Classical Music

Acknowledged without reservation as the greatest composer working in England in the 18th century, Georg Frideric Handel is revered worldwide as a master composer. His Harpsichord Suites are among the finest instrumental works of the period, we are privileged to present exquisite performances by Gilbert Rowland, one of Europe's foremost harpsichordists.

"It is impossible to praise this new release too highly. The harpsichord, a copy of a two manual French harpsichord after Goermans (Paris 1750), built by Andrew Wooderson in 2005, is a lovely instrument. The combination of Handel, Gilbert Rowland, Wooderson’s fine harpsichord, the recording venue at Holy Trinity Church, Weston, Hertfordshire and the recording engineer John Taylor is unbeatable providing, as it does, a collection of these wonderful suites that I will return to again and again."

-- The Classical Reviewer

Considered the most 'Russian'of Stravinsky' major works, the origin of the Firebird lies in the impresario Sergey Dyagilev' cost-cutting decision to concentrate on ballet, rather than opera.

Attractive and unfamiliar keyboard works, well played.

This appears to be a reissue of a recital previously available on ASV (ASV CD DCA 890), and recorded, I believe, in 1994. It is good to have it back in circulation, as it offers a well-played representation of an interesting minor composer.

Moleiro was born in Zaraza in Venezuela and in the mid 1920s he studied piano in Caracas with a well-known teacher, Don Salvador Llamozas. He went on to make a career as a pianist, composer and teacher. This present CD includes the bulk of the work he wrote for the piano.

Most of the music here is not strikingly Latin American in manner, although there are a few distinctive touches here and there which speak of its geographical origins. For the most part Moleiro's piano music has about it a kind of aristocratic grace, and works within mostly European models understood from a South American perspective. At times one senses a kind of nostalgia for European forms and what they might represent. One is not surprised to encounter 'El senor de la peluca' - the gentleman with the wig - or to find oneself listening to a charming Waltz.

Moleiro's Sonatinas are written in the tradition of Scarlatti (though being far from mere pastiche); his Prelude and Fugue in C sharp minor have more than a little of Bach about them; the Serenade in the Spanish Style speaks for itself; the Estudio de concierto has clear affinities with Chopin and the delightful La fuente registers its composer's knowledge of Ravel and Debussy. But everywhere there is enough evidence of a personal sensibility at work to maintain the listener's interest. At times Moleiro's programmatic miniatures - such as La muchacha de la herrería (the girl from the blacksmiths), El herrero (The blacksmith) and Los pájaros (The birds) - are attractive additions to a familiar keyboard tradition.

The last two pieces on the CD are the most distinctive. It is unfortunate that the relatively scanty documentation that comes with this CD gives no dates for any of the compositions, so that one has no way of knowing whether or not the sequence of music heard in any way represents the composer's stylistic development. Certainly Estampas del llano (Pictures of the plains) and Joropo are far more thoroughly infused with a sense of the composer's native land, and without that nostalgic air mentioned above. Though the musical language of Estampas del llano is essentially European in nature, its evocation of the Venezuelan plains, in their contrasting fecundity and aridity, makes it music that no European composer would have written. The joropo music of Venezuela grew out of the fusion of ancient Spanish traditions, including the fandango and the malagueña (themselves incorporating Arabic influences) with the musics of African slaves and of native South American Indians. It is a heady mix and from it has grown some exciting music. A good deal of that excitement is captured in Moleiro's Joropo for piano, played with considerable panache by Clara Rodriguez.

Throughout this recital the sureness of Rodriguez' technique is evident, and her flexibility ensures that she can sound at home in all of the various musical idioms on which Moleiro's piano music touches. This makes for a consistently entertaining programme - a CD that makes a case, without overstatement, for the music of a figure too little known beyond his native land.

-- Glyn Pursglove, MusicWeb International 

Includes work(s) by François Couperin. Soloists: Markku Luolajan-Mikkola, Mikko Perkola, Aapo Häkkinen.

While usually associated with sacred music, the organ was also used during the Renaissance and early Baroque periods in noble mansions and courts for the purpose of secular music. This fantastic anthology peeks into the secular organ repertoire from royal courts across five countries. Francesco Cera is a celebrated Italian organist. He performs on a 1772 “Organo ottavino.” Liner notes include information on all pieces, as well as a photo of Cera’s organ.

