More spare, yielding chamber music is found on the new Naxos disc. The 2005 Mosaic is Carter at his most inviting, in a program showing how even his minor works have a strong reason for existence. That disc comes with a bonus DVD documentary on the composer, not the best ever made, but at least providing face time with a composer who is as congenial as he is great.

Includes work(s) by John Philip Sousa. Ensemble: Royal Artillery Band. Conductor: Keith Brion.

The notes to this recording make much of George Rochberg's braveness in the early 1960s in turning his back on strict academic serialism and atonality. Instead he dared to evolve a more nuanced, eclectic, personal style of expression in which tonal and atonal elements rub shoulders in a way that often comes across as sounding simply Romantic, in the best sense of the term. Without diminishing that achievement, in this less doctrinaire time the more important question is simple: How good is the music? We've been unable to answer this question because, aside from his string quartets, very few recordings have given us the chance to judge for ourselves. So this Naxos release is extremely important in that for many record collectors it will represent a first encounter with this seminal figure in 20th century American music--and it's magnificent.


The Fifth Symphony contains elements that many will find familiar: clear references to the finale of Mahler's Ninth and the Largo of Shostakovich's Fifth, aggressively virtuosic brass writing (it was a Chicago Symphony commission), a compelling mixture of dissonance and consonance, and an overtly emotional program apposing music of aggression with passages of sadness and consolation. It's all organized in a single movement whose multiple sections offer a gripping but easy-to-follow pattern of tension and release. To call the work a masterpiece doesn't begin to suggest its immediacy and impact: the symphony simply "goes" with the inevitability of fate itself, and its 28 minutes seem to pass by in a flash. Christopher Lyndon-Gee and the Saarbrücken orchestra give the music all of the intensity and passion that it needs, and they're marvelously well recorded too.


Black Sounds dates from 1965, and as the title suggests it's a darker, more abrasive work than the symphony. Inspired by the death of the composer's friend Edgard Varèse, the music pays respectful homage without ever descending to mere imitation. In particular, the scoring for 12 winds and brass, piano, celesta, and four percussionists clearly brings Varèse to mind, as does the music's violence and boundless energy. Standing at the opposite end of the harmonic spectrum, the gorgeously tonal Transcendental Variations for string orchestra consists of a reworking of the central movement of Rochberg's Third String Quartet, the breakthrough work in his mature style. Like the symphony, both works receive committed and compelling performances from Lyndon-Gee and his German forces.


Naxos has done some yeoman work in its American Classics series, but it's hard not to acclaim this release as one of the most important yet, not just for the excellence of its performances, the fine sonics, or even the marvelous music itself, but also in the human sense of doing some justice at last to a courageous composer whose importance is generally acknowledged but far too seldom confirmed by actual performance of his music. If this disc leads to further interest in Rochberg, then it will have achieved a greater purpose beyond gratifying a limited number of modern music enthusiasts. In the meantime, by all means, buy this and be gratified! [8/2/2003]
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Granados, E.: Piano Music, Vol. 4 - Romantic Waltzes / Poeti

Liszt Complete Piano Music, Vol. 16: Beethoven Song Transcri

Michael Haydn spent much of his career in Salzburg and won a considerable contemporary reputation as a composer, since overshadowed by the achievement of his elder brother, Joseph Haydn.

Admirers of the composer need not hesitate.

An hour’s worth of Hovhaness in ‘wind band plus percussion symphonic garb’ is the raison d’être of this Naxos release. It bears all his most obvious hallmarks, sometimes starkly: vistas, intense tattoos, hieratic brass, convulsive dialogues, chimes, noble perorations, edifices of almost Mayan splendour.

The Seventh Symphony dates from 1959. The purity of its rhythmic percussion tattoos and the hieratic nature of its brass calls give one an idea of the processional intensity of its dramaturgy. The loquacity of his wind writing implies a raft of interior monologues. The writing becomes more concentrated in the central movement where Hovhaness ensures themes are less fragmentary and by the finale things have turned positively Olympian. The percussion is now subservient to the to the brass calls, themselves more legato and ushering in a sunset glow, and a cooling, reflective consonance.

The following year he wrote Ararat, Symphony No.14. It makes much of ‘dragon fly’ sonorities, bright trumpets and glittering percussion once again but adds a further percussive layer via bell chimes and a buzzy series of terraced sonorities – dramatic, florid, and ground shaking in the central movement. The percussion starts up immediately in the finale but is gradually worn down by the sheer pugilistic insistence of the conquering brass.

The final symphony of the three is written on a much broader canvas than these two quarter of an hour works. But it too is a powerful construction, its chattering winds and terse declamation capturing the ear with great trenchancy. Drunken lowering lower brass add a leering patina as well, as do the aero engine and gamelan evocations. The finale is a wonderful example of nobility and processional tread with repeated figures passed from brass to wind adding a layer of sonic depth. We feel as if some vast castle is being evoked, as the brass calls resound from battlement to crenellation; Gormenghast in music.

Keith Brion has a long track-record with Hovhaness and he directs his forces with great vitality and precision. This splendid disc has been excellently engineered and admirers of the composer need not hesitate.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

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These three symphonies for wind orchestra treat some recurring themes in Alan Hovhaness' work: mountains (Symphonies Nos. 7 and 14) and his Armenian heritage (Symphony No. 23, evocative of the medieval city of Ani, "The City of A Thousand and One Cathedrals"). The later work is by far the most substantial, but all of them constitute worthy additions to the repertoire for winds and percussion. They are very well played here by the Trinity College ensemble under Keith Brion, who has lived with this music for many decades. Perhaps the English horn soloist in "Sunset", the last movement of Symphony No. 7, is a touch "quacky", but this and any other criticisms would be mere quibbles. The brass play with confidence and the sort of imposing serenity that Hovhaness so often requires, while the drums, bells, and tam-tam punctuate the texture atmospherically. Sonics are very fine, and the entire production is dedicated touchingly to the memory of Lady Evelyn Barbirolli (d. 2008), who some readers may recall was a noted oboist in her day. Recommended to fans of the composer, and of good music for concert band.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Bresciani and Nicolosi clearly have the music of Liszt in the blood.

