On two highly praised albums, Susanna Mälkki and her players in the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra have released recordings of Béla Bartók’s three scores for the stage – The Miraculous Mandarin, The Wooden Prince and Bluebeard’s Castle, all written before 1918. The team now takes on two of his late orchestral masterpieces. Composed in 1936 for the Basel Chamber Orchestra, Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta is one of the purest examples of Bartók’s mature style, with its synthesis of folk music, classicism and modernism. One immediately striking feature is the unusual instrumentation: two string orchestras seated on opposite sides of the stage, with percussion and keyboard instruments in the middle and towards the back. In 1940, during the Second World War, Bartók emigrated to the U.S.A., where he initially found it difficult to compose. In 1943 he received a prestigious commission from the Boston Symphony Orchestra, however, and in less than eight weeks he composed the Concerto for Orchestra. In it he worked with contrasts between different sections of the orchestra, and the soloistic treatment of these groupings was his reason for calling the work a concerto rather than a symphony.

REVIEW:

There hasn’t been a coupling of these two iconic works this successful in, well, decades. Usually the pieces get divided between different performers, or if it’s the same forces throughout, one work comes off better than the other. Not here. Start with the Music for Strings, Percussion and Celesta. No one (except possibly Reiner) attempts to play it at Bartók’s indicated timings–around six+ minutes per movement. Everyone is slower, and often rightly so, but sometimes rather too much slower. Mälkki sounds just about perfect: in the range of seven minutes per movement, with an eerily flowing opening fugue, a ferocious second movement Allegro, a terrifying Adagio (listen to those timpani glissandos at the bottom of the texture), and a finale that features an imaginative and characterful flexibility of tempo, highlighting its dance-like character. The Helsinki strings play with extraordinary discipline, even if some of the “special effects” such as col legno bowing could resister more strongly. Never mind. It’s a great performance.

So is that of the Concerto for Orchestra. Perhaps the best thing I can say about it is that it sounds like a genuine collaborative effort between conductor and orchestra. Mälkki keeps the music flowing, reveling in the fine ensemble that the Helsinki Philharmonic has become: the brass fugato in the first movement, the “games of pairs” in the second, or the eerie woodwind solos in the brooding Elegia–nothing here is less than world-class. In the finale, Mälkki finds an idea balance between hard-driving forward movement and precision of articulation. She also keep something especially exciting in reserve for the coda, which dashes away thrillingly. BIS has captured the entire production in powerfully present, tactile sound that really lets you hear down through the ensemble, from top to bottom. This really is an exceptional release. If you love this music, be sure to hear it.

– ClassicsToday.com (10/10; David Hurwitz)

Orchestral Music - Sibelius, J. / Grieg, E. / Nielsen, C. (S

A MusicWeb International Recording of the Month!

Steadfast Ondine have here gathered four world premiere recordings of works by Finnish contemporary composer Rautavaara. In the 1970s and early 1980s I associated him with the thornier groves of avant-garde dissonance as evidenced by the Third Symphony. In fact, time and again, I have been reminded that Rautavaara reaches out to many listeners beyond any narrow elite. His early Cantus Arcticus (1972) is miraculously accessible. A concert late last year also underscored the same message. The BBC Philharmonic under Carlos Miguel Prieto in MediaCity Salford played his Symphony No. 7 Angel of Light. This is a surgingly and phantasmally lyrical three-quarter hour work belonging among the last century's melodic treasures, close to Silvestrov's Symphony No. 5, the symphonies of Alla Pavlova and Ned Rorem's Lions.

Rubáiyát (2015) is a song-cycle using verse from Edward Fitzgerald's translation/realization of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyam (1048–1131). We are fortunate to hear Gerald Finley singing it in its orchestral version. His voice is clear yet lush of tone. He sings across an incessantly inventive and beckoning orchestral arioso. His enunciation is sharply focused and while his 'line' is usually independent of the accompaniment he puts across the poetry's carpe diem philosophy with eloquence. Rautavaara does not shy from word and line repetition and grasps the opportunities provided by the most famous (least neglected) verses. The work begins with an abrupt plunge ‘in media res' and, as if further to emphasise the message, ends abruptly, without grace line or flourish, on the words 'O make haste'.

Verses have been popular with composers. Apart from Bantock's three-hour setting there are the song-cycle by Liza Lehmann, Arthur Foote's Character Pieces after Omar Khayyám, Robert Blum's Symphony No. 1 Omar Khayyám for orchestra and baritone, Lex van Delden's Omar Khayyám cantata, works by Charles Cadman, Henry Houseley, and in the 1970s, Alan Hovhaness's Rubaiyat for narrator, accordion and orchestra. There are also smaller-scale contributions from Hindemith and Penderecki.

Into the Heart of Light (Canto V - 2012) is the latest installment in the composer's series of works for string orchestra. The first of the Cantos dates from the 1960s. This glowingly confident example of lofty melodic writing for massed strings reaches across to the angelic ecstasy of the Seventh Symphony.