Tchaikovsky miniatures intimately played.

A Tribute to Tchaikovsky is a very attractive CD compilation of short, tuneful pieces highly characteristic of the composer. I suppose it’s not what you would call great piano music, rather a collection of pleasant miniatures that delight the ear. Mr Feltsman calls it intimate salon music and that’s a very good description. The general style is very much in the same vein as Tchaikovsky’s more well-known work The Seasons; if that appeals to you so will the contents of this disc. Most of the items presented here don’t plumb any great musical depths but it’s all very melodic and charming. The Thème original et variations opens the recital in splendid fashion - there’s clearly an innate natural feeling for the idiom, sparkling technique and the playing is beautifully understated as befits this kind of music. There are some similarities to Schumann in this opening piece as the sleeve-note suggests but it’s also unmistakably by Tchaikovsky. The final flourish is tremendously exciting. Two minor masterpieces bring the disc to a conclusion, the Méditation Op. 72 No. 5 with its memorable opening theme and dramatic central climax and the enchanting, Liszt-like Chant élégiaque Op. 72 No.14. The rest of the programme really does enter the world of salon music. There are echoes of Chopin, Mendelssohn, Schubert and Liszt to be heard throughout this disc. It would be harsh to suggest that the works contained here are stylised or derivative. The recital is well planned with notable mood-changes from piece to piece - romances, waltzes and tender nocturnes all have their place alongside more lively, technically challenging numbers.
 
Vladimir Feltsman performs the whole programme in a gentle introverted fashion and this approach sounds absolutely right. The playing is first rate with tasteful rubato and excellent control of dynamics; every detail and nuance shines through. This isn’t really concert hall music as such and at no time does the playing become hectoring, over-emotional or virtuosic for the sake of it. It’s all very natural and enjoyable. The pianist’s programme notes state that the pieces in this recording were selected to be heard as a single composition. I personally fail to make any such connection but that’s not really important. What matters here is that we have a marvellous recital on our hands and it deserves to be successful.
 
The piano sound is good rather than outstanding. It’s typical of many modern digital recordings, sounding a bit top-heavy and thin and lacking a true, deep resonant bottom end. It doesn’t have the thrilling resonance of a live concert grand. At least the image is set slightly back, making it a comfortable experience and the music-making has a natural impact. This disc is very much for Tchaikovsky enthusiasts and lovers of tuneful, romantic piano music. I hope nobody is put off by the CD cover which features a rather grumpy looking Feltsman. The image doesn’t quite sit well with the tuneful gems included on this disc.
 
-- John Whitmore, MusicWeb International

Classical Music

TYBERG Symphony No. 2. Piano Sonata No. 21 • 1Fabio Bidini (pn); JoAnn Falletta, cond; Buffalo PO • NAXOS 8.572822 (74: 47)

I defy the average educated listener not to call out the name of Anton Bruckner within seconds of the start of Marcel Tyberg’s Second Symphony. The cut of the melodies, the rhythms, the sectional construction, and the scoring are utterly characteristic of the Viennese master—who died in 1896, three years after Tyberg was born. Most curious. That impression continues throughout the first movement, and off and on (but mostly on) throughout the entire symphony. Indeed, the thing that is least Brucknerian about Tyberg’s symphony, which was composed in 1927, is that it is barely 42 minutes long. (To be fair, there’s a bit of Korngold as the symphony reaches its conclusion.) In other words, Tyberg concludes his movements just when Bruckner would have been getting his second wind. I am astonished that Bruckner’s name does not come up once in the entirety of Edward Yadzinski’s booklet note. Perhaps he thought mentioning it would have been the epitome of obviousness. I’m not really suggesting that Tyberg’s Second is on a par with Bruckner’s symphonies—at times it sounds a little awkwardly put together, and too terse—but it is a fascinating, fascinating near miss, and really very enjoyable, and if this disc doesn’t get wide exposure, at least because Tyberg’s unknown symphony is so doggedly familiar (!), then there is no justice in the world. Falletta and the Buffalo Philharmonic play the heck out of it, by the way, and Naxos’s engineering is lustrous.

