeous ceremonial opening. Though it lacks the same striding gait, the music recalls to no small degree the magnificent processional that leads off Elgar’s First Symphony. Patience is advised, for the soprano doesn’t make her first entrance until the movement is more than half over. When she finally does, it’s Isolde’s soliloquy leading up to the final Liebestod.


Clearly, Gilse’s score is largely derivative and, as North put it, “pure high Romanticism.” But that’s exactly what should appeal about it to those who love to laze in luxuriant orchestral scores. Gilse may not have had an original idea in his head for this symphony—I can’t speak to any of his later works or to his opera, Thijl , reputedly his crowning achievement—but he demonstrates a sure hand when it comes to the craft of orchestration and of weaving a colorful, vibrant musical tapestry. Gilse’s Third Symphony displays the talent of a composer who could write wonderfully effective music, even if it was someone else’s.


As usual, CPO’s recording is up to the highest industry standards, and David Porcelijn, who has been delivering the goods for the label’s Röntgen project, here leads the Netherlands Symphony Orchestra in what seems to be a perfectly paced performance. Estonian soprano Aile Asszonyi, who has a high-lying, lighter-than-usual, but exceptionally focused voice, beams right in on the notes with laser-like precision. Gilse’s writing, which exploits the voice’s upper range, seems ideally suited to Asszonyi, and she repays the composer with beautifully sung performances in the two vocal movements.


If you love the music of Wagner and Strauss with a serving of Elgar on the side, you are guaranteed to enjoy this CD.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Johann Nicolaus Denninger (1743-1813) numbers among the many musicians of the Classical period who in their multiple roles as instrumentalists, composers and music directors contributed not inconsiderably to tilling the field for the greats of their epoch. In the few extant instrumental works remaining it his main instrument, the harpsichord or the fortepiano then coming into fashion, occupies the focus. Formally and stylistically, these works represent the state of development during the last two decades of the 18th c., a period for which Haydn and Mozart set the decisive standards.

Kabalevsky's natural talent was for catchy tunes, clear structures and audience-pleasing rhythms; beautifully crafted, eminently accessible, full of wit and charm. � His position as a Stalin regime-friendly, arch-conservative critic did nothing to win him friends. � All works recorded here performed by Swedish cellist Torleif Thedeen. � The NDR Radiophilharmonie Hannover is conducted by Eiji Oue; Adrian Prabava (Suite op. 24a).

• Past recordings of Michael Haydn’s chamber divertimenti and the complete symphonic works met with great success • Wolfgang Brunner is regarded as one of the leading specialists in the field of historical keyboard instruments. • Authentic interpretations. • First volume in the series. • Michael Haydn developed a style marked by humor and imagination, cantabile melodies and technical virtuosity.

Alexander Fesca, born in Karlsruhe in 1820, spent the largest part of his life there. He then took up residence in Braunschweig as a chamber virtuoso to Prince von Fürstenberg in 1842 but died there of a lung ailment in 1849. Fesca compiled a considerable catalogue of sixty works with opus numbers, his main focus piano and chamber music. Op. 12 and 46, two of his six Piano Trios, were composed during the 1840s and thus belong to the same period as relevant works by Mendelssohn and Schumann. Piano Trio №. 5 merits special mention: a highly appealing work with a wealth of beautiful melodies.

GRAUN Trios for Violin/Viola and Clavier: in A, GrWV C:XV:90 ; in B?, GrWV A:XV:16 ; in A, GrWV A:XV:13 ; in b, GrWV C:XV:92 • Les Amis de Philippe • CPO 777 633 (68:24)


One will probably notice in the title that I have not been specific as to which of the prolific Graun brother, Carl Heinrich or Johann Gottlieb, wrote these pieces. To make matters more complex, these works are part of a collection of chamber works found in a Dresden manuscript that has “trios” in the title, but these four works are in reality duo sonatas for either violin or viola and obbligato keyboard, here performed by conductor Ludger Rémy on the fortepiano. In untangling this Gordian knot, one should note that these works were originally trios (hence the retention of the designation), since what one presumes was their original form exists in other sources. As to who wrote them, the situation is even murkier (although there are of course only two possibilities, with a 50-50 chance of being correct), as the styles in these works are reflective of both men. My personal choice would be Johann Gottlieb Graun, based simply upon the fact that he favored the violin and viola in both concertante and solo works, but this is only the most cursory of guesses on my part based upon my own bias, and the third work, the second one in A Major, opens with a long keyboard introduction and a rather more virtuoso violin part that is quite reminiscent of Johann Quantz, and so I might be tempted to assign this one to Carl Heinrich.


