A New York Times 25 Best Classical Track Selection for 2019

Susan Narucki has worked closely with Kurtág on the interpretation of these songs, and her readings may be regarded as definitive.

American soprano and Latin Grammy-nominee Susan Narucki, one of today’s most committed advocates of the music of our time, has a deep and lasting working relationship with Hungarian composer Gyorgy Kurtag which dates back to 1986. Susan’s luminous tone and distinctive artistry and Kurtag’s idiosyncratic fusion of poetry and music come together in this quintessential recorded collection of some of the composer’s most iconoclastic vocal works. In Susan’s words, “I have spent much of my life immersed in this repertoire, and it has become essential to the way I understand music; it is the heart of my practice as a musician.” Equally appreciative, Kurtag acknowledges Susan, “who sang so warmly, purely, so ‘integer’ these songs- with thanks and love.”

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REVIEWS:

Susan Narucki has worked closely with Kurtág, in Hungary, on the interpretation of these songs, and her readings may be regarded as definitive. She puts across how Kurtág's songs, more than embodying a relationship between text and music, constitute a heroic attempt to weld the two, through the use of extremely detailed instructions in the score, into a single unit. Small though they are, they may be regarded as virtuoso works. Recommended, although not to everyone's taste.

– All Music Guide (James Mannheim)

These seven songs, a highlight in this album of Kurtag’s vocal works, pass in just over nine minutes: dark little pools of fervor, articulated by Ms. Narucki with precision and tenderness and accompanied by just the percussive cimbalom, played here with richly pianistic resonance by Nicholas Tolle.

– New York Times (Zachary Woolfe)

This release is a new volume of the series "Great violins." Each volume of this series traces the life of a famous string instrument: its history, photographs and recorded sound through the years and the artists who have owned it. The publication includes a panoramic view of the instrument with detailed color pictures, and a full-size poster, as well as a recent digital recording to appreciate fully its current tone-color qualities. The Stradivari violin featured here is the marvelous "Marechal Berthier 1716", owned by Napoleon Bonaparte who gave it to Alexandre Berthier, Marshal of France and Prince of Neuchatel and Wagram. Pavel Berman is the chosen artist that is heard on this release as he performs works by Bach, Beethoven, Paganini, Brahms, Ysaye, and De Sarasate.

As this new album A Dance and a Hop makes clear, jazz cornet player Josh Berman's music has grown by leaps and bounds (or hops). It's only his third as leader-the first two, also on Delmark, were Old Idea (2009) and There Now (2012). Berman is accompanied by label mates Jason Roebke, bass and Frank Rosaly, drums. Berman points out that the eleven original tunes "are directly related to content that I play on cornet; I rarely write without it. I am very interested in the way Jason plays the bass and Frank plays the drums, and how the tunes live without space being filled by reeds, vibraphone, other voices. I think I wanted to hear what 'my idea' sounds like without everything else."

Nobody could call Scriabin a fussy man. All he asks of a pianist who would traverse his early sonatas is that he manage to be as sounding brass (Sonata No. 1), to walk on water (No. 2), to burn and be not consumed (No. 3), to fly (No. 4), and to dematerialize (No. 5). In that order. Oh yes, and stretch a twelfth.

Boris Berman, of Yale University by way of Moscow and Tel Aviv, is ready for this or any decathalon. Born and raised in the one country where Scriabin is as securely ensconced in the Pantheon as Bach or Beethoven, he believes in the music the way Sofronitsky did, the way Horowitz did, the way you will after you've heard him play. I must say his performances of the First and Second Sonatas were revelations to me. These are the sonatas one only encounters in integral recordings, and the other complete Scriabins I've heard (Szidon, Ponti) have not been satisfactory. In Berman's hands the first movement of the First, composed by a twenty-year-old just out of the Conservatory, is one of the great Scriabin experiences. It may be as yet conventional in form and only vaguely suggestive in its harmony of the composer's mature idiom. But it already has his inimitable rhythmic fluidity (yes, literally inimitable; God knows Stravinsky and Prokofiev tried) and his unique command of three- and four-handed pianistic textures. Berman sprouts as many hands as are required, and he has an ability to phrase in long periods—plus the pedal technique to support it—that keeps the music airborne despite its sequential construction. He also has his teacher Lev Oborin's famous way with inner voices; how many pianists could bring out the tenor in the chorale section of the funeral-march finale within an overall marking, scrupulously observed, of pppp?

When, beginning with Sonata No. 3, Berman hits the big-time competition, he more than holds his own. He knows the idiom to the extent that his eighth-note triplets are regularly distended, as Scriabin played them, with a hesitation on the second note and a correspondingly shorter third. His tempos are brisk and flexible, his touch remarkably like Scriabin's own, to the extent that we may judge it from the composer's Vorsetzer rolls and from verbal descriptions (e.g., that of Alexander Pasternak, the poet's brother: “I . . . had the impression that his fingers were producing the sound without touching the keys; his enemies liked to say it was not real piano playing, but a twittering of birds or a mewing of kittens“). This mercurial lightness is really indispensable in the Fourth Sonata, not only in the Prestissimo volando, but also toward the end of the Andante, where the right hand must caress a steady stream of high repeated chords while the left hand sings the tune. You will indeed have the impression that Berman's fingers are not touching the keys. When that main theme of the Andante comes back riding the crest of the Prestissimo in what James Baker (in truly excellent program notes) calls the first of Scriabin's many thematic apotheoses, Berman's effortless tone production is suitably glorious.

