The most recent release from the Chicago Symphony Orchestra Resound label is an impressive recording of Mahler’s Second Symphony. Based on performances given in late November 2008, this recording preserves the memorable readings CSO principal conductor Bernard Haitink gave this work last year. While comparisons can be awkward, the previous point of reference for CSO audiences was the series of performances by Michael Tilson Thomas in early 2006. At that time Tilson Thomas conducted the work dynamically, but some elements did not emerge readily as, for example, the portamento in the strings in the second movement. Haitink’s approach may be characterized as attentive to the details of the score, and his mastery of those various elements has resulted in an intensely moving interpretation.
 
While it is possible to distinguish the first three instrumental movements from the last two vocal ones, Haitink fused the five movements into a convincing whole in the concerts he gave in Fall 2008. It may be difficult, at times, to perceive such cohesiveness in a recording, since listeners can stop and start at various points. Nevertheless, the disc captures the style Haitink achieved in live concerts in a fine recording of Mahler’s Second Symphony.
 
In this recording, it is possible to hear the attention to detail which Haitink brought to those live performances. Such integrity allowed the score to play as intended by the composer, an intention implicit in the various revisions Mahler made after the premiere of the Second in 1894 - particularly the refinements he published in the 1906 edition of the score. From the start Haitink made the work resonate, with the tremolo with which the first movement opens as intense as a climactic moment in an opera. The opening tempo is engaging, and Haitink is able to propel the movement forward by drawing from the orchestra nicely etched articulations at cadences and other structurally important places, as indicated in the score. He broadens the tempo when necessary and, when marked in the score, allows various passages to push forward. The swells of sound Mahler orchestrated have a clear shape, as the sonorities build to fullness and decay naturally. While some of this ambience may be the result of the acoustics of the hall, the tight ensemble of the CSO must be acknowledged as the source of the solid and mature sound in this masterful performance. With the strings at the core, the orchestra offers equally strong sonorities from the woodwinds and brass. At the same time, the percussion deserves recognition for the effective use of the timpani, along with support from the non-tuned instruments. With its immediate and upfront sound in this recording, the softer passages are never lost in the mix; however the tutti passages at the end of the first section of the first movement, to cite one example, can be overwhelming. The passages which conclude the movement reveal an appropriate pacing, with the final gesture bringing the movement to a resounding conclusion.
 
While some labels issue Mahler’s Second Symphony on a single disc, CSO Resound offers it on two, with the one devoted to the first movement, the piece Mahler once entitled “Todtenfeier,” in the manner of a tone poem Mahler once intended for the piece. The remaining four movements are found on the second of the two CDs. This division also assists in adhering to the marking Mahler put in the score to allow some time before proceeding with the second movement. In the medium of a sound recording, this physical separation supports that kind of stage direction. Likewise, the placement of the second through fifth movements on the second disc helps to prevent any kind of artificial separation of the instrumental movements from the vocal ones.
 
In contrast to the dramatic effect Haitink brings out in the first movement, the second conveys a delicacy implicit in the score. This emerges not only in the softer, more restrained playing, but in the clean articulations of the accompanying figures. In a similar way, the woodwinds are not just soft, as marked in the score, but seem sotto voce in approach, with a reedy blend prominent in the second section of the movement. With the return of the first area, Haitink’s hesitant gestures helped to distort the expected melodic pattern before the variation proceeds. Even within the delicate shadings of the movement, full sounds of the central section never seemed to be a compromise. Rather, the plaintive effect fits into the sometimes elegiac character of the movement.
 
The Scherzo in Haitink’s hands is relatively brisk, and the tempos convey a sense of the instrumental idiom of the movement. While the music from Mahler’s Wunderhorn setting Des Antonius von Padua Fischpredigt (“St. Anthony of Padua’s Sermon to the Fish”) is recognizable, Haitink allows the other ideas in the movement to emerge easily from that vocal model. Those brisk tempos set up the middle section of the movement, where the brass fanfare introduces music by Mahler’s deceased colleague Hans Rott, specifically the opening of the Scherzo from the Rott’s Symphony in E. When the thematic content from both Rott’s Scherzo and Mahler’s Wunderhorn song combine near the end of the movement, Haitink sustains the tension of the orchestral outburst sufficiently to allow the remainder of the movement to dissipate naturally.
 
