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

Valerie Tryon, one of the most sensitive and poetic pianists around, turns in another lovely contribution to Naxos' ongoing cycle of Liszt's complete piano music. Her pianism is quite a different kettle of fish from Oxana Yablonskaya's, whose own Schubert/Liszt disc marks Volume 5 in this series. At first hearing, I felt Tryon's control of Liszt's textural complexities to be slightly soft-grained and lacking the last degree of suppleness and tonal solidity we expect in this repertoire. By the second and third listening, I began to appreciate the pianist's canny dynamic planning, as witness the unfolding drama of "Der Jäger" and "Die böse Farbe" from Die Schöne Müllerin, or the subtle, rippling accompaniment that gently envelops "Wohin?".


Similarly, Tryon bathes "Die Forelle"'s arpeggios in beautifully tinted shadings and takes trouble to clarify Liszt's pedal markings. Listen to how Tryon deftly keeps "Ave Maria"'s melody afloat against an accompaniment that keeps changing its textural stripes. Yes, "Erlkönig" can use a bit more clarity and cumulative power, with less heavy octaves in the left hand. But that's just one track out of 19, and what's good is quite wonderful. If you've a hankering for Schubert songs served up for solo piano as only Liszt could, you'll certainly warm to this disc.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

HARTY: Irish Symphony (An) / With the Wild Geese / In Irelan

This selection includes an explanatory commentary of this opera, written
by Thomson Smillie and narrated by David Timson.

Leonardo da Vinci (1452-1519) is our prototype for the universal genius: painter, architect, military engineer, and anatomist, his far-ranging scientific curiosity placed him centuries ahead of his time. On this CD, the world of da Vinci is given a musical perspective with a carefully chosen selection of pieces by the finest composers of the day. Inside, Hugh Griffith provides explanatory notes on his life and musical environment. As soon as we discover that the nature of sound was something that absorbed the interest of Leonardo da Vinci for many years, and that, according to Vasari, he 'sang divinely, improvising his own accompaniment on the lira', we begin to realize the importance of music in his life. Exploring the music written during his lifetime forms a fascinating backdrop to his paintings, several of which are illustrated within the booklet.

Mompou: Piano Music, Vol. 4

This selection includes a commentary on and analysis of this work,
written by Thomson Smillie and performed by David Timson.

Art & Music: Bruegel - Music of His Time

SCHNITTKE: Piano Quintet / String Trio / Stille Musik

This selection contains narration about Bach's life and works by Jeremy
Siepmann, John Shrapnel and others. It contains a 106 page companion booklet with the complete spoken text, a detailed historical background and graded listening plan.

SOUSA Music for Wind Band, Vol. 7 • Keith Brion, cond; Martin Hinton (cnt); 1 Royal Artillery Band • NAXOS 8.559247 (57: 26)


America First. The Presidential Polonaise. The Rifle Regiment. Congress Hall. El capitan. Intaglio Waltzes. Golden Jubilee. The Bride Elect. Sounds from the Revivals. 1 The Charlatan. Sheridan’s Ride. The Black Horse Troop. The Naval Reserve


Keith Brion, one of the foremost authorities on the music of Sousa, has been building an extensive library of Sousa’s music for Naxos since 1998, beginning with the first release (“On Stage,” Fanfare 22:1), which first appeared on marco polo in 1997. This is planned to be the most comprehensive collection of Sousa assembled, currently consisting of these seven volumes of wind band music, in addition to an earlier three volumes of Sousa for orchestra. In terms of wind music alone, Brion has so far released 86 works: marches, suites, waltzes, and novelty numbers. The current largest collection is by the Detroit Concert Band, which recorded all 116 published marches on five CDs (Walking Frog 300). The U.S. Marine Band’s set of four CDs, available as “A Box of Sousa” on Altissimo 5571, has 56 works. In terms of performances, the Marine Band is probably my favorite, with the Naxos set a very close second. Both compare favorably with the best single-disc releases, including Junkin with the Dallas Wind Symphony (Reference Recordings 94), Fennell with the Eastman Wind Ensemble (Mercury 434300), Foley with the American Main Street Band (EMI 54130), and Keith Brion with his own New Sousa Band (Delos 102 or Walking Frog 217), which includes seven restorations of recordings conducted by Sousa himself. The relative completeness of the Detroit release recommends it, but the performances often lapse into the routine. Besides, the Naxos set will eventually include 20 additional marches and dozens of concert works.


This seventh volume is as good a place to start as any, as it continues the series pattern of presenting a satisfying mix of the familiar ( El capitan and The Black Horse Troop ) and the unfamiliar ( Congress Hall and The Naval Reserve ), of marches derived from Sousa’s stage works ( El capitan , again, The Bride Elect and The Charlatan ), of Strauss-inspired waltzes ( Intaglio Waltzes ), of historical scenarios à la Wellington’s Victory , complete with battle sounds, racing horse hooves, and cheering ( Sheridan’s Ride ), and novelty numbers like Sounds from the Revivals , an arrangement of late-19th-century hymns which may have been written for Offenbach’s orchestra when they appeared at the Philadelphia Centennial Exposition.


