SCHUMAN Symphonies: No. 3; No. 5. Judith • Gerard Schwarz, cond; Seattle S • NAXOS 8.559317 (67:45)


In the early days of the LP, reviewing was a snap. The Schwann Catalog was the size of a pamphlet, a reviewer therefore had a pretty easy time assessing all that was out there, and in harmony with the Consumer Reports function of a magazine like Fanfare , could easily make his or her case for the best possible (implying definitive) recording of this or that work. Now it’s a whole different universe, with firms like Naxos attempting to record the entire and ever-expanding world’s worth of music—possibly even music not yet composed. To continue my reviewer’s lament for a moment: those of us who review only recordings work at a disadvantage. Critics who deal with live concerts know that a performance is merely a single event in an ever-evolving landscape. On the other hand, those of us who basically deal with recordings often fall into the trap of regarding their first-acquired recording of a particular work as a legitimate template. A live concert is a fleeting affair; a recording will be listened to over and over again until the gray matter of the auditor’s brain is thoroughly grooved and ossified. Add to this that my first exposure to the symphonies of William Schuman were from Leonard Bernstein’s 1960s landmark LP of Schuman’s Third and Fifth Symphonies, which inspired me to acquire his subsequent 1985 recording of Schuman’s Third Symphony paired with Harris’s Third Symphony on DG (similarly impressive, and captured in more impactful sound), one can easily understand my initial reaction when I found this Naxos release in my mailbox: “Why is Schwarz even bothering?”


Listening to this offering, my first reaction was to focus on what Schwarz missed—the snare drum rim shots at the end of the finale were not loud enough and the overlaying brass and woodwinds didn’t provide enough crescendo; his wind solos in the second movement were not as well characterized as Bernstein’s in both his recordings; his opening of the first movement was not nearly as bard-like as Bernstein’s, etc. etc. A good deal of this has to do with recording technology. That earliest 1960 Columbia Masterworks Bernstein offering was, by modern standards, dynamically compressed, making the score’s pianissimos louder, and leading to a more effectively detailed registration of the symphony’s opening bars. In the realm of recorded music, if it’s louder, it’s de facto more impressive. In Bernstein’s subsequent DG go around, the dynamics were more realistic and the resulting sound is closer to Schwarz’s. Nonetheless, Schwarz’s opening still sounds comparably weak and undercharacterized. But what follows does not.


Schwarz takes the symphony’s structure more literally than Bernstein. Its two movements are given Baroque sub designations—Passacaglia and Fugue; Chorale and Toccata. Schwarz is Baroqueishly strict in terms of tempo, and revealingly evenhanded in his instrumental balances; Bernstein is more episodic, projecting the Amerikanisch hymnody underlying so much of Schuman’s thought.


In sum, Bernstein’s two recordings are indeed hard acts to follow, but Schwarz does so with distinction. He achieves, throughout, stunning brass balances. He infuses the music with a wonderfully heady forward momentum, and his more modern recording conveys the loud low percussion with lease-breaking power. Over the years of his tenure as music director of the Seattle Symphony, Schwarz (himself a trumpet virtuoso, which accounts for his expertise in conducting his brass) has forged a fine ensemble able to rise to any and all musical demands.


In Schuman’s “Symphony for Strings,” also designated as the Fifth Symphony, Schwarz again comes head to head with Bernstein. In this piece Schuman proves that he can fugue with the best of them. Bernstein’s 1966 Columbia Masterworks (now Sony) recording is a typically in-your-face effort—viscerally exciting indeed. Here, Schwarz’s recording is more realistically balanced. When all is said and done, Bernstein emerges as the winner. His recording conveys more internal detail than is found here. That aside, Schwarz’s offering, in terms of tempos, is almost identical to Bernstein’s. Here the palm, alas, goes to Bernstein, but Schwarz’s effort is a commendable reading of the score.


The ringer is the last piece— Judith, a choreographic poem for orchestra—commissioned in 1949 by the Louisville Orchestra, which asked Martha Graham to create a ballet dealing with the beautiful Jewish widow who liberated her people from Nebuchadnezzar’s army by seducing and killing its general, Holofernes. The result was a typically Technicolor score from Schuman. Here it is realized most vividly.


As to which recording will I go to when I want to hear Schuman’s Third Symphony—well, it’s a toss up, and that says a lot.


FANFARE: William Zagorski

Ned Rorem describes this performance of his Double Concerto for Violin and Cello as "perfect", so it would be presumptuous to challenge his opinion of it technically. Certainly the playing of Jaime Laredo and Sharon Robinson is excellent, as is that of the IRIS Orchestra under Michael Stern. Like some of Rorem's other concertante works, this takes the form of a series of short movements, eight in all, save that one of them (Conversation at Midnight) isn't so short, lasting for nearly a quarter of an hour, or about half the concerto's total time. The two soloists offer admirably focused playing here, with a real feeling of dialog both between themselves and with the orchestra. The scoring is Spartan--strings, eight woodwinds, and four brass--but there's no lack of color or incident. In short, this is a lovely addition to the string concerto repertoire, and a terrific piece for chamber orchestras to consider programming.