Balada (2014) sets texts by Lorca. It's a substantial piece for tenor, mixed choir and orchestra. On this occasion Mika Pohjonen is the soloist. The work was premiered in Madrid in May 2015. Its burning fervour injects a flaming drama which is put across with muscular commitment by both choir and orchestra. The music moves in approximately the same universe as the more demonstrative moments in John Tavener's big choral-orchestral works as well as recalling Szymanowski's Third Symphony Song of the Night and Barber's Prayers of Kierkegaard. As usual my intention here is to give some flavour of what you will hear, not to imply any lack of originality.

The Four Songs from the opera Rasputin are arrangements by the composer for mixed choir and orchestra. No doubt we will hear the whole opera before too long; the sooner the better. It's certainly a fruitful subject and story. The massed choral effect is redolent from time to time of Sibelius's Kullervo. The orchestral tissue gleams, shines and glitters around the plangent and awed singing. There's a touch of Mussorgsky's voice of the people here.

The notes by Kimmo Korhonen and a typically fine recording, lacking nothing in impact and subtlety, serve to complement some glorious music-making. This will make converts and have them exploring Ondine's already bejewelled Rautavaara pages.

– MusicWeb International (Rob Barnett)

REVIEW:

Sergiu Comissiona has long been admired for his all-round musical sympathies. Sadly, he has not been a regular visitor to Britain in recent years, preferring to devote himself to those orchestras where he holds a position, most notably the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra. He has long been an initiator of stimulating musical projects; while Music Director of the Houston Symphony Orchestra, he commissioned fanfares from 30 of America's leading composers. In 1990, to mark the 125th anniversary of Sibelius's birth, he persuaded the Helsinki Philharmonic to commission eight composers from all round the world to write a short piece each as a tribute to Finland's national composer.

Not surprisingly, some of the pieces are more successful than others. However, the project complete, all the pieces have been released on disc by Comissiona and his committed orchestra. They start with a lively—and presumably authentic—account of the master's En saga. This music must surely be coursing through the veins of all Finnish musicians. A delightful and undemanding piece by Thea Musgrave leads the tributes with deliberate echoes of Sibelius's music. This is followed by Ciacona by Einar Englund: a traditionally-based piece by a composer who knew and was encouraged and supported by Sibelius. Then comes an atmospheric piece by the Japanese composer, Joji Yuasa, and an exhilarating work by the young Finnish composer, Erkki-Sven Tuur. The American composer, Tobias Picker, describes his brief tribute as a conversation between Sibelius, Schoenberg and Stravinsky. Wilfred Josephs's piece is rather static while Marius Constant has composed a beautiful score with a real feel for colour and texture. The collection ends with a big piece, despite its brevity, from Poul Ruders again containing allusions to the music of Sibelius.

Although this is a commemorative disc which will be a must for the admirers and devotees of Sibelius's music, it will also be of interest to those with a taste for the less demanding byways of new music.

-- Gramophone [4/1992]

This album brings together some of the loudest, most exciting music ever written - neither music, nor your hearing, will ever be the same! The music has been arranged for continuous listening. With that in mind, three quiet "valleys" have been programmed to provide contrast with the very loud music that follows them. You may find that the contrast actually adds to the excitement. The 140-piece Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra under Leif Segerstram includes, among others, a 22-person percussion section, four sets of rocks hit with hammers, two heavy metal chains, anvils, steel plates, sirens, and several dozen cannon shots. The final track, Hekla, is probably the loudest single piece of music ever written. It describes, in very graphic terms, the eruption of Hekla, Iceland's largest active volcano.

This is one of those programs that adds up to more than the sum of its parts. David Aaron Carpenter plays a sensational viola, and he’s very capably accompanied by Vladimir Ashkenazy and the Helsinki Philharmonic. This would be a very recommendable version of Harold in Italy on its own, even in a quite crowded field. The two central movements have plenty of character and color, and the concluding Orgy of Brigands lacks nothing in fire or excitement. However, there are two specific factors that make this release more than ordinarily interesting. First, Carpenter has restored Berlioz’s original viola part to the first statement of Harold’s main theme. This was presumably a concession to Paganini, who of course wanted a virtuoso piece. It’s no surprise that Paganini wasn’t impressed by this scant minute of barely audible arpeggiation, and that Berlioz replaced it with the more songful, canonic version that we all know and love, but it’s good to hear for a change. Second, and more importantly, Carpenter and Ashkenazy include the work the Paganini wrote for himself instead, and which presumably better represents what he really had in mind. The Sonata per la Gran Viola e Orchestra lasts about thirteen minutes. It consists of an introduction followed by a recitative, a cantabile, and a concluding theme and variations. It is tuneful, splashy, and effectively virtuosic. What stands out particularly, though, is not its obvious bel canto qualities, but the fact that Paganini calls the work a “sonata” in the first place. Many have wondered how he could have asked Berlioz to write a piece for viola at all, given the huge disparity between what Paganini expected and what Berlioz actually produced. We’ll never know exactly what discussions passed between the two men, save that it seems on his own evidence that Paganini was not looking for a typical concerto, but for “something else.” Well, that’s certainly what he got! Harold, of course, offers no opportunity for the soloist to display his virtuoso chops. He’s basically just along for the ride. So it’s good to be able to report that Carpenter isn’t fazed at all by Paganini’s typically ridiculous demands. The work constitutes a fabulous encore to Harold, while the disc-opening Overture to Béatrice et Bénédict makes this release a perfect program for continuous listening. The whole production is excellently engineered, especially when it comes to the tricky issue of balancing the soloist against the larger ensemble. It’s just great when a program is as smartly assembled as it is musically brilliant. -- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Ondine is pleased to announce the new release of legendary Strauss-singer Soile Isokoski. A multiple award-winner, her recording of Strauss Four Last Songs won a Gramophone Award in 2002. The rarely recorded Three Hymns are coupled with opera arias from Ariadne auf Naxos, Der Rosenkavalier and Capriccio. All of those arias are part of Soile Isokoski's standard repertoire, performing those roles regularly at opera houses like Vienna State Opera, Covent Garden, and Milan’s La Scala.

