Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

Classical Music

The Heritage of John Philip Sousa, Vol. 5

THE KING'S SINGERS THE KING'S SINGERS JOY TO THE WORLD

The Heritage of John Philip Sousa, Vol. 6

In his second solo piano recital disc for Signum, this release further demonstrates Alessio Bax's dazzling skill and flair in performance and interpretation - this time with Rachmaninov's piano works. The programme is centered around the Preludes op.23, but takes in a broad selection of his other studies, etudes, melodies and transcriptions - in performance, Bax describes the programme as being a collection of 'visions and landscapes'.

The Heritage of John Philip Sousa, Vol. 4

The Heritage of John Philip Sousa, Vol. 1

Gardens of Stone

MESSIAEN Visions de l’Amen. DEBUSSY En Blanc et noir • Ursula Oppens, Jerome Lowenthal (pn) • ÇEDILLE CDR 90000 119 (60:51)


In 1941, Olivier Messiaen was released from Görlitz prison camp, where he had been taken following the fall of France in the Second World War. Visions de l’Amen for two pianos was his first large work after this. The listener will search in vain for any shred of a reaction to the war in this music: Messiaen was inhabiting an intellectual and spiritual space far removed from the ravages of war. It was premiered in Paris in 1943 by the composer and his brilliant 19-year-old pupil, and eventual wife, Yvonne Loriod. Her part—taken by Ursula Oppens on the current disc—“has the rhythmic difficulties, the bunches of chords, everything concerned with speed, allure, and quality of sound”; his had “the principal melody, the thematic elements, everything demanding emotion and power.” So Messiaen wrote in the preface to the score.


Messiaen offers seven meditations on various theological subjects, somewhat tenuously linked by the idea of “Amens,” much as he was to do in his next great cycle, Vingt Regards sur l’Enfant Jésus , where another difficult-to-translate word, regard , is used to provide cohesion to the 20 meditations on the birth of Christ. In Visions de l’Amen , the first piece represents an act of creation—no less than the Creation of the Universe—while the last describes the final Consummation. The second and fifth illustrate the adoration of God by cosmic and celestial creatures; the third and sixth describe the suffering of Jesus and of humanity; the central fourth piece is about desire “in its highest spiritual sense,” as the composer put it.


A considerable degree of cohesion over these disparate pieces is achieved by the use of a single theme, the theme of Creation, in four sequences of chords. This provides the material for most of the seven movements. As he was to do with Vingt Regards , Messiaen allots the first movement to a statement of the theme. In this case, over 39 measures, it is played five times by Lowenthal while Oppens contributes metrically complex, bell-like music (“bells shivering in the Light,” as the composer put it). The opening, pianissimo , is wonderfully evocative. The low chords of Creation, deep inside the piano, are barely more than a cosmic growl, Oppens and Lowenthal drawing in the listener compellingly. This opening Amen of Creation is one long crescendo and the players sculpt the increasing dynamics with complete conviction so that the apparently abrupt cut-off is surprising, even on repeated listening.


Jerome Lowenthal observes in his CD notes that, on its first performance, Visions de l’Amen aroused immediate enthusiasm in some and annoyance in others, and it is in pieces like the fourth movement, Amen of Desire , that the possibly annoyed listener is tested the most. Messiaen has two themes of Desire, the first somewhat sweet, the second extraordinarily saccharine, if vigorous. Yet it is essential that we remember that Messiaen was completely sincere and unironic in this writing. It places a huge burden on the performers, who have to play with complete conviction if all parties are not to collapse in laughter. Paul Griffiths in his book Olivier Messiaen and the Music of Time describes this second theme as “[moving] through ever splashier paroxysms of cheapened harmony” and it is to their credit that Oppens and Lowenthal pull this movement off triumphantly.


If the first movement is a composed crescendo, the last, Amen of the Consummation , is a more or less continuous fortissimo . It is a tour de force in this recording: Lowenthal hammers out the Creation theme in the middle register while Oppens manages seemingly superhuman feats in the extreme upper and lower registers simultaneously, peal upon peal of bells pouring out. And, not content with starting this movement seemingly flat-out, both players are able to summon even more energy for the final measures, which are awe-inspiring.