What keeps this disc from getting the highest rating is an admittedly personal issue, one that you may not share. After Reading Shakespeare, a suite for solo cello, was also written for Sharon Robinson, and it is very sympathetically performed (listen, for example, to how vividly she characterizes "Titania and Oberon"). Nevertheless, the pairing of an orchestral piece with this most chamber-like of chamber compositions strikes me as unconvincing, coming as it does after the concerto. In his notes Rorem emphasizes the fact that the movement titles of this piece should not be taken literally, the music having preceded some of them. If so, then why use them at all? And why suggest as opening and closing movements such weighty subjects as "Lear" and "Othello and Iago"? They really beg the question of whether or not Rorem's inspiration is up to Shakespeare's, and we don't want to go there, do we? There are times when composers might do better to resist the temptation to offer verbal clues, even if they are perfectly valid ones. Still and all, the music and performances themselves are self-recommending to the composer's many admirers, and on that basis I can recommend this fine new release without further qualification.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The two works on this disc date from the early to mid 1920s and very much belong to the "new objectivity" of composers such as Weill and early Hindemith. Indeed, when listening to the Cello Concerto, the latter's Kammermusik series comes readily to mind. The Dance Suite, inventively scored for flute, clarinet, violins, viola, double bass, and percussion, is quite a substantial piece as well, lasting nearly half an hour and featuring a typically manic, highly stylized take on theoretically popular music. Both works are extremely acerbic harmonically, often verging on atonality, but at the same time quite recognizably melodic and often shot through with a curiously haunting, bittersweet lyricism.


In short, these works are very much redolent of their time and place, and if the period or the idiom interests you, then so will these very polished and well recorded performances. There's really nothing more that needs to be said: the players are uniformly fine, with cellist Christian Poltéra making the concerto sound as close to effortless as it probably ever can. The music may be gnarly, but it's also highly virtuosic and often fun (particularly in the Dance Suite), and this latter quality comes through quite effectively. In sum, this is a fine disc, but one for specialized tastes.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Although it's played and recorded frequently, there is a genuine difference between a decent performance of Rodeo and a really excellent one such as we have here. This difference can be summed up in two words: rhythm and tempo. When it comes to rhythm, it's not merely a question of hitting the syncopations in the opening movement and concluding Hoedown, but of being both accurate and relaxed enough to let the music swing. This is a quality that Bernstein's performances always had, and JoAnn Falletta understands it too. This gives the music both the necessary verve in the outer sections and real balletic grace in the two inner ones, reminding us that we are, after all, hearing a story told through physical movement.


When it comes to tempo, the issue is at once simpler and less impressionistic. In Buckaroo Holiday, speeds have to be quick enough to prevent the music from breaking up into discrete, detached bits. Once again, Falletta & Co. come through with flying colors. The music never sounds mechanical, disconnected, or excessively "Stravinskian". Copland disliked excessive sentimentality, but his music is never dry (the rich, warm, but clear sonics also help in this department). And what turns out to be a successful recipe for Rodeo works just as well in all of the other pieces here. Prairie Journal (a.k.a. Music for Radio) is one of the least known of Copland's "Westerns", but it's every bit as enjoyable as the three great ballets, and this is as fine a performance as you will hear anywhere. Letter from Home is an exercise in nostalgia that never turns overly sweet.


Best of all, perhaps, is The Red Pony, one of the great film scores of all time, and a glorious work that for some reason seldom gets played live. Copland's invention is of exceptionally high quality throughout, and once again you can hear from the unusual freshness of the opening bars how effortlessly Falletta and the Buffalo players get into the spirit of the music. There are so many delightful moments, from the raucous Circus Music to the unforgettable Walk to the Bunkhouse, a piece that has become the very essence of musical Americana. Finally, it's great to see one of the very popular pieces, like Rodeo, coupled with some less ubiquitous examples of Copland's genius. A wonderful disc! [10/20/2006]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

CASCARINO Pygmalion. Portrait of Galatea. Blades of Grass. 1 Prospice. Meditation and Elegy. The Acadian Land • JoAnn Falletta, cond; Geoffrey Deemer (Eh); Philadelphia Philharmonia • NAXOS 8.559266 (76:02)


Here we go again. A good man spends his life writing music for the love of it, putting bread on the table by teaching harmony and counterpoint at a small local institution. During his lifetime, he gets a few performances, writes a bassoon sonata that’s a modest hit among bassoonists, and then spends 25 years writing an opera, which gets two performances. The good man dies at 80, unknown outside of local musical circles. A few years after his death, his music is finally recorded.


Romeo Cascarino was a fine but almost completely unknown midcentury American composer in the great Copland-Barber-Bernstein tradition who wrote delicious music obviously meant to be enjoyed rather than edified. His inspirations may be a little musty (Greek mythology, 19th-century romantic poetry) but they provide ample raw material for rich music that runs the emotional gamut from, say, C to V. (The wildest extremes are absent from his gracious music.) He’s not Beethoven, but by not trying to be profound, he manages to avoid writing the kind of pedantic, grey music that makes the music of many midcentury Americans more dutiful than beautiful. The music on this CD is beautiful from beginning to end, some of it exceptionally so. Its clarity, wit, and unabashed lyricism put me in mind of Francis Poulenc, although the sound is more 1950s Leonard Bernstein (including the more symphonic theater music), with a splash of the more overt populism of some Copland or, say, Morton Gould. Some of it is so tasty I found myself listening to it two or three times in one sitting.


Tom DiNardo’s brisk, informative notes include a rather concise biography of Cascarino in which even the high points are modest. Born in Philadelphia (in the venerable Italian community of “South Philly”), he was an autodidact. At 17, he “was invited to Tanglewood after Aaron Copland looked at some of his early works.” (Just looked at? This is where the standard issue composer bio says “was impressed by.”) In 1945, while still in the army, he won a prize in the George Gershwin Memorial Contest. (I assume that had it been first prize, it would have been so mentioned.) This was a small contest sponsored by two Jewish organizations, although later winners included Peter Mennin and Harold Shapero. A 1947 Bassoon Sonata for (hometown) Philadelphia Orchestra bassoonist Sol Schoenbach once circulated on a Columbia recording, and he received two Guggenheim Fellowships. He refused commercial music work, and remained loyal to a low-paying local college despite having better offers. His first orchestral score, the ballet Prospice —which, along with everything else on this CD except for Pygmalion , is recorded here for the first time—was only ever performed in a two-piano arrangement. The later Pygmalion was “intended” for a ballet, with a libretto that “would appeal to a choreographer like Anthony Tudor, whom [Cascarino] greatly admired.” This reads like a composer whose dreams exceeded his grasp. Cascarino was evidently not naive about this, however; as DiNardo points out, Cascarino described himself as “an idealist, which for me is a realist who’s learned what to live for.” But the whole story seems rather sad.


