For a modern recorder player, historical performance practice is certainly both principle as well as a native musical language. But if one wants to perform the works of J.S. Bach, the repertoire is very slim. Stefan Temmingh’s love of Bach pushed him to take on this challenge and concern himself with performance practice in the baroque. In an extensive booklet text, he argues that the harpsichord literature in the baroque era was transcribed for other instruments quasi as a “lingua franca”. Reorchestrated versions of Bach’s Concerto for Four Harpsichords (itself an arrangement of Vivaldi compositions), for example, can be found from the 18th century, usually for one or two melody instruments with continuo.

Above all, this practice predominated in France, e.g. in connection with works by Couperin and Dieupart, which were certainly some of the sources of inspiration for Bach’s French Suites. Stefan Temmingh continues the long tradition of arranging such pieces for a melody instrument. Domen Marincic on the viola da gamba and Axel Wolf on the lute provide the ideal support for the basic sound of the recorder. Although this combination of instruments emphasizes another aspect of the composition, the fundamental idea behind the music does not change.

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REVIEW:

So far as I know, only two pianists have recorded comprehensive Scriabin solo-piano cycles. One is Michael Ponti; the other is Maria Lettberg, a Riga-born Swedish national residing in Berlin, who lived with this repertoire for years, and even wrote a doctoral thesis on Scriabin. She recorded all of Scriabin’s solo piano works with opus numbers between 2004 and 2007 for a co-production between the Capriccio label and Deutschlandradio Kultur.

Unlike Ponti, with his horribly-engineered and ill-tuned instrument, Lettberg enjoys the advantage of a beautifully regulated concert grand and resplendent, lifelike engineering. She revels in the composer’s dynamic extremes and inner-voice labyrinths both real and implied. Her big, juicy sonority and refined articulation consistently address the sensual element that perpetually lurks underneath the surface of nearly every composition, from the early, Chopin-influenced Preludes, Etudes, Mazurkas, Waltzes, and sundry short pieces to the harmonically ambiguous, intensely mystical late sonatas and poems. Granted, you won’t encounter the ice in the fire revealed throughout the younger Richter’s incisive live Second, Fifth, or Ninth sonatas, nor the jackhammer impact of Horowitz’s repeated chords in Vers la flame or his trills in the Tenth sonata. At the same time, Lettberg can unleash enough fervent momentum to help tighten looser-knit works like the Fantasie Op. 28 and the rarely played Allegro Appassionato Op. 4.

A bonus DVD features Lettberg in excerpts from different sonatas interspersed with discussions about the music and a multi-media project called “Mysterium”, where video artist Andreas Schmidt reinterprets the music in terms of abstract manipulations of color. While Lettberg may not displace favorite versions of specific works, her overall consistency, meticulous technique, and total identification with Scriabin’s idiom deserve nothing less than our highest rating. Capriccio’s bargain price is enough to forgive the pianist’s poorly organized booklet notes, although they contain many interesting quotations from the composer.

-- ClassicsToday.com (10/10, Jed Distler)

Beethoven: Sonatas - Appassionata, Les adieux, Pathétique &

The last Reference Recordings release to come my was Organ Odyssey, which showcased the Fisk Op. 100 of Meyerson Symphony Center, Dallas. In general such up-to-date instruments show how capable modern concert organs can be; stable, sophisticated and subtle they certainly make a change from the untamed roar of the Cavaillé-Colls upon which the French composer-organists experimented with such success. That said, some examples of the venerable Aristide’s organ-building skills – that in the Church of St François-de-Sales, Lyon, for instance – can deliver the most refined sounds imaginable. Jan Lehtola’s Widor disc – one of my Recordings of the Year for 2013 – is ample proof of that.

The Allegro from Widor’s Organ Symphony No. 6 headlines this new album, which features Kansas City's Julia Irene Kauffman Casavant (2011). At the console of this magnificent 102-rank instrument is Jan Kraybill, who tackles Widor’s daunting structures with aplomb. Even at this early stage the organ’s tonal subtlety and range of colours are very much in evidence; whether Kraybill’s dissembling quietly or sallying forth her playing is always tasteful and proportionate. As for the recorded sound, so often the killer in collections such as this, it’s both full and forensic, with a phenomenal reach. These tummy-wobbling pedals, all the more thrilling for being judiciously used, will satisfy even the most jaded of organistas.

