Characteristic Viennese waltzes, polkas, and overtures represent some of the best moments from Viennese Night Prom concerts spanning a vintage period in their history. Included are works by Johann Strauss I & II, Franz Lehar, and Franz von Suppe.

Sir John Barbirolli was one of the most versatile conductors of his generation, associated with composers and works of every era. These historic recordings, never before released, present works he previously had not recorded, - like the Britten Serenade for Tenor, Horn, and Strings - or were under-recorded - like Schubert's Symphony No. 4.

With stunning accounts of Brahms and Mahler, this recording marks an exciting, new relationship between ICA Classics and the SWR in Stuttgart, and it is the first release of this material outside Japan. 'Klaus Tennstedt's concerts with the LPO at the Festival Hall were among the greatest performances I have ever heard' (Sunday Times review of ICAC 5033, Mahler: Symphony No.3)

A wonderfully relaxed and good humoured performance in which nearly everything seemed to have gone right.

There is a small but important group of operas that are essentially ensemble works, and in which the presence of a few star singers is less important than the quality of the team as a whole. Die Meistersinger, From the House of the Dead and Peter Grimes are prime examples but surely Falstaff comes at the top of the list. Everyone involved, including the chorus and orchestra as well as the many smaller parts, needs to be aware of their part in the work as a whole and in the chosen approach. If this is the case any small weaknesses in the main parts can easily be forgiven and the nature of the work can be triumphantly realised. That is surely the ambition of any opera company serious about its task, and is clearly the case here. I would not want to suggest that the present set is superior to all its many distinguished predecessors but it is certainly another vindication of the importance of ensemble in opera.
 
Glyndebourne took its productions to the early Edinburgh Festivals right from the first Festival in 1947 onwards. In 1955 it took Falstaff in a production originally intended to be conducted by Vittorio Gui but taken over by Giulini when the former became unwell. A later Glyndebourne version of the opera conducted by Gui with Geraint Evans, the original choice as Ford, has now been released on Glyndebourne’s own label. The usual very thorough rehearsal which has always been a feature of this company’s work is especially relevant to this opera. The result is a single-minded approach to its musical and dramatic character that is very striking. Whether this is due to the conductor’s efforts, to the long rehearsals or to careful casting I do not know but the result is a real overall success.
 
The individual casting is admirable. Fernando Corena’s recordings of buffo music by Donizetti and Cimarosa had shown his ability in this field. It is surprising that this production appears to have been his first performances as Falstaff. The part is often given to a baritone but a bass voice does have the advantage of suggesting the character’s scale without needing to resort to “funny” voices. He does not play with the words in quite the detailed way of, say, Tito Gobbi or Geraint Evans, but instead he exudes a more general good humour. I found it wholly convincing, especially when set within a cast all of whom display their character’s individual “humours” musically and without exaggeration. Walter Monachesi has a voice very different from Corena’s, which helps a lot in their scene together, and if the Merry Wives are not so well distinguished from each other, neither are they in most performances of the opera or indeed in Shakespeare. The role of Mistress Quickly is a gift for a singer with the necessary power in the lower register and ability of characterisation. Oralia Dominguez has both of these qualities and stands out even in such distinguished company. All of the other, by no means minor, parts are well filled. One oddity is that Kevin Miller takes over in Act 3 from Juan Oncina as Fenton. He may lack the same lyrical beauty of voice but there is no serious loss.
 
As I explained earlier, it is the quality of the ensemble that distinguishes this recording. All of the big complicated ensembles which can sound simply confused or untidy are here clear and transparent. Even with a recording which is adequate for a broadcast of the period but little more there is no real loss to the music. There are occasional stage noises, including what is probably the prompter at times, and some obtrusive applause but this simply makes the listener even more aware of what must have been a tremendous theatrical occasion. There is no libretto or even a synopsis which is regrettable but understandable in a version likely to appeal mainly to collectors who have more modern versions in their collections already. I would happily have exchanged the seven pages of listing of the ICA catalogue for more pictures of the original production - or indeed a more detailed description of it.
 
There are many distinguished recordings of Falstaff in the catalogue, including those conducted by Karajan (with Gobbi), Toscanini, and (some years later) Giulini in Los Angeles. The present set takes its place with them, like them offering hours of pleasure and delight. If the opera has a lesson it is the composer and librettist’s sheer delight in the varied character of humanity and its many frailties. This recording captures that varied character to perfection in a wonderfully relaxed and good humoured performance in which nearly everything seemed to have gone right.
 