Well, happily both pieces are much, much better works than their performance history intimates. Why any conductor who saw this appealing, lively, vividly drawn, and wonderfully scored music would not want to perform it is beyond me. Pygmalion is, indeed, the pick of the litter, as its prior recording suggests, although it appears to have been an extremely modest recording from the 1950s or 1960s, based on a fuzzy photo of its cover that I found somewhere in the musty corners of the Internet. No performers were indicated. The rich harmony, tidy orchestration, and stateliness of this music remind me of a John Ireland work. Portrait of Galatea is intended to be more impressionistic, and it is more loosely constructed and not as memorable. Prospice is based on a stiffly proud Browning poem, and is appropriately inspirational.


Cascarino was also commissioned by what DiNardo terms the “Benjamin Tranquil Music Project” which elsewhere is termed the Benjamin Award for Tranquil Music. In either version, it sounds like a parody, but the resulting work, The Acadian Land (based on Longfellow) is, for me, the other high point of this CD. It holds up well after many playings.


Alas, there’s nothing from Cascarino’s magnum opus , the opera William Penn, based on the life of the Quaker statesman who established Pennsylvania and founded Philadelphia. Cascarino worked on this from 1950 until 1975, and it was finally staged for two performances at the venerable Academy of Music, thanks in no small part to the efforts of Tom DiNardo (who doesn’t credit himself in his booklet notes). Evidently, this CD, too, owes its existence in part to DiNardo’s efforts. (Listed as executive producer, he’s also the music critic for Philly’s “second” newspaper, which doesn’t give him as much space as he deserves.)


This CD makes me want to hear more of Cascarino’s music. According to DiNardo, the composer’s output is small. His dates are 1922–2002, but the music on this CD is mainly for orchestra or chamber orchestra, and spans the years 1945–1960. (The Meditation and Elegy was written for piano in his teens and transcribed for string orchestra in 2000 by one of his pupils.) Did he write any other orchestral music after 1960, or did the opera take up all his energy? Did he write anything after completing the opera in 1975? Is there any chamber music besides the Bassoon Sonata? I wish the booklet notes provided more information. And there’s no further information online. I guess I’ll just have to check out Cascarino’s childhood haunt (and mine), the music division of the Free Library of Philadelphia, whose Fleisher Collection is the world’s largest orchestral lending library and holds Cascarino’s scores. Regional orchestra conductors: hint hint.


It remains only to praise enterprising conductor JoAnn Falletta for shaping immaculate performances. The orchestra of record is the “Philadelphia Philharmonia” which, as a lifelong Philadelphian, I’d never heard of until I read the note in the booklet that reveals its secret identity as the Chamber Orchestra of Philadelphia, a venerable local organization not to be confused with the Philadelphia Virtuosi Chamber Orchestra (which also has done a couple of CDs for Naxos) or the late Philadelphia Chamber Symphony (which did some lovely LPs for RCA in the 1960s). Even though it’s a major part of Philadelphia’s musical life, the COP has evidently never recorded under its own name. Why they didn’t take credit for this CD is beyond me. Except for a couple of minor trumpet slips, the playing is quite fine. The recorded sound is decent, with good orchestral balances. And thank you to Naxos for making it possible for this lovely music to be heard by millions worldwide, even if the composer didn’t live to see it happen.


FANFARE: Eric J. Bruskin

This is an enticing program, particularly for the two Franz Waxman items, which will have fans of the composer delighted. The great film composer's arrangement of Enescu's Romanian Rhapsody No. 1 manages to squeeze bits of every tune in the original work's concluding quick section into just two-and-a-half minutes of violin and orchestra fireworks. Even more interesting is the Tristan and Isolde Fantasia for violin, piano, and orchestra--wonderfully lush and decadent, and proving once again that Isolde's Liebestod sounds much better without Isolde.

John Corigliano's Chaconne from The Red Violin is a splendid piece, and it makes an excellent foil to the Adams, which also features a chaconne as its central movement. The performances are quite good, but the competition is fierce: from Joshua Bell in the Corigliano, and from both Gidon Kremer (Nonesuch) and Robert McDuffie (Telarc) in the Adams. Chloë Hanslip isn't quite in their league. She's an estimable player, but her slender tone gets swamped now and then in the Waxman pieces, and she doesn't project the mysteriously lyrical opening movement of the Adams with as strong a profile as the competition (particularly at this relatively slow tempo).

Certainly I have no complaints about Slatkin's conducting, or regarding the well-balanced engineering. In the final analysis, although you can perhaps do a bit better in the Corigliano and Adams items, the value of this disc lies in bringing all of these varied and enjoyable works together at such an attractive price. Intelligent planning and solid musicianship certainly combine to overcome any minor technical or interpretive reservations.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Choral Concert: United States Air Force Singing Sergeants -

Setting texts for chorus or solo songs occupied Samuel Barber throughout his creative life. In particular he sought out English and Irish writers, many of whose melancholic and nostalgic texts aptly matched his own musically romantic persuasion.

This is Salmon’s second Brubeck disc for Naxos. Here he presents what are termed twenty-six Nocturnes though that’s something of a misnomer. They’re short character studies, mainly played straight with three notable exceptions where Salmon allows himself the luxury of some explicit improvisation – Recuerdo, Bluette and Koto Song. A number of the songs are also from recent albums and many have personal associations for Brubeck – family, travel, touring, special people and an air of nostalgia.

