Thibaut Garcia pays tribute with El Bohemio to the Paraguayan guitar virtuoso and composer Agustín Barrios (1885-1944). As Garcia explains, "Barrios is an essential composer in the guitarist's repertoire. His music can be described as a skilful mix of South American popular music - inspired by the jungles of Paraguay - and the Romanticism of Chopin and Schumann, composers he idolised." El Bohemio duly complements 16 varied works by Barrios himself with three of his transcriptions of famous pieces by Chopin, Schumann, and Beethoven. In addition, the album includes readings of two of Barrios's poems: 'Bohemio', which lends the album it's name, portrays the composer as a wandering troubadour; 'Profesión de fé' (Profession of faith) honours the Guarani, the indigenous people of Paraquay.

Box Set + 2 Blu-ray Audio/Atmos. The culmination of five digital releases, The National Symphony Orchestra and Music Director Gianandrea Noseda conclude their journey through Beethoven's complete symphonies, with this release of a complete box set. "Beethoven's voice is as fresh and powerful today as it was when he created those masterpieces, " said Noseda. "To approach Beethoven is a journey. You know you are starting the journey, but you never know where the journey will take you. With Beethoven, any moment is a discovery." Capturing the complete Beethoven Symphonies was a multi-year project, with the performances and recordings spanning the NSO's 2021-2022 and 2022-2023 seasons. The recordings of Symphonies Nos.1 & 3 were released in 2022, followed by Nos.4 & 5, 6 & 8, and 2 & 7 in 2023. Symphony No.9 was recorded with special guest artists, soprano Camilla Tilling, mezzo-soprano Kelley O'Connor, tenor Issachah Savage, bass-baritone Ryan McKinny, and the Washington Chorus. This deluxe set includes 5 hybrid SACDs, alongside 2 Blu-ray Audio discs containing stereo, surround and Atmos mixes as well as a bonus video performance of Beethoven Symphony No.9.

CONDUCTS BEETHOVEN SYMPHONIES & OVERTURES

"[A]dmirers of this conductor will certainly want the mono rehearsal disc, for this demonstrates how he prepared the final performances of Symphonies Nos. 4, 5, 7 and 9." -- Gramophone [8/1995]

This disc contains recordings of rehearsals.

MARLBORO FEST 40TH ANNIVERSARY

BEETHOVEN: COMPLETE VIOLIN SON

I didn't at all take to Fleisher's account of Beethoven No. 3, but I must say that this is a most impressive and exciting account of the Emperor, aided and abetted by a wonderful accompaniment from Szell and his orchestra—and, I mustn't forget, by a most intelligently balanced recording.

Fleisher plays the first movement with splendid brio and the dash with which he gives out the opening flourishes is equalled by the orchestra's attack and energy when it starts the tutti. In one passage of brilliant semiquavers he tends to hurry very slightly, both times it comes, but in general his rhythm is excellent. There are, too, passages of most lovely liquid playing, a kind of brush of quiet sound, beautiful not only as sound but admirable in that they let woodwind solos come through without any forcing by the players. Fleisher is obviously always aware of what's going on in the orchestra and knows when he should be taking part in chamber music, rather than always holding the front of the stage. He does indulge in a wide range of speeds but not, I suppose, more than is usually done. The slow movement is played simply by both soloist and orchestra, as it should be— yet it's a difficult thing to play something so apparently simply but make it as moving as it is here.

At the very end of the movement (bar 80) you may be surprised to hear the strings play a long crotchet, arco, instead of the pizzicato to which we are all so used (which starts only at the last quaver of the bar). I asked Denis Matthews (always a mine of Beethoven information) about this and he told me he had played the concerto with Szell and was quite astonished at rehearsal when the expected 'plonk' from the strings didn't happen. Szell told him that Beethoven's autograph has the `pizz' written over the rests in the middle of the bar: and I now see that the preface in the Eulenburg miniature score states the same thing (despite which, the word is printed at the start of the bar!). This is not a trivial point, for it occurs, of course, at just about the most magical moment of the whole concerto and I do think that the long, grave, B flat from the strings is far more apt than the rather disturbing 'plonk' which emphasizes Beethoven's change from B to B flat in the wrong way.