-- John Sheppard, MusicWeb International

BEETHOVEN Piano Sonata No. 3 in C, Op. 2/3 1. RAVEL Valses nobles et sentimentales 1. CHOPIN Nocturne in D?, Op. 27/2 1. Ballade No. 1 in g, Op. 23 1. Andante spianato et Grande Polonaise brillante, Op. 22 2 • Artur Rubinstein (pn) • ICA 5095 (73:00) Live: London 3/17/1963 1 and 10/6/1959 2


If ever there were a pianist who could be considered the aristocrat of the instrument for the 20th century it would surely be Artur Rubinstein, so full of intelligence, nobility, and remarkable simplicity are his interpretations. He was, above all else, a direct communicator of ideas. Throughout his career he always played to the audience, making them feel part of the show, of the whole experience itself; they in turn loved him for it. And though he was not always the most secure technician (in terms of playing the correct notes, not in terms of his overall musical interpretations) he is in especially fine form here.


His direct approach to the music can be witnessed from the very beginning of the recital. Rubinstein’s Beethoven was always interesting to me depending on the particular repertoire he was approaching—his recordings of the “Appassionata” Piano Sonata or the Fourth Piano Concerto are some of the pinnacles of the recorded performances that have been bequeathed to us in the 20th century. His Beethoven Third Sonata is good—it is straightforward; he has little fluctuation of tempo (though the forte outburst in the first movement at 0:25 does push it a bit); his articulation is crisp when required, and he brings a fine joie de vivre in this bright, but not always sunny C-Major work. There is something lacking for me, though—a tension, a drama that I find inherent in this work. Everything here is just too smooth. In Rubinstein’s Ravel there is a tinge (but just a tinge!) of the percussive quality of a Prokofiev: One can almost see Rubinstein’s grin as he lets the rest of us in on what he knows to be Ravel’s true intentions in this work. Too often are these waltzes performed in a flowery manner. The pianist’s approach is subtle in his carefully calculated tonal shadings and in his elegant way of always maintaining the sense of the beat, of the dance, which inspired one of this composer’s loveliest creations. Rubinstein is in especially fine form in Chopin—his composer. The D?-Major Nocturne is the crowning jewel in this recital: Once again everything that makes a Rubinstein performance special is in evidence here, from the continuous flow of the accompaniment to the way in which he approaches each and every phrase, from the highly lyrical to the highly ornamented. Anyone who questions Rubinstein’s mechanism needs to behold the ease in which he plays each and every note in the rapid flourishes that pervade this work. Not only are all of the individual notes crystal clear, each also has a beautiful ringing tone. The G-Minor Ballade was one of the pianist’s favorite works and he is in spectacular form here. He captures that wonderful sense of the narrative—not only can he make the piano sing, he can make it speak. Unfortunately there is an issue here. A sound anomaly mars this otherwise fantastic recording at around 8:30. The Andante spianato and Grand Polonaise act as encores, coming from a much earlier recital. Here too Rubinstein’s magical qualities come out in the ease in which he projects the gentleness of the nocturne-like introduction and the elegance of the dance that follows. It is not the most dynamic reading of the Polonaise I know, but it is powerful nonetheless.


The sound throughout the recording is fine given its vintage (other than the aforementioned issue in the Ballade). What is most remarkable about Rubinstein for me is his naturalness—there seems to be not even a strand of the eccentric in his playing. His Chopin will always remain a favorite because of its elegance, its straightforwardness, and its rejection of the picture of the composer as a frail and meek individual. His Chopin is timeless. His Ravel too is fascinating. In his hands the music retains its modern aura. This is one disc that you’ll be sure to want in your collection; I’m all too happy to make it part of mine.


FANFARE: Scott Noriega

Classical Music

The violist and conductor, Rudolf Barshai is considered one of the great Russian musicians of the 20th century and his emigration to the West allowed for greater global exposure and marked a second chapter to his creative life. On the occasion of the 5th anniversary of his death, this monumental 20 CD box set is a unique homage to the legacy of Barshai featuring never-before-published radio and studio recordings along with live concerts from 1951 to 2012, many of his viola recordings along with his famous Mahler Symphony Nr. 10 with an ending scored by Barshai, and much much more. Also including a 49 page booklet of rare photographs and accompanying essays.

