It is thought that Bach’s Suites for solo cello were written between 1717 and 1723, at about the same time as his works for solo violin, but no original manuscript remains. The cello suites are less flamboyant than the violin works, so present the greater challenge in communication; like Shakespeare’s texts, understanding depends on the subtlest of phrasing, rhythm and intonation.

The Dutch baroque cellist Anner Bylsma brings to this new set (he recorded the suites 11 years ago for RCA Seyon) a remarkable range of expression – vigorous, playful, impetuous and elegant, with extraordinarily fine articulation and elasticity of phrasing within the framework of each movement. Bylsma here records on one of Stradivarius’ great cellos, the ‘Servis’ dating from 1701, which is an extremely rare example of the ‘bassetti’, a large instrument 3 cm longer than the modern cello. For this recording, he uses a plain gut A string, with the three lower strings metal-overspun, which gives a particularly full, muscular sound, unusual for a baroque instrument.

-- Annette Morreau, BBC Music Magazine

Sitkovetsky, Yulian: Art of Yulian Sitkovetsky (The), Vol. 1

This organ CD is always on the Gothic Records best-sellers list, year after year. With both popular and unusual works in his program, Cathedral Organist Donald Dumler strikes just the right balance of musical choices.

Both the Chancel and Grand Gallery Organs were built by Kilgen, and are controlled by two new "twin" five-manual consoles. With 177 stops and over 9,000 pipes, the organ is both a grand musical statement, and a priceless antique whose sounds evoke the ideals of organ building in the 1920's. - Gothic Records

"Urgently eloquent." -- Gramophone [4/1987]

"Concentrated expressive intensity." -- Gramophone [11/1990]

"The Wanderer Fantasy is one of Schubert's most striking architectural achievements, and Perahia's intellectually rewarding account of it offers a vivid portrayal of the music's constantly evolving thematic structure." -- Gramophone [10/1995]

Whilst there have been many recordings of Bach's flute sonatas there has been less than total agreement as to what should (and should not) be included under that heading; Cologne Musica Antiqua with Wilbert Hazelzet (in a seven record set—DG 2742 007, 1/84), otherwise frontrunners, present BWVIO2O as a violin work. Our comparison is thus between artists, performances and instruments—Hünteler on Philips uses a single-key, period (reproduction) flute but Rampal is here shown holding a metal flute with 'all mod.' keywork, two very different instruments indeed.

Johnny Dankworth once described his own music as "couth, kempt and shevelled" and Rampal's performances, those of a consummate technician, strike me in the same way. Commendably, he avoids using his facility to indulge in fast tempos; where his striking rate is the higher, as in BWVI030/1II and BWVI032/11I, it is rather that Hünteler is leisurely—and occasionally the situation is inverted, e.g. in BWV l035/I. The baroque flute is an intimate, 'vocally' flexible instrument with a softer-edged attack than today's instrument, capable of much subtelty of nuance in volume, tone and pitch. Lines of separately attacked notes, particularly in BWVI032/1, III and BWV 1035/li, sound more typewriter-like from Rampal, but, strangely, it is Hünteler who respects the detaché markings at the opening of BWV 1035/Ill, not Rampal. The slow movements point the difference in approach (and instrument), Hünteler shaping the lines affectionately, leaning on the appoggiaturas and often scarcely breathing their resolutions, and Rampal more inclined to deliver his lines smoothly and more evenly—the beauty of purity. Rampal ventures some embellishment, notably in BWVI030/I1 and BWV1033/ III, and does so stylishly, but not in the famous Siciliana (BWV 1031/11)—where H Onteler's little flights of fancy are matched by Koopman's. I am not convinced by some of the interruptions in Rampal's lines, especially those which fragment the opening section of the unaccompanied Partita, BWV tO 13, surely not imposed by breathing 'strategy'. The completion of BWV1032/I is by Pinnock and seems as good as anyone else's. Though more reserved in his approach, Pinnock is as good a partner as Rampal could have wished for and he seems as much at home (though not always so balanced in sound) as he does with Stephen Preston (CRD CRDI0I4/5, 8/75), a set which, however, lacks BWV 1020.

In short, this is a thoughtful, cultured and pleasing set, well recorded and on the whole nicely balanced, but lacking in emotional involvement; the beauty of the music often seems admired rather than loved. Though the baroque flute is clearly the best horse for this course, this is the best-yet Set recorded on today's instrument—and very recommendable to those who prefer its sound.