The finale goes splendidly all through and I only don't like Fleisher's mannered playing of part of the main theme each time. I refer to the bars marked espressivo, which would appear to suggest something other than his jerky delivery of the right hand phrases. But this is a small point and there is no doubt that this is the sort of performance that will make you enjoy the music afresh, for the playing all through the concerto is both zestful and perceptive; Szell's contribution is an added source of pleasure—and the admirable engineering complements the players' artistry.

-- Gramophone [1/1966, reviewing the original LP release of the Emperor Concerto]

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The apologies invariably made for Beethoven's Triple Concerto seem to have an effect on performances. I have rarely, if ever, known one which did not in some respect carry an apology with it, and I have rarely, if ever, known one which treated the work in the strong bravura way which makes for success in the Emperor or violin concertos. But here is just such a performance, and it makes one glory in what Beethoven did achieve in the work.

The scale of the work as conceived by Stern, Rose and Istomin is quite different from that of the rival performances on record, however enjoyable. The precision and stylishness of Schneiderhan, Fournier and Anda on DGG make for an eighteenthcentury manner in the outer movements, particularly the first. Some may well continue to prefer it, and technically the balance with the orchestra is better than on the new CBS disc, but the newly roused echoes of other Beethoven concertos place the Stern/ Rose/Istomin performance in the right period. It is after all a produce of the Fidelio years, the years which also produced the Fourth Piano Concerto, the Violin Concerto and the Symphonies Nos. 4 to 6. It is possible to regard the formalism of the outer movements, their conscientious balance of thematic statements by each of the three soloists in turn, as a return to eighteenth-century practice, but the sheer size speaks rather of a really grand manner. And if the thematic material is more bald and less striking than that in other Beethoven concertos (at least in the first movement) there was a practical need with three soloists to keep ideas short.

In achieving a sense of size Stern, Rose and Istomin reveal their own stature in the relaxation of the playing. Lesser players would either screw up the tension or become ponderous, but these three over and over again convey the joy of their playing: the relaxed lilt of the second subject, Rose's natural warmth in the slow movement enunciation, the whole of the final Rondo Polacca. Not only has the main Polacca theme tremendous verve, the middle episode, when the `yatta-tah-ta-tah-ta' rhythm emerges on horn and lower woodwind, has a unique tang of East European music. Stern obviously takes the idea of a Polacca literally and exaggerates the first beat in each dactyllic phrase, giving a real bounce to the music, and he is matched by his colleagues.

Then the semiquaver allegro reprise of the main theme towards the end is taken very fast and very clear, the result extraordinarily exciting. You have only to compare the DGG performance, very fast too and excellent in its way, to realize why Stern's, Rose's and Istomin's playing is not merely vital but great. Equally exciting are the furious florid dialogues between violin and 'cello in the passage-work of first and last movements. All three soloists are masterly in varying the tension, in shaping towards climaxes, and Ormandy draws from the Philadelphia Orchestra yet another of his really full-blooded accompaniments. In relation to the soloists the orchestra may seem a little backward, but the salient tuttis burst out with great effect, to match the scale of the soloists' playing. The nearness of the soloists does of course make it hard for them to sound as though they are playing really softly, and initial sotto voce entries in the finale are too loud.

In my detailed comparisons I have occasionally found points in which rivals score over Stern, Rose and Istomin, and the other CBS version has Serkin in marvellous form actually dominating the performance from the least prominent solo part, the non-virtuoso piano role originally devised for the Archduke Rudolf. But no minor shortcomings can alter the positive merits of what could well come to be regarded as a classic record.

-- Gramophone [10/1965, reviewing the original LP release of the Triple Concerto]

BEETHOVEN: SYMPHONY NO 7, CORI

This is a hybrid Super Audio CD playable on both regular and Super Audio CD players.