Hungarian born Gyorgy Cziffra was one of the most celebrated virtuosos of the post-war decades in Europe, noted for his powers of improvisation as a Liszt pianist. The Grieg Concerto is typical of Cziffra's 'mercurial quality' while the Liszt Concerto and Fantasy on Hungarian Folk Themes are very much in the style with which Liszt 'loved to astonish his adoring audiences'. (Bryce Morrison)

Susanne Hou was a scholarship student at Toronto’s Conservatory of Music followed by the Juilliard School under Dorothy DeLay, Cho-Liang Lin and Naoko Tanaka. She rose to fame on the international concert scene when she unanimously won the Long-Thibaud, Lipizer and Sarasate International Violin Competitions. Since then she has collaborated with world-renowned conductors and fellow artists such as Rostropovich, Zuckerman, Alan Gilbert, Spivakov, and more. Susanne has twice collaborated with the Oscar nominated director Atom Egoyan and the Oscar winning composer Mychael Danna. She has her own music video The Devil’s Delight. Of particular poignancy is the fact that Susanne Hou’s father Bo Zhi Hou was the top violinist at the Shanghai Conservatory at the time this concerto was written, going on to lead major orchestras in China before and during the Cultural Revolution. Mr. Hou was asked to make the world premiere recording of the Butterfly Lover’s Concerto but, due to sensitive political and societal circumstances, he ultimately left the country without having had the opportunity to make the recording. He therefore now passes the torth of his legacy in China, and his unfulfilled destiny of recording The Butterfly Lovers’ Concerto, to his daughter- Susanne Hou.

Praised by The New York Times for her ‘clear articulation … unequivocal phrasing … [and] expressivity’, Ingrid Jacoby has established herself as one of her generation’s most poetic and admired pianists.Winner of numerous prizes and competitions, she has, since moving to England, performed with many major orchestras, including the LSO, the LPO and the RPO, as well as the London Mozart Players, and worked with many eminent conductors.Her new recording of Mozart’s Concertos K467 and K488, complete with the Rondo K386, and accompanied by the internationally celebrated ASMF conducted by Sir Neville Marriner, follows on from her acclaimed earlier recording of the Concertos K449 and K595 which received excellent reviews from Int’l Record Review, Gramophone and Fanfare magazines, among others.The accompanying booklet contains notes by Richard Wigmore and personal insights by Ingrid Jacoby on Mozart.

The highly distinguished conductor Rudolf Kempe (1910-1976) started as an oboist with the Leipzig Gewandhaus Orchestra. During the Second World War, he was chief conductor of the Chemnitz Opera until 1946. He then worked at Weimar for the 1948-9 season, before joining the Dresden Opera and becoming chief conductor. From 1952 to 1954, he was chief conductor of the Bavarian State Opera, which he conducted at Covent Garden in 1953 to great acclaim. Mahler's Symphony No.4 is a new addition to the Kempe discography. The recording, which was discovered in the Music Preserved archive in York, is a real rarity. Similarly, Mendelssohn's Ruy Blas Overture is a new addition to the conductor's discography. It is heard here in a fiery performance captured live from the Royal Festival Hall in 1967 with the LSO. Kempe's account of the Prelude to Act I of Wagner's Parsifal, recorded in 1965, confirms his status as one of the greatest Wagnerian conductors of the 20th century. His Covent Garden performances of Parsifal in 1959 were landmarks for the company.

Barbirolli made two earlier recordings of Berlioz's Symphonie fantastique in 1947 (mono) and 1958 (early stereo), both with the Halle Orchestra. This new live recording with the SWF orchestra in Baden-Baden from 1969 is in state-of-the-art stereo sound and does full justice to Berlioz's wonderful score. Likewise, Haydn's Symphony No.83 the Hen always remained a Barbirolli favorite. He first recorded it in 1949 in mono but here it is captured in excellent stereo 20 years later and released in 2013 for the first time.

Michael Tilson Thomas conducts the London Symphony Orchestra in this 2 DVD set of performances of Strauss works. Also included is extensive rehearsal footage and educational insight from a master communicator.

These revelatory films feature Britten with his favored English Chamber Orchestra performing at two very different times of his life, with equal value. Filmed at Christmas 1964, the main program of Mozart's Symphony No.40 and Britten's own Nocturne shows a man in his prime. The Mozart was a particular favorite of Britten's and his admiration for it certainly comes across in the performance.

The redoubtable Rozhdestvensky, chief conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra from 1978 to 1981, is at his very best in Russian repertoire. Indeed, his Shostakovich has a raw energy that never fails to excite, so I had high hopes for this recording of Tchaikovsky’s febrile Fourth. The other items on this disc – all recorded live by the BBC – make for a sensible and interesting programme, the rarely heard Sorochinsky Fair version of Night on a Bald Mountain especially welcome. Also worthy of note is the growing catalogue of archive material from the recently launched ICA label, some of it previously unreleased and much of it – the Tennstedt Mahler 3, for instance – very desirable indeed.

The upfront blare of horns and bassoons at the start of the Tchaikovsky gives a clear indication of the character of Rozhdestvensky’s approach to this score; it’s vital and vigorous, yet the rhythms of ‘In movimento di Valse’ have grace and charm. The big climaxes pack a terrific punch – what thrilling timps – the transported brass scything through the mix like one of those brazen, Soviet-era performances. That’s not to say it’s over-driven – well, not yet, anyway – merely that it’s not the carefully sculpted sound-world of, say, Claudio Abbado (DG) or Lorin Maazel (Telarc). This uncompromising earthiness is reinforced by a forthright, yet detailed, recording.