Pianists Bresciani and Nicolosi formed the Franz Liszt Piano Duo in 1998 to advance the cause of Liszt’s two piano transcriptions of his symphonic output. Their collaboration began with arrangements of the Goethe-inspired Faust Symphony, S.108 (1854; rev. 1857) and continued with the Dante. The duo’s repertoire includes Liszt’s transcription for two pianos of his symphonic poems and the two piano arrangements of Wagner’s operas made by Liszt and his pupils.

Liszt together with his mistress Marie d’Agoult read widely. They, like many others, became inspired by the epic poem Commedia (c.1310-14) later known as The Divine Comedy written by Dante Alighieri (1265-1321) the famous Italian poet and writer. Liszt in 1839 started work on the piano piece fragment dantesque in an attempt to portray Dante’s world in music. D’Agoult wrote to Henri Lehmann in 1839 from the fishing village of San Rossore stating that Liszt had begun work on the fragment dantesque, “which is sending him to the very devil.”1 Several weeks later Liszt gave the première of the fragment in Vienna. It seems that its manuscript went missing and it was only after 1849 when living in Weimar that Liszt reworked the music as the seventh piece of his Années de Pèlerinage (Years of Pilgrimage, 2nd year, Italian volume) with the title of Après une Lecture de Dante: Fantasia Quasi Sonata (After a Reading of Dante: Fantasia Quasi Sonata).

Widely known today as the Dante Sonata the substantial single movement work is considered one of Liszt’s most daunting piano scores. In this case we have an arrangement for two pianos by Vittorio Bresciani; without a composition date given. Liszt approved no programme for the Dante Sonata apart from the brief title of Après une Lecture de Dante (After a Reading of Dante). According to biographer Alan Walker, “The Dante Sonata remains one of Liszt’s unique creations, little played and little understood for a half a century after its initial publication in 1858.”2 Neglected for many years a quick google has shown that there are now several versions of the Dante Sonata available although, it is programmed a lot more sparingly by performers in recital.

From the outset Bresciani and Nicolosi establish an atmosphere of dark foreboding which develops in intensity and suggests the entrance to hell. At 5:19 a calmer mood prevails - evocative of a love scene between Paolo and Francesca. From 8:24 the weight and tempo increases as the Devil’s influence is observed. Unsettling, stormy music takes centre-stage between 9:38 and 12:09 before running a calmer course from 12:10. From 13:25 the duo convey an innate feeling of hope that then builds to a spirited conclusion.

After meeting Princess Carolyne von Sayn-Wittgenstein in 1847, Liszt’s interest in Dante’s Divine Comedy was once again ignited. It was during his Weimar years (1848-61) that he composed many of his finest works: the Sonata for Piano in B minor, S.178 (1852-53); A Faust Symphony, S.108 (1854, rev. 1857) and the Dante Symphony, S.109 (1855-57). Although Liszt had had sketches of the Dante Symphony in his folder as far back as the 1840s he only resumed work on it in 1855 completing the score in 1857. In 1859 he prepared this arrangement for two pianos.

It seems that the orchestra was seriously under-rehearsed when Liszt conducted the première of this difficult score. Reports indicate an embarrassingly inadequate performance at Dresden in 1857. Dedicated to Richard Wagner, the Dante Symphony depicts the romantic tale of struggle and redemption that traces Dante’s journey from Hell through Purgatorio. Wagner suggested to Liszt that it was impossible for a mere mortal to convey the heavenly wonders of Paradise. It consists of two sections/movements: the Inferno and the Purgatorio. At Wagner’s behest, Liszt avoids a Paradise movement and instead offers a substantial finale entitled Magnificat. This entails a chorus of angels set for female or children’s voices. Liszt gave a performance of his two piano version of the Dante Symphony in 1866 at the Paris home of artist and illustrator Gustave Doré with Camille Saint-Saëns as his partner.

In the opening Inferno Bresciani and Nicolosi open proceedings with chilling music in which they bring out a real sense of menace. A change of mood at 6:40 comes as welcome respite. Tranquil, light and amorous, this feels like music for the lovers Paolo and Francesca. The romantic mood gradually lessens and for a section between 9:37-10:48 one senses an underlying tension. Between 12:04 and 14:19 there is an especially lovely passage, full of passion and affection. From 14:20 a change of mood is discernable, gradually developing in weight and drama into a terrifying evocation of the fires of Hell.

Containing several rising figures the Purgatorio movement begins in relative tranquillity, representing the promise of hope and redemption. From 6:59 one feels a darker hue to the music. At 10:47 the music becomes more optimistic and at 11:52 the writing has a hymn-like character. From 13:00 a deep ecclesiastical quality prevails. The Magnificat links directly from the Purgatorio without a pause. The penitential-sounding children’s choir from Hungarian Radio under their conductor Gabriella Thész convey an ethereal quality. At 3:12 the treble Barbara Szmodics offers a short but radiant solo bringing out its feeling of youthful vulnerability - a convincing supplication for redemption.

The Naxos recording made at the Italian Cultural Institute in Budapest has an exceptional combination of clarity and balance. The booklet notes from Keith Anderson provide most of the essential information. The duo demonstrate that they can handle the severe technical demands with aplomb and at the same time create a convincing sense of drama. They clearly have the music of Liszt in the blood.