The Piano Sonata No. 2 is no less fine. Bruckner wrote no piano sonatas, I believe, but Brahms completed three of them, and there are times when Tyberg’s sturdy, 33-minute sonata sounds as if it is aiming to be “Brahms’s Fourth.” The hyper-masculine opening gesture, for example, and the feminine response that it receives, would hardly be out of place in Brahms. Other influences appear in this sonata, however, including, strangely enough, Szymanowski. Again, call this music derivative if you like, but there’s no escaping that Tyberg’s lack of innovation is not dull but really rather delightful, given the attractiveness of the material. Pianist Bidini makes a very good case for it, playing it with plenty of romantic temperament, and with steely wrists and fingers.

I missed Naxos’s earlier Tyberg release (8.572236) in which his Third Symphony is paired with his Piano Trio. Jerry Dubins and Robert Markow both welcomed it strongly; in fact, it made the latter reviewer’s Want List in 2011. There also was a feature article in Fanfare 34: 2 in which Falletta discussed Tyberg. To make a long story short, Tyberg, who had a Jewish relative several generations back, was a victim of the Nazis and died in 1944. He spent his young years in Vienna, but around the time of the Second Symphony, he relocated to what today is part of Italy. Shortly before his deportation, he entrusted his music manuscripts to a friend, and they were passed on to that friend’s son, who ended up in Buffalo. After spending years trying to interest various conductors in Tyberg’s scores, he finally attracted Falletta’s attention. She recognized the music’s worth, and if a Tyberg revival is in the works, we can thank her, and the efforts of the Marcel Tyberg Musical Legacy Fund of the Foundation for Jewish Philanthropies in Buffalo.

Knowing that I have a tendency to be excitable, I don’t want to overdo my praise for this music or for this release, but glorioski, this is enjoyable stuff.

FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle
-----

Marcel Tyberg’s Second Symphony sounds a bit like Bruckner for people who hate Bruckner. It features thematic material uncannily similar to Tyberg’s Austrian predecessor, only married to a more traditional, pithy approach to form. It lasts just 42 minutes, and so in comparison confirms Bruckner’s own originality, or incompetence, depending on your perspective. There’s nothing here that might make you sit up and say, “Aha, that must be Tyberg,” but it is beautifully scored, well-made music nonetheless. The Adagio is particularly lovely, basically diatonic in harmony, but with tunes that never go exactly where you expect them to. Had Tyberg survived the Second World War and written more in this vein, we might go so far as to call it “personal”.

The Piano Sonata No. 2 dwells squarely in the world of Beethoven and Brahms, but again with remarkable success. It’s a large work in four movements, and even more than in the symphony the centerpiece is an Adagio drawn on a very large scale. The finale, so often the Achilles’ heel in Romantic music, is actually the shortest movement, but full of contrast and quite satisfying, thus revealing that Tyberg’s classical sympathies go beyond mere imitation.

The sonata is very well played by Fabio Bidini, a pianist who takes its challenges in stride and shapes each movement quite effectively. As in the previous release in this series, JoAnn Falletta and the Buffalo Philharmonic take charge of the orchestral component, offering a performance of the symphony full of character and conviction. The Foundation for Jewish Philanthropies in Buffalo sponsored this recording through its Marcel Tyberg Musical Legacy Fund. That such a thing even exists is just one of those facts that makes you feel good about life, as does Tyberg’s music. Go for it.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The flourishing of period instrument performance may have accustomed the world's ears to the sound of mean tuning, but institutional instruments such as the pipe organ have yet to catch up. There are very few organs in the world capable of playing in mean temperament, so period-style recordings are necessarily limited; thus the fortunate necessity of this CD of Georg Muffat's 'Apparatus musico-organisticus' being recorded on the Klosterneuberg Abbey organ in Austria. Beyond its authentic tuning, it has an amazing variety of tone colors, which Muffat's score takes full advantage of.
Muffat, a student of Jean-Baptiste Lully, lived and composed at the cusp of a new era in European history. He stepped beyond the limitations of national character, and sought to incorporate elements of Italian and German music in his own French compositions. He was also aware of the new tonality put forth in the 'Well-Tempered Clavier' by his contemporary, J. S. Bach. Though Part I of the 'Apparatus' uses mean tuning, he was eager to experiment with the newer even temperament, which he did in Part II, so it could not be recorded on this instrument. Given the choice, however, Part I is much more interesting listening.