The quieter sounds and thinner textures at the end of the Scherzo fit nicely into the chamber-music-like sonorities at the beginning of Urlicht, the fourth movement. In this movement Christianne Stotijn uses her full mezzo sound to color the text from Des Knaben Wunderhorn. Her voice blends well with the middle-string sounds, yet is never obscured within the orchestral textures. The calm and paced song gives way, in turn, to the choral Finale, and in this movement Haitink delivers a compelling reading of Mahler’s cantata-like structure which centers on the famous “ Auferstehungs” Ode of Klopstock.
 
The contrasts found in the score are realized nicely in this recording, with the thunderous opening of the movement serving as a foil for the relatively quiet sounds from the off-stage brass which follow and, later, the development of the opening theme on solo instruments. Haitink restrains the horns in the first part of the movement, with the fanfares from that section quite rich in color, but never as prominent as they are later in the movement. Likewise, the low brass are wonderfully clear and resonant, without overbalancing the ensemble - not only in the reprise of the “O Roschen rot” idea from Urlicht, but also later, Mahler develops motifs around the interval of the tritone. Ultimately, the repose which accompanies the instrumental presentation of the Aufterstehungs-Motif from the third act of Wagner’s Siegfried (the passage in which the character Brünnhilde sings "Ewig war ich, ewig bin ich" -- "I was eternal, I am eternal") serves as a further foil for the various off-stage and solo instruments in the section before the a capella chorus enters.
 
At this point, it is difficult to recall a more satisfying interpretation of the choral entrance with the words “Aufersteh’n, ja aufersteh’n, wirst du, mein Staub” (“Arise, yes, arise, my dust”), with the vocal textures full and rich. Miah Persson’s soprano solo plays off the choral timbre with ease and assurance as her passages emerge clearly. When Persson interacts with Stotijn in the duet which follows, both women’s voices blend well in conveying not only the meaning of the text but also the emotional pitch of the music. This sets the tone for the choral sections which follow. The full sounds of the male voices are impressive for the textured sonorities they create. Haitink is good to allow the passage “Bereite dich” to resonate, and then to linger on the passages that follow. In such a way, the text and music build to a fitting and appropriate conclusion, which climaxes on the phrase “Sterben werd’ ich um zu leben” (“I perish in order to live”) before the reprise of the text “Aufersteh’n, ja aufersteh’n” (“Arise, yes arise”). Here the combined sounds of the chorus, soloists, and orchestra have free rein in bringing this monumental work to its conclusion, as Mahler creates a vocal tableau as the culmination of his Second Symphony.
 
The recording does justice to the performances on which it is based, and also points to the affinity between Haitink and the CSO when it comes to interpreting Mahler’s music. This recording is a worthy addition to the already fine set of recordings from these performers, which include the two symphonies which frame this one, the First and Third, as well as Haitink’s incisive recording of Mahler’s Sixth Symphony. Whether these will result in a cycle is less important than the fine interpretations each recording contributes to the legacy of recordings for these works. With this newly issued disc, Haitink and the CSO offer a powerful reading of this important score. It stands apart from others not only for the interpretation Haitink offers but also for the execution of the score by one of the finest orchestras in the world. Available both on CD on a two-disc set and also as a download, this recording bears careful listening for the detailed reading it brings to Mahler’s familiar score.
 

-- James L Zychowicz, MusicWeb International

Riccardo Muti leads the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, men of the Chicago Symphony Chorus and bass soloist Alexey Tikhomirov in this poignant performance of Shostakovich’s Symphony No. 13, Op. 113 (Babi Yar). Recorded live in September 2018, the ensemble shines throughout—from passages requiring the sheer sonic force of the first movement to the indelible moments provided by single instruments, reminding the listener that despite the enormity of its theme, this is, after all, a symphony of individuals. Muti and musicians expertly navigate the intricacies of the five movements, each set to the poetry of Yevgeny Yevtushenko and expressing themes that were dear to Shostakovich—revolution and war, the individual’s role in society, idealism in the face of easy compromise, prejudice and intolerance. Yevtushenko said, “Over people like Shostakovich death has no power. His music will sound as long as humankind exists. . . . When I wrote ‘Babi Yar,’ there was no monument there. Now there is a monument.”

-----

REVIEWS:

There are American ensembles with a more sustained Shostakovich tradition than the Chicago Symphony but the present recording, taken from the opening concerts of the orchestra’s 2018-19 season, can stand comparison with any of its distinguished predecessors, however different in tone. Strongly recommended.