Be all of this as it may, there is no doubt that the music represents solid compositional technique. For the most part, the bulk of the harmony is carried by the keyboard, while the violin (and viola) rarely traverse their ranges with the usual virtuoso leaps and bounds. The composer keeps his violin/viola in a solid middle range, opting for contrast and depth rather than display. Three of the four works are arranged in an old-fashioned order, with a slow movement followed by two faster ones, the last usually some sort of dance tempo derivative. There are emotional depths to be plumbed here, especially in the haunting fragmented theme of the second A-Major Trio, or the long, lyrical lines of the first movement of the B?-Trio. The composer can also be strict, as in the second movement fugue of the B-Minor Trio, which contrasts in its severity with the mysterious lament of the opening movement. There is more than a bit of C. P. E. Bach in the figuration of the third movement of the first A-Major Trio, with its neat vacillation between duplets and triplets in both parts. Both instruments in each trio are used as equal partners, and in the second movement of the first A-Major Trio, as well as the nice parallel thirds in sequence in the second trio in the same key, the sonorities are calculated to match, rather than being contrasting. These are the types of works that any reputable chamber musician of the time would find a delight to play, as players must cooperate intimately to make them work, and at the same time would be pleasing to the ears of their knowledgeable audiences.


Les amis de Philippe is conductor Ludger Rémy’s group of people whom he gathers around himself to perform such chamber works. Here, he uses violinist Anne Schumann and violist Eva Salonen, both of whom use a similar tone that is fairly rich and dark. This blends nicely with the softer sounds of the fortepiano, a choice made by Rémy that lends these works a slightly more modern (read, Classical era) interpretation. One might suggest that a harpsichord might have been more “authentic,” but I find that the textures speak better with the fortepiano. The original sources, of course, are generic, and there is nothing that would argue against Rémy’s choice. The only bobble I can detect is when Schumann’s violin enters into some of the upper registers; here there is an occasional scratch and squeal, which would probably be unremarkable had not Graun chosen to set most of the music for the violin/viola in the lower and middle portions of their range.


In short these trio arrangements function quite well on their own, and indeed demonstrate that whichever of the brothers wrote them was quite cognizant of how the music could unfold. These performances too render this disc a good addition to any collection of 18th-century chamber music. The playing is excellent and the musicality of the works shows that they are not just museum reference pieces, but real flesh and blood contributions to the sensitive style of the period. Recommended.


FANFARE: Bertil van Boer

STÖLZEL Quadri di Dresda e Bruxelles • Epoca Barocca • CPO 777 764-2 (51: 09)


Back in 24:1 and 24:5, Brian Robins passionately took up the cudgels of advocacy for Gottfried Heinrich Stölzel (1690–1749) in interviews with conductor Ludger Rémy, undertaken in conjunction with releases of two CDs comprising the composer’s Weihnachtsoratorium . Apart from that, there is still only one entry for the composer in the Fanfare Archive, for a single quartet from a baroque anthology disc. Finding listings of CDs of his works available domestically presents a serious challenge, as the search function on the normally reliable ArkivMusic website has something seriously askew in his case, alternately producing either only one entry, or else a list of 100 entries that are mostly for J. S. Bach instead, with the handful of genuine Stölzel items randomly intermixed. (For a proper list, visit my favorite European website, jpc.de). Apart from the five releases that Rémy has produced for CPO, the only other Stölzel CDs I can find in print are another version of the Weihnachtsoratorium on the MDG label, a disc of chamber music on the Ambitus label, and now this new CPO release of the composer’s Quadro Sonatas.