In fact, nowhere in this set is there the slightest sense of sweat or strain, even in the Fifth Sonata, so full of explicitly erotic gestures. (Yes, Scriabin appeals to forces mystérieuses, but we know very well what they are.) It's a very playful, aristocratic sort of ecstasy Scriabin summons up, the kind reflected in the Kama Sutra, far, oh very far from 42nd Street. Berman has the cosmic skittishness it takes to make what is often such a heavy harangue a tickly, spritzy delight. Porno-phony, perhaps, but definitely soft-core.

Volume 2, expected shortly, will require the pianist to cast spells, be like the sun, worship the devil, and ultimately become an insect. Can't wait.

-- Richard Taruskin, FANFARE [5/1990]

When the first volume of sonatas turned up (Music and Arts CD-605, Fanfare 13:5), Richard Taruskin wrote of Berman that, “Born and raised in the one country where Scriabin is as securely ensconced in the Pantheon as Bach or Beethoven, he believes in the music the way Sofronitsky did, the way Horowitz did, the way you will after you've heard him. ...“ Indeed, in the complete traversal sweeps—Ponti, Laredo, Taub—Berman's most consistent competition comes from Ashkenazy (London 425 579-2, two silver discs), who, needless to say, shares Berman's distinctions. In fact, heard after other pianists, Berman and Ashkenazy seem remarkably at one in their view of Scriabin and in their effortless projection of it—even their timings are often identical ! Within this basic similarity, however, one may say that Berman favors a voluptuously febrile approach, couched in veiled, bass-rich, pedal-held sound (abetted by a lushly resonant acoustic), while Ashkenazy opts for an almost crystalline (though seldom dry) clarity, crisper articulation, and brighter color. In the later sonatas, with their incantatory repetitions flaring into great washes of sonority, Ashkenazy's larger, more pointed climaxes bring these hallucinatory soundscapes into sharper focus, though Berman s accarezzevole touch and cumulative power awaken the music's daimonic eroticism with an hypnotic sureness scanted in Ashkenazy's patrician brilliance.

Both are high-voltage players, though neither quite matches Horowitz for sheer nervous energy, sinister intimations, trembling-on-the-verge spellbinding, eruptive grandeur, or overall éclat— though we are close: if Horowitz overwhelms, Ashkenazy compels, while Berman seduces. It is only fair to add that Ashkenazy recorded his cycle over a period of years, going back to 1975, where Berman committed his to the microphone in a matter of days—a staggering achievement. As noted, Music and Arts's aural perspective, while immediate and detailed, favors the bass. James E. Baker's extensive notes are a decided bonus, though his placement of Scriabin in the cultural history of his time and place will probably amount to obscurum per obscurius for most readers, to whom the likes of Solovyov, Balmont, lvanov, Baltrushaitis, Gippius, et al., are unlikely to be even superficially as familiar as the also named Nietzsche, Rudolf Steiner, and Madame Blavatsky. Hearing the sonatas together is one of music's great adventures, and Berman, aside from being an astounding pianist, is also gifted with that touch of the psychopomp which enables him to convey us unerringly to the heart of Scriabin's mystery. Enthusiastically recommended.

-- Adrian Corleonis, FANFARE [9/1991]

There Now is a collection of jazz hybrids: both new compositions and arrangements of early jazz standards. The Gang is concerned equally with the great musical legacies of Louis Armstrong, Pee Wee Russell, Derek Bailey, and the Art Ensemble of Chicago. It's the kind of exploration that can only come from musicians that are native speakers of three languages: jazz, free jazz and free improvisation. Josh Berman, cornet; Jeb Bishop, trombone: Guillermo Gregorio, clarinet; Jason Stein, bass clarinet; Keefe Jackson, tenor saxophone; Jason Adasiewicz, vibraphone; Joshua Abrams, bass and Frank Rosaly, drums. Also available: Old Ideas (DMK 588).

For a decade jazz cornet player Josh Berman has been a mainstay of the post-Vandermark generation of Chicago improvisers, a wide circle of ambitious musicians who meet up in varied ad hoc or fixed settings: A circle including all the players in Josh's group Old Idea. He's already recorded some as part of a quartet on Chicago-Luzern Exchange alongside tenor saxophonist Keefe Jackson, with Jackson's big and small bands Project Project and Fast Citizens, with Jason Adasiewicz's quintet Rolldown and Rob Mazurek's Exploding Star Orchestra. Old Idea is Josh's debut CD as leader. With Keefe Jackson - tenor sax; Jason Adasiewicz - vibes; Anton Hatwich - bass; Nori Tanaka - drums.

American music is culturally diverse and exciting, mirroring all the best America has to offer. The last two centuries have seen an extraordinary flowering of musical life in the United States. In recognition of the many gifted American men and women of music, Naxos is pleased to present the American Classic Series.

When complete, this series will consist of over 200 titles, exploring the full spectrum of American concert music. All the familiar names are there: Copland, Ives, Grofé, Barber, and Sousa but so are many others such as: Bennett, Dédé, Foote, McKay, and Siegmeister all of whom have contributed to the rich musical tapestry that is American.

All of us at Naxos invite you to journey with us as we set out to discover America.


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