The oboe playing at the start of the Andantino is lovely, Rozhdestvensky alive to the emotional undertow of this music. The strings and woodwind are wonderfully alert and ardent, testament perhaps to Noddy’s rigorous rehearsals, and there’s real nobility in those big, swelling tunes. Anyone who knows Rozhdestvensky’s Royal Festival Hall Sleeping Beauty (BBC Legends BBCL 4091-2) will recognise that seemingly intuitive feel for phrasing; it all sounds so spontaneous. As for the animated pizzicati of the Scherzo, they have a fleeting, will-o’-the-wisp quality that’s most engaging.

All that evaporates in the sudden heat of the Allegro con fuoco. In his autobiography producer John Culshaw tells the story of how Georg Szell was tricked into taping an ill-tempered – yet fiery – rendition of this finale, but even he can’t match the incandescence of Rozhdestvensky’s reading. The BBC brass and percussion are truly heroic, the orchestra hard-driven yet coherent to the very end. I listened to this track several times, scarcely able to believe this music could be taken at such a lick and not descend into chaos. The instant roar from the otherwise very quiet audience says it all. A thumping performance, and a pretty good recording too.

A Night on the Bare Mountain, most often played in Rimsky’s orchestration, is given here in Anatoly Liadov’s hotch-potch culled from Mussorgsky’s unfinished opera Sorochinsky Fair. The change of venue – London’s Royal Albert Hall – and the very immediate recording add an edge to the choral singing that brings plenty of piquancy and passion to this strange hybrid. Remarkably, Rozhdestvensky gets his British forces to play and sing with all the abandon of their Russian counterparts. What a team they would have made in Alexander Nevsky. Musically this is fascinating, with unusual colours and a melting coda. I’d urge you to give this a try if you don’t already know it.

If not Nevsky, then Prokofiev’s suite from The Love for Three Oranges will do very nicely, thank you. And so it proves; ‘The Clowns’ is played with manic energy and ‘The Magician’ is magnificently malevolent. Prokofiev’s audacious rhythms and acid colours are superbly caught, ditto the ever-present percussion and demented brass. As for the March and Scherzo, they’re imbued with rather more menace than usual, ‘The Prince and Princess’ as inward and ardent as ever. The scurrying strings and lancing brass of ‘The Flight’ have seldom emerged with such ferocity, or the cymbals sizzled so. An ear-blasting end to a most entertaining collection.

Noddy fans will want this disc, and those who have yet to experienced his unique blend of eloquence and excitement would do well to start here. The Tchaikovsky is a stunner, and while the Mussorgsky is something of a curiosity it’s well worth having. The Prokofiev-on-steroids is a wild but welcome bonus.

Another fine issue from ICA.

-- Dan Morgan, MusicWeb International

Classical Music

This material represents some of the earliest televised concerts with the Boston Symphony Orchestra and three of their eminent music directors, Charles Munch, Erich Leinsdorf and William Steinberg. This historical footage has been restored using the greatest care and state-of-the-art techniques. It is of exceptional musical interest and historical value, and has been described by critics as a "rare treat" (Gramophone) and "welcome documentations" (BBC Music Magazine).

Picture format: NTSC 4:3 Sound format: LPCM Mono (DVD 1) / LPCM Stereo (DVD 2) / Enhanced Mono (DVD 3, 4, 5) Region code: 0 (worldwide) Menu language: English Running time: 6 hours 14 mins No. of DVDs: 5

This set contains the following 5 DVDs:

CHARLES MUNCH
RAVEL Ma Mère l’Oye – Suite; DEBUSSY Ibéria, La Mer (1958 & 1961)

ERICH LEINSDORF
SCHUBERT Symphony No. 9 "Great"; SCHUMANN Symphony No. 4; WAGNER Parsifal – Good Friday Music (1962, 1963 & 1964)

BEETHOVEN Egmont Overture; TCHAIKOVSKY Symphony No. 5; MOZART Serenade No.9 "Posthorn" – Minuet I (1963 & 1969)

WILLIAM STEINBERG
HAYDN Symphony No. 55; BEETHOVEN Symphonies Nos. 7 & 8 (1962, 1969 & 1970)

BRUCKNER Symphony No. 8 (2nd revised edition) (1962)

Captured at the BBC's Glasgow Studios in 1987 for their Music in Camera series, Ashkenazy demonstrates his versatility and musical skill through the extreme contrasts of the Impromptus, the lyrical, song-like grace and virtuosic flair of the Wanderer Fantasy, and the elegant yet exciting rendition of Schumann's innovative Piano Sonata No.1.