-- J.D., Gramophone [ 12/1985]

Franck: Symphony in D Minor, M. 48, Symphonic Variations, M.

It's not just technical achievements that Rodarmer has to offer; he also makes a beautiful sound, at once lustrous and warm, and has an impressive sense of style.

Turning to what Sony bills as a world premiere transcription of the Goldberg Variations for guitar, I was incredulous. Maybe the Goldbergs could be cogently presented, I thought, on the lute, which is an instrument well suited to polyphonic writing, but how could its complex textures be clearly rendered on the essentially harmony-oriented guitar?

Fortunately, it turns out that Kurt Rodarmer (about whom Sony vouchsafes no biographical information) agrees with me. Combining the roles of arranger, performer, and producer, he has made his version for multiple guitars, anything from two to four of them, "recording each part separately and later mixing them down." Naturally there is a certain loss where the virtuoso conquest of technical demands is concerned, but this, as many may feel and as Glenn Gould used to argue passionately, is by no means necessarily a bad thing.

In any case, Rodarmer's dazzling finger skills still make a tremendous impression, especially by virtue of the combination of speed, steadiness, and clarity with which he dispatches such variations as No. 23, with its rapid parallel thirds and whirlwind cadential scales. In variations like Nos. 6, 21, and 24 Bach's canonic writing emerges with unusual lucidity. Nor are such technical achievements all Rodarmer has to offer. He makes a beautiful sound, at once lustrous and warm, that is vividly captured by the very clear sound. He realizes textures like those of the two-manual Variation 20 with a sure feeling for their drama. And he has an impressive sense of style, which is given expression by some elegant long grace notes in the Aria itself and in the 9/8 meter of Variation 24, and also by some well-conceived changes of articulation in the repeats.

These latter, by the way, are omitted in the Aria but included in the variations, with only a few exceptions. The decision to omit the first of the two repeats in Variation 16 but to include the second one seems perverse, since this variation is designed in the form of a French overture, with stately introduction and dancelike fast section, and that is a genre where the tradition of repeating the introduction was surely invariable in Bach's time.

Aside from one or two such minutiae, and from a slightly mechanical feeling in the treatment of the minor-mode Variation 25 (where, perhaps symptomatically, both repeats are ignored), I found both the conception of Rodarmer's arrangement—a refreshing blend of artistic respect with absence of pomposity—highly persuasive. Like Bach on the accordion, I wouldn't want to hear Goldberg on the guitar every time. But I am glad to have both in my collection to indulge in as an occasional and artistically worthwhile treat.

-- Bernard Jacobson, FANFARE [5/1998]

This is surely the greatest, certainly the richest, of all Murray Perahia's many and exemplary recordings.

This Chopin recital represents Murray Perahia's return to the Sony studios after a two-year absence due to serious injury. So may I start by saying that this is surely the greatest, certainly the richest, of all his many and exemplary recordings. Once again his performances are graced with rare and classic attributes and now, to supreme clarity, tonal elegance and musical perspective, he adds an even stronger poetic profile, a surer sense of the inflammatory rhetoric underpinning Chopin's surface equilibrium. In other words the vividness and immediacy are as remarkable as the finesse. And here, arguably, is the oblique but telling influence of Horowitz who Perahia befriended during the last months of the old wizard's life. Listen to the First Ballade's second subject and you will hear rubato like the most subtle pulsing or musical breathing. Try the opening of the Third and you will note an ideal poise and lucidity, something rarely achieved in these outwardly insouciant pages.

Then there is the glorious Fourth and final Ballade in a performance as subtly gauged as any on record. Here Perahia achieves a fluidity of line and impetus that never compromise or sacrifice his sense of superfine and exploratory detail; and what other pianist possesses such an acute aural and rhythmic sensitivity? From Perahia the waltzes are marvels of liquid brilliance and urbanity. You would have to return to 1950 and Lipatti (EMI, 7/89) for a comparable quality though, frankly, even he hardly achieved such an enchanting lilt or buoyancy, such a beguiling sense of light and shade. In the mazurkas, too, Perahia's tiptoe delicacy and tonal irridescence (particularly in Op. 7 No. 3 in F minor) make the music dance and spin as if caught in some magical hallucinatory haze.