Whatever they may or may not be these are all engaging and often wistful examples of Brubeck’s art. Since he recently announced that he won’t make any more European tours due to the fatigue of the travelling it’s a moment for those of us here to reflect on his more intimate and reflective moments. They’re captured with real understanding and affection by Salmon who’s made something of a study in things Brubeckian.

So we can admire the compression but affirmative lyricism of the charming ballad Strange Meadowlark. Similarly – and how craftily programmed it is – we can enjoy the Bachian Mexicana, or should that be Mexican Bachiana of Recuerdo, which as already noted is one of the few places where Salmon has some improvisatory leeway. He brings out its suspensions nicely as indeed he does in adducing a little Erroll Garner to its veritable charms. I enjoyed the antique air of Softly, William, Softly, which derives from a never completed opera. As its title suggests Bluette is a laid back mini blues opus. And as with so many songs of his we can hear how Quiet As The Moon aspires to the condition of song. Brubeck is a wonderfully “vocal” composer.

Home Without Iola (his wife) is imbued with tristesse but another tribute to her - (I Still Am In Love With) A Girl Named Oli – has more than its share of earthy, funky Garneresque moments. There’s a touching tribute to Audrey Hepburn as well, and a trademark waltz, Viennese style, to add variety both rhythmic and thematic to the programming. Rather odd though that his Fats Waller tribute – Mr. Fats – should be in the form of a boogie; perhaps Harlem Stride was too much Fats’s thing for Brubeck to insist upon it. The range of his classical enthusiasms and interests can be gauged by his Satie homage, the roguishly titled I See, Satie.

This is another well-judged tribute to a still vital talent. There’s warmth here and wit and the kind of miniaturised impressionism that keeps Brubeck so interesting and rewarding a figure.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

I have to confess that I was a bit concerned at the opening of this new performance of Roy Harris' Third Symphony, where Marin Alsop and the otherwise very good Colorado Symphony fail to match the urgency and passion of Bernstein's benchmark Sony recording. Once the piece gets moving, however, the music quickly builds to an explosive account of the big fugue, with brilliant contributions from the brass, while the tragic conclusion with its pounding timpani pedal is perhaps the most intense yet captured on disc. Certainly no one has made the final bars sound more convincing or inevitable. Just a touch more drive at the very beginning and this might have been the new reference recording for the work, but as it is my reservations are minuscule and it's definitely a "keeper".


Having a modern recording on hand of the delightful "Folk Song Symphony" certainly adds to the disc's attractions. There's only one other that enjoyed general circulation, Golschmann's on Vanguard, and heaven only knows if it's still available. In any case, this one is definitely superior sonically, though I marginally prefer the earlier version's quicker tempos in Western Cowboy and Negro Fantasy (the second and sixth movements, respectively). Alsop still has the edge, though, in terms of both singing and playing, and her quicker sections pack an even bigger punch than the Vanguard release. This is a really attractive work that ought to be better known. If the composer in question had been English/Irish (and some of the tunes actually are: The Girl I Left Behind Me, a.k.a. The Wandering Laborer, also appears in Hamilton Harty's "Irish" Symphony), we'd no doubt have a plethora of modern recordings from which to choose. Never mind: this one will do very nicely.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Songs, Drones, and Refrains of Death is one of the richest of George Crumb's brilliant and moving explorations of the poetry of Lorca, musically inspired by such pieces as Mussorgsky's Songs and Dances of Death and Mahler's Kindertotenlieder. Like so much of Crumb's mature music, it uses avant-garde performance techniques and unusual instruments (percussion especially) plus electronics to create a primal, elemental atmosphere. In this sense, the music stands in the tradition of Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring or Bartók's The Miraculous Mandarin, both works where an exceptionally refined and sophisticated technique is used unflinchingly to depict visions of mystery, evoke primitive rituals, and explore the ancient myths of our collective unconscious. In this respect, no poet is better suited to musical setting than Lorca, and no composer has ever responded to him more evocatively than Crumb.


The performance here under Fuat Kent is a very good one. Most Crumb recordings tend to be successful because either the players know what they are doing, or they don't, and faking it is not an option; the mere process of delivering what Crumb's highly detailed scores demand virtually guarantees a high level of achievement. But there are differences between this recording and Bridge's benchmark version with baritone Sanford Sylvan and Speculum Musicae (part of its complete Crumb edition). These primarily concern tempo: this newcomer is about four minutes slower overall, and this is particularly noticeable in the long final movement, Death-Drone III. Although Crumb's music relies heavily on sheer atmosphere, and absolute speed as such is rarely an issue, I marginally prefer the Bridge recording for its inevitably greater density of incident. The atmosphere basically takes care of itself. Still, this performance is very well played. The exciting bits (Song of the Rider and Cadenza appassionata for two drummers) are thrilling, and baritone Nicholas Isherwood certainly is as persuasive in his declamation of the text as Sylvan.


Quest--a remarkable sextet that includes important parts for guitar, harp, soprano saxophone, keyboards, and percussion (including a harmonica or concertina at the end)--was written for guitarist David Starobin. It's a watershed in Crumb's output for several reasons, not least of which is the fact that it permitted Crumb to work his way out of a serious writer's block in the 1990s. The piece also makes frequent reference to the song "Amazing Grace", thus anticipating the epic cycle of folk-song settings (four collections to date) that loom large in the composer's recent work.


Once again, this work is available on Bridge performed by its dedicatees, superbly, but this newcomer is hardly less accomplished or less favorably recorded, and in the final analysis if you want these two pieces (they are coupled differently on Bridge) then you can purchase this disc with complete confidence in its faithfulness to the composer's unique vision. It's good to see Crumb's music being performed and recorded regularly again. Without question, he is a great composer with a very special voice.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This is a very easy call: marvelous music, exceptional performances, top-notch engineering--it all adds up to the strongest possible recommendation. Pilgrims is a lovely, lyrical work for string orchestra that makes an attractive disc-opener, but the two concertos are the standout items. Both are written as suites of brief movements, avoiding traditional forms. They actually resemble song-cycles more than anything else, and given Rorem's acknowledged mastery of that medium, not to mention the relationship between the concerto idea and vocal music generally, it's obvious that he is in his element.