Classical Music

Classical Music

Not only violinists are eternally grateful to Antonio Vivaldi for the sheer abundance of concert works he bequeathed. The instrument he wrote for with the second greatest frequency is the bassoon, for which he created about forty concertos. Two of the most celebrated bookend Václav Vonášek’s debut recording and are supplemented by pieces by other 18th-century masters.

The recipient of important awards and prizes, Charlotte Mattax Moersch first gained critical attention as a top prize-winner in 1980 and 1983 at the International Harpsichord Competitions of Bruges and Paris. She was honored with a Solo Recitalist Grant from the National Endowment for the Arts and a Woolley Scholarship for study in Paris. Professor Mattax Moersch studied with Gustav Leonhardt at the Sweelinck Conservatory, Bob van Asperen at the Hague Conservatory, and Kenneth Gilbert in Paris. Charlotte Mattax Moersch has performed on harpsichord at concerts and music festivals worldwide.

A specialist in 17th-century French music, she is the author of the book, Accompaniment on Theorbo and Harpsichord: Denis Delair’s Traité of 1690, published by Indiana University Press.

Rarely heard French baroque composer Pierre Février (1696–1760) was also an organist and harpsichordist. Février lived in Paris and served as organist at two churches on the Saint-Honoré street: the Jacobins' church and Saint Roch. He composed two volumes of harpsichord pieces the first of which is dated 1734 and contains five suites in the elegant and individual keyboard style of the French Baroque.

THE ART OF ARTHUR GRUMIAUX • Arthur Grumiaux (vn); Frieder Weissmann 1 , Lorin Maazel 2 , Hans Müller-Kray 3 , Bernhard Paumgartner 4 , Carlo Maria Giulini 6 , Ernest Ansermet 8 , Ernest Bour 10 , cond; Riccardo Castagnone 5 , Hans Altmann 7 (pn); Hermann von Beckerath (vc); 9 RAI SO of Turin; 1 Cologne RSO; 2 South German RSO; 3 Mozarteum O; 4 Frankfurt RSO; 6 O de la Suisse Romande; 8 Bavarian RSO 10 • ANDROMEDA 9116, mono (4 CDs: 266:57) Live: Turin, Cologne, Mühlacker, Salzburg, Frankfurt, Munich 1951–62


MOZART 1 Violin Concerto No. 1 2 Violin Concerto No. 3. 3 Violin Concerto No. 4. 4 Violin Concerto No. 5. MENDELSSOHN 6 Violin Concerto in e. SCHUBERT 5 Violin Sonata in A. FRANCK 7 Violin Sonata in A. BRAHMS 8 Violin Concerto. CHAUSSON 1 Poème for Violin and Orchestra. RAVEL 9 Sonata for Violin and Cello. 1 Tzigane. STRAVINSKY 10 Violin Concerto. YSAŸE Sonata for Violin Solo, Ballade in d


Belgian violinist Arthur Grumiaux (1921–1986) was a fixture of the concert and recording scene when I was growing up. His playing was impeccably clean in style, utilizing a very narrow vibrato that gave his tone a lean yet shimmering sound, very little portamento, and enlivening inflections that provided a nice rhythmic “lift” to his performances. As this set clearly shows, his proclivities were, for the most part, towards Classical and Romantic composers, though he did play the Stravinsky and Berg concertos and Ravel sonata. According to Wikipedia, he made roughly 30 albums during his active career, mostly for the Dutch Philips label but also for EMI. He was, it seems, one of those violinists, like Nathan Milstein, who was admired as much if not more by his peers than by the general public, though of course he was always a top draw in concerts.


Since Grumiaux played most of these works so often (particularly the Mozart concertos, which he recorded complete for Philips with Colin Davis in 1961–62), there are several alternate performances of many of these pieces floating around; e.g., the Mozart No. 1 with Paumgartner and Nos. 3 and 4 with Moralt (the Concerto No. 5 with Paumgartner is on this set), the Mendelssohn Concerto with a very young Haitink, the Brahms with van Beinum, etc. The cover of this set announces that these live performances are all newly remastered in 24-bit/96 kHz sound.