– Gramophone

The tone virtually throughout is dark and intense, most particularly the opening movement which sets the title poem. Muti confirms his identification with this work in its subsequent movements. Tikhomirov, rich-toned and sentient throughout, is backed by a superbly characterful Chicago Symphony Chorus.

– BBC Music Magazine

The CSO’s performance, with bass Alexey Tikhomirov and the men of the Chicago Symphony Chorus, revealed Muti’s continuing devotion to Shostakovich’s often-shattering music. It was the first concert of the CSO’s new Symphony Center season, and the audience’s mood was festive. Muti channeled that excitement into rapt, almost reverent attention with a searing performance of a dramatic work that is very close to his heart.

– Chicago Sun-Times

Also available as a hybrid Super Audio CD

Classical Music

The sixth was the last of Mahler's symphonies to reach the United States, in December 1947, more than forty-one years after the composer conducted its premiere. Even considering the typical fate of Mahler's symphonies - launched under the composer's baton, misunderstood and often rejected by audiences and conductors during the decades that followed - the neglect of the Sixth Symphony is exceptional.

The Chicago Tribune described the Chicago Symphony Orchestra's May 2007 performance of Bruckner's Symphony No.7 as a 'glowing and eloquent account.' Now available to the world as the second release from CSO Resound, this recording showcases the remarkable chemistry between the CSO and Principal Conductor Bernard Haitink, who perform with what the Chicago Sun-Times calls 'an almost extrasensory connection.' Recorded live in Orchestra Hall at Symphony Center in Chicago on May 10, 11, 12 and 15, 2007.

This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.

Haitink proves in recording after recording that he is at the pinnacle of current Mahler interpretation.



MAHLER Symphony No. 1, “Titan” • Bernard Haitink, cond; Chicago SO • CSO RESOUND 901 904 (Hybrid multichannel SACD: 57:39) Live: Chicago 5/1–3/2008


This is the third installment in a series of Mahler symphony recordings under the direction of the Chicago Symphony’s principal conductor; it may be too much to hope that they will eventually comprise a complete set, but for the time being we can savor each new release. Haitink recorded this work most recently in 1994 in Berlin (for video), and there have been several changes in his interpretation since then (he’s shaved five minutes from the total timing of the earlier recording for a start); what hasn’t changed is the attention to detail and consummate musicianship on display.


It would be overly simplistic to suggest that the first movement is “expansive”; Haitink’s is a slowly evolving interpretation. The exposition isn’t the impetuous one of Zander (Haitink observes the exposition repeat) or (more egregiously) Gergiev, nor is it tentative; rather, it is one of increasing confidence and power. In the development, the horn fanfare is portentous rather than declarative; the end of this section is one of anticipation, which is heightened by the very gradual buildup to the eruption for full orchestra, which is anything but subdued. One is aware more than usual that the whole movement has been leading up to this moment.


The second movement was marked (in the Hamburg autograph of 1893) both scherzo and langsames Waltzertempo (“slow waltz tempo”), and Haitink has both markings in mind for this performance—its tempo is measured and just a bit clumsy, evoking “the village pub” (in the words of one contemporary critic), while the Trio is a more refined dance. Listeners expecting the music of “Under full sail,” with its connotations of vigor and pace, may be disappointed, but I think this is a perfectly valid alternative.


The third movement opens with a shock of sorts: missing is the sour bass solo, and in its place is the entire bass section, producing a less grotesque funeral procession (according to Michael Steinberg, as late as 1893 Mahler had this passage played by the basses plus the cellos). The pall of gloom hangs over the entire movement, unleavened even by the band and klezmer-style music; the overall effect is of muted formality. Haitink plays down the parody and injects a genuine feeling of melancholy, especially in the lovely “Wayfarer” quotation.


The Chicago percussion do themselves proud in the opening of the finale, producing an effective accompaniment for the superb brass “scream.” I usually find this effect to be either overblown or underwhelming, but here it is perfectly gauged, analogous to the onset of the storm in the Beethoven Sixth (and anticipating the finale of the Mahler Second). The later love theme is just as calming and welcome as the opening is jarring. Haitink produces a performance that captures Mahler’s quickly shifting moods with stylish grace and precision, capped by a coda that is splendidly triumphant. The sound production (in the hands once again of the estimable James Mallinson) projects a very effective sense of acoustic space (especially in the offstage fanfares of the first movement), with extremely transparent imaging and lows that ground the soundstage without becoming too prominent. In two-channel playback, the SACD adds presence and even more precise instrumental definition than the excellent stereo version (available on CD, CSO Resound 901 902); in short, this performance is custom-made for the kind of clarity one encounters here—in whatever version.