-- Michael Cookson, MusicWeb International

The son of Alessandro Scarlatti, who created a new school of opera in Naples, Domenico Scarlatti is particularly distinguished for his remarkable series of 555 surviving keyboard sonatas, written while employed at the Spanish court in Madrid.

It's well known that the vast majority of what have come down to us as Bach's Harpsichord Concertos were originally written for violin, oboe, oboe d'amore, or some combination of the two. The originals have all disappeared, but reconstructions are possible within a very small margin of error, particularly in the case of the Double Concerto BWV 1060, which has been performed and enjoyed in its original form for violin and oboe (or oboe d'amore) for more than half a century. Naxos' complete edition of Bach's orchestral music properly includes the most famous of all the reconstructions, the violin version of the Harpsichord Concerto in D minor BWV 1052, in the violin concerto volume of this series, leaving this disc to the double concerto noted above, as well as four oboe/oboe d'amore works. Soloists Christian Hummel and Lisa Stewart offer attractive, tastefully ornamented, sweet-toned performances on modern instruments that take into account period performance practice. For anyone who enjoys Bach's orchestral music or the more familiar harpsichord versions of these works, this disc is self-recommending. --David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

BRAHMS: Clarinet Quintet, Op. 115 / String Quartet No. 3

Dohnanyi: Konzertstuck for Cello / Cello Sonata / Ruralia Hu

ORY, Kid: Ory's Creole Trombone (1945-1953)

American composer and pianist Paul Schoenfield is at the keyboard for two searing, heart-piercing works commissioned by Music of Remembrance.

FAIROUZ Tahwidah. 4 Chorale Fantasy. 2 Native Informant: Sonata for Solo Violin 3. Posh. 4 For Victims. 2,5 Jebel Lebnan 6 • 1 Mellissa Hughes (sop); 1 David Krakauer (cl); 2 Borromeo Str Qrt; 3 Rachel Barton Pine (vn); 4 Christopher Thompson (baritenor); 4 Steven Spooner (pn); 5 David Kravitz (bar); 6 Imani Winds • NAXOS 8.559744 (78:22 Text and Translation)


This exceptionally varied and complex album features five first recordings of works by young American-Arabic composer Mohammed Fairouz (b. 1985), whose Piano Sonata impressed me when I reviewed the DVD by pianist Steven Spooner. I bristled, as I always do, to read the dreaded and hackneyed words on the CD insert that Fairouz “is one of the most frequently performed, commissioned, and recorded composers of his generation ” (italics mine). Well, what the heck generation could he possibly be part of but his own? Did you expect him to be the most frequently performed and recorded composers of his father’s generation?


But promotional semantics aside, Fairouz is a remarkably talented and highly original composer—no more so than some others nowadays who, living in America, combine the music of their ethnic cultures with European and/or American classical structures, but certainly one of the most interesting and communicative of such composers, which I suppose is what moves him to the top of his profession. Certainly, any CD that displays the combined talents of such well-known and/or outstanding talents as the Borromeo Quartet, Rachel Barton Pine, Steven Spooner, and the Imani Winds—all of whom, incidentally, are on my short list of favorite performers whose recordings I try to seek out for review—is testimony enough to the high quality of Fairouz’s music.


We begin this journey with Tahwidah, the setting of a poem by Mahmoud Darwish for soprano and clarinet. The text—which, surprisingly, is actually included in the booklet (along with all the other sung texts on this disc)—concerns the lullaby of a mother to her son, only to discover at the end that she is singing this at his funeral. The music is thus lyrical but strangely dissonant, beginning with exotic and difficult runs and trills on the clarinet, into which the soprano voice intermixes in a surprising and interesting fashion. Thank heavens, Mellissa Hughes has a pure, radiant voice, devoid of unsteadiness or wobble, and her singing is extraordinarily well phrased and emotionally moving. As in the case of so many modern-day sopranos, however, her English diction is exceedingly poor. Without the text to follow, you won’t be able to make out a single word. A small but important criticism, not meant in a mean-spirited way, but Mellissa, please work on your diction!


This is followed by Chorale Fantasy, which the composer describes as a song that combines the Arabic mode maqam “with gentle counterpoint,” leading from a songlike melody to a whirling dance. It was commissioned by the Borromeo Quartet, which plays it here. Perhaps not so curiously, the Solo Violin Sonata—commissioned by and played by Rachel Barton Pine—almost sounds, in its first movement, like an extension of the quartet, so lyrical and songlike is its melodic structure.


I was stunned here by the extraordinary range of colors that Pine extracts from her instrument, ranging from bright, sharply pointed passages reminiscent of Heifetz to warm, rich playing in the mid and lower ranges that sounded like Oistrakh. The second movement, “Rounds,” is a vigorous Arabic round dance (as per the composer’s notes), played with tremendous passion and energy, following which is a lament for the civilian victims of the Egyptian Revolution. This movement, which begins and ends very high up in the violin’s range, moves down to mid-range chordal passages which later incorporate microtonal slides (probably Arabic influenced) and, as in so much of Fairouz’s music, an exceptional singing quality that I feel is related to the song tradition of such composers as Ned Rorem. The composer describes the fourth movement as “just plain fun,” based on “the retro spirit of New York’s cabaret music,” supposedly emulating Gershwin and Porter, but I heard this music as oddly related to Eastern European folk-dance music and Eastern European-American forms, yet with an Arabic accent. At one point, Pine is required to play pizzicato counterpoint to her own top line on the violin. The final movement, which combines the feeling of both a lullaby and a lament, is titled “Lullaby of the ex-Soldat.” Fairouz says that he also conceived this movement as a tribute to Pine’s baby daughter Sylvia Michelle as a “celebration of birth and renewal.” With the possible exception of the first movement, I’d say that Fairouz has accomplished a Herculean task here, writing a sonata for unaccompanied violin that doesn’t owe much to the solo violin sonatas and partitas of Bach. I can only hope that it becomes a staple of the violin repertoire. This is, by the way, also the longest work on this disc.