Classical Music

BERLIOZ Requiem • Dimitri Mitropoulos, cond; Nicolai Gedda (ten); Cologne RO & Ch • ICA 5075 (82:22) Live: Cologne 8/26/1956


Having been, for the most part (all but the “March to the Scaffold” and “Dream of a Witches’ Sabbath”), been impressed by Dimitri Mitropoulos’s studio recording of Berlioz’s Symphonie Fantastique with the New York Philharmonic, I was very curious to hear what the famed Greek conductor did with the Requiem. I hadn’t known that there was an alternative performance conducted by Mitropoulos from July 15, 1956, with tenor Leopold Simoneau and the Vienna Philharmonic, nor have I heard that performance (available on Orfeo d’Or 457971), but in listening to this Cologne performance from August all I could think was how absolutely wonderful it is from start to finish.


Granted, the Cologne Radio Choir is no match for Roger Norrington’s exquisitely blended forces in his recording for Hänssler (which I dubbed a Classical Hall of Fame item in the last issue), but in the 1950s there were few choruses that good … Bayreuth, perhaps, and Wilhelm Pitz’s magnificent Philharmonia Chorus, but not many others. Within the scope of radio choirs of that era, the Cologne singers acquit themselves very well. But even more impressive is the sound of the orchestra, the incredible wealth of textural detail that Mitropoulos is able to draw from it, and more importantly, how well it is recorded. For a 1956 mono radio broadcast, the sound on this disc is phenomenal—easily on par with the absolute best high-fidelity products issued by RCA, EMI, and even Decca-London. Just to give you the most crucial example, there is actually some depth to the sound when the four brass choirs enter in the Dies irae , in fact, more depth to the sound than Seiji Ozawa’s digital recording with the Boston Symphony on RCA-BMG.


But even better than the sound is the musical treatment of the score. As much as I like Norrington’s leisurely pacing, which matches so well the depth of sound he is able to elicit from his orchestra, Mitropoulos gives us what I would characterize as the true Berlioz style. This performance is only five minutes shorter than Norrington’s, but it sounds much faster because Mitropoulos never lets the momentum sag. He is continually nudging the beat forward, even in the quietest and slowest passages in the score, with the result that the listener hears much more of the work’s structure without sacrificing quality of emotion or depth of feeling. It’s like listening to Charles Munch’s Symphonie fantastique, Colin Davis’s early recording of Romeo et Juliette, and either the Toscanini or Fischer-Dieskau recordings of Harold in Italy. It’s that good, and it’s in the same style. It’s also astonishing how much hall ambience, and more importantly depth of sound, is captured here considering that this was recorded not in a church or concert hall, but in Studio 1 of the Cologne radio station. Taking all of that into consideration, the sonic results almost beggar belief.


It would take far more room that I have to describe all the stunning moments in this performance, but allow me to pinpoint one: the way Mitropoulos pulls back on the syncopated wind and string figures at the beginning of the Lacrimosa . This has a tautness, and almost a swagger, in the rhythm that I’ve not heard achieved by any other conductor in this work. Another interesting aspect of this performance is to compare its timings to the other Mitropoulos version as well as Norrington. As previously mentioned, this Cologne performance runs only five minutes shorter than the Norrington, but the Vienna version runs three minutes faster than this. Without having heard it, then, I would have to say that I think I’d prefer this recording anyway. I really don’t like my Berlioz Requiem rushed that much, which is another reason I don’t care for the Ozawa recording.


There is but one movement where more space is required, and that is the Sanctus. It is gorgeously sung by Nicolai Gedda in his best early voice—in stereo recordings, only Stuart Burrows is as good and only Leopold Simoneau and Toby Spence come close—but the tenor is up front and center in the soundspace, not recessed in the back as he is supposed to be. It’s a small flaw but a telling one.


Could this, then, be a first-choice Requiem? Yes, but only if you don’t mind monophonic sound and the up-front recording of the tenor soloist. If you do, Norrington is clearly your best choice, and as I said last issue, there are few better than his performance, but this is one of those few. Another small miracle is the fact that ICA has managed to cram 82 and a half minutes of music on one CD.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

This new DVD preserves some superb performances directed by a conductor of the highest calibre, performing live and at the peak of his abilities.