Haitink proves in recording after recording that he is at the pinnacle of current Mahler interpretation. In comparison to Gergiev’s recent First, with its wayward impetuosity—Gergiev 52: 39; Haitink 57:42—this is an interpretation that manages to sound even more convincingly fresh and innovative, doing full justice to Mahler’s audacious symphonic “Titan.”


FANFARE: Christopher Abbot

Also available as a hybrid Super Audio CD



MAHLER Symphony No. 1, “Titan” • Bernard Haitink, cond; Chicago SO • CSO RESOUND 901 902 (CD: 57:39) Live: Chicago 5/1–3/2008


This is the third installment in a series of Mahler symphony recordings under the direction of the Chicago Symphony’s principal conductor; it may be too much to hope that they will eventually comprise a complete set, but for the time being we can savor each new release. Haitink recorded this work most recently in 1994 in Berlin (for video), and there have been several changes in his interpretation since then (he’s shaved five minutes from the total timing of the earlier recording for a start); what hasn’t changed is the attention to detail and consummate musicianship on display.


It would be overly simplistic to suggest that the first movement is “expansive”; Haitink’s is a slowly evolving interpretation. The exposition isn’t the impetuous one of Zander (Haitink observes the exposition repeat) or (more egregiously) Gergiev, nor is it tentative; rather, it is one of increasing confidence and power. In the development, the horn fanfare is portentous rather than declarative; the end of this section is one of anticipation, which is heightened by the very gradual buildup to the eruption for full orchestra, which is anything but subdued. One is aware more than usual that the whole movement has been leading up to this moment.


The second movement was marked (in the Hamburg autograph of 1893) both scherzo and langsames Waltzertempo (“slow waltz tempo”), and Haitink has both markings in mind for this performance—its tempo is measured and just a bit clumsy, evoking “the village pub” (in the words of one contemporary critic), while the Trio is a more refined dance. Listeners expecting the music of “Under full sail,” with its connotations of vigor and pace, may be disappointed, but I think this is a perfectly valid alternative.


The third movement opens with a shock of sorts: missing is the sour bass solo, and in its place is the entire bass section, producing a less grotesque funeral procession (according to Michael Steinberg, as late as 1893 Mahler had this passage played by the basses plus the cellos). The pall of gloom hangs over the entire movement, unleavened even by the band and klezmer-style music; the overall effect is of muted formality. Haitink plays down the parody and injects a genuine feeling of melancholy, especially in the lovely “Wayfarer” quotation.


The Chicago percussion do themselves proud in the opening of the finale, producing an effective accompaniment for the superb brass “scream.” I usually find this effect to be either overblown or underwhelming, but here it is perfectly gauged, analogous to the onset of the storm in the Beethoven Sixth (and anticipating the finale of the Mahler Second). The later love theme is just as calming and welcome as the opening is jarring. Haitink produces a performance that captures Mahler’s quickly shifting moods with stylish grace and precision, capped by a coda that is splendidly triumphant. The sound production (in the hands once again of the estimable James Mallinson) projects a very effective sense of acoustic space (especially in the offstage fanfares of the first movement), with extremely transparent imaging and lows that ground the soundstage without becoming too prominent. In two-channel playback, the SACD (CSO Resound 901 904) adds presence and even more precise instrumental definition than the excellent stereo version; in short, this performance is custom-made for the kind of clarity one encounters here—in whatever version.


Haitink proves in recording after recording that he is at the pinnacle of current Mahler interpretation. In comparison to Gergiev’s recent First, with its wayward impetuosity—Gergiev 52: 39; Haitink 57:42—this is an interpretation that manages to sound even more convincingly fresh and innovative, doing full justice to Mahler’s audacious symphonic “Titan.”