The Flute Concerto is a world premiere. It was composed in 2002 for Jeffrey Khaner, and it's an exceptionally fine piece, beautiful to listen to and (evidently) quite grateful to play. We seem to be enjoying a bonanza of fine modern flute concertos, what with this work and the numerous pieces written for Sharon Bezaly as well. At about 30 minutes, it's a substantial piece, and Rorem's orchestration is beautifully calculated to give the soloist maximum opporunity for display, without the orchestra ever sounding excessively inhibited. Best of all, the thematic material really is memorable.

The same virtues characterize the Violin Concerto (1985), which was recorded previously by Bernstein and Gidon Kremer. Frankly, Philippe Quint plays better, with more attractive tone, and Serebrier offers a very fine account of the accompaniment. Rorem's orchestral music doesn't get the same amount of attention as his songs, but like the French music that he so admires, it allies expressive directness to a keen sense of instrumental color and superior craftsmanship. As a supplement to Serebrier's superb recording of the composer's three symphonies for Naxos, this disc is a must for collectors. [5/19/2006]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Like his orchestral work, Jacob Druckman's chamber music is notable for its bold physicality and vivid atmosphere, qualities also on full display in the String Quartet No. 3 (1981) that opens this new Naxos disc. The first movement's abrupt dynamic shifts, sinister dark/light shadings, slithery runs, and persistent mewing portamentos suggest a musical game of cat and mouse. The more recent (1994) Dark Wind also follows this pattern, however a very different aesthetic informs Quartet No. 2 from Druckman's earlier (1966), purely atonal period. Anyone familiar with Elliott Carter's works in the genre will know what to expect here, although Druckman is less interested in extreme complexity than he is in rhythm and color (even if the latter is simply varying shades of gray).

Reflections on the Nature of Water was composed for solo marimba. The six movements feature such titles as Crystalline, Fleet, and Relentless, and they are indeed varied by tempo and mood. But admittedly, the sound of atonal marimba begins to wear before long, and listeners are accordingly advised not to play this entire CD in one sitting. To its credit, the program features exceptional, virtuoso performances from the Group for Contemporary Music (featuring Druckman's son Daniel on marimba), as well as vivid recorded sound by Naxos. For the adventurous.

--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

BABBITT Around the Horn. 1 Whirled Series. 2 None but the lonely flute. 3 Homily. 4 Beaten Paths. 5 Play It Again, Sam. 6 Soli e duettini. 7 Melismata 8 ? William Purvis (hn); 1,2 Marshall Taylor (a sax); 2 Charles Abramovic (pn); 2 Rachel Rudich (fl); 3 Peter Jarvis (snare dr); 4 Thomas Kolor (mmb); 5 Lois Martin (va); 6 Susan Palma (fl); 7 David Starobin (gtr); 7 Curtis Macomber (vn) 8 ? NAXOS 8.559259 (75:17)


Gratitude and plaudits are due to Naxos for reissuing the splendid series of American chamber-music discs originally released in the mid 1990s by Koch International Classics. So far, we have seen the return of Feldman?s String Quartet and mixed trios by Charles Wuorinen. One hopes Wolpe is waiting in the wings. Meanwhile, here is a group of remarkable instrumental works (one trio, one duo, and six solos) by Milton Babbitt, composed between 1982 and 1993. The New York-based Group for Contemporary Music is comprised of musicians whose playing is of such high quality it demands acknowledgement, so I?ve listed the soloists in the headnote.


Babbitt, 90 this year, was one of that group of serial or post-serial American composers who flourished from the late 1950s on. Their work is often dismissed as dense, intractable, and tuneless, especially from the vantage point of today?s nouveau accessibility?but once you broaden your idea of what constitutes a tune, you?ll find such criticisms miss the mark. (You?ll also find you can?t lump Babbitt, Wuorinen, Carter, Perle, and company together: any similarities are superficial.)


As a young man, the Broadway composer Stephen Sondheim was awarded a scholarship to study privately with Babbitt. The supposed incongruity of this pairing is sometimes remarked upon, until you realize that both composers approach the craft of composition in the same way: as a series of intricate puzzles to be solved. This is, I think, the key to Babbitt?s world. His work is high-wire, intellectual game playing and it exudes a bracing air of playfulness as it revels in the process. This music doesn?t relate to anything except itself; it is truly abstract (a term often used pejoratively to describe mid-20th century visual and graphic art). The bouts of twittering in the piano?s extreme upper register during the trio Whirled Series , for instance, have nothing to do with the avian realm, for all that they suggest a day in the life of Messiaen. They are simple (or complex) melodic fragments, sometimes the same ones heard simultaneously in the low saxophone part, only played at mach speed.


In the solo pieces, melodic lines are kept in balance by having the solo instrument make wide leaps from one register to another, thus achieving the effect (or, more accurately, solving the problem) of having simultaneous themes moving in counterpoint. The result may sound disjointed at first, but once you get comfortable with the technique it becomes clear and exciting. A good memory for pitch helps! I should mention to those unfamiliar with Babbitt?s idiom that this working-out of ideas is done nimbly and, above all, quickly: no endless drones or pregnant silences here, the ball is kept in the air at all times. In the duos, to quote the disc?s original review by Art Lange in Fanfare 20:2, ?the parts seldom seem related, until they do.? (Perfectly put! If you?re interested in this bargain reissue, look up Lange?s detailed commentary.) At such moments of synchronicity, the listener is deftly reminded that there is an omniscient intelligence at work organizing all this busy activity.