I was particularly fascinated by his interpretation of the Schubert sonata: crisp, direct, and completely lacking in sentimentality, much like Toscanini’s performances of the Schubert symphonies. This is a performance that will thrill musically scrupulous listeners but not at all those who insist that their Schubert be full of Viennese schmaltz. Grumiaux’s version of the Mendelssohn Concerto is quite excellent as well, with surprisingly brisk conducting by Giulini; nothing is rushed, all the notes “sound” with perfect equipoise, yet there is tremendous élan in this reading (and sensitivity, too, relaxing the tempo here and there and playing an absolutely ethereal first-movement cadenza). Because he was Belgian, Grumiaux was sometimes compared to his great predecessor Ysaÿe, but to my ears his sweet, lean tone had much more in common with Sarasate than with Ysaÿe’s somewhat darker sound. As a matter of fact, I felt that Grumiaux’s lean sonority and objectivist approach didn’t work for me in the Franck Sonata or Brahms Concerto, the only performances on the set that I found too uninvolved. I was, however, fascinated by the way he played Ravel, which (as it turns out) was much like his Stravinsky: lean, angular contours, no sentimentality at all, and a way of bringing out the structure without unduly overstressing it. Indeed, the entire last CD was a gem from start to finish.


Your proclivity to acquire this set will probably have as much to do with your desire to own every note Grumiaux ever recorded if you already have most of the studio versions, especially since we are dealing here with monophonic radio sound of varying quality (rather dry in the Turin broadcasts, somewhat roomier and warmer in the German airchecks), particularly since this set is selling for the somewhat hefty price of $52 on Amazon. However, I can attest that Andromeda did a whale of a job cleaning up the sound so that everything sounds clear without the least bit of distortion, particularly in the sound of the string sections of each orchestra, and there is no question that Grumiaux is interesting to hear from start to finish.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Learn more about pianist Carol Rosenberger and the Delos label on the Naxos Classical Spotlight podcast!

This program is designed to help listeners find a 'quiet time' of non-stressful, contemplative relaxation. Its selection of short, melodic pieces also serves as an ideal introduction to the world of classical music. 'A splendid disc, to be treasured by young and old,' - American Record Guide 'The perfect gift among recordings for introducing a child to the intimacies and universality of music.' - Fanfare 'The world's loveliest piano music, beautifully programmed to help people of all ages find an inner core of tranquillity.' - Keynote The program of Perchance to Dream moves from simple, lyrical pieces, many written for beginning pianists, to more profound works like the Adagio cantabile of Beethoven's Pathetique Sonata and Brahms' Intermezzo Op. 117, No. 1. In our high-tech, computerized, accelerating age, the need for a time of relaxation - a period to reflect, or simply to experience a sense of calm - is more important than ever. Work and other responsibilities have a way of overtaking more elemental pleasures - like time spent with loved ones, or in solitude. Yet finding this 'quiet time' need not be difficult, and it is partly with this in mind that this musical program is offered. The selections chosen here - accessible, melodious pieces by great composers - speak to all ages. For children, they may form a gateway to a world not yet explored - that of concert music. For their elders, they may generate fond recollections, like old friends who have not lost their power to inspire or comfort. They also may act as a bond between parents and children, providing a peaceful background for a time of intimacy, storytelling, and shared experience. - Steven C. Smith (from the booklet notes)

Classical Music

The Aldeburgh Recital

An astonishing live performance by the 15-year-old Kissin, with a sense of danger courted and triumphantly surmounted.

Kissin's generous lyricism and lovely rubato in Rachmaninov's Lilacs make a distinguished prelude to this recital; but they are only a hint of the revelations to come. The big E flat minor Etude tableau drenches the listener in an extraordinary welter of sound, at once free and controlled, sensitive to harmonic nuance and yet to broader undercurrents as well. And it is followed by a phenomenally articulate C minor, swirling and crackling like a force of nature (with just a couple of accidents on the last page as a brief reminder of human frailty).

The apex of the recital is a colossal account of the Prokofiev Sixth Sonata. Pianistically it has everything—tremendous force, tremendous resonance, wonderful sensitivity to texture and colour, inspired pedalling, fantastic rhythmic grasp, supreme control whatever the extremes of tempo or dynamic. And all these are at the service of a vision which penetrates to the essence of Prokofiev's art—the subdued half-lights and obsessive drive of the first movement, the deadly serious clowning of the second, the stoical suffering of the third, and above all the appalling despair at the heart of the finale. Please don't think I've taken leave of my critical senses—I noted in passing that the rhythm in the last three bars of the first movement is wrong and that Kissin nearly burns himself out before the tumultous last page of the finale. But if this doesn't qualify as a great performance I don't know what does.