Finally, two contrasting Etudes, and whether in ardent lyricism (Op. 10 No. 3) or shot-from-guns virtuosity (Op. 10 No. 4) Perahia's playing is sheer perfection. The recording beautifully captures his instantly recognizable, glistening sound world as well as the immense grandeur of his conceptions. Rarely in my experience has such a truly transcendental pianism (he has every tint and colour of the spectrum at his fingertips) and such innate poetry been so unforgettably combined. Welcome back Murray Perahia; you have been sorely missed.

-- Bryce Morrison, Gramophone [12/1994]

Like Ravel's piano originals that he subsequently orchestrated, Rachmaninov's two-piano version of Symphonic Dances sounds like a note-exact replica of the later symphonic score. Essentially the only thing missing is the chance to marvel at the composer's remarkable powers of orchestration. However, in compensation you get the enhanced clarity of textures that allows for fine delineation of all the intricate inner voices, especially as realized by Emanuel Ax and Yefim Bronfman, who beautifully elucidate Rachmaninov's winding, winsome, and wondrous tunes. However, if you're like me, you can't help but pine for the missing percussion in the outer movements, and no piano ever could imitate the snarling brass crescendos that open movement II. Nonetheless, Ax and Bronfman make this Symphonic Dances a refreshingly alternative listening experience--as do Martha Argerich and Nelson Freire, though their faster speeds and self-conscious bravura make their performance more of a virtuoso showcase, something that also can be said for their Suite No. 2 with its breathless Waltz. Ax and Bronfman at least allow you to clearly discern all the notes in their noticeably less-excited rendition. But no need to worry: you get just as caught up in their potent projection of Rachmaninov's lush harmonies.


Later, Ax and Bronfman conjure up a startlingly vivid impression of church bells in the joyfully clangorous finale of the disc-ending Suite No. 1. All of this is faithfully and powerfully rendered by Sony's recording, which leaves adequate space around the instruments to make a cohesive, three-dimensional sound image (though not enough for satisfyingly deep bass). In sum, a gorgeously played and generous program (it would have filled two LPs in the '70s). Recommended for Rachmaninov lovers and piano fans alike.
--Victor Carr Jr., ClassicsToday.com

Clara Haskil's Salzburg recital from August 8, 1957, is familiar from the pianist's Philips studio versions--but these live traversals are preferable. Haskil's sonority, for one, benefits from a closer mike pickup that conveys the full measure of the Romanian pianist's gutsy, musicianly playing. Her angular passagework in the wonderful Mozart C major Sonata K. 330 is more controlled than in her Philips recording. Likewise, the biting, woodwind-like left hand lines in the Scherzo of Beethoven's E-flat major Sonata Op. 31 No. 3 swagger with more conviction. Oddly, she omits the first movement repeat honored in her two studio versions. There's also a greater degree of risk as well as accuracy in this live Schubert B-flat Sonata--a performance filled to the brim with touching lyricism and tensile strength. A tip of the hat, then, to Music and Arts for making this material available in very good mono broadcast sound. Haskil may have had a saintly reputation, but as a pianist she was one tough cookie! --Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Mozart: Piano Concertos Nos. 21 & 26