Goodness, this is a very promising start; after all that heat and heft Florent Schmitt’s Prière is a quiet oasis of pure loveliness. Small it may be, but it’s so gracefully formed. Jehan Alain’s two dances inspired by Agni Yavishta, the Hindu god of fire, are a perfect foil for what’s gone before. Kraybill teases out all the music’s sinuous rhythms and exotic flavours, and seasons the dish – lightly – with those stunning pedals. Joseph Bonnet’s Variations de Concert, a most accomplished Op. 1, is another well-chosen piece, for it demonstrates both the intimacy and agility of this fine instrument.

There’s nothing at all flashy or distracting about Kraybill’s performances; and what a pleasure that is, given the self-aggrandising showmanship one usually associates with such recitals. It’s not just the playing, for the clean, unfussy acoustic and the perfectly judged recording add immeasurably to one’s enjoyment of the music. And it just gets better. Maurice Duruflê’s elusive, Ariel-like Scherzo is a delight; Kraybill’s apt registrations and general keyboard wizardry turns her into something of a Prospero figure, very much in command of all that she surveys. This confluence of artistic and technical talents makes the Scherzo an ideal taster for those who wish to try before they buy.

Marcel Dupré is represented here by his youthfully conceived G minor Prélude et Fugue. Given his flamboyance as both a composer and a performer Duprê’s writing here seems remarkably restrained. Don’t be fooled, for the filigreed detail of the first part and the firm direction of the second confirm this as the work of a real pro. As always Kraybill gets the scale just right, so the work’s fugal pomp never sounds empty or overbearing. A quiet bravo is in order here, as it is after Franck’s Pièce héroïque. The latter's an organ staple that, like so many of its ilk, is apt to stale with repetition. Kraybill really freshens it up with her lithe, transparent playing; indeed, her finely shaped and projected account of the piece reminds me of Hans-Eberhard Roß, whose three-volume traversal of Franck’s organ music is mandatory listening for all Franckophiles.

As with Organ Polychrome those Roß recordings, played on a 1998 Goll, revitalise familiar repertoire in all sorts of ways. Throw in sympathetic engineering and the results are truly remarkable. That’s certainly true of Felix Guilmant’s Caprice in B flat, which at times appears to mimic the chug and honk of a fairground organ. This may suggest a degree of roughness, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Kraybill's playing is always refined, and she brings out the music’s inner voices with ease and good humour. This is my favourite track; the music scampers to a delicious, seat-pinning finale that left me grinning like a village idiot.

Louis Vierne’s mellifluous Prélude, the first part of a work he wrote for his US concert tour in 1927, gets a buoyant outing here; the dark-toned Caprice balances grace and gravitas and the Intermezzo, with its ‘Boo!’ ending, is spookily done. What better way to end this marvellous recital than with Eugène Gigout’s Grand-Choeur dialogué? Grand it most certainly is; the recording’s fine sense of depth and breadth ensures the antiphonal character of the piece is conveyed with ear-pricking realism. And the joy that peals forth in the final seconds is a perfect metaphor for this recital as a whole; a triumph for all concerned.

Only once before have I encountered an organ recording worthy of the term 'a perfect storm’, and that was the Fuga/Kiviniemi Lakeuden Ristin urut; I didn’t think that would be supplanted any time soon, and now it has. The skill and good judgement of both organists is beyond question, as are the recording talents of Mika Koivusalo (Fuga) and Keith O. Johnson and his team (Reference Recordings). Frankly, these two albums blow all others into the proverbial weeds.

In the face of such overwhelming excellence it pains me to bring up the vexed question of booklets or, more precisely, the lack of them. I was annoyed to discover that this and other RR downloads are being sold without any documentation. In a recent article for MusicWeb International I pointed out why this is unacceptable and urged the offending labels/distributors to address the issue without delay. A cross Tweet elicited a booklet in this case, but that’s not the way it should be done. RR's omission is all the more regrettable as the Organ Polychrome booklet is beautifully presented – it’s a model of common sense and clarity – and Kraybill’s succinct notes are a pleasure to read.

Pure magic; my store of enchanted objects has just increased by one.

– M usicWeb International (Dan Morgan)

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Tabulatura Gdanska

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Paganini, Scarlatti, Giuliani & Villa-Lobos: Guitar Music

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Bach: Favorite Organ Works

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I cannot imagine a better place to start to get to know the French organ repertoire... Lovers of the genre should place their orders at once.