Following this is Posh, a short song cycle (three pieces totaling 8:22) based on poems by Wayne Koestenbaum. These poems are not intended to “tell a story,” but merely to give an indication of a life: one song (poem) of a baby and his inability to cope with life without help, of “deadbeat dads” and dreams of the future; the second of a hapless adolescent searching for Ned Rorem songs; and third of an adult whose father “brings to mind the self-slaughtered Walter Benjamin.” This cycle is sung by “baritenor” Christopher Thompson, who has an unusual velvety timbre and, yes, qualities of both baritone and tenor. His diction is also superb, in sharp contrast to Hughes, and in the second song he makes one smile with his unusual way of bringing humor out when he sings. As usual, Spooner’s playing is also excellent, albeit subdued in this particular role as accompanist. Fairouz’s scoring for the piano here is primarily that of gently rocking notes and/or soft chime chords.


For Victims is described as “a dramatic scene for baritone and string quartet” based on two poems of David Shapiro, but although there are two movements only the second includes the sung poems. Here the Borromeo Quartet plays with a sense of sadness combined with drama, the music in the first movement vacillating between Eastern and Western modes, occasionally juxtaposing themes rather than engaging in actual development. As it turns out Shapiro’s poems, like many similar works, are about the Holocaust, the first a memorial to its victims and the second a personal memory of his grandfather emerging “in a synagogue” with his “sweet tenor coloratura” while he wonders if the dead are “permitted to sing.” Here the quartet’s role is more subdued and subservient to the vocal line. Baritone David Kravitz, unfortunately, has a woofy and tremulous voice, and his diction is only occasionally clear, which is very unfortunate as the music is exceptionally interesting and well written.


The last work, Jebel Lebnan, translates as Mount Lebanon, and is a lament for the lives lost at the massacres at the Sabra and Shatilla Refugee Camps caused by Phalange Party chief Bashir Gemayel. An interlude for flute is followed by a funeral march entitled “Ariel’s Song,” then a “reawakening” musically described by a celebratory dance to the resilience of the Lebanese people. The final movement, “Mar Charbel’s Dabkeh,” is yet another Arabic round dance. Since I am a huge fan of the Imani Winds, perhaps I am prejudiced in favor of nearly all their performances, which I always find to be rhythmically incisive, colorful in their manipulation of timbre and accent, and emotionally involved in every respect, thus I was immediately rapt by their extraordinary treatment of the opening passage, described by the composer as “a wild scream” for clarinet and piccolo. The music here, punctuated by interjections from the horn and clarinet, is continually underscored by a staccato ostinato figure played by the bassoon. The solo flute interlude is lyrical, yet with telling pauses in the musical line possibly indicating thought or meditation on the part of the flutist. It has a particularly forlorn sound that, to me, indicates such emotions. Interestingly, the solo bassoon line which opens “Ariel’s Song” sounds like a continuation of the flute lament. The other instruments of the quintet enter and exit, either singly or in pairs, but the bassoon generally dominates this lament. (I would also like to point out, for the benefit of those who don’t know, that the Imani Winds are four-fifths women musicians, which I believe is somewhat unique in the classical world.) The dance movement, surprisingly, also starts out slowly, only gradually increasing the tempo within the first dozen or so bars. It’s a cheerful little piece but not terribly uptempo—more of a relaxed dance than a frenetic one. After a short pause in the middle, Fairouz switches gears to his “little song,” which is more meditative and reflective than celebratory. This, in turn, leads into the “Dabkeh” or round dance, which begins with meditative passages played by the flute but then moves into a very sprightly dance rhythm. An Arabic round dance this may indeed be, but to my ears it has a great similarity to a horah!


Despite my small reservations on the diction of two of the singers and the singing voice of a third, I consider this one of the most interesting, varied, and engaging classical albums of the year so far, and one I shall undoubtedly be putting on my Want List.


FANFARE: Lynn René Bayley

Leonard Bernstein's own version bettered? Yes, indeed! This is, handily, the best sung, best played, most intelligently interpreted recording of Mass currently available. Of course, Bernstein's rendition always will have sterling qualities, including some wonderful solo singers with really characterful "pop" and Broadway voices, but for its sheer musical integrity combined with the advantage of the composer's final revisions to the score, this version is unbeatable. Jubilant Sykes, as the Celebrant, easily outclasses Alan Titus' very fine premiere recording of the role. His voice has more edge; he's more at ease with the various pop idioms; he sounds radiant at the work's opening and grows increasingly desperate as it proceeds. This only serves to make his climactic breakdown tragically believable.

The various street singers are, one and all, terrific. "God Said" becomes the work's comic climax, which is as it should be. "I believe in God", "Confession", "World Without End", and "Thank You" are both idiomatic and beautifully sung. The children's choir sounds luminous in the Sanctus, while the adult chorus, from Morgan State University, sings with gusto as well as immaculate diction, with every word clearly comprehensible. Marin Alsop knits the whole ensemble together with infallible insight and verve. Her tempos, a bit different from Bernstein's, quicker here ("God Said"), a touch slower there (the wild dance in the Offertory), are no less right.