Turning to the fine performance by Katia and Marielle Labèque on Erato, still sounding very good, it is clearly a recording one could live with very happily (as one has). However, the newcomer has the edge in terms of sheer weight of sound. That fuller sound picture emphasizes the intensity of Oppens’ and Lowenthal’s reading, which really takes no hostages. When the sustain pedal is finally released to cut off the huge reverberation of the final chords of the work, one realizes that the attention has been held for 46 minutes through the sheer conviction of all (composer and players) concerned.


Rather than provide more Messiaen, Cedille has opted for Debussy’s two-piano work En Blanc et noir (In White and Black). The link here is that Debussy wrote this music in the France of the First World War. If you’ll look in vain for references to war in Messiaen’s music, here there are a number of allusions, more or less elliptical, to it. The middle of three movements, Lent, Sombre , opens very somberly, and Oppens’ and Lowenthal’s performance brings out all the subsequent mercurial, shadowy shifts of mood and harmony. Their reading of En Blanc et noir is warmer than some—entirely to the advantage of the music—entirely clear and recommendable.


Ursula Oppens turns in a performance of the Messiaen whose “speed, allure, and quality of sound” are impeccable while providing a large amount of “emotion and power” as well, while Jerome Lowenthal is no less compelling in his performance. It’s a shame that Cedille provides only 10 seconds to recover from Visions de l’Amen before the Debussy breaks in, but this is a trivial cavil, faced with such a commanding and excellent disc.


FANFARE: Jeremy Marchant


What a great idea to pair two major 20th-century French two-piano works, both composed in wartime. More importantly, Ursula Oppens and Jerome Lowenthal prove an inspired pair, pianistically speaking. Throughout Visions de l'Amen's seven movements the pianists navigate the composer's tricky rhythms and frequently thick textural hurdles with impressive ensemble exactitude, uninhibited dynamism, and cogent organization of melodic and decorative elements. One good example of this can be found in the third movement, Amen de l'Agonie de Jésus, where, in the Bien modéré section, the second piano's fortissimo tune is perfectly contoured against the first piano's chords in the same register (left-hand forte, right-hand mezzo-forte). Similarly, the duo's long-lined animation and textural diversity in the seventh movement prevents the music from sounding long-winded and from bogging down.

Oppens commands the first piano part's big chords and wide leaps with the utmost solidity, definition, and rhythmic focus, and always knows when to dominate and pull back. Lowenthal has all of the good tunes (as well as the bad ones; I still cannot get through the second piano's sickly sweet fourth-movement solo without wincing), and he relishes accents more than certain of his discographical competitors. He also allows himself freedom in solo passages when expressively appropriate, such as in his ever-so-slight yet heart-quickening accelerandos under certain crescendos in the second movement.

In contrast to the lean and streamlined profile characterizing the Kontarsky brothers' reference recording of Debussy's En blanc et noir, Oppens and Lowenthal opt for full and generous sonorities, even when playing quietly. Although they seemingly employ as little sustain pedal as possible, a mellifluous yet strong legato quality emerges from massive chords, rapid bass-register rumblings, and fleeting flourishes. Who said you can't be impressionistic and clear at the same time? Save for slightly congested climaxes, the full-bodied engineering is excellent. Lowenthal's superb, highly informative annotations add further value to this desirable release.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

This recording of Mozart’s Mass in C minor features Harry Christophers in his role as Artistic Director and conductor of the Handel and Haydn Society - America’s oldest continuously performing orchestra and chorus. Mozart’s Mass in C minor needs little introduction - one of the best-known and most widely performed of the composer’s mass settings, it is generally considered to be one of his greatest works and, as such, is often referred to as the ‘Great Mass’. It is a remarkable union of musical vision and religious text and draws on Mozart’s skill for drama that made his operatic works such a phenomenal success.