The CD opens with a display piece which is much more than just display: the whole disc might well have been devised to demonstrate that there is much more to the great French organ tradition than just a mighty sound. Much of the music is quiet and reflective and the bravura works, like this Tournemire improvisation, have more to offer than glorious sound.

This is one of the improvisations which Tournemire recorded and which were subsequently transcribed by Duruflé. Tournemire insisted that improvisations could not and should not be recaptured but this Improvisation on the Te Deum is a fine piece, worthy of preservation. The CD notes attribute this work to L’Orgue mystique, a cycle of 51 pieces on Gregorian themes for the major festivals of the liturgical year but, whereas that work consists of improvisation-like pieces which Tournemire actually wrote down, the Te Deum improvisation was not written down until Duruflé’s labour of love in transcribing it 28 years later.

Duruflé’s transcription in Ian Tracey’s hands almost persuades one that one is hearing the actual process of improvisation, yet at the same time the playing is totally assured. The Liverpool organ may not be a Cavaillé-Coll, but it is a fine instrument.

Only careful listening identifies the plainsong tune of the Te Deum but that is part of the art of composing such pieces. Bach sometimes buries his chorale melodies fairly deeply in his preludes and Duruflé’s own music based on plainsong themes sometimes requires a deal of detective work. Try his Four motets on Gregorian themes, coupled with his own performance of his gorgeous, Fauré-inspired Requiem and his Mass Cum jubilo on Apex 2564 61139 2, a budget-price distillation of two Erato CDs which have long been in my collection.

The two short pieces by Bonnet which follow are fairly insubstantial but they make an excellent bridge between the display of the Tournemire and the Saint-Saëns improvisation, itself an exercise in virtuosity which receives a glorious free-wheeling performance from Tracey. There is very little Saint-Saëns organ music in the record catalogues; a performance like this reminds us that there is much more to him than The Carnival of the Animals, as I have pointed out in my recent review of two of his Piano Concertos. (Jean-Yves Thibaudet with the OSR under Charles Dutoit on Decca 475 8764).

The title of Franck’s Grande Pièce Symphonique, which is used as the generic name of the CD as a whole, implies employment of the big guns but, in fact, the dominant mood of this piece is restrained, with frequent markings of dolce, pp and even ppp. The opening andante serioso is subdued and reflective: Tracey captures the serioso mood here as well as the mood of the succeeding allegro section, faster but still no troppo e maestoso. The notes in the booklet compare the opening section to a processional but I was put more in mind of a hushed and expectant congregation awaiting the start of Vespers.

In the quiet and reflective andante opening of the second movement, too, the image conjured up is of the preparation for an important service – a role which Tracey, in his capacity at Liverpool Cathedral, will have performed many times. He captures all these quiet passages extremely effectively, especially in those sections marked cantando, and the recording registers every detail, with individual manual- and pedal-parts coming over very clearly. The Liverpool reverberation is kept to a minimum.

The finale also opens pp, but with a hint of a storm to come. When those bigger guns finally arrive, in the wonderful fugue and the concluding outburst of joy, they are all the more effective for having been kept so long in reserve – and for Franck’s retaining a considerable degree of restraint even when they do fire. This is certainly not a showpiece for the sake of mere show and Tracey shows admirable restraint where a lesser organist might well have gone overboard. These grander moments are also very well captured by the engineers, even in normal stereo. One is again aware of the resonance of the building without its ever interfering with the clarity of the recording.

Those seeking to expand their knowledge of Franck’s organ music will inevitably reduplicate the Grande pièce, albeit at bargain price and on French organs. Either Jennifer Bate on the Beauvais organ (Regis RRC2054) or Marie-Claire Alain on the Cavaillé-Coll organ at Caen (Apex 2564 61428 2) will do very nicely. Both are 2-CD sets selling for around £9 in the UK.

The Gigout Scherzo provides a lighter, capricious moment before the Widor: delicacy of touch is paramount here and this Tracey very ably provides.

The Widor Symphony is not the one with the Toccata: that is No.5, already recorded in full by Tracey on CHAN9271. Listeners may welcome the chance to get away from that ubiquitous piece and at the same time hear another of his symphonies in its entirety: the Fourth Symphony is as good a piece as any to choose. Don’t expect these works, despite their title, to sound too symphonic: they are more like a suite than a symphony. Again Tracey’s chief rival in this work is Marie-Claire Alain’s authoritative account on the Cavaillé-Coll organ at Saint Germain (Warner Elatus 2564 60341 2, at mid-price).