It's all fabulously recorded with a glittering impact that never turns unduly aggressive. The multi-textural layering in the climactic Dona Nobis Pacem comes across as both musically and physically overwhelming. Mass has its detractors, but when performed with this kind of conviction the piece can be inexpressibly moving. Alsop never has made a finer recording--it's both a tribute to her mentor Leonard Bernstein, as well as to her exceptional talent as an exponent of his music.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com (10/10)

Although Philip Glass came late to the string quartet, his contribution to the genre has since become a significant one. This disc features the first four of his five quartets, ranging from the uncharacteristic yet fascinating sound-world of the First, through the compact dimensions of the subsequent two (themselves derived from theatre and film scores). The more expansive manner of his Fourth Quartet makes allusions to the formidable string quartet heritage, in particular those of Schubert and Dvořák.

HERSCH Character Studies. 1 Variations on a Bach Chorale. 2 Lyric Pieces for Trio. 3 Tango Bittersweet. 4 Saloon Songs. 5 • Natasha Paremski (pn); 1 Blair McMillen (pn); 2,5 Dorothy Lawson (vc); 4 Fred Hersch (pn); 4 Grammercy Tr 3 • NAXOS 8.559366 (61:09)


The concept of crossover music is certainly appealing. After all, music should be, to paraphrase Duke Ellington, either good or bad, and not about categories. Doesn’t often work that way, though. Paul McCartney, arguably one of the most important figures in rock history, embarrasses himself when he attempts to write symphonic music. The prog rock world is littered with other cases of pretentious drivel from musicians who, when they stick to their roots, are capable of powerful, sincere artistry. There are exceptions, most famously, Gershwin, but also the trail blazing saxophonist Ornette Coleman, whose orchestral outing, Skies of America , is a minor masterpiece.


Add Fred Hersch, a widely respected jazz pianist who still spends a good deal of his professional life playing gigs on the club circuit, to the short list of successful crossover artists. He calls this material, created between 2001 and 2006, concert music, simply meaning that it is written out and not improvised. Although a rhythmic pattern here and there alludes to his jazz background, this is basically neo-Romantic material. There are two big pieces. Lyric Pieces for Trio is a lovely, rather Gallic feeling work for piano, cello, and violin, in which the instrumental lines are rendered with unusual independence, resulting in a very open texture. The other large piece, and for me, the standout composition on the program, is the 24 Variations on a Bach Chorale . The theme is the haunting recurring motif from Saint Matthew Passion that Bach adapted from an original theme by Hans Leo Hassler. This is a superbly written and engrossing variation set, in the manner of Bach and Beethoven, although I am certain that Hersch would forgive me for suggesting that he is not quite in those ranks. Nevertheless, the thoughtfulness and scope of drama here is impressive. There is never any sense that Hersch is merely filling out; all of the music counts for something. It is astonishing to read that he wrote this music in five days. This is a work that should get a wider audience, and the attention of more pianists. McMillen gets the notes across, but there are many moments where it seems that a higher degree of panache is called for, in terms of tonal color and dexterity.


The shorter pieces are of a kind, music of grace and beauty. The Saloon Songs reveal a sure sense and deep affection for an American vernacular sound. Tango Bittersweet , for cello and piano, is a written-out version of music that Hersch played as an improvisation (with cellist Erik Friedlander) for many years. It has a sweetly lilting flavor that is irresistable. The Character Studies , inspired by important figures in Hersch’s career, are similarly appealing. Despite my comments on McMillen’s playing, the performances and recorded sound are fine, although this is music of sufficient merit to attract additional musicians. In all, a delightful release.


FANFARE: Peter Burwasser

Naxos arrives at the fourth installment in its complete cycle of Napoléon Coste's guitar music. The influential 19th century French guitarist and composer wrote in an early Romantic style touched by sophisticated textures, idiomatic assurance, and formal symmetry. You might say that his music sounds like what Carl Maria von Weber might have written had he been a guitar specialist. In any event, Costé's 25 Etudes Op. 38 mask their didactic aims by way of sheer musical delight. It's fantastic guitar writing, packed with enough double-note patterns, glistening scale passages, ingenuous polyphonic effects, and sly harmonic twists to entice listeners and keep guitarists honest. Jeffrey McFadden not only is an extraordinary guitarist--he's also an inspired musician. Hear, for instance, how he breathes life into the second etude's flowing patterns, or his impeccable timing of all the cadenza-type passages throughout the etudes. What variety of touch, dynamic inflection, and color McFadden brings to the slower selections! Bass lines simply soar, and the bell-like sound he gets from the higher strings and remarkable registral independence makes us wonder if McFadden is actually playing a piano disguised as a guitar! Informative annotations, gorgeous engineering, and, well, you already know the rest. No question, this is one of the loveliest discs in Naxos' burgeoning guitar collection. Buy it. --Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Includes song(s) by Maurice Ravel. Soloists: Inva Mula-Tchako, Valérie Millot, Claire Brua, Gérard Théruel, Laurent Naouri, David Abramovitz.

Standards strongly maintained– giving a budget price injection to a notably well curated series.

This is another emigrant from Marco Polo [8.570184] and joins the Naxos Film Music Classics series, a burgeoning one that reflects well on the company’s steady devotion to the art on disc. The music is by Max Steiner and was written for two Bette Davis vehicles, All This, and Heaven Too and the post-War A Stolen Life.

One thing that distinguishes the series, apart from the purely musical values embodied by the Moscow Symphony’s performance under the experienced John Morgan, is the nature and quality of the supporting notes; you won’t necessarily want to plough through the purely theatrical-dramatic ramifications, nor – if you’re not much of a cineaste – will you much be exercised by what Bette Davis thought, or didn’t think about her roles in these films; but it’s good to know that these details are here.