Ondine’s successful partnership with violinist Christian Tetzlaff continues with a new recording of Dmitri Shostakovich’s two Violin Concertos, personal, powerful yet distinctive works originally written for legendary Russian violinist David Oistrakh. Mr. Tetzlaff has been considered one of the world’s leading international violinists for many years, and still maintains a most extensive performing schedule. Musical America named him “Instrumentalist of the Year” in 2005. Previously released recordings on Ondine of the Mendelssohn and Schumann violin concertos, the Mozart Violin Sonatas and the Schumann Violin Sonatas have all received the highest critical praise. John Storgårds is today one of the most prominent Finnish conductors of his generation, known for his innovative and pioneering programming as Chief Conductor of the Helsinki Philharmonic (2008–2015), Artistic Director of the Lapland Chamber Orchestra (1996–) and Principal Guest Conductor of the BBC Philharmonic (2012–). Mr. Storgårds also has several award-winning recordings with various orchestras to his credit,

• With this release Ondine presents two dramatic works by Dmitri Shostakovich, The Execution of Stepan Razin and the Zoya Suite, coupled with his Suite on Finnish Themes.
• The Execution of Stepan Razin, premiered in Moscow in 1964, got a mixed reception. The execution scene and the final, tragic vision is simply spine-chilling: Stepan Razin’s bloody head rolls to the ground and bursts out laughing at the Tsar. Capturing rich intonations and melodies of the text, the bass soloist and the chorus engage in a multi-layered dialogue of this very theatrical work.

Zemlinsky’s Die Seejungfrau has been recorded at least seven times, but this newcomer has some special qualities. It is without question the most gorgeously played and opulently engineered, which is saying a lot. After all, Chailly and the Concertgebouw (Decca) aren’t exactly slouches, and neither for that matter is Zemlinsky authority Antony Beaumont with the Czech Philharmonic (Chandos). It was Beaumont, in fact, who produced this new critical edition, restoring some five minutes of music to the central movement, including perhaps the work’s most convincing climax and interesting harmonies. So for that reason alone this performance, conducted by Storgards with 100% conviction and confidence, is worth having.

The work itself remains problematic. Thematically it owes quite a bit to Tchaikovsky–Francesca da Rimini in its “motto” theme, and the slow movement of the Fifth Symphony elsewhere. Its three movements can very easily come off as relatively undifferentiated sonic blobs due to Zemlinsky’s habit of immediately resorting to lyrical noodling just as things start to get moving. Each part seems to end five or six times before it actually stops, with the loud closing bars of Part Two sounding especially gratuitous. But the music is so beautiful from moment to moment, and so brilliantly scored, that in a performance like this one the defects hardly matter. If you’re a fan of Seejungfrau, this is now the version to own, and if you aren’t a fan, this one might make you one.

As to the coupling, well, here’s a story. At least two other very good recordings of Seejungfrau come in tandem with the Sinfonietta–Dausgaard’s and Conlon’s. This version, though, is the premiere recording of a recent rescoring for chamber orchestra by one Roland Freisitzer. I am not going to accuse Freisitzer of parasitically attaching himself to the coattails of the great (like Anthony Paine, for example, with his abominable Elgar Third Symphony), because no one is making a living creating alternate versions of works by Zemlinsky. On the other hand, the justification offered for disfiguring a late masterpiece by claiming to make it more playable by chamber orchestras just won’t wash, for several reasons.