STRAUSS Ein Heldenleben 1. DVO?ÁK Symphony No. 9, “From the New World 2” • Rudolf Kempe, cond; 1 Royal PO; 2 BBC SO • ICA 5009, mono (DVD: 89:22) Live: Royal Albert Hall, London 1 8/28/1974; 2 8/29/1975


How absolutely wonderful it is to see Rudolf Kempe, looking hale and fit, ascend the podium and direct an absolutely magical performance of Ein Heldenleben with his usual minimum of podium fuss, his face mirroring both the music’s changes and his obvious pleasure at hearing it emerge the way he wants, the Royal Philharmonic members playing their little hearts out for him. This is exactly the way I always imagined Kempe in performance, as close to Toscanini’s podium style as any conductor who outlived him, eliciting that magical, transparent sound, ignoring nothing in rhythmic acuity and liveliness, and now we have the pleasure of seeing how he did it.


The sound is still mono but the images are in color. The members of the orchestra look completely rapt in concentration; everything in this performance is focused on the music, nothing on how they look to the audience. A bit dull to watch? Perhaps. But, like watching such similar conductors as Toscanini, Doráti, and Böhm, it amazes one that such exuberance of spirit and a rich palette of colors can emanate from such outward calm and control. For make no mistake, Kempe was a master of coloration. He knew how to make an orchestra “speak.” He knew the secret, now lost to a modern generation of conductors, of how to play music like this so that it sounded not only beautiful but noble, eschewing bombast in favor of the long line, the gradual ebb and flow of suspense, and—I reiterate—that unbelievable palette of colors he had at his disposal. Kempe’s strings had the sound of a choir singing.


In my experience there was only one performance of Ein Heldenleben I really loved prior to hearing this performance, and that was Willem Mengelberg’s 1941 broadcast with the Concertgebouw Orchestra. The Concertgebouw of that time was by no means the technically precise instrument that the New York Philharmonic of 1928 was, in his Victor recording, but there is so much more detail and drama in the later performance that I forgave the roughly played passages. Kempe’s Heldenleben is an entirely different animal. The contrasts are all musical, not as dramatic, but with a flow and coloristic quality that make the score sound more akin to the upward spiral of ascending angels than to Mengelberg’s explosive reading (though they join hands in “The Hero’s Deeds of War”). There is nothing like it in my experience, not even Kempe’s studio recording for EMI, because the studio recording adds the goop of mid 1960s reverb to a performance that doesn’t need it. Here we have, if you will, Kempe urtext, and the result is simply mind-boggling. Listen, for instance, to the way he makes the low bass passage resound with great depth without sounding heavy or ponderous. His legato flow is seamless, the accuracy and crispness of his attacks and releases flawless. It was exactly moments like these that took your breath away when listening to a Kempe performance.


Yet he resented EMI’s pushing him as a Wagner and Strauss specialist. Kempe conducted a great deal more than that, Schubert, Beethoven, Tchaikovsky, Dvo?ák, Shostakovich, and Bruckner among them, and all of them well (he’s one of the few conductors besides Furtwängler who, to me, made some sense of Bruckner’s succession of endings in his symphonies), and here he follows Heldenleben with the “New World” Symphony of Dvo?ák. Unexpectedly, his performance of this symphony is startlingly dramatic, having almost the punch and drama of Toscanini’s excellent 1953 recording, only with Kempe’s patented transparency. The orchestra swells and ebbs flawlessly and naturally under his guiding hands; an unexpected rubato after the brief flute solo is picked up with tremendous force when the brass and high strings erupt again. Dozens of little details—clipped rhythmic accents here, buoyant legato bridges there—mark this interpretation as unique.


Kempe uses a fairly small baton, even a little smaller than Toscanini’s but not as tiny as the toothpicks that Strauss and Reiner used. His arms are a little further apart than Toscanini’s, but he is only slightly more animated on the podium, his arms moving in graceful arcs. Only a few months after the Dvo?ák performance came the shocking announcement that Kempe had died. I can remember that moment as if it were yesterday; it grieved me more than you can imagine. He had a very special gift, sought by many but bestowed on few, and we are all the poorer for his untimely passing.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley


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In a letter to his friend, the distinguished French man of letters Romain Rolland, Richard Strauss categorically denied that he was the model for Ein Heldenleben: “I am not a hero. I have not got the necessary strength; I am not cut out for battle; I prefer to withdraw, to be quiet, to have peace.”

Some commentators may have refused to take Strauss at his word, but the uncredited director of this BBC transmission of a 1974 Proms concert is clearly not among them. His view of things is crystal clear for, throughout the whole of the work’s first section, a musical depiction of Der Held (The Hero), he resolutely directs his cameras at the conductor. There is, in fact, not a single second of that opening 4:59 of music when Rudolf Kempe is not pictured on-screen, whether in close-up, middle distance or in long-shot. The corollary of that fact is that as soon as we begin the work’s second section, Des Helden Widersacher (The Hero’s Adversaries), we start to see the orchestra members on their own – but maybe I am now stretching my theory of the supposed relationship between the visual images and the “text” just a little too far.