All This, and Heaven Too has a hundred minutes of music, which is here condensed to under half that length by means of eliminating repetition and such like. The orchestration is by Hugo Friedhofer, whom Steiner held in the highest professional esteem for his work – and no wonder. The result is a kind of through-composed Wagnerian approach, rich, vibrant, exciting and fully up to the expected Steiner Standard.

There are twelve cuts and some run scenes together. The Carriage Ride scene, for instance, lasts a mere 1:32 whilst track eight holds All Hallows Eve, the Lotis Song, Springtime and the Carousel and consequently lasts 5:42. The Duke’s Dying and finale lasts an even longer 7:28. In other words there is plenty of variety both musical and in terms of cutting.

That Carriage Ride is written in Steiner’s best light and airy style whereas A Night To Remember for Louise is full of rich, verdant and gorgeous lyricism. A feature of the writing is the opposition between the open-hearted lyricism of the love music and the more eerie, malevolent writing; for such things Steiner reserves percussion and here we find him using two pianos and celesta and more besides. Romance and portent hover over the final scene before the End Cast – always a good feature of the series in presenting an "authentic" listening experience.

The companion work is a more sparsely and simply orchestrated affair lasting twenty-six minutes in this reconstruction. Best to pass over the note’s reference to a "sea chanty" and better to concentrate on the precision of the writing and its effective realisation. A Stolen Life has a central storm scene which is the opposite of grandiose in its orchestration – instead the clever use of the piano effectively evokes the hubbub without undue exaggeration. There are some splendid little dance moments and some cod Nauticalia that amuses.

Standards are strongly maintained in this release – giving a budget price injection to a notably well curated series.

-- Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

One of Schoenberg's leading pupils and disciples, Anton Webern continued to write songs throughout his life.

Glazunov never published his incidental music to Lermontov’s Masquerade, perhaps because it consists of so many very short numbers. There are a couple of larger bits: a mazurka, a gallop, a polonaise, and a Valse-Fantasia. The music is typically tuneful, beautifully crafted, and the use of the chorus, both wordless and normally, adds immeasurably to the effect. The remaining items have been recorded previously on occasion, and they are also more substantial than their titles might otherwise suggest (the Romantic Intermezzo particularly). These are excellent performances, warmly and vividly played, and boldly engineered, though as usual from this source the sonics are a touch “studio bound”. This is volume 18 in Naxos’ ongoing series of Glazunov orchestral works, and it’s certainly one of the most interesting. Give it a shot, if you’re curious.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The Naxos mission to record all of Glazunov’s orchestral legacy has reached volume 18. Almost by definition that fact alone makes this review redundant. If you are a Glazunov acolyte you will have pre-ordered this disc as soon as it was advertised, but if you are new to his music I cannot imagine this disc being a point of entry of choice. Even though it proves to be a hugely charming disc few would claim that this music is central to one’s appreciation of the composer – there are other places to start for that. As with many of the other discs in the series Naxos make use of their Russian ‘house’ orchestra – The Russian Philharmonic this time under the baton of Dmitry Yablonsky. This is an orchestra whose playing can range from the inspired to the positively pedestrian so I’m pleased to report that on this occasion it is neat and alert with some aptly characterful solos taken when required. The recording too is clear and warm without some of that glassy resonance that occasionally afflicts the engineering from this source. Most interestingly added to the mix is the Gnesin Academy Chorus. More of their role in the music later but enough to say that they sing well and blend into the musical textures effectively.

The main work here is the thirty-six or so minutes of incidental music Glazunov wrote for a 1917 staging of Mikhail Lermontov’s 1835 play Masquerade. Keith Anderson’s detailed liner-note explains that this significant score by Glazunov existed only in manuscript. Confusion is compounded by the fact that the exact musical sequence and how they relate to the play is unclear. Hence we have a detailed synopsis of the play and in parallel a musical sequence that is satisfying in itself but not necessarily one that follows the action of the play. The problem arises from the fact the much of the score provides music for the various balls that constitute many of the scenes. Glazunov has composed a score that is both practical – as in the dance sequences above and emotionally illustrative, seemingly underlining the prevailing mood or emotion of a scene. The score is divided into twenty-six tracks running from a miniature fife and drum march lasting just seventeen seconds to a full blown Valse-Fantasie at five and a half minutes. The latter is authentic Glazunov, very much in the style of the similar movement from Raymonda or the Concert Waltzes. It could be argued that this continuity/similarity is both Glazunov’s strength and his weakness. Really it could date from any point during his compositional career and certainly as a piece dating from 1917 breaks no musical frontiers – although why should it if the requirement is for a romantic waltz. Glazunov’s fabled orchestral mastery is on display throughout – the previously mentioned fife and drum is a perfect example how just two instruments are used to perfect effect (track 14 – Pantomime 8). Elsewhere the greatest musical interest is provided in the movements featuring the chorus. The very opening track is instantly atmospheric and full of foreboding - the synopsis makes it clear that this is a dark and tragic play with echoes of Eugene Onegin and Othello. This is sung to great effect by the Gnesin Academy Chorus with a definite Russian colour to their sound that feels absolutely right although lacking that last ounce of deep implacable resonance. Apart from the cantatas used as fillers on Valery Polyansky’s cycle of the Glazunov Symphonies on Chandos there have not been many opportunities to hear Glazunov’s writing for voices. I particularly like the way he uses them colouristically on occasion. Elsewhere they sing a text in traditional style. Act IV of the play depicts the final descent into madness and death of the Othello-like character Arbenin. The music accompanying Act IV Scene 1 here (track 22) is a marvellous unaccompanied chorus. Sadly there is no text given in the liner notes. It is sung with a beautiful tonal blend and sensitivity – a real highlight of the disc – but I have no idea what they are saying. The tracks have been well sequenced so that the movements flow one to another – very important with many short cues. This is an excellent addition to the Glazunov discography. One interesting and diverting thought; Khachaturian’s suite Masquerade is also incidental music written for a 1941 production of the same play. Given the synopsis outlined by Keith Anderson I am even more at a loss as to how Khachaturian’s riotously good humoured music - at least as far the suite is a sample - fits!