First of all, there’s plenty of great music already written for chamber orchestra. No one needs Zemlinsky’s Sinfonietta any more than we need the recent silly, pint-sized arrangement of Mahler’s Second Symphony and other such curiosities–especially on recordings. Second, Zemlinsky’s Sinfonietta is scored for a fairly modest ensemble as it is–basically only double winds and standard brass, with no tuba. Freisitzer eliminates the three percussion parts, but adds a piano, pointlessly. His choices beg the question of just what constitutes a “chamber orchestra.” After all, if the Tapiola Sinfonietta under Mario Venzago can play Bruckner’s Fifth Symphony, then Zemlinsky’s Sinfonietta certainly stands squarely within the realm of possibility. Finally, it seems singularly strange, not to say conceptually confused, to couple a carefully prepared critical edition of Seejungfrau with a mongrel deconstruction of the Sinfonietta. Do Zemlinsky’s own ideas matter or not? The scoring of the Sinfonietta, even more than with Seejungrau, constitutes one of the most telling and original aspects of the work. This was a bad idea, despite the fact that the arrangement is excellently played by Storgards and members of the Helsinki Phil.

So because the recording of Seejungrau is so terrific, and perfectly fine recordings of the Sinfonietta are not that hard to find (including Beaumont’s, differently coupled), I am going to base the rating for this release mostly on the former, and largely ignore the latter. Seejungfrau really is that good.

-- ClassicsToday.com

...the conservative musical language rather brings Verdi to mind, and in a very real sense this cycle is a twentieth century equivalent to the latter’s Requiem: both are symphonic in construction and operatic in idiom, composed from spiritual rather than religious standpoints...

Listening to these two works by Aulis Sallinen is a bit like looking at two different photographs of the composer: the face is undeniably the same but not the perspective. Songs of Life and Death (1993-4) arose, rather by mischance, from a failed effort to compose a Requiem on verses by Lassi Nummi. Although title and outward form suggest Mahlerian associations, the conservative musical language rather brings Verdi to mind, and in a very real sense this cycle is a twentieth century equivalent to the latter’s Requiem: both are symphonic in construction and operatic in idiom, composed from spiritual rather than religious standpoints, and make use of secular elements. There are differences of course, not the least in scale and conception, which serve to underline a similarity of purpose and stature relative to their epochs. And while Sallinen's songs are very much songs of life, death is not here perceived as a grim or tragic end, and this imparts to the whole a peculiarly late twentieth-century aspect. Here at last is the choral-and-orchestral masterpiece Sibelius should have written, Finnish to the core yet international in appeal. It is, I believe, one of the very finest compositions Sallinen has yet produced...Very strongly recommended.

- Gramophone, 12/1995

}Gramophone (2/97, p. 58) "...DePreist gives us a pair of sensible, very well-prepared performances in good, albeit slightly studio-bound sound..."{

Here we have one of the greatest living composers working in the full inspiration of his mature style, performed and recorded with world-class passion and intensity. It really doesn't get any better. Before the Icons began life as a piano suite in 1955. In creating this orchestral version Rautavaara separated some of the individual numbers with interludes for string orchestra ("Prayers") and added a concluding "Amen". The music is wide-ranging and thoroughly approachable, though never cloying or cheap. Most of the "icon" movements feature the sound of bells as a unifying timbre, though the music isn't at all "churchly" in a conventional sense. It's a moving, even noble work, though it does have its lighter moments (the third movement: "Two Village Saints").

A Tapestry of Life (2007) has four movements lasting a bit more than 24 minutes. The second piece, "Halcyon Days", is stunningly lovely, while the concluding "Final Polonaise" builds to a powerful, ominous close. Each of the four movements is well contrasted and expressively affecting. It's great to have the opportunity to hear this music while it's still new, and as mentioned above the performance by the Helsinki Philharmonic under Leif Segerstam is first rate. If you care even mildly about contemporary music, or just good classical music, you owe it to yourself to hear this disc.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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RAUTAVAARA Before the Icons. A Tapestry of Life • Leif Segerstam, cond; Helsinki PO • ONDINE 1149-2 (49:37)


I have to tell you, at the outset of this review, that I moved to this CD immediately after reading Jack Reilly’s book The Harmony of Bill Evans, Vol. 2 (reviewed elsewhere in this issue) and listening to the accompanying CD, and that I found a great many similarities—more so than differences.


Einojuhan Rautavaara, who many probably do not know is the son of one of the greatest Mozart sopranos of the early 20th century (Aulikki, who sang the Countess in Le Nozze di Figaro on the old Glyndebourne recording conducted by Fritz Busch), has always written music in an amorphic style in which mood is as important as form. These works are no exception, and by doing so he allies his sparse melodic structures to the very sort of underlying density in chord progressions that were the heart of Bill Evans’s jazz pieces.


Before the Icons spans a full half-century of composition. Rautavaara wrote a set of six impressions on Byzantine icons for piano in 1955, immediately planned to orchestrate them, but did not get around to it until 2005! At that time, he wrote three “prayers” to go between the icons, scored for strings to reflect the voice of the individual. Some of the iconic pieces are agitated, powerful music, particularly the first ( The Death of the Mother of God ) and last ( Archangel Michael Fighting the Antichrist ), but not always, while the prayers are gentle and reflective. As usual, it’s a fascinating piece, and if he hadn’t revealed its genesis, one would have a hard time imaging a half-century between its two parts.