Franck left his big guns till the end of his Grande Pièce; the Widor Symphony does the opposite, starting with a fff marking at the beginning of the opening Toccata. This is a big movement – by definition a Toccata is designed to show off the player’s expertise in ‘touching’ the keys. (From Italian toccare, to touch.) Tracey makes the Toccata sound big without being entirely overwhelming and without setting off too much reverberation: if anything, I might have wanted him to sound just a little more ferocious. The Fugue begins quietly with the 16’ pedal tone which the score calls for held in restraint; the effect is ethereal.

The third movement, marked dolce, opens even more ethereally, with the pp organ barely audible. This is the best-known movement, often played as a separate piece. The booklet compares it to Daquin’s Noëls but, having recently reviewed an excellent Hyperion Helios reissue of the Noëls (CDH 55319) I have to say that the relationship is a distant one apart from the cantabile nature of the music, excellently captured by Tracey. The central section, written in four staves – i.e. with two sets of pedal parts – is fiendishly difficult but Tracey, with art that conceals art, makes it sound effortless.

The Scherzo and Adagio are again gentle movements, the pp opening of each setting the tone. The mood of the Adagio anticipates that of Fauré’s Requiem by twenty-one years. Tracey’s nimble playing in the Scherzo, his lighter touch in the Adagio and the recording are once more absolutely first class.

It is a mark of a fine recording not only that it captures the loudest moments without distortion but that it makes an equally good job of registering music on the threshold of hearing. The Chandos engineers score in both respects on this CD – just don’t try to play it in the car: the volume required for the quieter movements to register would place you in the head-bangers’ league in the louder movements.

The Finale begins fff, a marking which recurs at several points in the movement. The big guns are unleashed at the start but Widor is careful again not to make the effect too overwhelming and Tracey’s playing contributes to the comparative restraint, especially in the central part of this movement. The closing bars bring a confident conclusion to the work, confidently executed.

I have already indicated that the recording is first-class even in stereo. In SACD surround-format I am sure that the ambience of Liverpool Cathedral is perfectly captured, albeit without too much of the reverberation of this building.

I’m going for broke and nominating this my Recording of the Month. I cannot imagine a better place to start to get to know the French organ repertoire – unless it should be one of Ian Tracey’s other recordings in this series. Lovers of the genre should place their orders at once.

-- Brian Wilson, MusicWeb International

The German-born, Anglicized composer, instrument builder, and publisher J.B. Cramer was an outstanding representative of the London Piano School. In the late 18th-century and 1s half of the 19th, two schools of piano playing came to prominence. One is the so-called Viennese school and the other the school of Field (so described by Friedrich Wieck). This school might more accurately be called the school of piano playing based in London which was founded by J.C. Bach and Muzio Clementi. These and succeeding pianists admired the English grand pianoforte and used it whenever possible. Now badly neglected, Cramer wrote keyboard sonatas of outstanding merit, the best of which are resurrected in this collection. Curiously, for the last 31 years of his life, Cramer stopped composing in this genre. Why? One reason is that the sonata as a form had become unfashionable in England during this period, most pianists writing for the more popular market. Another reason Cramer's whole output declined after 1830 may be that he felt completely out of sympathy with the new pianos, with the new style of composition and with the new pianists. Although he knew many of the new pianistic stars, he found little sympathy for their music and playing styles. He was firmly committed to the pre-1835 Broadwood grand, with its leather hammers, triple stringing and wooden frame. The new school of piano playing alienated him and in turn he became a relic of the past, respected to his face but privately scorned. Out of sync with the prevailing musical climate, there as no demand for his serious works and he simply stopped producing them. These last sonatas then, represent a final flowering of his compositional talent coinciding with the final phase of the early Broadwood grand piano. The performer's previous fortepiano recordings of works by Beethoven, Weber, Clementi and Dussek have been favourably reviewed in Gramophone, Fanfare, Musica, and other trade journals.

Bernstein: Greatest Hits

Mozart, W.A.: Piano Music

Bach, J.S.: Lute Music - Bwv 995, 996, 999, 1000, 1006A, 100

Brahms, J.: Variations - Opp. 23, 56B / 16 Waltzes, Op. 39

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