FANFARE: Christopher Abbot Reviewing SuperAudio Version

Classical Music

Also available on Super Audio CD

VERDI Otello • Riccardo Muti, cond; Aleksandrs Antonenko ( Otello ); Krassimira Stoyanova ( Desdemona ); Carlo Guelfi ( Iago ); Juan Francisco Gatell ( Cassio ); Barbara Di Castri ( Emilia ); Eric Owens ( Lodovico ); Chicago SO & Ch • CSO RESOUND 9011301 (2 SACDs: 135:57 Text and Translation)


Riccardo Muti’s Otello derives from three concert performances given at Chicago’s Orchestra Hall in 2011. The recording combines the excitement of a live performance with the virtues of an excellently engineered studio effort that brilliantly captures orchestral and choral detail within a huge dynamic range. CSO Resound provides a booklet that includes essays and a libretto, and there’s no applause or audience sound.


Muti’s masterful conducting of Verdi’s greatest tragic opera would make this an important Otello to hear even if it weren’t for its generally strong vocal performances. In the first act’s storm and sequence of choruses, Muti’s slightly restrained tempos resemble Fürtwangler’s more than the forward momentum of Kleiber or Toscanini, but he generates taut excitement through control of dynamics, precise rhythm, and steady, logical pacing. The Chicago Symphony, which performed the opera under Solti, plays wonderfully well. Throughout the performance, Muti has the orchestra make subtle differences in articulation from what one traditionally hears.


A unique feature of this recording is the inclusion of a rarely heard revision of the busy ensemble that closes act III that Verdi made for a Paris production in 1894, seven years after Otello ’s La Scala premiere. The last operatic music that Verdi composed, its musical and dramatic quality is equal to that of the more familiar concertato , but its increased clarity allows Iago’s asides to be heard more clearly.


Aleksandrs Antonenko sang Otello with Muti conducting (with a different Iago and Desdemona) in Salzburg in 2008, and judging from the excerpts that I’ve seen of that performance, he improved significantly by the time of the Chicago performances. He has the right (and rare) heroic voice for Otello, and he sings musically and technically well, with comfortable-sounding Italian in a performance that begins strongly, but gains conviction in the two final acts. While he doesn’t yet imprint the role with the kind of distinctive personality that its greatest interpreters have done, singing and acting Otello tends to be a career-long process, and Antonenko sings the part far better than Cura, Galouzine, Botha, or Heppner, to name some other tenors who have undertaken the role, A.D. (After Domingo). It remains to be seen whether Jonas Kaufmann can summon the vocal power to sing the part live, but the two Otello excerpts on his recent Verdi recital are a very promising sign that perhaps, not too long from now, two castable Otellos (Kaufmann and Antonenko) may walk the earth.


The wobble in baritone Carlo Guelfi’s delivery of Iago’s first line, “È infranto l’artimon,” warns of vocal trouble, and it turns out that he lacks the required power and the ability to sing sustained notes in the drinking song, and more importantly, in the Credo. Actually, Guelfi does well with the lighter, insinuating side of of Iago’s music, such as the dialogue with Roderigo in act I, and much of act III. There’s pleasure to be had in hearing an Italian baritone in the role, but a successful Iago must be able to really sing, not just do well with role’s parlando aspects. Many a worthy Otello recording has been undermined by odd casting of Iago; I’m thinking of Fischer-Dieskau, Schöffler, Glossop, and Leiferkus. Then there are baritones whose voices are right, but whose characterizations are insufficient: Protti, Capuccilli, even Milnes. Giuseppe Valdengo, in Toscanini’s recording, demonstrates what’s possible in a performance that’s both magnificently characterized and beautifully sung.


An experienced Desdemona, Krassimira Stoyanova gives a strong performance, singing with focused, lovely tone, if not achieving the poignancy of the greatest Desdemonas in act IV: Tebaldi, Freni, de los Angeles. The smaller parts are all efficiently performed, with no particular singer standing out.


Defining what makes a great performance of Otello is straightforward. The opera requires an authoritative, exciting conductor, plus three perfectly cast singers. Good sound is a bonus, but not essential. Del Monaco and Domingo are each essential Otellos to hear, but I think of their many performances as a composite and wouldn’t single out any one particular recording. I’m particularly fond of the espressivo quality that Ramon Vinay and Jon Vickers bring to the role, and recommend the Met video with Vickers, MacNeil, and Scotto, conducted by Levine. Toscanini’s recording is thrilling, though not expansive enough in some of the opera’s lyrical music. I enjoy Solti’s first recording, with the under-appreciated Otello of Carlo Cossuta and beautiful singing by Margaret Price. But the greatest recorded Otello that I know—indeed one of the greatest of all preserved operatic performances—is the 1938 Met broadcast, conducted not only with manic energy, but with uncommon flexibility and imagination, by Ettore Panizza. Giovanni Martinelli’s splendid Otello and Elizabeth Rethberg’s Desdemona are the important interpretations of their day, and Lawrence Tibbett’s is the greatest recorded portrayal of Iago.

