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

Riccardo Muti prioritizes beauty of sound over all else in this performance, with the result that you pay far more attention to the orchestral playing than to Bruckner’s music. Muti lavishes special care on the woodwinds, revealing much inner detail not usually heard (which is quite welcome). And he does give Bruckner’s huge pauses their full due, heightening the dramatic effect.

However, Muti’s very legato style (the arresting timpani thwack in the opening grand tutti notwithstanding), with soft attacks and rounded endings, makes the symphony sound like the meditation of an old man who has accepted his approaching end rather than the angry defiance of death you hear in Wand’s and Jochum’s last recordings. The Scherzo has sufficient energy at Muti’s well-chosen tempo, but lacks ferocity. It follows that the most moving moment in Muti’s performance comes in the Adagio’s coda, here rendered with a beguiling serenity.

Guilini’s Chicago recording makes it immediately clear what’s missing in Muti’s: the Chicago brass section resounds with its famed richness and power. And you can clearly hear the trumpets, unlike in the Muti, where they are barely audible in the first-movement coda, and practically inaudible in much of the scherzo. Also, despite his slower tempos, Giulini’s incisive conducting generates greater impact, especially in the Adagio’s great climax, realistically captured in EMI’s nearly 40-year-old stereo/quadrophonic production, which sounds better than CSO Resounds’ rather acoustically dry live recording.

In sum, this is a very beautifully played, Tristan-esque Bruckner Ninth. But, if you want a compelling Bruckner Ninth, Wand (his last RCA recording with the NDRSO), Harnoncourt/Vienna, and the Jochum/Dresden are just three of the excellent recordings available. Chicago Symphony fans would do better with Giulini or Barenboim.

– ClassicsToday (Victor Carr, Jr)

Also available as a hybrid Super Audio CD


This is only Haitink's third(!) recording of this symphony. Happily, he never remade it with the Vienna Philharmonic, having recorded it twice with the Concertgebouw. His first recording, the one that always has been reissued in the complete symphonies box and also as a Philips Duo, is a swift, somewhat pallid performance, shallowly recorded to boot. The later one, from 1978, just missed the digital era but remains one of the great performances. Not surprisingly it has been ignored by Philips in favor of its inferior predecessor. One of the most noteworthy qualities of that performance was the climax of the Adagio (with a resplendent cymbal crash), so perfectly timed that I never imagined I'd hear it repeated. Haitink does it again here.

In fact, this live performance is every bit as stunningly played as its 1978 predecessor. The tempos are just a hair more measured in the first movement and finale, but always supple, fluid, and perfectly judged between sections (and certainly not slow by today's standards). The transition from the second to third subjects in the first movement offers one example, and the continuation of the Adagio's main theme (after the "non confundar" motive from Bruckner's Te Deum) provides another. This being Chicago, the brass sound spectacular, but so do the strings and winds. In short, there is absolutely nothing here to criticize. When the results are this outstanding, it's pointless to complain that Haitink keeps recording the same music over and over. In the final analysis, a great performance must be its own justification, and this is a great performance. Happily, the sonics allow the music to leap from the speakers with the same vibrancy and impact as the interpretation itself, and the audience is very silent. Wonderful!

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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

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

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

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

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.