Beethoven: Violin Sonatas was Kavakos's debut recording on Decca Classics and was released in January 2013. "The unrivaled elegance and beauty of Leonidas Kavakos's sound would be reason enough to embark with him on a traversal of the complete Beethoven sonatas for violin and piano, but it's the probing musicianship he and the excellent pianist Enrico Pace bring to it that make the ride so thrilling. The conversations, arguments and flirtations between violin and piano that Beethoven writes into these sonatas are all rendered with spirit and impeccable taste." (The New York Times) The Strad described the album as "a masterly set that combines Beethovenian ferocity and gentleness..." Sony is proud to once again present this monumental release to the public.

BEETHOVEN: SYMPHONIES NO 7 & 8

This is a DSD (Direct Stream Digital) recording

Beethoven: Piano Concerto No. 5, Op. 73 "Emperor" & Triple C

Richter Archives, Vol. 1: Beethoven Late Piano Sonatas (Live

When I was young, there were three pianists whom I always hoped to be able to hear in person, Rudolf Serkin, Vladimir Horowitz, and Arthur Rubenstein. I finally heard all three, Horowitz only once. These were, of course, the most high-profile pianists living in the United States in the post-WW II years, and all three had prominent recording contracts to keep their names available.

I don’t suppose I have heard these (1962–63) recordings for 30 or more years, and revisiting old pleasures can be a disappointing experience. My youthful enthusiasm anointed Serkin as the ultimate keeper of Beethoven’s flame and relegated Rubinstein to the category of a good show. Time and experience tempered these judgments, as they must, and hearing Rubinstein live several times certainly gave nuance to what a “good show” ought to be. I think what finally did it was letting myself hear Rubinstein’s astonishing sense of line and delicacy of touch, which drew rather than propelled us through even the well-known bars of the “Moonlight” Sonata. I have always admired the way his playing makes each note suggest there is an obvious following one that will appear in its due course. Above all, in his playing there is the sense of the sheer pleasure he takes in it. By this I do not mean he is self-indulgent or willful or careless. On the contrary. Though I recall him as a good showman and though there was the occasional fluff, I always had the sense that when he sat down at the piano, Beethoven came first.

The sonatas here are the “warhorses” of the repertoire, of course, and there is good reason for that: they are sturdy stuff. But how many actually play the triplets of the first movement of No. 14 “with a most delicate touch,” as Beethoven asks of the whole movement, and make them go somewhere? How many can? Rubinstein does so and uses that to create an urgency only released by the arrival of the tune in m. 10, a melody, in turn, urged toward its resolution in m. 22. What sets Rubinstein apart for me is that he does this not by driving us through the music but by drawing us along with it: this is not Bach à la Beethoven. This is not to say that Rubinstein is all delicacy: subtlety need not be understated, nor passion overplayed. There is fire enough when called for, as in the last movement of the “Moonlight” Sonata, for example. In 29/6, James Reel called this playing “poetic,” and we have need of such poetry today.

FANFARE: Alan Swanson Reviewing earlier release

GOULD PLAYS BEETHOVEN: 32 VARI

All of the positive attention and high praise that 26-year-old pianist Igor Levit has garnered in Europe is thoroughly justified by his Sony Classical debut release encompassing Beethoven’s last five sonatas. Levit’s affinity for the composer’s essentially linear style and intense expressivity borders on clairvoyance, if you’ll forgive the cliché. You notice this immediately in Op. 101’s first and third movements, where thoughtful voice leading and flexible lyricism mesh into a single entity. Impressive pianistic poise and thoughtful dynamic scaling give clarity and meaning to the Scherzo’s obsessive march rhythms and difficult register leaps as well as to the Fugue’s knotty textures.