FANFARE: Paul Orgel

Also available on standard CD

Coinciding with the 200th anniversary of Giuseppe Verdi’s birthday, CSO Resound releases its second recording with Maestro Riccardo Muti featuring Verdi’s second-to-last opera, Otello. Recorded live in concert at Symphony Center in 2011, this album will stand for years to come as a unique benchmark in Verdi performance and interpretation by one of today’s finest conductors. Maestro Muti and the CSO’s first recording together was a lauded album of Verdi’s Messa da Requiem, which won two Grammy Awards.

Intriguing; the Harrison and the Bloch are outstanding.

This is a very miscellaneous collection, but then followers of Yo-Yo Ma’s Silk Road project will have come to expect nothing less. This particular CD was recorded as the climax of the Project’s year-long association with the city of Chicago. During that year Yo-Yo Ma and the Silk Road ensemble interacted with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. This involved a series of events which celebrated and explored many kinds of intercultural musical exchange, going beyond the specific cultural meetings and transferences which the Silk Road itself facilitated.

Here we have a sampling of such interactions, some rather more familiar and ‘mainstream’ than others. Of Jewish background, born in Switzerland, and a student in Belgium, Germany and France and resident in the USA from 1916 until his death - bar a return to Europe in the 1930s - Ernest Bloch was something of a one-man intercultural ‘event’ in himself and his music was always open to a variety of influences. Subtitled a ‘Hebraic Rhapsody for cello and orchestra’, Schelomo (Solomon) was written between December 1915 and February 1916. Bloch’s own programme notes for the piece spoke of the cello as “the reincarnated voice of King Solomon” and suggested that the orchestra was “the voice of his age … his world … his experience”. The languorous dances and slow, meditative music of much of the work’s first section are well and expressively played by Ma and the CSO under Harth-Bedova, the note of despair, of the all-embracing sentiments of Ecclesiastes (of which Solomon was, traditionally, the author) – “Vanity of vanities, all is Vanity” – never far from the surface. But perhaps this performance doesn’t quite do justice to what Bloch called the “complete negation” which characteries the work’s conclusion, where the playing seems a bit too ready to settle for rhetorical effect rather than substance. But, overall, this is a performance which puts a good case for the work and is well worth hearing.

The other familiar work is Prokofiev’s Scythian Suite - in which the CSO is conducted by Alan Gilbert - which grew from the young composer’s fascination with the nomads of the steppes, without too much in the way of direct borrowings from the music of such tribes. The modern listener is most likely to find in it a slightly politer, more westernied version of The Rite of Spring and indeed this work, like Stravinsky’s, was grounded in the composer’s collaboration with Diaghilev. Prokofiev’s rhythms are less complex and fierce than Stravinsky’s, the sense of ritualistic violence less intense, though the orchestration is brilliant and striking. The reeds of the CSO are particularly impressive in ‘The Adoration of Veles and Ala’, the first movement, while there is disciplined orchestral power galore in the opening of the second movement, ‘The Enemy God and the Dance of the Black Spirits’. Somehow, though, the performance doesn’t quite do full justice to the ominous, distinctly ‘Russian’ music of this movement, lacking the ultimate in intensity and drive. The dark evocativeness of the first part of ‘Night’ is more convincing and the final movement, ‘’Lolly’s Glorious Departure and the Ceremonial Procession of the Sun’ catches fire in the closing imagery of the rising sun. For all the efforts of orchestra and conductor, it is hard to see Prokofiev’s ballet music - striking as much of it is - as more than superficially involving any real cultural interaction.