The rest of the disc is filled with judiciously chosen pieces. Naxos has consistently shown considerable care and imagination with the couplings in this series and this disc is no exception. None of the music is revelatory or startling but in style and mood they match well. The two pieces forming Op. 14 are slight and charming and beautifully played here. Likewise the dance fragment that is the Pas de caractére Op.68. The largest single piece on the whole disc is the Romantic Intermezzo Op.69 which in turn is also the most familiar piece. It has appeared as a filler for part of Gennadi Rozhdestvensky’s symphony cycle on Olympia as well as Evgeny Svetlanov’s similar traversal on Melodiya. The title says it all – a lyrical slow movement in all but name it receives another sympathetic performance here although one that tends to the lugubrious. It runs about a minute longer than either of the other named versions.

To summarise: an automatic purchase at this price for anyone with an interest in this composer or the byways of theatrical music. The comparison with Khachaturian’s suite is quite fascinating – two such varying responses to literally the same text. It is better engineered than some in this series and is conducted and played with sympathy and insight.

Appealing yet very rare music performed with great aplomb.

-- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International

José Antonio Carlos de Seixas shared a common keyboard tradition with his contemporary and colleague Domenico Scarlatti, and the question as to who most influenced the other remains unanswered. De Seixas absorbed and combined Italian influences with the musical traditions of Spain and Portugal to create spectacular sonatas filled with grand gestures and remarkable virtuoso effects. Volume 1 of this series (Naxos 8.557459) was described as an “unusually satisfying disc of Baroque keyboard music, packed with real thrills” (All Music Guide).

Production values high, recordings full and spacious, performances totally committed.

Just when you thought it was safe to leave the shelter of the world behind the sofa here come not one, not two, but three monsters – Dracula, The Wolf Man and the Frankenstein Monster! And with them comes the most preposterous plot of all! Mad scientist Boris Karloff escapes from prison thanks to a thunderstorm; with a hunchback assistant he takes the persona of the owner of a travelling chamber of horrors. Within days he has got his hands on the three monsters already named, finding the Frankenstein Monster and the Wolf Man encased in ice in a cave, and he punctuates his desire for revenge with experiments in brain transplants! In the end, everybody dies.

Whether or not the plot is silly, to say the least, the music is superb!

Hans J Salter was another refugee from Nazi Germany, a man who studied with Alban Berg and Franz Schreker, who made his career in Hollywood. His collaborator, Paul Dessau, had arrived in America in 1939 after a career in Europe as both composer and conductor. He was made more politically aware through wartime collaboration with Brecht and joined the American Communist Party in 1946, returning to East Berlin two years later. His collaboration with Brecht continued, and after the writer’s death took to writing using Schoenberg’s twelve note technique and supporting the growing West European avant-garde.

This disk gives us the complete score for the film – 55 minutes of the most eerie and atmospheric music, with the most evocative titles – Rendezvous with Dracula, Death of the Unholy Two and Liquefying Brains. What a score it is and what marvellous work John Morgan has done in his reconstruction from a three line piano score – Universal having destroyed all their old horror film scores. The orchestration is fully 1940s horror and the music sounds incredibly modern – so much so that when the Moscow musicians were recording the score they wondered if it was from a modern film. This is music for film which was truly ahead of its time.

Having already written about seven of these disks in the Naxos Film Music Classics series there is little new I can say. The production values are high, the recordings full and spacious, the performances totally committed, the booklet helpful and detailed and the standard of scholarship without peer.

How about giving us some David Raksin? I’d put The Bad and the Beautiful (1952), The Big Combo (1955) and Al Capone (1959) on the list for a start. Am I being greedy? Of course I am, but Naxos cannot, after what we’ve already heard, stop giving us such quality recordings.

-- Bob Briggs, MusicWeb International

This uniquely cross-sectional approach to culture combines great art with great music, and examines the connections between the two. Each piece of music from the carefully chosen selection takes on a new dimension and provides a musical context to the work of leading painters and sculptors. This fascinating series, with a color booklet including a chronology of the principal artistic and political developments of the period, broadens our view of the music itself. The influence of Raphael (1483-1520) has perhaps exceeded that of any other painter in history. For centuries his works were revered as perfect models of grace and harmony, to the point where every creator of a kitsch Madonna felt obliged to plunder his manner and techniques. On this CD, the world of Raphael is given a musical perspective with a carefully chosen selection of pieces by the finest composers of his time. Inside, Hugh Griffith provides explanatory notes on his life and musical environment. 1 CD with full-color, illustrated, explanatory booklet.

Includes work(s) by John Dowland. Soloist: Nigel North.

RIES Piano Concerto in A, “Farewell Concert for England.” Grand Variations on “Rule Britannia.” Introduction et Variations brillantes • Christopher Hinterhuber (pn); Uwe Grodd, cond; Royal Liverpool PO • NAXOS 8.570440 (66:02)


Ferdinand Ries has been receiving lots of attention on record and in these pages of late. Fanfare ’s own Susan Kagan has been working her way through the composer’s piano sonatas for Naxos, and this is the label’s third volume of his concerted works for piano and orchestra, numbering eight concertos and two sets of variations, the latter of which are included on the present disc. My reaction to the sonatas in a 32:3 review—not to Susan’s playing of them—was lukewarm, leading me to conclude that while “good, solid musical ideas aplenty fly by, one senses that something more significant would be made of them by a composer of a more gifted muse; but in Ries’s hands tuition never quite seems to achieve fruition.”