In Honor of Rudolf Kolisch (1896-1978) is Music & Arts' six-disc tribute to a key figure in twentieth century music whose name is invoked in a number of historic contexts, yet whose actual recorded work remains almost unknown. Rudolf Kolisch was the leader of the Kolisch String Quartet, the "house band" at Arnold Schoenberg's ISCM conferences in the 1920s and a group that formed the first line of defense in the avant-garde musical movements in Europe before the rise of Nazi Germany. As the Kolisch also recorded a fair amount of standard quartet literature, this set is limited mainly to this and Kolisch's other groups' recordings of the Second Vienna School and Bart k, although the Kolisch Quartet recording of the Schubert Octet in F, performed with additional guest players, from the Library of Congress in 1940 is included as a bonus. The program opens with an extraordinary and audacious series of private recordings, made on a United Artists soundstage in Hollywood under the aegis of Alfred Newman, of all four of Schoenberg's string quartets dating from late 1936 and early 1937. The Fourth Quartet hadn't even premiered yet - this would occur the day after recording, on January 8, 1937, at UCLA. from this same session are included some of Schoenberg's spoken comments, in which he offers thanks to Newman and United Artists, and even addresses the "friends" of his music that belong to the future, presumably not yet born. These recordings have been issued a number of times, despite their "p-r-r-rivate" (pace Schoenberg) provenance, and unfortunately little can be done to rescue them from their noisy and somewhat dim audio perspective. They have never been dealt with, in a sonic sense, with more proficiency than here. From an interpretive standpoint, this Kolisch performance of the String Quartet No. 1 in D minor remains one of the best made, simply because the group has a thorough understanding of the Viennese milieu in which the quartet was conceived and does not try to make it sound more "modern" than it is. from there we jump ahead to 1950 and the Pro Arte Quartet of the University of Wisconsin, a pre-existing group that Kolisch took over in 1945 and retrofitted for performances of contemporary quartet literature. We get a second shot at the Third Schoenberg quartet with this group, and the performance is tighter and even more intense than that with the Kolisch Quartet, not to mention heard in excellent mono sound taken from a Dial LP. for some reason the sonic perspective is a little more cramped in Berg's Lyric Suite and some of the other Dials, but it is still astonishing to realize that in hearing the Berg you are listening to a performance led by the same person who premiered this now standard work at a 1927 ISCM Festival. The tempi observed here are faster than in most performances - indeed, the pace of the Allegro misterioso is downright dizzying. The three discs that follow are an embarrassment of riches: Kolisch heard in a rare context as soloist, playing the Schoenberg concerto at the University of Wisconsin, the Bart k Sonata for solo violin, and Schoenberg's Fantasy, Op. 47, with his colleague Gunnar Johansen. With the Pro Arte Quartet, further Dial recordings are heard - the Webern Opp. 5 and 9, Schoenberg's early String Quartet in D of 1897, and Bart k's Fifth Quartet Apart from the purely historical value of the recordings, and their highly variable sound quality, what is Kolisch like? In his time, all of this music was unfamiliar, and in the twenty-first century nearly all of it is familiar - in a sense some of it has reached a point of perfection that approaches fossilization. Kolisch certainly isn't looking to make his Schoenberg or Bart k warm and cozy, and he doesn't have a problem dealing with it as "difficult" music; after hearing his Bart K Sonata for solo violin, some might wonder if Kolisch is not making it a bit more diff.

Walter Gieseking (1933-1947)

FRENCH MUSIC FOR HARP

Classical Music

The award-winning young Latvian organist Iveta Apkalna performs selected works by J.S. Bach and Philip Glass on the organ of the picturesque Himmerod Abbey in the Eifel, valley of the Salm, in Germany.

J.S. BACH SYKES, HARPSICHORD PARTITAS FOR KEYBOARD

Sono Luminus is proud to release Two Lutes: Lute Duets from England’s Golden Age, a wonderful collection of enchanting music performed by lute virtuosos Ronn McFarlane and William Simms.

As stated by Ronn McFarlane, “Elizabethan lute duets yield the most companionable and friendly kind of music-making for the players. In equal duets each lutenist plays nearly the same music, alternating playing the melody and the harmonic accompaniment. It feels like a conversation, with each lutenist posing musical questions and answers throughout. Each player is free to improvise upon the written part, so the conversation can be very individual and spontaneous! On the other hand, in the treble-ground style of lute duet, one lutenist plays a single line melodic part (usually including some virtuosic passages) while the second lutenist plays a chordal accompaniment. Sometimes the chordal accompaniment is very simple and repetitive, and it is likely that a skilled player would vary his part to make a more musically satisfying accompaniment.”

REVIEWS:

"Casual pronouncements are made every so often that the lute songs of Elizabethan England were the pop music of their day. The lutenist is said to be the 16th-century version of the guitar hero — a solitary character who played in courts and developed a moody, quixotic reputation. Movies and popular culture have portrayed lutes as being for the odd county fair minstrel, or the hapless suitor serenading a fair maiden.

But lute music wasn’t entirely a solo pursuit. During the high English renaissance (roughly 1570-1620) composers wrote more than 80 works for lute duet. In these, each lutenist plays nearly the same music, alternating between melody and accompaniment. On "Two Lutes," the lutenists Ronn McFarlane and William Simms recapture nearly 30 of these duets, most of which are seldom performed today...

About one-third of the songs on the collection come from the pen of John Johnson, England’s Royal lutenist, who served Queen Elizabeth I during the first years of her reign. They include the scampering “Trenchmore,” the reflective “The Delight Pavan,” and the rollicking “The Queen’s Treble.” Also featured are several songs by Thomas Robinson, a Danish court composer who projected the inward, melancholic quality of the instrument in songs like “Passemezo Galliard” and “A Plaine Song.”