The continued obscurity of Stölzel is, at first sight, difficult to understand, given the considerable reputation he enjoyed in his own lifetime. Born in the small town of Grünstädtel, southeast of Zwickau and near the northwestern border of the modern Czech Republic, he came from humble circumstances; his father, the son of a miner, was the local schoolteacher and church organist. Although his parents gave him some musical training, they did not want him to pursue a career in that field, and upon graduation from secondary school in Gera he obediently enrolled as a student in theology at the University of Leipzig. However, once there he was soon entirely absorbed into the city’s thriving musical scene, becoming a copyist for Melchior Hofmann, a pupil of Emanuel Kegel, and a devoted friend of Johann Friedrich Fasch. By the time he moved to Breslau in 1710 he was composing his first opera in addition to some instrumental music. Shortly afterward he moved on to Halle and then, after rejecting offers of employment from the courts at Gera and Zeitz, went to Italy to further his musical education, where he met among others Antonio Vivaldi, Alessandro Marcello, Johann David Heinichen, and Domenico Scarlatti. Late in 1714 he went back north to Prague, and—after a brief stay in Bayreuth in 1717, plus rejection of a lucrative offer of employment at the electoral court in Dresden, probably because his strong Protestant convictions made a post at a Catholic establishment uncongenial—returned to Gera to become the court music director. In November 1719 he assumed what would prove to be a lifelong position as Kapellmeister for the ducal court in Gotha. Highly esteemed by his contemporaries, he was, for example, admitted to membership in the Correspondierende Societät der musicalischen Wissenschaften (Corresponding School of Musical Science) of the renowned Leipzig scholar Lorenz Christoph Mizler (1711–1778) several years before the application of J. S. Bach was accepted. Mizler also composed a funerary ode to Stölzel upon the latter’s death. For his part, Bach paid a minor tribute to Stölzel by including a Partita in G Minor by him (with the addition of a trio of Bach’s own devising) in his Klavierbüchlein für Wilhelm Friedemann Bach.


While Stölzel was a prolific composer of stage works, oratorios, masses, cantatas, and various instrumental works, little of his output has survived; for example, only 12 of his 85 known secular cantatas, and fragments from only 10 of his 442 sacred cantatas, are extant. At least 18 orchestral suites and over 90 vocal serenatas are completely lost. Part of this is due to the fact that his music quickly became unfashionable after his death; his successor at Gotha, Georg Benda, explicitly stated that he thought only select works of Stölzel’s compositional corpus were worth preserving, ones that he weeded out from what he termed “useless junk.” The rest was consigned to leaky attics, where depredations of weather and hungry rodents soon took their toll. In the case of the nine quadros presented on this CD, eight are taken from the musical archives in Dresden (assembled primarily by Georg Pisendel) and the ninth is preserved in an archive in Brussels. They are unusual not only for their inclusion of the horn, but also for using it as an equal partner at a time when, outside of music for hunting and martial occasions, it was usually assigned to a strictly subordinate role of reinforcing instrumental climaxes. The limitations of the valveless horn of that period necessitated that F Major be the predominant key of all of these quadros.


This is my first exposure to Stölzel’s music. Not having heard either the Weihnachtsoratorium or the Brockes-Passion that so roused the enthusiasm of my colleague Brian Robins, I have neither a basis nor desire to gainsay his highly positive judgment of those. However, I can say that, based on these works, I do not share his enthusiasm. Imagine, if you will, nine knock-offs of Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 1 by a modestly talented pupil who lacks his master’s genius and artistry, and you will have the results presented here. They are pleasant and genial, and make for moderately enjoyable listening, but their commonplace thematic material prevents them from being anything more than that. I find no fault in either the sterling performances by Epoca Barocca, which presents these pieces in their best possible light, nor in CPO’s typically excellent recorded sound and lavish booklet notes. Based on this slender acquaintance, I am not about to make any general pronouncement on Stölzel’s merits as a whole; I will say that this disc is a purely discretionary rather than obligatory acquisition for the devotee of baroque instrumental music. If you choose to buy it, this disc will provide you with pleasure, but don’t expect it to bowl you over.