Ries’s chamber works, with which I am admittedly more familiar, and these works for piano and orchestra, however, tell a rather different story. Perhaps the mother of Ries’s invention was the necessity of mass appeal. Writing to accommodate the tastes of the less musically sophisticated middle-class audiences that were increasingly finding the means to attend public concerts required a different approach. I hate the term “dumbing-down,” but we see it even in Beethoven, whose solo piano sonatas and string quartets, which were aimed at a smaller, more musically cultivated and elite audience, were more experimental and listener challenging than his concertos and symphonies, although here, too, he pushed the envelope. Likewise, Ries’s concerted works are immediately engaging, melodically and harmonically fluent, and filled with wonderfully imaginative and memorable turns of phrase.


The grand orchestral tuttis clearly take Beethoven as their model, but the piano-writing is something else. In the A-Minor Concerto there is an exquisite prefiguring of Chopin and Mendelssohn, with its arabesques and filigree anchoring and sustaining the pivotal notes that constitute the melodic arc. This is gorgeous stuff that you will never tire of listening to. All three works on this disc date from Ries’s London period, the concerto—the seventh in order of publication and obvious from its title—was written in London in 1823 and marks the end of the composer’s period in England. The Introduction and Variations brillantes bears a higher opus number than the concerto only because it wasn’t published until later. This and the Grand Variations on “Rule Britannia” show Ries to be a thorough master of the variations style and technique.


At present, there is little to no competition on CD in this repertoire, so Christopher Hinterhuber pretty much has the field to himself—all the more reason then to rejoice at his lively and beautifully turned performances. Uwe Grodd and the Royal Liverpool band accompany and complement him admirably. If you add to the equation over an hour’s worth of really enjoyable music, excellent playing, an outstanding recording, and Naxos’s budget price, you have a gold star winner.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

Fine lyrical playing with aggressive virtuosity. Works of great merit that are deserving of a wider audience. Play this one next to Brahms' genre counterparts for an interesting comparison.

Miklos Rózsa arrived in Hollywood in 1940 after study in Leipzig and a stint in Paris where Arthur Honegger encouraged him to compose music for films. In California he found a strong community of expatriate composers including Stravinsky, Schoenberg and Korngold, and some of the finest instrumental soloists then active, including Heifetz, Rubinstein and Piatigorsky. By the time he renewed his contract with MGM in 1952, his reputation was such that he was able to demand an unprecedented three months off per year to compose concert music. The first fruits of this arrangement came in the form of a violin concerto, written for Jascha Heifetz. Although the work was completed in the summer of 1952, Heifetz would not play the premiere until 1956 in Dallas. Enthusiastically received, it would soon be recorded by RCA, and this recording was to remain alone in the catalogue for nearly forty years.

Unlike the concerto by his colleague Erich Wolfgang Korngold - also written for Heifetz - Rózsa’s work is far more harmonically adventuresome, though not without considerable episodes of soaring lyricism, particularly in the elegant and airy second movement. Korngold, whose music tended toward an ultra-romanticism à la Richard Strauss, eschewed some of the tangier dissonances employed by Rózsa. One can perhaps attribute the difference in style to the fact that Rózsa grew up in Hungary, whose folk music tradition was considerably more rustic than that of Korngold’s Vienna. Regardless of his sources, Rózsa creates an austere, almost wintry landscape with his music, music that is tautly composed, carefully structured and gracefully assembled. Even in the rather aggressive and stark final movement, Rózsa spins one colorful melody after and other around a punchy and rhythmic accompaniment long on brass interjections and percussive effects from all sections of the orchestra, drums included.

Anastasia Khitruk is an able successor to Heifetz, exhibiting both ample virtuosity and a warm singing tone that is both thrilling and engaging. She plays passionately and yet always in firm control over her emotions, bring the listener often to the edge of his chair without ever dumping him on the floor. Dmitry Yablonsky leads a finely tuned and rhythmically precise Russian Philharmonic Orchestra. The refined brass playing, not often a hallmark of Russian orchestras is not only refreshing but highly exhilarating. Balance between soloist and orchestra is fine, and the recording has the perfect combination of rich tone and clarity.

The composer’s experience with his Sinfonia Concertante was not nearly as happy. Originally proposed by Piatigorsky, the completed work was considered unsatisfactory by the performers - particularly Heifetz - and the two dedicatees played only a considerably reworked second movement. The work would not see a full performance until some time later in Chicago, where it was deemed over-long and again met with a number of revisions before reaching the form that is heard in this recording.

Considerably richer in texture than the violin concerto, the composer’s Hungarian roots are very evident in the melodies with their angular rhythms and acerbic harmonies. One can almost taste the goulash in the wonderfully pungent theme and variations, and yet, when the music needs a moment of repose, Rózsa weaves in a lush romantic theme worthy of any of his film scores. The work concludes with a heavy brass and percussion laden finale, set out in contrast to the fleet passage work of the soloists.

Ms. Khitruk is joined by an able and expressive partner in Andrey Tchekmazov whose thick-fingered tone and versatile range of expression serve the music well. There is a good deal of audible sniffing and snorting from the soloist(s) in this work that is not present in the Violin Concerto, a habit that this writer has always found unnecessary, distracting and indeed downright annoying. Mr. Yablonsky delivers the same kind of tight ensemble playing, coupled with a warm unified string sound that he gave in the Violin Concerto.

To summarize, these are works of high artistic merit and one can hope that they will appear more often in the concert halls of the world, particularly the violin concerto.

-- Kevin Sutton, MusicWeb International

Sousa, J.P.: Music for Wind Band, Vol. 3