A notable feature of this disc is the sheer virtuosity Babbitt demands from his performers. William Purvis?s mastery of the horn?such an obstinate instrument in the wrong lips?is a wonder in itself, and that accolade may be applied to every one of these musicians. They shape and color each moment of this technically demanding music, and seem to be having almost as much fun as the composer.


The original Koch issue came on two CDs, one of which featured Babbitt reading his essay On Having Been and Still Being an American Composer . That set also contained Four Cavalier Settings for solo tenor. Those items have been dropped to squeeze the remaining works onto one CD, which in this case strikes me as a sensible way to go, not only for hip-pocket reasons but also because it brings together a succinct program of Babbitt?s instrumental chamber music. The sound is very good, performances are in a class of their own, and?as colleague Lange also pointed out?these pieces are among the composer?s most approachable.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

FELDMAN String Quartet (1979) ? Group for Contemporary Music ? NAXOS 8.559190 (78:35)


The Group for Contemporary Music made several CDs of American music for Koch in the early 1990s, the above being one of them. Now here it is, reappearing as part of Naxos?s ?American Classics? series. I expect one of Fanfare ?s resident Feldman specialists covered it back then?I think Mike Silverton was doing it in those days?but I have been unable to locate any review. According to the CD information, this was a world premiere recording.


Although not to be confused with his monumentally long second string quartet, this late work of Feldman?s still runs for almost 80 minutes. (Well, it doesn?t exactly run .) Readers unfamiliar with this composer?s music but interested in experimenting at the low Naxos price should dispense with any normal idea of the passing of time. Feldman?s work unfolds at a snail?s pace, with the result that every musical incident is examined in minute, close-up detail. Imagine walking down your garden path to the mailbox; now imagine doing it on your hands and knees with a magnifying glass, taking over an hour to complete the journey. You would know a heck of a lot more about the nature of your garden path by the end of it.


Of course, it?s not entirely as simple as that. Feldman understood the big picture, form-wise: the apparent randomness of the sounds he dwells on in his own good time is kept in balance by a fierce musical intelligence. These sounds include rocking motifs, chords, and often even single notes, usually separated by moments of complete silence. Feldman requests the quartet to play without vibrato and, most of the time, using mutes. Much of the material consists of high harmonics. It is nearly all pianissimo or softer, except for some sudden loud interruptions?for example, at 26:00 and 33:30 respectively. (The Eastern-bloc composer Kancheli appears to have known his Feldman. Unheralded fortes are a fingerprint of his as well.) As the work progresses, earlier motifs or textures are revisited and developed, providing at least an unconscious sense of structure. In the end, the painstaking process undertaken together by the composer, the performers, and the listener creates a unique, mesmerizing context where sudden shifts of emphasis are almost seismic. The forte s mentioned above seem earth shattering. The occasional consonant harmony, unnoticed in another context, becomes pure balm. The slightest rhythmic acceleration feels like panic. High, quiet harmonics from the solo violin assume the cloak of unbearable loneliness.


For those readers already conversant with Feldman?s world, it need only be said that this performance seems to me as good as it could possibly be. (I don?t have access to a score.) The internal balance is finely judged, and all four members of the group must have spent many hours in meditation to be so at home in this time span. By the way, the stalwart players are Benjamin Hudson and Carol Zeavin, violins; Lois Martin, viola; and Joshua Gordon, cello. Recorded sound is first-rate. One can only hope Naxos will reissue the other recordings in the Koch series, particularly those of Wolpe and Wuorinen.


Morton Feldman?s mind worked in a manner unlike that of any other composer. This fact alone makes him important and his music riveting.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

Margaret Brouwer (born in 1940) is head of the composition department at the Cleveland Institute of Music. Based on this excellent new Naxos recording, she has an individual voice with a fine ear for orchestral colors. Her 2002 Concerto for Evelyn Glennie? Aurolucent Circles ?is immediately arresting, with its powerfully phrased opening voiced in the lower strings. The evocative entrance of Glennie in its potent mystery reminded me of some of Holst?s outer and more arcane planets. This is appropriate, as the concerto?s first movement is titled ?Floating in Dark Space.? Besides virtuoso passages for the soloist accompanied by full orchestra, the work has strongly contrasting sections employing two concertino groups which show off the very fine first-desk players in the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic. Glennie?s solos cover a kaleidoscopic range of percussion instruments and colors. The second movement, ?Stardust,? takes those colors and plays them about the stage, drifting and more often sweeping through various sections of the orchestra. The final movement, ?Cycles and Dances,? continues the notion of motion about and through the orchestra in a frenetic dance interrupted by lower brass?a favorite gesture of Brouwer?s. Glennie is the star around which all this revolves. The recording of the concerto (and the remainder of the disc as well) is both exciting and detailed, with a convincing sense of space around the instruments.


Mandala was inspired by a Tibetan sand painting and a Dutch psalm melody (Psalm XCI in the Dutch Reformed hymnal.) The trombone intoning the Psalm tune could equally be playing a version of the Buddhist om. Adding to this interesting musical-cultural mix are musicians whispering barely audible bits of random text, always with the ever-present Psalm never far from the surface. Whether this adds up to a work that will stand up to repeated hearing remains to be seen: I have a strong feeling it well may.


Pulse is an accessible and attractive score with an unexpectedly melismatic theme heard mainly from the winds and then the solo violin. As someone who usually appreciates the elegiac mood, I was looking forward to hearing Remembrance, dating from 1996 and the earliest score on the recording. It is affirmative rather than mournful, but perhaps somewhat long for its material.


Brouwer?s musical commentary on the rapid pace of 21st century life is expressed in the disc?s final work SIZZLE . Three trombones and a horn play a similar role here as in Mandela : they stand apart in time and space, representing different currents in a fast moving stream.


Gerard Schwarz?s performance of all these works is authoritative and convincing. He is ably abetted by his orchestra and the fine production and engineering.