A Tapestry of Life is based on various poems or stories that influenced him. Again, as the music is impressionistic, it transcends the words to produce a feeling rather than a narrative. “Stars Swarming” was inspired by a poem by Edith Södergran, a surrealistic nightly vision where stars keep falling in the garden until the lawn is full of splinters. “Halcyon Days” uses the simple, monotonous repetition of a triplet, which gives rise to a slowly ascending cantabile melody (shades of Bill Evans again). Rautavaara’s coloristic effects derive from his very French-based style of orchestration overlaid on his Finnish musical sensibilities.


I’ve been a fan of Leif Segerstam since the early 1970s and saw him conduct both La Bohème at the Metropolitan Opera and his own works with the Cincinnati Symphony. For the life of me, I don’t understand why he is so undervalued (or, more often, ignored) as a conductor, as I consider him one of the greatest of the 20th century, but particularly in this music he gives his best because his own sensibilities are very close to Rautavaara’s. I urge you to get this record. It is a wonderful souvenir of both composer and conductor.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Uuno Klami was the Finnish Ravel, his music characterized by superb craftsmanship, glittering orchestration, and melodies that sound like you might have heard them before but can't remember where. The Cheremissian Fantasy for cello and orchestra is a case in point, saturated with the folk music of far-off Cheremissia (or wherever). It doesn't matter, either there, or in the Kalevala Suite, the closest thing that Klami has to a popular international hit. Northern Lights will be new to most collectors. It's an 18-minute symphonic poem that more than lives up to its title: alternately atmospheric and brilliant, it rises to an imposing climax that reveals Klami's gifts as an orchestrator to excellent effect.

While both the Fantasy and the Kalevala Suite have been recorded previously--and very well (BIS has a fine Klami series from Lahti)--this new release is outstanding in every way. The Helsinki Philharmonic knows this music as well as anyone, and in any event is a first-class ensemble no matter what the repertoire. John Storgards leads vibrant interpretations, with Samuli Peltonen an impressive cello soloist. The sonics are superbly lifelike, with plenty of detail and a wide dynamic range. Highly recommended.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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KLAMI Northern Lights. Cheremissian Fantasy. 1 Kalevala Suite • John Storgärds, cond; 1 Samuli Peltonen (vc); Helsinki PO • ONDINE ODE 1143-2 (65:25)


Uuno Klami (1900–1961) is one of the best-known of those Finnish composers who flourished in the wake of Sibelius, although Klami was also influenced by French and Russian music of the early 20th century. He was especially renowned for his orchestral works, of which the five tone poems comprising the Kalevala Suite (1943) are the most familiar and most often recorded. His best music maintains a bracing rhythmic momentum and reveals an attractive vein of lyricism.


The tone poem Northern Lights (1946) was new to me. The piece does not seem to have been recorded before (or, at any rate, no previous recording appears to be available). It evokes a Sibelian atmosphere; Klami’s music became more appreciably nationalistic after the Second World War. It is a lovely work, with a Ravelian sheen to the orchestration. While there are moments where swirling woodwind and harp glissandi suggest the dazzling phenomenon of the northern lights, Klami’s penchant for melodic cells keeps the music anchored. Around the 10-minute mark a cheeky waltz episode appears, and a suitably grand chorale provides a satisfying coda.


The Cheremissian Fantasy for cello and orchestra (1931) is in two movements, slow and fast, its thematic material loosely based on folk tunes from northern Finland. The cellist is given the bulk of the melodic material, which young soloist Samuli Peltonen plays here with fine tone and lots of heart.


The main work on this disc is the Kalevala Suite . In five movements, its layout could be regarded as symphonic. The first movement, “The Creation of the Earth,” is the equivalent of a sweeping symphonic allegro with a mysterious introduction and gentle postlude added. The second movement,“The Sprout of Spring,” is a scherzo with a lyrical second subject; the third, “Terhenniemi,”—apparently a late addition—serves as an evocative interlude before the calm of the slow movement, “Cradle Song for Lemminkäinen,” and grandeur of the finale, “The Forging of the Sampo.”


The suite’s programmatical basis lies in the great Finnish national epic, the Kalevala , which also inspired much of Sibelius’s music. Indeed, Klami’s work was initially commissioned by Robert Kajanus, chief conductor of the Helsinki Philharmonic and a friend and champion of the older composer. (Kajanus died before the suite reached its final completed form.) Sibelius does not seem to be a major influence until the final movement, and even then the theme on which the movement is based (first played by the English horn) primarily suggests Grieg. Again, Klami’s melodic ease and expertly detailed orchestration leave their stamp on the work.


Storgärds and the modern-day Helsinki Philharmonic give it everything they’ve got in this stunningly recorded program: Tender moments sound gorgeous, the climaxes leap out at you, and Storgärds’ plush, well-balanced orchestral textures do not preclude tension or drama. In the Kalevala Suite , a greater sense of urgency informs a 1973 performance on a Finlandia disc with the same orchestra conducted by Jorma Panula (which includes the only other recording of the Cheremissian Fantasy , with Arto Noras); it may be difficult to track down. Panula rerecorded the suite alongside other works of the composer for Naxos, but rougher sound blunts that performance and the Turku Philhamonic Orchestra is not quite in the Helsinki league. This new Ondine release is definitely the one to go for.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

A most desirable addition to Tiensuu’s discography…magnificent.