FANFARE: James A. Altena

Yes, this music is ridiculously conservative, as we might expect from a founder of the post-Mendelssohnian Leipzig school, but with a difference. Unlike so many of his colleagues Jadassohn, who composed these four symphonies between 1860 and 1888, keeps all of their elements in scale. They are brief (about thirty minutes maximum), immaculately scored, tuneful, and not afraid to be light without ever turning frivolous. Indeed, in their day these works were criticized for their lack of profundity. Today, we can see this as one of their greatest virtues.

The First Symphony looks back less to Mendelssohn than to Schumann, with better scoring. Consider the scherzo, and try to guess the composer. After that, the range expands a bit. Jadassohn had a genuine lyric gift, evident in the two Cavatinas for violin and cello, respectively, and also at such moments as the slow movement of the Third Symphony. With the Fourth Symphony, in C minor, Jadassohn does strike a more serious note, but once again at no point does it ever seem that he’s stretching his material farther than it wants to go. He knows how to keep his music moving, and he’s not ashamed of the fact that he’s not Beethoven. That’s saying a lot.

The performances by the Brandenburg State Orchestra under Howard Griffiths are quite good, with characterful contributions from the woodwinds and nice, clean ensemble generally. In the two Cavatinas, Thomas Georgi (cello) and Klaudyna Schulze-Broniewska (violin) play sensitively and don’t overload their predominantly gentle solo lines. The sonics are also naturally balanced and warm. Jadassohn’s symphonies may not be “important,” but they are wisely written, attractive pieces and for that reason well worth getting to know.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Since 2017 Golo Berg has been the general music director of the Munster Symphony Orchestra, which was founded by the composer Fritz Volbach in 1919. It was only logical that Berg would also occupy himself with the composer around this centennial year, and Volbach turned out to be a significant personality both as a musicologist and as a composer. Berg and cpo both were surprised by the originality and high quality of these works. During the first decade of the twentieth century Volbach’s name continued to be thoroughly familiar to people who were interested in music; his works were regularly included in programs, but then they were forgotten somewhat. Volbach’s most popular works included the Symphonic Poem “Es waren zwei Konigskinder” based on the famous folk ballad of the same name. Like Richard Strauss in Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche, Volbach drew on this universally familiar material of folk character in response to the turn-of-the-century predilection for German tales and sagas. He attached great importance to clear structure and an intelligible musical realization, so that the story of the two enamored but unlucky royal children can be imagined without difficulty. The subsequently composed Symphony in B minor formed the crowning conclusion of Volbach’s instrumental music for orchestral ensembles. It represents, so to speak, the “royal category” at the end of his development inasmuch as his aim in this form was to demonstrate his true mastery as a composer.

César Franck’s great Violin Sonata in A, arranged for piano by Alfred Cortot, forms the focus on our new solo album featuring the gifted and successful pianist Michael Korstick. “The version without disturbing scratching noises does indeed have its appeal,” Korstick ironically opines and then explains, “I know that I’m now making myself extremely unpopular with all violinists, but some things come across even better in the version for piano alone. One doesn’t miss the violin.” This is of course a controversial statement, especially since it refers to the embodiment of the sensuous romantic violin sonata. “The fact is that Franck almost always thinks starting from the organ,” thus Korstick’s argument continues, “and Cortot so genially distributed the voices of the octaves that the polyphonic structure becomes clearer.” The audience at its premiere in Paris in 1885 was immediately enthused, and most pianists continue to be so even today. Michael Korstick regards this work as Franck’s “most important, central solo piece,” and the Franck expert Jörg Demus views the Prélude, Aria et Final as one of the few “lucid” compositions of the late romantic period and pardons it for its difficulty in playing technique: “But what do difficulties mean when the emotional content compensates one for it in such a rich way!”

The German pianist Michael Korstick performs Liszt’s last major piano cycle, the Années de Pèlerinage – Troisième Année from 1883, written in the latter stage of his life when he visited Rome, Weimar and Budapest. Also featured on this disc is a supplement to Années de Pèlerinage II: Venezia e Napoli.