FANFARE: Michael Fine

A historic collection of music that inspired a nation and it's President, all performed by the extraordinary musician's of our nation's military bands, orchestras and ensembles with a special track featuring narration by legendary CBS anchorman Walter Cronkite.

The Legacy of Aaron Copland is an eclectic collection of works written by the great American composer Aaron Copland. Regarded as the "dean of American music", Copland's works are said to evoke the limitless American landscape as they achieve a difficult balance between modern music and American folk styles. (Altissimo)

UNITED STATES NAVY BAND CRUISERS: Cruisin' Roundabout

PRESIDENT'S OWN UNITED STATES MARINE BAND: Sound Off!

If ever there was a composer for today, that composer is William Bolcom. Just as music of all kinds is omnipresent in our lives, so it is in his work. If he likes it, it?s in?and it?s not a carefully refracted influence (like Christopher Rouse?s rock) or a sarcastic juxtaposition of quotations ( à la Schnittke), it?s just there . Bolcom drew upon Ivesian Americana in his 1976 piano concerto; he created a languorous passage of jazz fiddle in his violin concerto because he admired Joe Venuti?s licks, and look at the broad stylistic vocabulary at work in his fearless, monumental setting of Blake?s Songs of Innocence and Experience (also available on Naxos, and indispensable). On this disc, in the sometimes-uniform sound world of duo-piano, the stylistic variety he displays is typically wide-ranging.


The earliest piece is the short Interlude from 1963 (rev. 1965). Composed when Bolcom was a student, it employs the then obligatory atonal language. He was studying with Darius Milhaud and Olivier Messiaen in Paris at the time, but a few years later, he discovered and fell in love with ragtime. Bolcom is, of course, also renowned as a pianist (as soloist and accompanist to his wife Joan Morris) and his recordings, as well as his compositions, helped to re-establish rag as a form. From 1969, we have here a rag ( The Serpent?s Kiss ) and a cakewalk ( Through Eden?s gates ), rearranged from a solo piano suite for Richard and John Contigula (who recorded it on one of their Connoisseur discs, long gone). These are both laid-back, loving pieces; in the cakewalk, which the composer describes as ?[conjuring] the image of Adam and Eve calmly cakewalking their way out of Paradise,? we find a passage where one of the pianists knocks out a syncopated rhythm on the wood to the other?s ?stop? chords: a genuine tap-dancing turn, and how better to depict Adam and Eve?s cheeky defiance of God?


The longest work here is the two-movement suite, Frescoes (1971). Here Bolcom adopts the avant-garde devices of the 1970s: aleatory passages, explosions of dissonance, and above all the exploration of tone color. The pianists double at various points on harpsichord and harmonium: it?s all very spooky and George Crumbish, apart from one moment where Bolcom switches gears and suddenly we?re hearing a ?till ready? intro to a Broadway point number. Throughout its 28 minutes, Frescoes holds out attention due to the composer?s sophisticated ear for texture and his sense of fun. The 1993 Sonata in one movement is more straightforward stylistically (although references to Schoenberg and Debussy pop up), because Bolcom concentrates his energies on structure, fusing Classical first-movement sonata form with the overall fast/slow/fast layout of a full sonata.


The opening work, Recuerdos, is a three-movement suite from 1991 that specifically pays homage to three Latin composers, Ernesto Nazareth, Louis-Moreau Gottschalk, and Ramón Delago Palacios. Bolcom does not merely ape the sound of these composers; he understands and recreates the innate qualities that made them popular (as Ravel did in his piano homages to Chabrier and Borodin). Thus, Bolcom pinpoints the lazy playfulness of Nazareth (?creator? of the choro , according to the notes), the florid panache of Gottschalk, and the full-blooded bravado of Palacios. (Milhaud obviously started this particular ball rolling with his own Latin-derived music; Bolcom the pianist made a wonderful, sympathetic recording for Nonesuch of Milhaud?s Saudades do Brazil. It demands to be reissued.)


The distinguished duo-piano team of Elizabeth and Marcel Bergmann play Bolcom?s music for all it?s worth?which means going over the top when necessary. The recording is excellent, encompassing the extremes of forte and piano in a dryish but not cramped acoustic. Also, whoever determined the order of works on the CD made a brilliant decision: the final marcato chords of Recuerdos are virtually the same as the opening marcato chords of Frescoes . In the first, they represent the flamenco stamping of a final Spanish cadence, and in the second, a call to attention for a journey through a stunningly contrasted harmonic and sonic terrain. This canny juxtaposition epitomizes the composer?s eclecticism. Bravo, Naxos: now for the five (or more?) symphonies! Meanwhile, this disc goes on my first Want list.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

Three of Alan Hovhaness' six symphonies for wind ensemble are included on this Naxos release. After hearing these, I'm eagerly waiting for the label to get to the other three. All of the ensemble playing is flawless, the many solos are ravishingly beautiful, and conductor Keith Brion's grasp of the music results in performances I can't imagine being bettered, surpassing even the classic Mercury Living Presence recording by the late Frederick Fennell and the Eastman Wind Ensemble.


The symphonies are separated by two of the composer's works for trumpet and band, the solo part played by Scotland's great trumpeter John Wallace. He soars ecstatically above his colleagues in the Prayer of Saint Gregory, and his more varied part in Return and Rebuild the Desolate Places (the most aggressive music on the disc) achieves a threatening quality without ever losing beauty of tone.


Hovhaness' style is so distinctive, and his oeuvre so vast, that it's easy to tag him as having written the same piece over and over. And it is true that these works share many of the same elements: long, arching modal melodies, rich triadic harmonies laced with non-harmonic chiming notes, "spirit murmurs", and fluent, noble fugues. But there is enough difference in the inspiration of these works, and enough stylistic development, that you don't really get an impression of sameness. And there are many passages that haunt the memory: the flowing oboe and harp duet at the heart of the Fourth Symphony; the crossing trombone portamentos in the same work; the gorgeous fugue for all of the bell-like instruments in "Star Dawn"; the emergence from the frightening eruption that represents the "Desolate Places".