REVIEW:

This brand new release from Ondine offers three recent works by Tiensuu. They help considerably in appreciating his evolution over the last few years. Incidentally a pair of Alba CDs (ABCD 224 and ABCD 258, both reviewed here by Rob Barnett and the present writer) also went in the same direction.

Tiensuu is a most secretive composer reluctant to comment on his music and preferring to leave it to the listener to make up his own mind about the music. Moreover the titles of his works are often quite enigmatic, which does not make the task any easier. This is the case with Vie composed in 2007 and subtitled “Concerto for Orchestra”. The title might probably mean “life” although it might also relate in some way or another to the English verb “to vie”. In fact this does not seem to matter a lot because the music speaks for itself and is brilliant enough to engage the mind and heart. It opens with a forceful, ostinato-based gesture that recurs at various points in one form or another as a unifying thread of sorts. At one point the music halts in a more static section in which the music almost disintegrates into isolated fragments; this before proceeding into a Scherzo-like section in turn leading into a rather forceful coda abruptly cut short. Vie is a real showpiece full of instrumental virtuosity, arresting textures and sometimes intricate rhythms.

Tiensuu has often claimed that he considered that “the ancient conception that music is the shortest path to higher spiritual spheres” was one of the most relevant premises of creative work for him. However, although Missa bears a definitely religious title, it is difficult to relate the work (Tiensuu’s second clarinet concerto) to anything religious. The only tenuous link is that the seven movements of the work refer to the different parts of a traditional Mass and that the music may reflect the character of those parts. The rather anguished mood of the Introitus spills into the sadly pleading Kyrie. The Gloria is an animated movement with intricate rhythms and allusions to Klezmer. The ensuing Credo opens hesitantly but then moves onwards with some assertiveness, at times verging on brutality before petering out unresolved. Sanctus is a fairly animated affair with capricious rhythms. The Agnus Dei opens calmly on high strings weaving a soft backcloth for the soloist’s song, sometimes echoed by the orchestral clarinets. The piece ends with a brief Ite.

The subtitle “Morphosis for Orchestra” might hint at what False Memories is about. A close analysis of the score - something beyond my skills - might show the way the variations evolve. The work is in three movements (Review, Nostalgy and Trauma). Again these titles may give an idea of the music itself. “Review” opens with strongly articulated, syncopated rhythms and, soon established, the capricious mood of the movement is maintained throughout. In its unsentimental way the music of the beautiful slow movement speaks for itself as does that of the troubled final movement that provides an unresolved conclusion.

Tiensuu’s recent music obviously takes a step further towards greater accessibility although it is still far from being easy, especially on the performers’ part. Even so, it clearly displays a new-found pleasure in music-making. Tiensuu obviously relishes the many textural possibilities of the orchestra. These three works undoubtedly demonstrate the composer’s enjoyment in his brilliant handling of large orchestral forces.

The performers clearly partake of that same delight with Storgårds conducting vital and immaculately prepared readings of these exacting and ultimately rewarding scores. Kari Kriikku is his own self in the demanding part of Missa which he handles with exemplary technique and remarkable musicality. The recording is just superb making the best of these often luxuriant scores.

This release might well be the best introduction possible to Tiensuu’s highly personal sound world.

-- Hubert Culot, MusicWeb International

1. Tonttujen joulukuusi (*) 4:51
2. Jing Bells 3:45
3. Petteri Punakuono 2:07
4. Te lapsoset, lapsoset kiiruhtakaa 3:42
5. O Come All Ye Faithful 3:54
6. Kun joulu valkeneepi 1:37
7. Puer natus in Bethlehem 1:02
8. Jouluyö, juhlayö 3:01
9. Joulukranssi kuudella kielellä 8:58
10. Ding Dong! Merrily on High 2:34
11. We Wish You a Merry Christmas 3:11
12. Santa Lucia 4:03
13. O Tannenbaum 2:33
14. Kun joulupukki suukon sai 3:02
15. Joulupukki matkaan jo käy 2:39
16. White Christmas 2:42

[ 61:15 ]

Jorma Hynninen, baritone
Tapiola Choir
Raimo Sirkiä, tenor
Vox Aurea
Monica Groop, mezzosoprano
Sympaatti Youth Choir
Turku Castle Chamber Choir
Savonlinna Opera Festival Chorus
Kalevi Kiviniemi, organ
Matti Salminen, bass

Children (Classical Favourites for) - Teddy Bear at the Conc

Ondine’s devotion to the music of Einojuhani Rautavaara has been of considerable standing and of great depth. Here we have a disc of highlights of pieces from their catalogue. The only complete works are Cantus arcticus and Apotheosis, though admirers of the composer will know that whilst this last named is a separate work, and one that can be performed in isolation with minor adaptations, it also forms part of the Sixth Symphony.