ROSETTI Oboe Concertos: in C; in C. Symphonies: in F; in D • Kurt Meier (ob); Johannes Moesus (cond); Zurich CO • CPO 777-631-2 (71:16)


Quite apart from the fact that he’s virtually forgotten, the composer of record has a problem. According to the Harvard Biographical Dictionary , “He has been confused with Franz Anton Rössler, a cobbler, and five other musicians named Antonio Rosetti.” That’s severe! It may be that he should have stuck with his given name, Franti?ek Antonín Rössler, except that the Italianization worked for him during his very active lifetime. Rössler/Rosetti was born in Litom??ice, Bohemia, in 1750, played double bass in the orchestra of the Wallerstein court, eventually becoming court conductor and Kapellmeister. He composed prolifically—as many as 40 symphonies and 50 solo concertos as well as various sacred works. In 1789 he became Kapellmeister at the court of Ludwigslust, where he died at age 42 in 1792. He was highly regarded by his contemporaries, and in 1791 wrote and conducted a Requiem for Mozart at Prague. The present disc makes a strong case for re-examining his legacy. The two symphonies, both set in three movements, are early works, but they attest to his skill in handling of the orchestra and his ability to craft memorable lines. The F-Major Symphony, composed around 1776–77, was one of his most popular works. The concertos are even more impressive. Kurt Meier is an effective advocate, with a rich, full tone and a flawless technique. Rosetti wrote many concertos for members of his orchestra, especially for horns or bassoons, but also, of course, for the oboe. I reviewed a cpo disc of three other Rosetti oboe concertos played by Lajos Lenscés in Fanfare 15:2. All five could be welcome additions to any soloist’s repertory. Two discs of Rosetti’s more mature symphonies—by Concerto Köln on Teldec and Mathias Bamert on Chandos—are worth seeking out, as well. There are four symphonies on each disc, with, remarkably, no duplications. Meanwhile, the present disc gives me great pleasure, and I recommend it heartily.


FANFARE: George Chien

In 1929, six years after the official start of German radio, an exciting atmosphere of new beginnings continued to prevail in the boardrooms where artistic, cultural, and political program editors held their meetings. The number of officially registered radio listeners was higher than ever, and the new medium enjoyed unprecedented popularity ratings. Editors had to produce attractive programs, and the pressure on them to do so had dramatically increased. However, the artistic directors of the music departments wanted to offer more than just concert broadcasts and news reports. They wanted “radiophonic” music proper to the new medium – music made to order for the technical capabilities of the loudspeaker, which at the time was beginning its triumphant march and supplanting the very uncomfortable earphones, music also made to order for the acoustical circumstances in the recently constructed broadcasting halls. And so our third Radio Music release with works from this period once again features the magic of the radio: its sound, the invisible wave, the microphone, and the loudspeaker. This time musical radio plays form the focus – like the radio play Sabinchen by Paul Hindemith, the audio play Mord by Walter Gronostay, and even the radio opera Jorinde und Joringel by Heinrich Sutermeister. A world all of its own with unique, intensive expressive opportunities and possibilities!

It might be easy to overlook this new CPO disc of all Weber’s overtures. But it would be a mistake to do so, for what we have here is a recording that will have you tapping your toe along to this glorious music afresh. What makes the disc so enjoyable, perhaps, is the fact that each overture feels carefully characterized.

British conductor Howard Griffiths brings thrillingly vibrant and lucid playing from Cologne’s WDR Sinfonieorchester, which is captured in brilliantly clear and realistic sound by West German Radio’s engineers.

Griffiths imbues each work with real urgency, which the orchestra match with virtuosity across the board. Nor is he ever afraid to broaden the tempo and take his time when it’s required. The wind-playing is characterful, with a twinkle in the eye of the oboe solos and a mixture of liveliness and mellifluousness from the principal clarinet. The brass-playing is also especially fine throughout.