Levit takes the “Hammerklavier” first-movement Allegro at a tempo close to the composer’s admittedly optimistic metronome marking, yet the music ebbs and flows with characterful assurance. The Scherzo also takes bracing wing; it features biting cross-rhythmic accents and a ferocious ascending F major scale from bottom to top. You might describe Levit’s masterful Adagio sostenuto as a fusion of Rudolf Serkin’s classical reserve and Claudio Arrau’s depth of tone and vocally oriented inflection. In the finale’s introductory Largo, Levit piles into the jazzy broken-chord accelerando with shattering abandon, and brings plenty of drama, dynamic contrast, and varied articulations to the fugue.

Following Op. 109’s eloquently shaped Vivace, Levit’s well sprung and sharply detailed second movement is one of the few on disc to make Beethoven’s detached and legato phrasings audible to the point where the music sounds faster than it actually is performed. Levit’s heartfelt, beautifully sung out, and assiduously unified third-movement variations easily measure up to the catalog’s finest versions. Op. 110 also stands out for Levit’s brilliant synthesis of personal poetry and scrupulous detail, while Op. 111 matches Mauruzio Pollini’s extraordinary exactitude (the first movement’s driving 16th-note sequences impeccably in place, the Arietta’s dotted rhythms’ spot-on accuracy and inner “swing”) with an extra hint of cantabile warmth. In short, this is Beethoven playing of the highest distinction, not to be missed.

-- Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

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This is a notable debut recording. Thanks to Igor Levit’s remarkably even touch and precise rhythmic control, the scores’ details, minutely realized, are fashioned into lucid, structurally sound interpretations. This isn’t a pianist trying to outdo others with speed, volume, or extreme interpretations, but a musician whose tasteful instincts produce Beethoven performances with purity of expression and a certain reserve.


Most striking is the gentle songfulness that Levit brings to lyrical movements, such as the brief Allegretto —an endless melody in four-part texture, singled out by more than a few people, Glenn Gould included, as their favorite movement in all of Beethoven’s sonatas—that opens the 28th Sonata, op. 101. In it, Levit succeeds at creating natural phrase divisions without breaking long lines, something that sounds easy when it’s done this well. (Anyone who has tried to play it knows how extremely difficult this is, and how disjointed the movement can sound.) The Sonata’s technically punishing second movement’s dotted rhythms and rests are perfectly executed at an unrushed tempo, and in the final movement, Levit’s comic timing and articulation rivals the very best versions of the Sonata, such as Richard Goode’s.


A generation ago, one often made allowances in performances of the “Hammerklavier,” except perhaps for Pollini, for broader than ideal tempos in the first movement to accommodate technical difficulties, or moments of stressful scrambling to get through the fugue. Judging by some recent recordings of the work—by the excellent Van Cliburn Competition medalist Sean Chen, Mari Kodama (see Jerry Dubins’s review in Fanfare 37:3), and now Igor Levit—there are clear signs that pianists’ technique in the 21st century has caught up with the Sonata’s demands. Levit’s Apollonian reading is more fluent and less heaven-storming than most. This is a young man’s “Hammerklavier,” and I wouldn’t be surprised if he were to infuse the first and third movements with more drama, through the taking of time, later in his life. He plays the first movement at 132 to the quarter in a tempo that sounds just right—Beethoven’s metronome marking, once considered impossible to realize, is 138— achieving a kind of ecstatic swing whose confident steadiness and occasional lightness doesn’t diminish the music’s profundity. The slow movement, taken exactly at Beethoven’s metronome marking of 92, is gentler than many performances, less grandly soul-searching, but serious and intimate.


In the last three sonatas, I find Levit even better than Paul Lewis, whose well-considered performances sound merely like good piano playing compared to the poised, unearthly effect—I’m thinking here of the final movements of Nos. 30 and 32, in particular—that Levit achieves with his finer technical control. The highlights here are, once again, the lyrical movements, though op. 109’s Presstissimo second movement goes like quicksilver, and op. 110’s Allegro molto is a suitably brusque interruption of the work’s otherwise exalted proceedings. In the final pages of op. 110—the triumphant return of a fugue that has been interrupted and turned around by a grief-stricken lament—I find Levit’s tempo too fast, its fluency too easily achieved. I prefer Mitsuko Uchida’s more measured realization of these tricky tempo relationships.