I’m sure that this neatly selected series of works will whet the appetite of those yet to experience Rautavaara’s music. I think it’s right that if you’re going to present a compact work by him in toto it should be Cantus arcticus, which is one of his most popular. This Concerto for Birds and Orchestra, a beautiful title if ever there was one, evinces all his most personal and vital qualities - string wash of great, indeed magnetic, power and concentration, the quality of melancholy so often encountered in his music, and an accumulation of sound that reaches, at moments, almost a frenzy. For all his reflective qualities he has never been a dormant composer; rather he has managed to unleash moments of great power and energy that seem to have aggregated from the earlier material. Such, certainly, is the trajectory of this work, never for a moment gimmicky, always beautiful and, fortunately, the electronic song is expertly balanced in this recording.

The other works offer interesting perspectives too. The second movement of the Clarinet Concerto is played by the dedicatee Richard Stoltzman, who worked closely with the composer during its composition. Its lyric outpouring is as addictive as the third movement of Autumn Gardens, a nature portrait of powerful verdancy. The first part of Manhattan Trilogy is called Daydreams and its alternation of percussive power and refined lyricism is effectively realised, whereas the third movement of the Third Piano Concerto, called Gift of Dreams, is restless, passionate, bright edged and enshrines some truly portentous moments. Vladimir Ashkenazy plays and directs. The final two pieces are from symphonic works; Apotheosis is rapt and beautiful, whilst the segment from the Sixth Symphony is calm, dreamlike, reflective.

The majority of performances are by the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra under Leif Segerstam. All the performances are special and I hope they will lead appreciative and curious readers to the relevant Ondine box sets that house the symphonies and concertos.

– Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

When Andreas Haefliger conceived this unusual combination of concertos it was with the aim of putting into perspective three pieces, each a unique and highly expres­sive highlight from the composers’ output. That Maurice Ravel’s Concerto for the Left Hand and Béla Bartók’s Third Piano Concerto fulfilled the requirements was a given: towards the end of his life Bartók wrote his most lyrically expressive concerto while Ravel, inspired by the qualities of the left hand register, wrote a piece full of dark yearning and grotesquely fauvistic dances.

The third work was more of a gamble, being a newly commissioned and not yet written concerto. The risk was a calculated one, however, given the stellar reputation of the composer Dieter Ammann, as well as Haefliger’s personal acquaintance with him. But as Haefliger himself remarks: ‘Little could have prepared me for the exceptional work I was to receive: The Piano Concerto – Gran Toccata. Keeping tradition close by as an ally in the layering of harmony and rhythm, it explodes into futuristic visions in an extremely personal language and, through its kaleidoscopic colours and pianistic virtuosity, reinvents the genre for the 21st century.’ The concerto was premiered at the 2019 BBC Proms, and Andreas Haefliger has since performed it in Boston, Munich and Helsinki, where the present recording was made. On all three occasions, he has been partnered by Susanna Mälkki, chief conductor of the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra which lends Haefliger eminent support in all three works.

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REVIEW

Haefliger’s playing is very dynamic and colorful. He understands the importance of rhythm, even in slow passages, and knows how to maximize what the composer has written.

– The Art Music Lounge

A 2021 GRAMMY Nominee for Best Opera Recording!

Composed in 1911, Bluebeard’s Castle is Béla Bartók’s only opera – a radical masterpiece which has secured a place alongside the other innovative music dramas of the same period, from Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande to Berg’s Wozzeck. Planning to write a one-act opera, Bartók settled on a libretto by Béla Balázs with the kind of surreal and/or macabre themes that would soon feature in his two ballets, The Wooden Prince and The Miraculous Mandarin. The main source for the libretto text was a play by Maeterlinck, a retelling of Perrault’s gruesome tale of Barbe-Bleue, the sinister yet strangely seductive wife-killer. Balázs turned the drama into what he called a ‘mystery play’, however, and his stylization of the story throws the weight of the drama onto stage-setting and music. The single act centers on the successive opening of the castle’s seven doors, and Bartók’s music brings across the horrors of the blood-drenched torture chamber, the steely power of the armory and the glitter of jewels in the treasury as well as the interplay of increasingly feverish questionings from Judit and defiant responses from Bluebeard. Susanna Mälkki and the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra have already proved their Bartók credentials with a disc of his ballet scores which was chosen as Record of the Week in BBC Radio 3 Record Review and earned top marks in Diapason and on the website Klassik-Heute. Joined by Mika Kares as Duke Bluebeard and his Judit, the Hungarian mezzo-soprano Szilvia Vörös, the team here performs Bartók’s darkly glittering, shimmering and threatening score in a live recording from 2020.

REVIEW:

Mezzo soprano Szilvia Vörös copes very well with the demands of her role. When the Fifth Door is flung open, Vörös’s scream - for that’s what it is - is simply hair-raising. As always, BIS complete the package with excellent notes, and, in this case, a legible, attractively presented libretto.