The recording was made in a church in Paisley, Scotland, and the venue contributes just the right mixture of spaciousness and intimacy to suit the music. If you are the sort of record collector who keeps alert for good new releases of unusual repertoire, this is a disc with the musical values and production quality that you always are hoping for. [1/4/2006]
--Joseph Stevenson, ClassicsToday.com

Morton Gould was a very capable composer whose light music has overshadowed his more serious compositions. Despite the potential for humor latent in the title, the Jekyll and Hyde Variations are sober indeed, but they also live up to their billing in that they consist of an alternating, increasingly schizoid series of transformations of the quirky opening theme. Although hardly as melodically ingratiating as Fall River Legend, the piece is consistently absorbing and wonderfully well-scored, and really beautifully played by the Nashville Symphony under the late Kenneth Schermerhorn. Fall River Legend, here presented in its complete version (including the opening accusation against Lizzie Borden read by James F. Neal), is one of Gould's most popular pieces, and the full-length work is well worth hearing. The more familiar numbers from the suite, such as Cotillion and Church Social, have as much infectious lilt in this performance as in any other version, and Gould sustains the high quality of the musical invention throughout the ballet's 50-plus minutes. Warm, rich recorded sound completes an extremely appealing release that American music fans will not want to miss.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Bernstein?s Serenade for solo violin, strings, harp, and percussion was inspired by Plato?s Symposium and the composer described it as a ?series of related statements in praise of love.? This is the only performance I know which treats it that way, rather than as a snazzy solo concerto. It?s partly to do with conductor Marin Alsop?s measured approach to tempo: the work bounces along, but the syncopated rhythms never race out of control, and moments of excitement are never whipped up in order to generate a buzz. It?s also partly to do with the soloist. Philippe Quint?s smooth-toned violin persuades and cajoles: there are flights of fancy, but there is also reasoned argument. In short, this really does sound like a group of articulate protagonists in intellectual parlay (a situation Bernstein himself loved to be in). Marin Alsop was a protegee of the composer, and here she salutes his memory by taking the program of the Serenade seriously. The aforementioned sections of the Bournemouth orchestra are disciplined and tight.


The ballet score, Facsimile , perhaps needs to be drawn out of its shell a little more; it is the least flashy of Bernstein?s early concert works. Alsop and the orchestra do it justice, but this is one of those rare cases where only the composer (on Sony and Deutsche Grammophon) can bring it to shining life. Jerome Robbins?s ballet was set to a nihilistic scenario of ?post war malaise and the spiritual vacuum of modern man,? to quote the notes. (I thought the post-war era was optimistic! Robbins should have been around now.) The music is, likewise, a little gray, though Bernstein?s natural ebullience peeps through whenever it can. In any case, the playful moments need to be more playful, the dramatic fortes a little more dramatic than they are allowed to be here. The prominent piano part is nicely integrated into the orchestral fabric in this spacious recording.


Facsimile is an exception to my theory (which I?m sticking to) that, generally, Bernstein?s music speaks for itself and it?s musicality suffers when points are over-emphasized or climaxes inflated. The late Divertimento (written for the centenary of the Boston SO) provides a good example. Once more, Alsop reins in the highjinks and as a result, the piece seems more substantial and less ?occasional? than usual. These works are available in the composer?s recordings and many other fine interpretations exist (such as Hilary Hahn?s dazzling Serenade, with David Zinman conducting the Baltimore SO on Sony?if it?s still around) but Naxos gives us more than mere bargain-basement versions. These are smart, sharply realized, well-recorded performances.


FANFARE: Phillip Scott

During his time William Schuman (1910?1992) was a notable part of American musical life, as a teacher, administrator, and composer. His legacy of musical compositions is significant and distinctive, and this release couples two striking examples of his art.


Symphony No. 7, premiered by Charles Munch and the Boston Symphony in 1960, is in four movements played continuously, beginning with a pregnant, sinewy, and dark, slow movement that is succeeded by a brief Scherzo that is typically pugnacious and characteristically scored, not least in the percussion. The slow mood returns for a radiant Cantabile intensamente that grows in emotion, and the symphony concludes with a propulsive finale that begins skittishly (reminding us of Copland and developing an exuberance that suggests Leonard Bernstein) and ends in thrilling clamor. Whether this lively movement is quite the expected corollary to what has gone before is a moot point, although there is no doubting the sheer quality of the music, and the uplift of the final measures.


Symphony No. 10, ?American Muse,? was first heard in Washington, DC, in 1976, Antal Dorati conducting the National Symphony Orchestra. Leonard Slatkin and the Chicago Symphony then took it up, and Slatkin recorded American Muse , dedicated ?to the country?s creative artists, past, present and future,? and other works of Schuman, for RCA with the Saint Louis Symphony in either 1991 or 1992 (RCA?s booklet doesn?t specify what was recorded when). It?s a great piece, the last of Schuman?s 10 symphonies (the first two were withdrawn by the composer), a vindication of writing real symphonic music, and begins with a sustained, brass dominated Con fuoco that is a virtuoso display of considerable import; a tidal wave of communication. The lengthy Larghissimo that follows is hauntingly beautiful, very personal, even private, but it steals to the listener?s heart, and the finale, having begun in exploratory fashion, is an optimistic summation.


Both Slatkin and Gerard Schwarz are deeply sympathetic conductors of Schuman?s music, but I imagine Slatkin?s version of ?American Muse? is now deleted. Schwarz?s leading of both symphonies is excellent; so, too, the sound quality; and the music is superb. With Schuman 4 and 9 already released from Seattle, one hopes the other four symphonies will follow. Very important.


FANFARE: Colin Anderson