– Gramophone

GOUVY Oedipe à Colone • Joachim Fontaine, cond; Christa Ratzenböck ( Antigone ); Joseph Cornwell ( Polynice ); Stephen Roberts ( Thésée ); Vinzenz Haab ( Oedipe ); Kantorei Saarlouis; La Grande Société PO • CPO 7778252 (2 CDs: 93:05 Text and Translation)


Back in 34:3 I reviewed a premiere recording of Louis Théodore Gouvy’s secular oratorio Iphigénie en Tauride , conducted by Joachim Fontaine. While admiring the composer’s “usual fastidious craftsmanship and superior technical command of orchestration and of vocal and instrumental part-writing,” I expressed reservations about “a lack of dramatic contrast and real passion” and added: “The music is too cultivated for its often harrowing subject....Instead, one elegant and decorous set piece follows another, all inhabiting a temperate emotional climate zone that fails either to inflame or chill. There is also a certain stasis and lack of flow from one number to the next.” Having had a similar reaction to another one of the composer’s oratorios, Électre , I speculated that “Gouvy may deliberately have been cultivating a degree of emotional restraint in these works in order to convey a stylized sense of classical antiquity that would have fit 19th-century sensibilities.”


Fontaine now leads the same choral and instrumental forces, though with mostly different vocal soloists, in the premiere recording of yet another oratorio by Gouvy on a mythic Greek subject, Oedipe à Colone . What a difference from Iphigénie ! Here there is no such emotional restraint or stasis; the beautiful and inventive music positively surges with genuine dramatic contrast and intense passion. While still remaining mostly within the melodic and harmonic bounds cultivated by Mendelssohn, Schumann, and Max Bruch, the richness of orchestration reflects Gouvy’s expressed admiration for the masterful orchestration (though not the vocal writing) of Wagner. This is by far the finest oratorio I have heard (and I’ve listened to a fair number) from the half-century interval between Mendelssohn’s Elijah and Elgar’s Dream of Gerontius . At its premiere in Leipzig on December 6, 1881, it enjoyed a tremendous success—indeed, to such a degree that Gouvy told his sister that it was the happiest day of his entire life. While it received further performances during his lifetime, upon his death it immediately fell into the same neglect that all his works have, until recently, so unjustly suffered.


The libretto of Oedipe has a somewhat complex lineage. As with Iphigénie , Gouvy once again did not write or commission an original libretto, but instead borrowed and adapted an existing one penned by the 18th-century librettist Nicolas-François Guillard (1752–1814). In this case, the original tragedy of Sophocles was first adapted by the great 17th-century tragedian Pierre Corneille (1606–1684). Guillard then turned it into a libretto for a tragédie lyrique by the composer Antonio Sacchini (1730–1786), premiered in 1785 at the royal court in Versailles.


The action of the plot, divided in the oratorio into three parts, is subsequent to that of the better-known Oedipus Rex . Oedipe (the French name for Oedipus), having blinded himself after learning that he had unwittingly fulfilled the prophecy that he would kill his father and marry his mother, was exiled from Thebes with the consent of his sons Etéocle (Eteokles) and Polynice (Polyneikis), to wander as an exile with his daughter Antigone as his guide. In Part 1, the citizens of Colonus offer sacrifices to Poseidon in thanksgiving for the safe return of their king, Thésée (Theseus), who brings with him Polynice. The latter, having lost out in a power struggle with Etéocle for the throne of Thebes and being now also an exile, is filled with shame and remorse for having spurned his father. He has gathered a band of armed supporters and hopes to launch an attack to regain the Theban throne. The two men kneel before the altar to discern the will of the gods and implore their favor, but are answered first by ominous silence and then by a thunderstorm that extinguishes the altar’s sacred flame and terrifies the people.


In Part 2, Oedipe and Antigone approach Colonus, which the gods have prophesied is where the blind refugee shall at last find rest. Oedipe longs for death, while Antigone pleads for him to live. The exiled king experiences a terrifying vision of being pursued by the Eumenides, and curses Polynice for betraying him, before Antigone brings him back to his senses. The two of them unknowingly trespass on the sacred precincts of the temple; Thésée confronts and denounces them for sacrilege. Antigone begs for mercy and reveals the identities of herself and her father. The people react with horror and demand that the accursed pair be driven away, but Thésée angrily opposes the mob and, taking pity on the duo instead, offers them refuge.