So far I've managed to avoid mentioning that Kissin was aged just 15 and seven months at the time of this recital. In his Rachmaninov and Prokofiev it never occurred to me to think about that, either as a plus or a minus. The remaining pieces do perhaps fall into a less exalted category—they are merely astonishing considering his youth. The Liszt studies are seductive, poetic and rhetorical but not yet entirely settled; the Chopin Nocturne could breathe more freely and has a nasty mannerism of right hand before left, a reversal of bad habits of olden days; the Polonaise sacrifices pride and grace for allpurpose grandeur, unimaginatively driving home every first beat in the bar. For all their finesse, I can imagine the Scriabin pieces reaching further out into the unreal and the ecstatic; and the Japanese encores are wholly trivial and forgettable.

Perhaps the biggest drawback of all is the ultraclose microphone placement. But Kissin is one of the select few whose playing can withstand such clinical scrutiny; and such is the electricity he generates, so strong his empathy with Rachrnaninov and Prokofiev, that you feel inside the music both spiritually and acoustically. I suppose it is conceivable Kissin will one day make an even finer studio recording of the Prokofiev; but I would not bank on it re-creating the magic, the sense of danger courted and triumphantly surmounted, of this astonishing live performance.

-- Gramophone [11/1990]

Note: According to the CD packaging, Kissin plays Liszt's Un Sospiro, S 144 no 3 when in fact the piece he performs is Liszt's Waldesrauschen, S 145 no 1.

Prokofiev: Piano Sonatas Nos. 1, 4 & 6

[This] record has a considerable extra in Falla's Harpsichord Concerto. This dry but oddly attractive work is admirably played by Kipnis with leading members of the NYPO. Their performance is excellent. Boulez understands this sort of work completely and directs an admirable performance.

-- Gramophone [8/1976]
reviewing the original LP release of the Falla Concerto

Bach: Goldberg Variations

TEN HOLT Canto Ostinato. Natalon in E . Aforisme II. Solo Devil’s Dances I–IV. Eadem Sed Aliter • Jeroen van Veen (pn) • BRILLIANT 9434 (5 CDs: 320:09)


This set is designated as Simeon ten Holt: Solo Piano Music Volumes I-V , so one assumes that another release will follow it in due course. This is good news to those of us who have been bitten by the ten Holt bug, and who are snapping up every release that becomes available. In the United States, the situation is now much better than it was just a few years ago, and it is better, in large part, due to the efforts of pianist Jeroen van Veen (and Brilliant Classics), who, with colleague pianists, and by himself, has been busily recording ten Holt’s often mammoth works for one or multiple pianos. He is not the only world-class pianist to be interested in ten Holt’s music, however, but we will get to that point later.


In Fanfare 35:6, I had a lot to say about Canto Ostinato , albeit in a performance by two pianists, namely van Veen and his wife, Sandra. This was included in van Veen’s Minimal Piano Collection, Volumes X-XX set (Brilliant Classics 9171). I’m going to beg the editor’s indulgence by repeating all of it here:


Simeon ten Holt’s Canto Ostinato , [is] an even more large-scale classic that occupied the composer between 1976 and 1979, and a work that has attained a fair measure of popularity, at least in Europe. (I think its time will come in the United States; all it needs is the right set of circumstances.) Like several of ten Holt’s works, Canto Ostinato gives its performers plenty of flexibility. The score states the composer’s preference for performances with four pianos, but he has enthusiastically endorsed Jeroen and Sandra van Veen’s two-piano realization presented here, and it also has been performed with twelve pianists on five pianos! (Other keyboard instruments are possible too.) The score has 106 sections. Performers can use their own discretion concerning dynamics, articulation, the number of repetitions, and the use and combination of alternative parts. It can last for a half hour or longer than two. The composer writes, “A performance of Canto is more like a ritual than a concert. The piece is not in a hurry.” For me, three factors lend the work its peculiar magic. The first is related to rhythm. Each bar is in 10/16 time, overlaid with 2/4 to create two groups of 5/16. Each “quintuplet” is subdivided into 2+3 or 3+2. What this creates, in the listener, is the curiously dance-like sensation of even unevenness, if you will. The second factor is melodic. At first, there is no melody, in the usual sense of the word. However, over time, an angelic “canto” starts to coalesce, like a picture puzzle slowly coming together. When this “canto,” after many teasing minutes of development, reaches its maturity, the cumulative effect, if you have been paying attention, is literally awesome. (I never fail to weep when I get to section 74 of Canto Ostinato , and I have had a similar experience with Meandres , a ten Holt composition from 20 years later.) Having attained seeming Nirvana, ten Holt (or the performers), then evolves away from it almost immediately, and so Canto Ostinato , on this level, becomes a piece about expectation, and not just achievement but also frustration. It’s a very Zen experience. The third factor is related to community. A successful performance of Canto Ostinato depends upon communication and coordination among the performers. One senses (in the present performance, and in others I have heard) that a sort of hive mentality is at work, or that one is listening, not just to a ritual, but to a biological process. Much as I love music, I would rarely describe it as organic. For me, there are two prominent exceptions, though: some of Sibelius, and all of Simeon ten Holt.


Of course, the present recording, which dates from the fall of 2012 (like everything else in this collection), removes the third factor enumerated above because all of these are solo performances. I think I understand ten Holt’s preference for performances, at least of Canto Ostinato , involving multiple pianos. Played solo, the music remains highly effective, but the ineffable and moving sense of community is absent here. Otherwise, it is striking how similar this new solo recording of Canto is to the one by van Veen and his wife in the Minimal Piano Collection set. The total timing (78:15) is just a minute shorter than its predecessor, and isn’t it convenient that it all fits on one CD? (A four-piano version recorded in the ’80s and released by Composer’s Voice/Donemus lasts over 150 minutes and requires three discs, and let me tell you, those disc-changes are a real letdown!) There’s no sense that the music’s development is being rushed, but I think, generally speaking, the more performers one has, the longer it takes to perform it effectively. In a review of piano music by Philip Glass (also in this issue), I commented that van Veen was a more subjective performer than the composer himself. In ten Holt’s music, however, I find that van Veen is less personal—which I suppose is another way of saying less romantic—than other pianists who have recorded it, namely Ivo Janssen (on Void), and on the aforementioned three-CD extravaganza, Gerard Bouwhuis, Gene Carl, Cees van Zeeland, and Arielle Vernède. Still, I have every reason to believe that van Veen’s playing realizes the composer’s intentions completely.


So, where this new release really comes into its own is in the remaining four discs, because this is great music too, and there is less competition. (In some cases, I think, there is none at all, at least on disc.) Solo Devil’s Dance I was composed in 1959 and lasts only 4:10. The remaining three works in this series are much later (1986, 1990, and 1998, respectively) and much longer too: 67:43, 45:55, and 38:41. The first is an etude whose basis is an essentially unrelenting triple rhythm passed from one hand to the other, with a—well, impish counterpoint. No surprise: It sounds utterly unlike anything else on these discs, but one can sense the presence of ten Holt’s mind, even if one can’t exactly hear ten Holt’s voice. With the second, we are back in familiar, i.e., minimalist, territory. An odd, nervous rhythm and a melodic pattern are quickly established, and over the course of 67 minutes it is developed. With Philip Glass, one senses that his favorite geometric shape is a square. Ten Holt, on the other hand, probably was enamored of pentagons and heptagons. Solo Devil’s Dance II is jazzy, without ever turning into jazz, and eternally unsettled. As in Canto , tension rises, is dissipated, and rises again; Glass is rarely this dramatic. It sounds like a terrible finger-buster for any pianist, but I imagine stamina and concentration are even bigger issues. Fortunately, listeners don’t have to fear for the fingers. If they are receptive, their concentration should be stimulated by the ever changing but always the same landscape of shifting accents, phrase lengths, and by each new section of the score (there are 111!) in which a new puzzle piece, or a new clue (if you will) is added. Kees Wieringa’s version of this work can be downloaded as an mp3 from Amazon. I haven’t heard more than an excerpt—I have yet to feel that downloaded mp3s are worth my time and money, so any comparisons I make with mp3s in this review are based solely on brief excerpts—but for what it’s worth, Wieringa’s version is only 28 seconds longer. Ivo Janssen’s mp3 is only half as long, and is a little slower.