From that point of view, Lou Harrison’s Pipa Concerto is more richly suggestive. The pipa is, to put it crudely but briefly, a kind of Chinese lute, with a pear-shaped wooden body. Harrison’s ‘concerto’ is very obviously the work of a man who, by the date of its composition, was steeped in oriental musical traditions and had given real thought to how they might exist creatively alongside western instruments and conventions. For Harrison the interface between oriental and occidental musics is familiar territory, a territory in which he can be unaffectedly and unpretentiously creative. As a result there is an ease and certainty of purpose to this concerto, which is beautifully played by Wu Man – some will have heard some of her other collaborations with, inter alia, Kronos Quartet and Yuri Bashmet. The concerto – which is perhaps better described as a suite than as a concerto if one insists on using western terminology – is various in mood and a thing of considerable beauty. In four movements - though one of them consists of four more or less distinct sections - the opening allegro balances eastern and western formality in a dialogue that has dignity and substance, while the fertility of Harrison’s eclectic imagination is evident in much of what follows. In ‘Troika’ the pipa sounds almost like a balalaika and in the brief ‘Neapolitan’ there are, perhaps unsurprisingly, but quite delightfully, echoes of the Italian mandolin tradition. In ‘Three Sharing’ the orchestra drops out and we are treated to a percussive conversation between the pipa of Wu Man, the cello of John Sharp and the double bass of Joseph Guastafeste. The most conventionally oriental episode comes in ‘Wind and Plum’, where the pipa’s cadences, against a lush orchestral background, are incisive and evocative. The penultimate movement is a lament, a ‘Threnody for Richard Locke’, a five minute elegy, powerfully melodic and exquisitely grave. By contrast the ‘concerto ends with an ‘Estampie’, in which medieval and renaissance dance rhythms meet (very fruitfully) the sounds of one of the lute’s ancestors. This whole concerto – the last of Harrison’s large-scale works – is the high spot of this disc.

In ‘Legend of Herlen’ the Mongolian composer Byambasuren Sharav draws on both native Mongolian traditions and instruments and on Western music. Western brass, in the shape of three trombones, and percussion - along with a piano - sit alongside the morin khuur, a two stringed fiddle and the sound of Khongorzul Ganbaatar, an exponent of the Mongolian tradition of ‘long song’, full of sustained and richly ornamented phrases. The results are intriguing and at times very beautiful, but perhaps most satisfying when Ganbaatar’s voice is accompanied solely by the morin khuur; the writing for western instruments is relatively pedestrian and predictable and actually seems to add very little to the Mongolian essence of the piece.

How far the Silk Road project has really succeeded – with anything like consistency – in uniting disparate musical traditions is a matter for debate. What is surely undeniable is that all their recordings have, at the very least, been stimulating, engaging and challenging. This new recording is no exception.

-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International

This album features overtures, choruses and intermezzos drawn from masterworks by Verdi, Puccini, Mascagni, and Boito, played with mastery by Music Director Riccardo Muti and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Chorus. Having presented these works numerous times during his tenure as music director of the Teatro alla Scala in Milan, Maestro Muti performed them with the CSO in the 2016/17 season. Recorded live during concerts in June 2017, this album presents a virtuosic showcase of 19th-century Italian music in all its passion, joy and heartbreak. Produced by David Frost, winner of sixteen Grammy awards, most recently in January 2018 for Classical Producer of the Year, this release spotlights the magnificent connection between the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and Maestro Muti.

REVIEW:

The well-chosen program includes idiomatic performances of the prelude to Nabucco and the Vespri Siciliani overture. Moving from Verdi to Puccini and Mascagni, Muti luxuriates in the authoritative use of rubato and portamento to wrench every bit of pathos from the intermezzos from Manon Lescaut and Cavalleria Rusticana. These are performances that will be hard to beat. That said, if one goes back to compare Muti to Toscanini, there is one difference that is striking. For Muti the orchestra is a single united, glossy instrument. In Toscanini’s readings, each section of the orchestra steps up for their “group solos” with the vibrancy of opera stars taking their parts.

— American Record Guide

This outstanding new live recording brings together groundbreaking works by Arnold Schoenberg and Dmitri Shostakovich, two of the twentieth century’s most monumental composers. Arnold Schoenberg’s Kol Nidre is set to the Jewish prayer which is said on the eve of Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. The work premiered in Los Angeles in 1938, four years after Schoenberg fled Europe, and one month before the anti-Jewish Kristallnacht took place across Nazi-occupied Germany. Philip Huscher described the work as a “stark, strong modernist statement.” Shostakovich’s Suite on Versees of Michelangelo Buona explores themes just as weighty, including love, morality, death, and the resilience of the human spirit, all shown through the poetry of Renaissance great, Michelangelo. The work was originally conceived to honor Michelangelo’s 500th birthday. The Chicago Tribune commented on these performances, “Such was his textual penetration that [Abdrazakov] was able to extract the full emotional weight of the words and music, abetted by Muti’s finely detailed exposition of the spare orchestral fabric.”

