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Arthur Sullivan's music for The Tempest reveals the 19-year-old as a serious talent. Yes, the music owes something to Mendelssohn--the Prelude, particularly, takes a few major hints from the Fingal's Cave Overture. But the melodic inspiration is fresh, the orchestration vivid, the dance music aptly toe-tapping, and the brief postlude curiously moving in a way that actually anticipates the more reflective moments of the Sibelius that follows. Coupling these two works, one a barely known first orchestral essay, the other a late but still curiously neglected masterpiece, was a brilliant idea--a "concept" album that really makes good musical sense.

The playing order of the Sibelius also is very intelligent: Prelude (Storm), Suite No. 2, then Suite No. 1, which ends with a reprise of the Prelude's storm music. Happily, both here and in the Sullivan, the performances are as smart, atmospheric, and vibrant as the music itself. Caliban's Song and the storm episodes have impressive power, and they're stunningly recorded in vintage Reference Recordings fashion. The more lyrical moments, such as the Berceuse and the various song transcriptions, are all beautifully played by the Kansas orchestra. The wind soloists are uniformly fine (listen to the flute in The Oak Tree, from Suite No. 1), and the harp, so important to the music's "magic" elements, is wonderfully present without ever sounding spotlit. Only "Miranda" from Suite No. 2 sounds a touch edgy in the violins, the tempo slightly rushed. This and any other minor quibbles certainly aren't enough to prevent me from recommending this new release in the strongest possible terms. It's a winner in all respects.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Formosa Seasons is based on a series of Haiku-like poems, and is dedicated to the celebrated Taiwanese-American violinistCho-Liang Lin.

Rather than parachuting in any headline-catching international soloists, the Kansas City Symphony has enlisted its concertmaster and principal cello as protagonists in two of the Saint-Saëns works. Noah Geller is soloist in the Introduction and Rondo capriccioso, and he is joined by cellist Mark Gibbs in the once rarely heard but now almost ubiquitous La muse et le poète. Backed by airy orchestral textures, Geller exudes lyrical warmth and a perky rhythmic spirit in the first work, and in the second he uses the violin’s wily flights of fantasy to engage Gibbs’s poetic cello in an intimate dialogue.

Then comes the big beast of the programme, but, as always, the crucial test is not so much the volume of the organ but the way in which the orchestral context of the symphony as a whole is established. Here Michael Stern impressively injects impetus into the first section’s sinewy fabric, alert to instrumental colour and the contrapuntal discipline and intrigue of the writing. The organ, making its muted first entry in the Adagio, is a 5,548-pipe Casavant Frères instrument, an integral part of Kansas City’s Kauffman Center for the Performing Arts where the recording was made, as indeed is Jan Kraybill who plays it. Stern crafts a proper, stately Adagio but an Adagio with momentum and shapely contours, and he ignites real fire in the Allegro moderato of the symphony’s second part. When the tempo changes to presto, the piano’s arpeggios and scales are prominent enough to make their point without leaping out at you, just as the organ in the finale asserts its grandeur without overwhelming the orchestral palette.

Even in a competitive market, this version has a distinct edge.

– Geoffrey Norris, Gramophone

When it rains, it pours. This is the third recording of Saint-Saëns’ Organ Symphony in nearly as many months, and like the previous ones, it’s remarkably good. The Kansas City Symphony under Michael Stern withstands comparison to any of the competition. My only quibble with the interpretation comes in the first movement, where Stern’s concern for precision of rhythm, otherwise admirable, seems to preclude that last bit of intensity at the tops of those crescendos that propel the principal theme onward into the second subject.

Otherwise, this is an unusually vivacious and texturally transparent reading, recorded with welcome clarity in an acoustic that never permits detail to get obscured by excessive reverberation. The balance between organ and orchestra in the finale, even when everyone is blasting away, could not be more perfect. In the serene Adagio too, which flows with impressive poise, the soft tones of the organ add just the right touch of color to support the strings and solo woodwinds. In the scherzo, Stern keeps the rhythm taut, and he doesn’t drag out the quiet coda to the point where one’s patience begins to run thin. In the finale everyone really does pull out all of the stops, literally and figuratively, bringing the work to a thrilling conclusion.

The fillers are welcome, and not the usual stuff. Le muse et le poète is a rarely heard late tone poem with parts for solo violin and solo cello, more than ably taken by orchestra principals Noah Geller on violin and Mark Gibbs on cello. Geller also plays an excellent, sunny Introduction and Rondo capriccioso. And let’s not forget organist Jan Kraybill in the symphony. I do wish, though, that Reference Recordings had included a stop list in the booklet. The instrument has some interesting timbres and I would have liked to know what resources it calls upon to make them. Audiophiles will want to hear this for the superb sonics, but the musical values are just as strong..

– David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

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