In Part 3, Antigone and Polynice are reunited. Antigone brings her brother to their father so that Polynice can confess his guilt to Oedipe, beg forgiveness, and seek support for his scheme to dethrone Etéocle, offering to restore his father to the throne instead by way of atonement. Oedipe, however, rejects him and curses both of his sons, whereupon Polynice flees in horror. Oedipe then declares to all that the hour of his death has come, as he will descend to a secret burial place at the banks of the river Acheron. Antigone begs to be allowed to join him, but is commanded to live instead. Thésée leads Oedipe away as the people implore the mercy of the gods for the exile’s final moments.


In reviewing Iphigénie , while I was a bit cool toward the work itself, I thought it received a fine performance from a very good, though not great, quartet of soloists. Here, to my considerable frustration, the situation is reversed: I am unabashedly enthusiastic for the music, but have reservations about the solo quartet. Easily its best member is the one holdover from the recording of Iphigénie , Vinzenz Haab, whose soft-grained, mellow bass-baritone makes a most sympathetic figure of Oedipe, even if it lacks the granitic timbre needed to make the most of the passages of imprecation. While all of the other singers are sensitive interpreters who capture all the varied dimensions of their roles, they all have problems with control of vocal production. Baritone Stephen Roberts as Thésée has a persistent unevenness to his vibrato that verges on a full-scale wobble; tenor Joseph Cornwall as Polynice has an attractive voice that repeatedly becomes unsteady when he attempts to push and swell a note for intensified expression; soprano Christa Ratzenböck lacks vocal sheen and turns both harsh and squally to some degree in her upper register. None of them is so defective as to be unlistenable, but compared to their predecessors in the recording of Iphigénie they are collectively a disappointing step downward. By way of compensation conductor Joachim Fontaine, who I previously said “has a conscientious command of the score, though I can imagine podium maestros who would give the work considerably more punch,” here delivers a first-rate interpretation that combines and balances elegant lyricism and dramatic urgency in equal measure. As before the orchestra and chorus are excellent, and CPO once again provides its trademark excellent recorded sound, detailed booklet notes, and a trilingual French-English-German libretto. Despite my reservations about some of the soloists, this recording is enthusiastically recommended, especially as another version is unlikely to appear any time soon.


FANFARE: James A. Altena

When the Osnabrück Symphony Orchestra goes to the studio, it is working on all the key features. This was the case with the symphonies of Joseph Bohuslav Foerster, and so it is with the latest product: Two viola and a flute concerto by Osnabrück composer Christian Westerhoff are immortalized. The orchestra thus ends with a recording of a symphony, a clarinet and a double concerto by Westerhoff, which has been recorded by Hermann Bäumer. Westerhoff was born in 1763, and was a real contendor of his time: no Mozart, no Haydn, no Beethoven, but certainly a composer who composed serious music. The viola concertos No. 1 in G major and No. 3 in C major sound lively and fresh - it is a pleasure to listen to the orchestra under Andreas Hotz. The two soloists have also played a decisive role in this: Barbara Buntrock plays the Solopart in the viola concertos, and the same applies to Gaby Pas-Van Riet as a soloist in the Flötenkonzert.

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Contemporaries of Joachim Raff (1822-82) valued him as an expert in the history of music and art and as a composer who knew how to produce richly colored instrumentations. Following releases of some of his symphonies and piano trios, cpo now turns to the composer's Second, Third, Fourth and Eighth String Quartets. In his �middle quartets� the classicistic control of his music from those years makes itself manifest, i.e., interpretive markings in Italian, exposition repeats unmotivated by an increased degree of difficulty, a reduction in chromatics and a return to old dance forms.