CHICAGO SYMPHONY ORCHESTRA BRASS LIVE • Chicago SO Brass & Percussion • CSO RESOUND CSOR 901 1101 (64:46)


WALTON Crown Imperial. G. GABRIELI Sonata pian e forte. Canzon duodecima toni à 10. Canzon No. 2 septemi toni à 8. J. S. BACH Passacaglia and Fugue, BWV 582. GRAINGER Lincolnshire Posy. REVUELTAS Sensemayà. PROKOFIEV Romeo and Juliet: The Montagues and Capulets; Dance; Death of Tybalt


Many orchestral cognoscenti have long considered the Chicago Symphony Orchestra to have the finest orchestral brass section in the world; certainly, it ranks among the top three or four. All hail, then, to a disc that features the CSO brass players in all their refulgent splendor. Various arrangers are responsible for the versions performed here: Joseph Kreines for the Walton and Prokofiev, Eric Crees for the Bach, Timothy Higgins for the Grainger, and Bruce Roberts for the Revueltas. All but the Gabrieli are also credited with conductors, drawn from the ranks of the performers: trombonist Jay Friedman for the Walton, trumpeter Mark Ridenour for the Bach and Grainger, trombonist Michael Mulcahy for the Revueltas, and hornist Dale Clevenger for the Prokofiev. The members of the CSO brass section are also supplemented (in which selections is not specified; I hear them playing only in the Revueltas) by two more CSO members—clarinetist John Bruce Yeh and bassist Roger Cline—plus an additional three trumpeters, three trombonists, a tubist, and a percussionist as ringers. All of the arrangements are deft and colorful; the playing, needless to say, is exquisite. The recorded sound is suitably brilliant; the booklet provides a list of the participating instrumentalists, color head shots of the CSO members, and brief essays on the CSO brass section and the conductors. All fanciers of brass ensembles will want to snap this item up forthwith; others may find it an entertaining treat as well.


FANFARE: James A. Altena

Chicago has long been a welcoming home to the working composer, and the Chicago Symphony Orchestra at the heart of the musical life they found in the city. The three American composers whose music is performed on this recording all have important ties to the CSO, from Philip Glass’ formative years as a student listener in Orchestra Hall in the 1950s, to Jessie Montgomery, who is the Orchestra’s Mead Composer-in-Residence today, and Max Raimi, who is both a prolific composer and a longtime member of the Orchestra’s viola section. 

The works by Montgomery and Raimi were both their first CSO commissions, and these are their world premiere performances. Montgomery’s Hymn for Everyone is a meditation for orchestra that speaks to the significance of her emergence in today’s cultural climate through its reflection on the personal and collective challenges of the spring of 2021. In it, a hymn-like melody traverses different orchestral choirs to poignant effect. For each poem in Raimi’s Three Lisel Mueller Settings, he selects an admired colleague to enter into a dialogue with the soloist, mezzo-soprano Elizabeth DeShong. This highlights the talents of Principal Clarinet Stephen Williamson in a frenetic waltz, Principal Bassoon Keith Buncke in a tragic elegy and Principal Bass Alexander Hanna in a metaphor for hope, with soaring, song-like phrases that transcend standard conceptions of the instrument’s expressive possibilities.

Glass’ Eleventh Symphony is part of the symphonic tradition that captivated him as a student. Each movement has its own unique character — the first bold and driving, the second crowned by a slowly unfolding melody and the third a barrage of cascading energy and racing percussion.

For Glass in the 50s, it was Fritz Reiner. Now Riccardo Muti champions the compositional voices of the age with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra. “It takes courage,” says Glass of the Orchestra’s legacy of performing contemporary music, “and that courage becomes a tradition.”

REVIEWS:

This album stands as testimony to the Italian master’s innate musical understanding and ability to bring out the best in almost everything he conducts.

-- Gramophone

Glass delivers a variant of the crowd-pleasing movie music he has trademarked for decades. It is hard to gainsay America’s most prolific and popular serious composer. Muti’s performance is all that it could be, and the orchestra lends glamour to the score.

-- Fanfare