The third major name on the album is the self-styled king of the lute, John Dowland, who is represented with two songs tinged with refined sadness. Rounding out the collection are some anonymous numbers including the ever-popular “Greensleeves.” However obscure the majority of this music is, Simms and McFarlane approach the recording with an air of warmth and accessibility."

-- WQXR, Album of the Week [July 29, 2012]

This unique recording of Ronn McFarlane's original music composed for the Lute, enables Indigo Road to bridge the gap between traditional and modern music. All of the compositions were originally conceived as solos, however McFarlane adds parts for bass, flute, harp, percussion, cittern, harmonium and string quartet to several of the tunes, in order to heighten individual mood and character. McFarlane has made a recording of very accessible music as he stays true to the title song, 'Indigo Road', which signifies a spiritual path or the road we take through life. The pieces take the listener down aural roads from one composition to the next: from the peaks of Denali, to Pinetops, into a storming sky in Blue Norther an across Uncharted Waters...we are transported to the future through dreams and left feeling wistful and nostalgic as if remembering the distant past.

WECKMAN Complete Organ Works • Hans Davidsson (org); Ulrike Heider, cond; Sweden Schola Gothia • LOFT 1065–67 (3 CDs: 196:29)

Matthew Weckman was born in Niederdorla, Germany, around 1616, and died in 1674. While familiar to many musicians, he hardly is a household name, even among serious record collectors. Hans Davidsson and Loft Recordings have left no stone unturned in an effort to expose Weckman to a wider public. This really is a labor of love. The packaging and background information are the finest I have seen in a long time. The layout is beautiful. The text is well written. There are two different inserts, either of which would have been satisfying. Davidsson wrote his dissertation on Weckman and the first insert provides highlights of his exhaustive research, and a lifetime of study and performance. This also includes descriptions of each selection on the three CDs. The second booklet gives details on organ registration employed in the 17th century by Weckman and others, and the registration used in this recording. This may sound dry but it is not.

Davidsson places Weckman in historical context: when he learned to play; the experiences that helped him learn to compose; his experiences in Denmark and other stops on his journey through life. While growing up in Dresden, he was exposed to crosscurrents that were reshaping music in Europe, including influences from Italy and England, the Netherlands, and Northern Germany. Davidsson explains how these forces and trends came together for Weckman. And in the recording, we hear the elements unfold, illuminated by Davidsson’s insights. In the process, he demonstrates why Weckman is “without doubt one of the most important musical personalities of Germany in the seventeenth century.”

The music? When I asked an organist friend about Weckman, he laughed, and gave me a one word response: “Boring.” Yes, this is not the most electric music in the world and some of it could be described as boring. But, perhaps prejudiced by the outstanding packaging and recording, I found every section transformed into an insightful window into a faraway world. Many of his organ words are based on chorales and this recording includes these chorales, expertly sung by Schola Gothia. The organ is the North German Baroque Organ, captured in beautiful sound.

I enjoyed this album immensely. It was a fascinating and surprisingly enriching experience. Perhaps more than anything else, this provided new respect for Weckman, and greater appreciation for his role in music history. The recording, like the packaging, is spectacular. Highly recommend, particularly to organists and students of music history.

FANFARE: John E. Roos

HOLST The Planets • Hansjörg Albrecht (org) • OEHMS 683 (SACD: 60:08)


The story of this organ transcription of Gustav Holst’s iconic orchestral masterwork starts with the duo-piano score—and perhaps an organ version of Neptune, the last movement—created by the composer to assist with orchestration. The keyboard original—a recording is available on Delos Facet—retains a surprising degree of the character of the eventual orchestral suite, and inspired, we are told, this organ version by renowned organist and period keyboard artist Peter Sykes. The transcription is extraordinary, conjuring up all of the color and intensity of Holst’s huge orchestral forces, and Sykes’s 1996 recording on Raven Records leaves one incredulous that anyone could surmount the many daunting technical challenges with just 10 fingers and two feet, and still create a compellingly musical performance of the work. And yet he does so, with little or no evidence of the compromises of pacing and flow usually associated with the sheer physical complexity of fingering, changing registration, adjusting the swell shades, and moving from one manual to another. The relative downside of the Sykes recording is the engineering with which, in truth, I have happily lived for years. It is very likely an accurate representation of the sound of the 100-plus-rank 1933 Ernest M. Skinner organ midway back in its Girard College, Philadelphia hall, but the (glorious) wash of sound produced in the louder sections does leave one guessing at the details.