Classical Music

Schumann: Symphonies Nos. 2 and 3

Neeme Järvi has been recording for Chandos for several decades now, especially with the Royal Scottish National Orchestra, with which he has made more than 100 CDs. Many of these recordings have received tremendous critical acclaim and include several Gramophone Award Winners.

This is his second Chandos recording with the Residentie Orchestra The Hague, of which he is chief conductor. The first, of Bruckner’s Fifth Symphony (CHSA5080) was released in April to excellent acclaim. Gramophone wrote: ‘Järvi is too good a musician not to take his players with him. Indeed the Dutch musicians display a certain daredevil nonchalance as they breeze their way through the epic 635-bar finale.’

Mahler’s Seventh Symphony is perhaps the least well known of all Mahler’s symphonies. Its five movements were written over a period of two years, 1904 – 05, and scored and revised in 1906. The symphony has no programme, but the two serenade movements were influenced by the German romanticism of the poetry of Eichendorff, and elements of the fairytale, the macabre, and the sentimental permeate these movements.

Even though the symphony is imbued with a richness of melody, and bold and original harmonies, it is perhaps the most enigmatic of all Mahler’s symphonies. It begins with a striking funeral march, which develops into a powerful allegro, though the music is at the same time full of ‘dream-like’ elements. These dream-like fantasy elements pervade the serenade movements, which are separated by an exciting central scherzo, and the symphony ends with a vigorously contrapuntal finale. Perhaps the symphony can be seen as a journey from darkness to light, from the B minor gloom of the beginning, to the blaze of C major at the end. The journey is fascinating and very rewarding.

Teresa Berganza is undoubtedly one of the greatest Spanish singers of the 20th century. She enchanted the audiences in the opera houses around the world. She was also an excellent singer with a wide repertoire of songs, even though she has become famous primarily through her operatic roles. Throughout her career, she would give recitals of song - especially the songs of her homeland. This is also reflected in the current program, recorded at the Schwetzingen Festival Songs of 1985. Her versatility as a singer can be heard in a full range of repertoire - German, Russian, French, Portuguese - and finally, with Ernesto Halffter a Spaniard. Teresa Berganza's voice spreads before the listener a rich palette of colors and emotions, always classy and bright.

The Amadeus Quartet was founded in 1947 in London, by three musicians and an Austrian, who had studied together in Vienna, and were later joined by the English cellist, Martin Lovett. Soon after their formation the ensemble won an international reputation and throughout the 70's became one of the most important chamber ensembles in the world. Today the Amadeus Quartet is still remembered for its sensitive and sonically beautiful interpretations of the classical and romantic repertoire. In addition to other works, one of the quartet's most frequently performed pieces was Schubert's famous "Death and the Maiden" - a composition that they delivered with an overwhelming impression. Even if contemporary music did not have a major place in the repertoire of the Amadeus quartet, they did perform and record the Second and Third String Quartets of Benjamin Britten.

REVIEW:

Though a little extreme around the edges, it is hard to resist this recording of the Amadeus Quartet's 1977 recital at the Schwetzinger Festspiele. The principal reason is Britten's Third String Quartet. Written in November 1975, with the Amadeus Quartet in mind, the Third Quartet was Britten's last work in the form, as well as his next-to-last work, and a spirit of leave-taking suffuses the score. The Amadeus prepared the work under the composer's guidance but gave the premiere in December 1976 in his absence; Britten had died two weeks earlier. This recording comes from five months later, and one can still feel the love and loss in the Amadeus' performances. With a ripe but bright tone and tight but supple ensemble, the Austrian-English quartet is a perfect fit for the work, and its interpretation is so deeply felt that it almost, but not quite, exceeds the boundaries of good taste. Like the hard-driven account of Schubert's Death and the Maiden Quartet, the ensemble's performance is not always entirely together, with some occasional intonation problems and a certain roughness of tone wholly unlike the group's smooth tone in its DG recordings. But so impassioned is the reading that it is all but irresistible. Hänssler Classics' live recording is likewise a bit extreme, but also vivid, immediate, and very, very present.