Even though Kempe’s widow Cordula records in the DVD booklet notes that her husband “thoroughly resented” being pigeonholed as a Strauss (and Wagner) specialist, his affinity with Strauss’s music was well recognised at the time. His record company EMI persuaded him to set down the complete orchestral works on disc. No less a personage than the Queen Mother reportedly gushed “Oh, Mr Kempe, when will you do the Alpine Symphony again?” (rather a surprise, given recent revelations of the sort of music she listened to at home). And, as evidenced in this performance taken from the conductor’s very last concert with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, the 1974 Promenaders were quite over the moon with this Ein Heldenleben; critic Joan Chissell reported that this performance elicited “a hero’s ovation and rightly”.

Having never seen Kempe conduct live or on film before, the first thing that struck me was just how physically charismatic and animated he was on the podium. By fastidious, very precise gestures with both his baton and the fingers of his left hand, he coaxes some exquisite sonorities that we can fully appreciate thanks to his scrupulous care for orchestral balance - and to the installation of fibre-glass acoustic diffusing discs on the Royal Albert Hall’s ceiling just five years earlier, successfully reducing its notorious echo.

The outstanding characteristic of Kempe’s interpretation is that, by the application of both sensitivity and sensibility, he gives Strauss’s score the opportunity to breathe. This is, indeed, anything but a brash, bombastic account: the orchestra plays with notable and carefully controlled intensity and Erich Gruenberg’s substantial violin solos are especially affecting - he justifiably gets a special roar of approval from the Promenaders as he takes his bow.

If the Strauss is very fine indeed, the Dvorák is, however, outstanding. Edward Greenfield’s booklet notes suggest that its distinguishing feature is the wide range of dynamics that Kempe applies. What struck me most, however, was the interpretation itself. In contrast to performances that emphasise the score’s elements of cheery Bohemian bonhomie, Kempe’s is a deeply serious account.

The opening movement is characterised by fierce attack and precision - wonderful playing from the BBC orchestra - and Kempe minimises the elements of lyricism in favour high drama. In a similar vein, the second movement’s sentimentality is entirely played down. Its well-known “big tune” ( Goin’ home, Goin’ home, I’m a goin’ home / Quiet like, still some day, I’m just goin’ home) is moved purposefully along and the fervent manner in which its central section is played communicates, to this listener at least, a distinctly uneasy feeling of agitation and unrest.

Kempe’s interpretation is nothing if not consistently of a piece for the scherzo and the allegro con fuoco finale are similarly driven powerfully forward. The formers elements of bucolic rusticism are given short shrift and the latter, right from its opening bars, emerges as a real daredevil ride and is terribly exciting - while still very skilfully controlled and crafted.

This New World is one that emerges as a real eye-opener and a very different work from the one that we’re usually presented with. It justifiably receives a huge ovation from the audience.

This new DVD, then, preserves some superb performances. The direction – originally for BBC TV - is expert and thus almost entirely unobtrusive, the visual image - in colour throughout - is sharp and pleasing and the sound is more than acceptable. It offers an opportunity to acquaint or reacquaint oneself with a conductor of the highest calibre, performing live and at the peak of his abilities.

-- Rob Maynard, MusicWeb International

Gennadi Rozhdestvensky (b.1931) is the last living survivor of a great Russian quartet of conductors consisting of Mravinsky, Kondrashin and Svetlanov. He was the highly distinguished principal conductor of the BBC Symphony Orchestra from 1978 to 1981, an exciting period in the orchestra’s history faithfully captured here. These recordings of Holst’s Planets and Britten’s Variations & Fugue on a Theme of Purcell have never been issued before on CD.

Recorded at the Royal Albert Hall, London on 26 July 1973 (Rachmaninov), Fairfield Hall, Croydon on 24 April 1977 (Prokofiev), and at the Royal Festival Hall, London on 25 November 1971 (Bernstein)

Picture format: NTSC 4:3
Sound format: Ambient Mastering
Region code: 0 (worldwide)
Menu language: English
Booklet notes: English, French, German
Running time: 62 mins
No. of DVDs: 1

A multitalented conductor, Previn leads the LSO in the first performance of Rachmaninov’s The Bells at the BBC Proms with celebrated soloists Sheila Armstrong, Robert Tear and John Shirley-Quirk. All three performances on this DVD were recorded during Previn’s eleven year tenure as Principal Conductor of the London Symphony Orchestra, from which he received a Gramophone Lifetime Achievement Award in 2008.