Enter this new recording from the recording wizards at Oehms Classical. Recorded in the resonant spaces of the restored medieval Church of St. Nicholas in Kiel, Germany, it manages to be hugely powerful in the largest climaxes, while remaining transparent, detailed, and present in both the loudest and softest sections. This is particularly impressive as it can be assumed, since specifications for both are included in the notes, that both of the church’s two organs, located at opposite ends of the nave and playable from a single console, are being used. The 48-rank 1965 Detlef Kleuker organ is surely the lead instrument in the recording, as the 17-rank Aristide Cavaillé-Coll/Charles Mutin organ clearly does not have the pipes to produce such power. Currently lacking surround-sound reproduction, I cannot know if the engineers have clarified the issue of usage by placing the multichannel listener between the organs front and back as they did with the earlier Oehms Wagner: Der Ring—An Organ Transcription SACD produced in this venue. Yet in the end it does not matter, as the sound even in SACD stereo is so impressive and the organs are so well integrated that the effect is of a single instrument with breathtaking French symphonic articulation.


This new release pales in comparison to the earlier Sykes release only in matters of style. Hanjörg Albrecht, the organist in the aforementioned Wagner, as well as in a Poulenc release I lavishly praised in these pages (33:6), is in every way Sykes’s technical peer. What Sykes offers more consistently than Albrecht is not only the essential steak-and-kidney-pie Britishness of the thing, and its moments of wry humor, but also a telling subtlety of voicing. Albrecht is inclined to be a bit too stiff, as in the big tune of “Jupiter,” a bit too obvious in the misty domains of “Venus,” and to linger too long in the reflective passages of “Saturn” and “Neptune.” Still, absent the comparison, I suspect I would have overlooked it for the sheer brilliance of the playing.


And then, what a glorious sound he and his engineers produce. What a rush it must be to create these massive waves of sound, or these complex layers of counterpoint, from a single instrument. What a thrill it is to hear them so clearly. Sykes’s instrument is not so distinctly defined in space as this, though I was happy enough until I heard the new release. I would probably still choose Sykes’s recording if I could have only one. But I have both, and that is the best solution I can offer. Enjoy the sonic feast, and don’t leave it for just the organ buffs.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

All tracks have been digitally mastered using 24-bit technology.
Includes work(s) for organ by Dietrich Buxtehude. Soloist: Hans Davidsson.

Includes passacaglia(s) for keyboard by Georg Muffat. Ensemble: Seattle Baroque Orchestra. Conductor: Ingrid Matthews. Soloist: Byron Schenkman.

Benchmark recordings of Tchaikovsky -- many aspiring pianists may think of changing professions after hearing Graffman soar through these iconic works with such dazzling élan.

At last. Gary Graffman's recordings of Tchaikovsky's Second and Third Concertos were the ones which introduced me to these works. They have remained my benchmarks ever since, the admirable couplings by Haas, Douglas, Gilels, Pletnev and others notwithstanding and despite the second movement of the Second being in the truncated Siloti edition. As Graffman makes clear in his entertaining memoir I Really Should Be Practicing (Doubleday: 1981) — among the best of pianists' autobiographies — Ormandy was a prince of accompanists. The two artists had known each other for 20 years and it shows. There are many memorable passages, among them the conclusion of the Second Concerto's volcanic central first-movement cadenza when the orchestra re-enters with the opening subject (15'58"), initially failing to subdue Graffman's ecstatic quasi-trill at the top of the keyboard; and a similar moment in the Third Concerto when Ormandy introduces (11'05") some crunching off-beat cymbal crashes.

Szell also proves a convivial, alert partner in the First Concerto, providing deft touches that lift this account above the ordinary. Listen, for instance, to the syncopated brass figure beneath the apotheosis of the last movement's second subject. If Graffman eschews the demonic brilliance of Horowitz, his reading is all about Tchaikovsky. Horowitz's is more about Horowitz.

To complete this all-Russian programme, there is Graffman's compelling Mussorgsky where once again he creates, well, pictures that live in the memory: 'Bydlo' appears in the misty distance, lumbers by and vanishes again (superb), while the unhatched chicks are played with a rare sense of fun. Finally, there is Islamey. Many aspiring pianists may think of changing professions after hearing Graffman soar through this iconic barnstormer with such dazzling élan.

-- Jeremy Nicholas, Gramophone [1/2006]

This is a DSD (Direct Stream Digital) recording