In the Maestoso introduction to the 32nd Sonata, op. 111, Levit’s strict dotted rhythms reveal the music’s kinship to a French overture and provide continuity, unlike Andrew Rangell’s, whose freer concept of the rhythm bogs the music down. Unlike Barenboim in his 1980s DG recording, Levit doesn’t make the slow Arietta a static dirge. His pacing allows the second movement’s sublime variations to unfold with great logic and inevitability. His interpretation of op. 111 is close to Richter’s (a 1975 performance) in its straightforward pacing, but Levit’s voicing doesn’t have Richter’s laser-like exaggeration of top lines. His right hand comes out as needed in all of these performances, but with an appealingly unforced sonority.


The Richter comparison came to mind as I watched Igor Levit on YouTube, not because the two pianists’ playing is particularly similar, but because of their shared Russian-German background, and Levit’s eclectic, rather austere repertoire choices. Both pianists’ quiet concentration conveys the sense that whatever they’re playing is of life-and-death importance, though the grim, aggressive aura that Richter sometimes projected isn’t part of Levit’s image. Levit’s videos of music by Hindemith, Reger, Beethoven (the Third Concerto), and the Bach-Brahms Chaconne arranged for left hand, show that the intensity and refinement of his Beethoven sonatas is no fluke.


Thanks are due to Sony for taking on a serious young pianist in repertoire of his choice, and providing him with sensitive engineering that showcases his full range of dynamics. There’s every indication that this recording introduces one of the 21st century’s important pianists.

FANFARE: Paul Orgel

This release combines a pair of Beethoven performances by conductor Leonard Bernstein, in his prime, with the New York Philharmonic; the Symphony No. 5 in C minor, Op. 67, was recorded in 1961, and the Symphony No. 7 in A major, Op. 92, in 1958. Both have been digitally remastered, and the earlier recording actually comes out a bit better; by 1961 Columbia's engineers had figured out how to use the backdrop of LP sound to accent orchestral strings, an effect difficult to reproduce on CD. Charismatic, gifted, and genre-crossing, Bernstein was on top of the American musical world during this period, and these recordings remained strong sellers for some years. Hearing them half a century on reminds listeners (or apprises them anew) of several things. The first is that the New York Philharmonic, though certainly more than competent, did not have a trademark strength like its chief competitors in Philadelphia, Cleveland, Chicago, and Boston. You hope for brilliance that is not there. But you're also reminded that Bernstein was a subtler conductor than he is sometimes given credit for being. His histrionic style on the podium belied a well-considered, detailed approach to these works, for which he was confronted by decades (or more) of established tradition. The Symphony No. 5 is broad rather than exceptionally violent, with a lovely free space for the oboe cadenza in the first movement; Bernstein has it expand beyond its structural significance into a moment of sudden and profound personal reflection in the midst of societal tumult. In the Symphony No. 7 Bernstein is deliberate and persistent in the first movement's slow introduction and never really turns up the voltage until the finale, which thus acquires its proper bacchanalian mood. As with other albums in this Sony reissue series, the CD version includes both photographic reproductions of the original artwork and booklet reprints of the jacket text, with added French and German translations.

-- James Manheim, AllMusic.com

Works For Flute And Piano

Eroica Variations, 32 Variatio

4 Piano Sonatas

Complete Works For Cello And P

Diabelli Variations, Variation

Beethoven: The Late String Quartets

BERLITZ PASSPORT - THE MUSIC O

BEETHOVEN: DIABELLI VARIATIONS

SCHUMANN: SYMPHONY NO. 3 RHENI

...This is vibrant and virile music making full of passionate sweep, arresting clarity, and genuine, chamber-like give and take between soloist and orchestra.