Although Mälkki’s Bluebeard doesn’t supplant the best in the catalogue, it deserves a place alongside them; as for the sound, it’s well up to the high standards of the house.

– MusicWeb International

The Wooden Prince and The Miraculous Mandarin are – together with the earlier opera Bluebeard’s Castle – the only stage works by Béla Bartók. They stand apart from the more abstract and often more explicitly folk-related character of the music that we primarily associate with the composer. They are nevertheless major achievements that in different ways highlight Bartók’s imaginative use of the modern orchestra. Set in an enchanted forest, The Wooden Prince is based on a fairytale-like libretto featuring a prince and princess. The two are subjected to various trials, but at the end of the ballet they are allowed to come together and live – we assume – happily ever after. In stark contrast, The Miraculous Mandarin takes place in an urban brothel where three robbers force a girl to seduce men so that they can overpower and kill them. The subject-matter and the erotic qualities of much of the music caused a scandal at the première in 1926, and for a long time the score was primarily performed in the shorter concert version heard on the present release, the first from the team of the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra and Susanna Mälkki, the orchestra’s chief conductor since 2016.

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REVIEWS:

Mälkki elicits brilliant, rhythmically disciplined playing from the Helsinki Philharmonic; and although her depiction of urban din in the opening minutes lacks the raucous ferocity of Dorati’s justly famous mid-1950s account (and whose doesn’t?), her careful attention to dynamic gradations lays bare a wealth of textural and colouristic detail.

– Gramophone

Naturally, a complex score such as The Wooden Prince requires an orchestra capable of extreme virtuosity, and the Helsinki Philharmonic provide this to the full under their newly appointed principal conductor. She guides them in a performance of expressive sweep and, where required, tenderness. The SACD recording, as is so often the case with BIS, is state of the art.

Stylistically, The Miraculous Mandarin occupies a much harsher, at times grating sound world, there being no hint of the former's misty impressionism. In 1927, shortly after the sole Cologne performance, Bartók published an orchestral suite comprising the first six stages of the work, and that is what we have here. The orchestra respond here with considerable virtuosity under Susanna Mälkki’s direction, and the recording copes admirably with Bartok’s glaring, lurid orchestration of the dissonant music.

– MusicWeb International

The Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra can with justification be regarded as ‘Sibelius’s own orchestra’, as it was this orchestra, usually conducted by the composer, that premièred most of his major works. On this disc of three such pieces, the orchestra is conducted by Susanna Malkki; the recording follows on from their three acclaimed albums devoted to the music of Bartók.

Although they were all later revised, the three works on this recording all originated within a very short period in Sibelius’s career: the years 1893–96, a time when he was beginning to establish himself as a composer and a time of national awakening.

One of his most popular works, the Karelia Suite is drawn from a series of tableaux that evoked events in the history of Karelia, the region where Finland and Russia meet. In late 19th-century Finland, the promotion of Karelian folk culture was both fashionable and politically relevant. The short suite Rakastava [The Lover] is a subtle reworking of a work for male voices based on lyrical poems from the collection Kanteletar; Sibelius often conducted it in concert. Sibelius often drew inspiration from the Finnish national epic Kalevala, and episodes from this poem provide the subject matter of Lemminkainen, a substantial four-movement suite (including the captivating Swan of Tuonela) that recounts the adventures of a daredevil hero, a sort of Nordic Don Juan.

REVIEWS:

Mälkki and the orchestra remarkably conjure the dark, swirling soundworld of ‘Lemminkäinen in Tuonela’ (the Hades of Finnish legend). And the concluding ‘Lemminkäinen’s Return’ canters along in roistering style.

-- BBC Music Magazine

Susanna Mälkki and the Helsinki Philharmonic Orchestra produce wellcrafted, beautifully detailed accounts on a par with rival versions – including the Helsinki orchestra’s own with Segerstam (with warm Ondine sound) from the mid-1990s.

-- Gramophone

This disc is a double tribute. The first work, Pictured Within, is a collective effort conceived as a major project to mark the 60th birthday of conductor Martyn Brabbins, whose reputation in new music and British music is beyond reproach.

Following the pattern of Edward Elgar’s Enigma Variations, Pictured Within is a series of 14 variations on a theme, each of which takes up the character of the equivalent variation in Elgar’s work, the difference being that here 14 different composers have each contributed a variation in tribute to Brabbins.

Also on the SACD is Jaakko Kuusisto’s Symphony, a fitting tribute to the composer, conductor, and violinist who passed away in 2022. Illness left Jaakko no time to complete his work, so it fell to his brother Pekka – who conducts here – and Jari Eskola to finish it. The result is a powerful piece, full of familiar themes and melodies derived from Jaakko’s existing compositions, to which are added autobiographical extra-musical elements. The moving conclusion is a collage of fragmented phrases inspired by the signals emitted by lighthouses and ships, as if Kuusisto’s spirit had been sent out to sea.