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Tatjana Ruhland has been described as »the Paganini of the flute.« At the very latest since her debut at New York’s Carnegie Hall she has numbered among the most prominent artists performing on the flute. On the present program she dedicates herself to Carl Reinecke’s chamber and concertante flute compositions, all of which he composed during the second half of his life. Along with the Undine Sonata op. 167 for flute and piano, today his most frequently performed work, the recording features the two concertante works written by him when he was over eighty years old. Here the initial dominance of stylistic elements associated with Mendelssohn has yielded to a tonal language that is both electrifying and highly individual. Reinecke’s music is diatonic in design but so strongly pervaded by semitones and suspensions that it also continues to flow. The »build-up phase« of the concertante last movements is only one of the procedures hardly invented by Reinecke but very much loved by him.

Like his contemporary Louis Couperin, Johann Jacob Froberger preferred to let his music speak for itself. He left no known treatises to clue the interpreter one way or the other as to interpretation, save for the usual dance markings in the suites themselves. Once in a rare while he'll title a movement programmatically, alluding to an extramusical subject (such as in the Allemande of Suite III here subtitled "Wasserfall" or waterfall); but otherwise, the performer is left to freely interpret within the stylistic keyboard parameters of the time. For the less imaginative performer this can be stultifying. For the adventurous one however, the rich variety of Froberger's ideas can bring great joy.

On this new two-CD set from CPO, harpsichordist Ludger Rèmy is thankfully up to the task. He offers the debut recording of Froberger's complete autograph Strasbourg Manuscript, an amazing collection of 14 keyboard suites brimming with fine ideas which was discovered in 1675, eight years after its composer's death. How youthful and exuberant these works are! And how pensive and introspective they can become. The scope and variety of Froberger's imagination places him on par with Rameau, the Couperins, Frescobaldi, and d'Anglebert in their prime. In Germany certainly, he had no peer before J.S. Bach. Listen to the marvelous Gigue in Suite XII, for instance. Rèmy's pointed contrapuntal voice-leading may make the piece impossible to dance to--it is, after all, a stylization--yet it's musically fascinating, a real treat for the ear. In the Allemande of Suite IV, Rèmy treats each run as if it were a new beginning; a fresh start in a series of fresh starts that ends up completeing the piece. The simple minute-long Courante in Suite X is a model of dignity undermined, with it's cocky twists and flourishes humorously interupting the march. This set is loaded with similarly brilliant inventive moments.

CPO's sound is excellent; Rèmy's harpsichord has sufficient weight, yet sparkles gracefully. His fascinating, personal notes are appropriately suited to the diverse interpretive nature of the program. Since this is the only recording of these pieces, there is no comparison. However, for those inclined to further their enjoyment of Froberger, I heartily recommend last year's "Ou L'intranquillité" by longstanding Froberger champion Blandine Verlet (Astree Naive), as well as a much older, transcendental program performed by Enrico Baiano (Symphonia). Like these, this recording could not be recommended more highly!
--John Greene, ClassicsToday.com

Pizzicato 9/12: “Venzago’s courage to interpret Bruckner more romantically than post-romantically makes sense because the 2nd symphony suddenly develops a life of its own and enthuses the listener with its own stylistic musicality. This is certainly one of the best recordings of this composition!”

This new release contains salon music of the greatest elegance by an anonymous author. The pieces here are contained in the Dresden Collection- a collection which preserves the repertoire of the eighteenth-century Dresden court ensemble. Les Amis de Philippe interprets these works beautifully, and is conducted by Ludger Remy.

With the present release the gifted Belgian Quatuor Danel ensemble turn to two masterpieces by Cesar Franck: his passionate Piano Quintet and the String Quartet. The three-movement Quintet, like Brahms’s op. 34 an expansion of the Schumannian model, is one of Franck’s most infamous works. It immediately established itself, and a second performance with the pianist Marie Poitevin, the later dedicatee of the Prelude, Choral et Fugue, convinced the members of the Societe Nationale. Franck’s String Quartet, his last major work, was similarly acclaimed by its first listeners. After its first performance in April 1890, with tears in his eyes, Cesar Franck is said to have told his pupil Vincent d’Indy, "Now you see: at long last the public is beginning to understand me."

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REVIEW:

Both of these works have been admirably served on disc, but this new recording is the most gripping yet - and by a long shot. Urgently recommended.

– Gramophone

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