The ICA Classics Legacy series presents a collection of historic performances by some of the world’s greatest artists. These performances are released on DVD for the first time, incorporating rare archive footage that has been expertly and lovingly restored. - ICA Classics

CHOPIN Piano Concertos: Nos. 1; 1 2 2 • Shura Cherkassky (pn); 1 Christopher Adey, cond; 2 Richard Hickox, cond; 1 BBC Scottish SO. 2 BBC SO • ICA CLASSICS 5085 (75:22) Live: Glasgow 1 12/3/1981; 2 London 8/30/1983


Shura Cherkassky, according to the liner notes, was sometimes a difficult man to accompany, as he would often change his mind on phrasing or tempos between the final rehearsal and the concert; thus, annotator Robert Orledge says, “some conductors were reluctant to appear with him,” citing as an example the sudden rush with which he plays the final section of the Second Concerto. I can see where this would be a problem. I recall a live performance I attended by a famous American pianist where, suddenly, the keyboardist rushed forward and left the orchestra behind, and I learned later that he did not rehearse the work that way. The difference, if I may say so, is that Cherkassky usually had good taste while the American pianist I heard usually played with poor style regardless of his tempo choices.


Well, as Cherkassky once said to me, “Some people like my playing and some don’t, but at least no one can say that I’m boring.” True enough. Yet I was beginning to doubt that this would be that fine a disc as the First Concerto started up. Conductor Adey plays it very slowly, with lots of romantic gush and goo, and moreover the first minute or so suffers from what is probably a crumply original tape. I was not expecting much. But then Cherkassky entered, and his bracing interpretation of the opening phrases acted like a wake-up call for the orchestra. (Having heard Cherkassky three times in person, twice with an orchestra and once in recital, and also being familiar with many of his recordings, I just don’t see that he would have wanted this concerto played so slowly to begin with. It just wasn’t in his nature, thus I believe that he bristled at Adey’s tempos in both the rehearsal and performance.) From this point on—thankfully—it is the pianist who leads the orchestra, forcing Adey to pick up his tempo or be left behind. One is immediately caught up in the excitement, which despite a sensitively shaped second movement continues on through to the end.


With the Second Concerto, we enter an entirely different world. Richard Hickox was one of the great, underrated conductors of his generation, a man who viewed music as dramatic expression and molded his performances that way. From the very first note, Hickox is on edge, and I mean that almost literally…he makes Chopin’s orchestration sound almost like Beethoven or Schumann, full of drama and bringing out all sorts of inner voices with tremendous clarity. The switch from Adey to Hickox is almost as dramatic as if one suddenly shifted from John Barbirolli to Igor Markevitch, but Cherkassky is entirely in his element. There’s a particularly delicious passage in the second movement when the piano’s descending chromatics clash on one note with the orchestra’s chord—exactly as written, but a detail that normally escapes one’s attention in most performances of the concerto. And Cherkassky’s last-movement cadenza is incendiary, as advertised. It’s a heck of a performance that keeps you on the edge of your seat. Cherkassky’s changes to the text of the score are certainly evident but, like Glenn Gould, they generally enliven and enhance the music. Of course, that would probably keep this disc from being your first choice for recordings of the two concertos, but as a second recording it is definitely recommended.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Praised by the New York Times for her 'clear articulation... unequivocal phrasing... [and] expressivity', Ingrid Jacoby has established herself as one of the most poetic and admired pianists of her generation. She began her piano studies with Larisa Gorodecka, herself a pupil of Heinrich Neuhaus. Graduating at sixteen with highest honours from the St Louis Conservatory of Music, Ingrid Jacoby went on to win the National Baldwin Piano Competition, the Concert Artists Guild International Piano Competition and the Steinway Hall Artists Prize. In America, the National Society of Arts and Letters awarded to her (in 1994) one of it's highest distinctions, the Lifetime Achievement Award. Her discography includes the world premiere recording of Korngold's solo piano pieces, works by Gershwin and Bernstein, and a recording of the Shostakovich and Ustvolskaya piano concertos with the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra conducted by Sir Charles Mackerras, which earned the highest commendation from the American Record Guide. This is the third release from Ingrid Jacoby's critically acclaimed Beethoven cycle, featuring Concertos Nos. 1 & 3. The booklet contains notes by Richard Wigmore in addition to personal insights by Ingrid Jacoby on Beethoven interpretation. Her first disc in the series, featuring Beethoven's Concertos Nos. 2 & 4, received the following review: 'Utterly compelling... here is a performance of Beethoven that is well-nigh flawless in every regard' (International Record Review). Her recording of Beethoven's 'Emperor' Concerto was equally praised: 'It's one hell of a performance! Jacoby brings a vitality and drive to the first movement that is compelling and fresh, vividly accompanied' (Colin Anderson in Classical Source).