-- AllMusic.com (Jim Leonard)

Friedrich Gulda: Piano Recital (Schwetzinger Festspiele Edit

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This 6th volume gives attention to the less frequently performed musical works of the "Ballet russes". Over 70 minutes. (SWR Music)

REVIEW:

Hungarian virtuoso Géza Anda (1921-1976) opens a recital derived from radio broadcasts from SWR Stuttgart with Haydn’s perky F Major Sonata (17 April 1950), given a sparkling bravura rendition. Anda’s pearly play and deft touch make themselves felt in every concerted bar, and the runaway Presto finale might be a minor meteor. Schumann ever maintained Anda’s devotion, and he often programmed Symphonic Etudes, including the free interpolation of the five posthumous variations. The rendition included here (2 October 1951) includes two of the posthumous etudes, nos. 4 and 5, inserted after the sixth and eighth of the traditional studies. The first exploits sweeping arpeggios and glissandi techniques; the latter opens a jeweled music-box filled with nectar crystals. The serenity yields to the following Etude, a staccato study in syncopations that becomes quite frantic. Etude X, for want of a better term, has always struck me as “Brahmsian” for its double octaves. The agitato mysteries of Etude XI have rarely been so rarified in their mist contours, except perhaps from Cherkassky. The Etude XII finale, besides its obvious, heroic bravura, exudes the Innigkeit requisite...

The Ravel waltzes, in their sturdy percussion, date from 19 May 1951. Anda does not spare the fortissimos nor the pedal, moving to extremes in the first two waltzes, from aggression to erotic insinuation. The dance marked “Presque lent--dans un sentiment intime” has its perfect executor in Anda, which rivals the classically-chiseled entry by Robert Casadesus. Lithe and sensuously nimble, the last two waltzes--Moins vif et Epilogue--combine Vienna glitter and Schubert’s intimate suggestiveness in Ravel’s idiosyncratic kaleidoscopic panoply. Rolf Liebermann’s 1951 Sonata (2 October 1951) marks one of the few pieces Anda programmed that post-date World War II. His “modern” repertory ceased, for the most part, with the 1945 Third Concerto of Bartok. Liebermann (1910-1999) begins his nine-minute work with a toccata-style Vivace with periodic moments of pointillist staccati. The heart of the piece is the Andante espessivo, rather angular and reminiscent of Ravel, Gershwin, and modal Poulenc.

The second disc is devoted to the 1955 (May 21) recital at Ludwigsburg, a venue frequented by Anda’s esteemed colleague, Clara Haskil. Anda opens with the First Ballade of Chopin, a reading of balanced intensities, gothic and introspective at once. The music’s fierce Neapolitan harmonies and inner tumult manage to find a noble repose in the course of its poetic declamation mid-way, only to yield to the Dionysiac dramaturgy of its late pages with a passionate abandon that belies Anda’s repute for “objectivity.”

Anda recorded the Op. 25 set of Chopin Etudes for EMI, and he often featured the complete ensemble as a concert staple. He plays the A-flat Major for its serene beauty, and thus sets the tone for the remainder, to be played in the classic style of Backhaus, for poetry and strength of form.

The Brahms E-flat Major intermezzo, a simple, nostalgic folk song evocation, makes the perfect commentary to all of the “learned” counterpoint of this evening’s colossal recital at Ludwigsburg, where the spirit of colleague Clara Haskil must have lingered nigh.

-- Audiophile Edition

REVIEW:

Since the demise of The City Musick some 16 years ago, Chicago has been without a period-instrument orchestra. Plenty of smaller chamber groups have been trying to fill the void, but it’s not quite the same as having a full-sized period orchestra that can tackle the larger works. Many metropolitan areas in North America can boast of having a Baroque orchestra—San Francisco, Boston, New York, Seattle, Cleveland, Toronto, Montreal. For a great city like Chicago to go without is unthinkable. The formation of the Baroque Band in 2007 was therefore something of an event and grounds for celebration. That this took place on the cusp of a severe economic downturn is even more remarkable. The present CD is the group’s debut recording, and shows it to consist of a nicely rounded 5-4-3-2-1 plus harpsichord, a healthy size by any standard. My thanks to Jim Ginsberg and his enterprising Cedille label for affording us non-Chicagoans the chance to examine the group for the first time. 