Like his teacher and mentor Artur Schnabel, Fleisher underlines Beethoven's harmonic tension by either distending or slightly speeding up certain runs and arpeggiated sequences, yet rarely at the expense of accuracy...although he's not one to slave over making every long trill perfectly even and tapered. Under George Szell's eagle-eye, the Cleveland Orchestra members achieve staggering unanimity in regard to articulation and marcato phrasing, but with more heart and singing impulse than in Szell's relatively stiffer Beethoven accompaniments for Emil Gilels eight years later...

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com [reviewing the Third Concerto, Sony 78767]

Giulini's desire is to give this music time to breathe and be heard, and he is absolutely the master of how best to bring that about.

In an age when any recording of Beethoven's Fifth is little more than a blip on an accountant's screen, it is salutary to be reminded that the symphony was once a germ in the creative mind. In the beginning there was the vision, and the work itself. After that came interpretation, and competition between interpretations, Edison and Berliner, and, finally, Beethoven's Fifth as 'product'. Giulini's recording of the Fifth, which ends with a piccolo singing high in the stratosphere as C major sounds majestically beneath, is not a performance in the histrionic (or historic) sense of the word. Rather, it is a meditation on the work's informing vision, what Goethe called "the Fall upwards", the transition from dark to light, the seeds of spiritual regeneration planted in the very ground of despair.

And that is not an elaborately periphrastic way of saying that the performance is a bit dull, that the old boy is not quite what he was. Giulini's desire is to give the music time to breathe and be heard. And he is absolutely the master of how best to bring that about. You hear this in the time he allots to the opening fermatas (and in the fineness of their sound, rich and unforced); you hear it in the slight 'lift' he imparts to the rhythm, the time they are given to dance; and you hear it in the steady, unflustered pulse of the whole.

The final two movements are treated as a seamless robe. Logically — since there is no repeat of the Scherzo's first half — Giulini omits the finale's exposition repeat. The music is thus allowed to move forward with a simple momentum of its own. Climaxes are finely judged, and rarely has the Scherzo's unexpected return within the finale seemed so fine an invention as it does here. ("An invention as inimitable as the beginning of Hamlet", as Basil Lam once described it.) There is lovely detailing of the inner parts, too. As ever with Giulini, the violas are well nursed, their launch of the finale's G major subject as eloquent as you will ever hear it. The symphony's slow movement, incidentally, is played as though it is first cousin to Schubert's Unfinished Symphony.

The coupling is shrewdly chosen since Beethoven wrote the Fourth Symphony, in part, to solve a crisis in the creation of the Fifth — the crisis of how best to effect that "Fall upwards" from C minor Scherzo to C major finale. (Interestingly, the Fifth precedes the Fourth on the disc, though if you wish to follow the actual compositional chronology you would need to bail out of the Fifth Symphony before the transition on the drum, play the Fourth Symphony and only then return to the Fifth. A somewhat eccentric procedure.)

Giulini has never previously recorded the Fourth Symphony, an odd omission since it is a symphony I would have thought him born to conduct. Coming to it thus late has its risks and I am not sure that Giulini has the work's measure at every point. The slow introduction, the slow movement, and the still points of the Allegro vivace's turning world are wonderfully well reimagined and realized. The word vivace, though, implies a slightly more spirited gait than Giulini allows. But if parts of the first movement seem a touch lumpy, the finale is a miracle of unforced motion, the La Scala playing relaxed, the mood gamesome as it invariably is when the conductor takes note of Beethoven's written instruction Allegro ma non troppo. (Klemperer was always very persuasive in this movement, Gardiner on his recent Archiv recording is ruinously quick.)

Sony's Milan recordings place the orchestra a shade distantly, giving a slightly veiled quality to the string tone, but since this is consonant with the sound Giulini draws from the orchestra it is hardly a matter of great concern. Along with the Pastoral Symphony (5/94) this must be the pick of the cycle to date.

-- Gramophone [11/1995]

Beethoven: Piano Trios, Opp. 97 & 11