Solo Devil’s Dance III is built on similar plans, but it strikes me as a more genial piece. If its predecessor is obsessive, it is cheerfully industrious, as if one were overlooking a sort of musical factory in which the workers are notes and their products are phrases and successively larger musical structures. The music burbles along happily, and it really does seem to dance. One wonders if the melodic material’s resemblance, at times, to Till’s theme from Till Eulenspiegels lustige Streiche was accidental. Otherwise, there is nothing demonic here! In fact, extended sections in the piano’s stratosphere suggest fairies, perhaps from A Midsummer Night’s Dream , more than anything horned. Wieringa’s mp3 is almost 20 minutes shorter, as he moves through the work’s 77 (!) sections!


What makes the Solo Devil’s Dances demonic, perhaps, is the demands that they place on the performer. (Van Veen is certainly up to their various challenges.) An additional demonic element that appears in Solo Devil’s Dance IV is a fixation with the interval of a tritone, the “diabolus in musica.” This piece is a particularly cruel task for the pianist, as it is fast, lengthy, and more intricate in its patterning than its predecessors. If Solo Devil’s Dance II is obsessive, this last member of the family carries obsession to its most driven extremes. It’s an etude from hell. At 18: 14, Ivo Janssen’s mp3 of this work is only half the length of van Veen’s performance, and he adopts a somewhat slower tempo, so clearly he takes fewer repeats than van Veen. (As I mentioned above, in my description of Canto , ten Holt’s scores generally give performers a lot of latitude.) This work contains 89 “separate musical objects,” which I suppose is just another way of indicating “sections.” This was ten Holt’s final work, although he did not die until 2012.


Earlier, I used the phrase, “ever changing but always the same.” That is a rough English translation of the Latin phrase Eadem Sed Aliter , the title of a work in 113 sections from 1995 also included in this collection. To quote from the booklet note (van Veen’s?), “the left hand is shifted two sixteenths from the right hand—this creates a big challenge for the thumbs of both hands, like in the music of Franz Liszt where the thumbs were first used to play melodies. The ping-pong-style playing with accents, together with building layers (getting louder and softer), turn this into an interesting piece.” The music has a plaintive quality, as if it were begging to be released from its unceasing activity and lack of resolution (harmonic and otherwise). As with the other works in this collection, I can’t even begin to imagine the endurance and concentration required to perform it, and van Veen has both my admiration and my sympathy! An mp3 by Janssen is a few minutes shorter (33: 49), and in this work, his tempo is even faster than van Veen’s. Madness!


The two remaining works date from the 1970s. Aforisme II (1974) is receiving its first recording here. It is, in a sense, the seed that produced Canto Ostinato , as it is a 6/8 version of the Canto melody, with an accompaniment of broken chords (imagine a barcarolle.) The Chopinesque bit of sweetness is just four minutes long, and, if a score were to be published, I predict it would quickly appear on every third teenage piano student’s recital. Natalon in E also is atypical. There are five movements in contrasting tempos and moods, and ranging from four to 11 minutes in length. The material in each movement is characteristic of ten Holt, but its development is far more concise. Like Aforisme II , this is ten Holt “lite,” although I don’t mean to denigrate it with that adjective, only to imply that it is more accessible to performers and listeners who might not generally be interested in Minimalism or “contemporary music,” whatever that is.


The booklet contains, in addition to unsigned notes about some (not all, unfortunately) of the works, a short essay about the composer himself, and about van Veen as an interpreter of his music. This originally appeared in Fanfare 33:5 and is written by Alan Swanson, who took advantage of the opportunity to bang the drum for ten Holt before I did. I’m glad he did. Since I discovered it a few years ago, Simeon ten Holt’s music has become important to me; it has given me great intellectual and emotional satisfaction. I am very happy that Jeroen van Veen’s advocacy, not least through these recordings, has made it easier for new audiences to become exposed to it. Please, however you do it, introduce yourself to Simeon ten Holt.


FANFARE: Raymond Tuttle

Although Girolamo Frescobaldi is said to have had a beautiful singing voice, it was his talent as a keyboardist that brought him into the spotlight in Italy in the late 16th and early 17th centuries, and which allowed him the opportunity to frequent such established composers as John Dowland and Orlando di Lasso.