In the press release to the CD, Baroque violinist and founder Gary Clarke speculates that this may be the first time the six suites of Biber’s Mensa sonora have been recorded using full orchestra, and he may be right. My past favorite, and the Baroque Band’s chief competition, is the version by Musica Antiqua Köln and Reinhard Goebel (Archiv 423701, nla). Naturally, one cannot expect the same sort of individualistic chamber-music approach from an orchestral performance, but within the context of a larger group, the Baroque Band plays with admirable style and precision. A minor quibble has to do with the omnipresent and very prominent harpsichord continuo. Well played as it is by David Schrader, the occasional inclusion of a theorbo or chamber organ would have provided some much-needed variety.

The featured work is the famous Battalia à 10 (subtitled “for violin, strings, and basso continuo in D Major” in the booklet), and its history on record is traceable to the classic premiere recording by Concentus Musicus from 1966. That LP, which contained several other works of Biber as well as music of Muffat, was rereleased on CD in the early ’90s as part of the Collectio Argentea series (Archiv 437081, nla). It’s fascinating to compare the two period-instrument performance styles of 1966 and 2010. Back then, violinist Alice Harnoncourt played with a very sweet, vibrato-y sound, but also with great authority and presence. Here, Gary Clarke is equally authoritative, but his sound is straighter and ultimately more apropos than Harnoncourt’s. Compared to the ultra-polished but somewhat laid-back Concentus Musicus, the Baroque Band is a well-drilled regiment, clearly in command of the music. It plays with greater energy and really digs into the Bartók pizzicati in “Die Schlacht.” The players ham it up delightfully in the Lamento movement, a perfect depiction of a bunch of drunken soldiers. The “fife and drum” movement is memorable—for once, the parchment-wrapped double bass really sounds like a drum. Of the several versions that have appeared over the years, including MAK’s, the Baroque Band’s is the most successful in capturing the spirit of this unusual and innovative music.

My main complaint about the CD is that there isn’t enough of it! A timing of 56 minutes is pretty skimpy these days—it would have been easy to add another couple of works by Biber, the Pauern Kirchenfahrt , perhaps, or the Sonata representativa . The recorded sound is first-rate, and Gary Clarke’s notes afford a good introduction to the music. An excellent, urgently recommended debut disc.


FANFARE: Christopher Brodersen


Biber's Mensa Sonora ("Sonorous Table") doesn't get as much play as some of his more virtuosic violin works, but it contains splendid music nonetheless. By any standard this is an excellent performance for a period-instrument group, largely because director Garry Clarke made the smart decision to use a larger-size ensemble rather than having the music played one to a part. In his booklet notes Clarke offers all kinds of ridiculous "historical" reasons supporting this decision, and it's sad that today it is unacceptable for period-instrument performers to offer the one reason that we know would have been as valid in the composer's own time as it is in ours: the music sounds better this way.

Mensa Sonora consists of six parts (called "Pars" appropriately enough), each containing from five to seven brief movements. These range from delicate arias and sarabandes to the vigorous and rhythmically inventive second Balletto from Pars II, and including a couple of imposing Chaconnes (in Pars III and VI). A larger ensemble gives more weight and sonority (that's "Sonora", right?) to the big moments, and a richer but still intimate sound to the lighter ones. Sure, there's the usual minimization of vibrato, which is wrong, but with multiple players it matters less than usual, and to his credit Clarke permits them none of that whiny squeezing of notes that so many period ensembles deploy to the point of mannerism in lyrical passages.

The Battalia makes a substantial bonus. Clarke and his company really play up the battle scene, and the drunken soldiers make a jolly cacophony. Only the final lament of the dying doesn't quite work--it seems to me that it should be simply touching and played more or less straight, without the lachrymose chromaticism exaggerated quite so much. Of course, this is very much a matter of taste. As usual with this label, the engineering is superbly natural and well-balanced. A fine disc that all fans of Baroque music will want to consider.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com