James Camner has reviewed three of the earlier releases in the series for Fanfare : Vol. 2, 25:5, Vol. 3, 27:3, and Vol. 4, 28:1. In each he has pointed out the essential rightness of Brion’s performances. I concur. They are not so fast as to make them overbearing or cheaply exciting, but rather taken at a comfortable march tempo that allows the music to unfold naturally. The Royal Artillery Band, formed before the American colonies declared independence, plays with style and verve. Those who have learned their Sousa with (or in) larger concert bands may initially be surprised by the somewhat smaller sound of this ensemble, but in fact, this is the instrumentation that Sousa used in his own touring band. Sousa-lovers will want the whole series. The uncertain risk little, at Naxos’s bargain prices, by diving in here.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames

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

In his 1996 Fourth Symphony, Philip Glass reworked six out of the ten tracks from David Bowie's Heroes album into orchestral pieces that function both as independent entities and integral symphonic components. It isn't necessary to know the original Heroes in order to appreciate how Glass manipulates the essentially simplistic melodic content by way of striking harmonic juxtapositions, rhythmic vamps laced with unpredictable accents from the percussion, and orchestration that's cannily varied yet clear enough to take down by dictation. In The Light, Glass also generates considerable textural and dramatic mileage from the simple, undulating motives heard at the work's outset. What prevents the signature repetitive modules from running into the ground or sticking in the mud is the composer's unerring sense of when to introduce a new idea, slightly alter a chord voicing, or vary the instrumentation.

One main difference between Marin Alsop's interpretations and Dennis Russell Davies' premiere recordings on Nonesuch concerns engineering philosophy. On Naxos, the Bournemouth Symphony emerges in a more natural, concert-hall perspective as you might perceive from a dead-center orchestra seat in a vibrant but not overly resonant hall. The Russell Davies recordings reproduce their orchestras (the American Composers Orchestra in the Symphony, the Vienna Radio Symphony Orchestra in The Light) at relatively close, detail -oriented range and pack a more immediate punch. For example, in Alsop's slightly faster rendition of the symphony's fourth-movement Sons of the Silent Age, the antiphonal cross-rhythms midway through the work converge to more fluid and blended effect. By contrast, Russell Davies' slower, more heavily accented version beefs up the harps and low brass. And while Alsop begins V 2 Schneider (the final movement) at a bright clip that ever-so-slightly slows down within the first minute, Russell Davies is rock steady. Although I lean toward Russell Davies' recordings (which result from the composer's production team), Alsop's equally world-class interpretations unquestionably convey their own character and validity.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Born in 1938 into a musical family, John Harbison studied at Harvard, and with Roger Sessions at Princeton. He is one of America's most accomplished musicians, with four symphonies, three operas and a Pulitzer Prize-winning cantata to his credit.

Includes work(s) by Naoko Akutagawa. Ensemble: Group for Contemporary Music. Conductor: Harvey Sollberger.

Classical Music

For this Volume 1 of the songs of Charles Ives (the series will include all of the songs he completed), Naxos employed the services of no less than 13 singers, a potentially risky decision that happily turns out very well. All of the soloists, who represent all voice-parts (including countertenor in two selections), are first-rate singers, many quite young with blooming opera careers, each with a clear and compelling competence in how to sing songs. And these aren't just any songs, but some of the most fascinating, engaging, joyful, humorous, nostalgic, sentimental, artfully written songs in the repertoire.

The programming scheme is to present the songs alphabetically--not only is this handy if you want to find a particular song, but it also happens to create a very satisfying recital with an entertaining mix of styles, texts, and themes. This volume begins perfectly with "1, 2, 3" and ends (also appropriately!) with "Cradle Song", and in between we get such gems as "Aeschylus and Sophocles" (1922), "At Sea" (1921), "At the River" (1916), "Autumn" (1907), "The Cage" (1906), "The Camp Meeting" (1912), "Charlie Rutlage" (1920), "The Circus Band" (1894), and the lovely parlor-songs "Because of You" (1898) and "Because Thou Art" (1901).

Some singers are better than others at articulating the words--particularly important here since the texts are provided only online--and naturally, with this variety of voices, timbres, and techniques, some will appeal more than others to a given listener. For instance, I found Lielle Berman just a bit too "church-soprano-ish" in "The Collection", likewise baritone Patrick Carfizzi's southern accent for "Charlie Rutlage" is somewhat forced and inauthentic, and while it's well sung, to me, countertenor Ian Howell's "A Christmas Carol" is just too precious for its own good. But these are minor, personal quibbles in what overall is an extraordinarily satisfying, consummately entertaining, and consistently thoughtful collaboration that's always respectful of both the serious and humorous, the simple and the complex, the overtly melodious and abstract aspects of these often challenging songs.

Highlights are many, but include all four of bass David Pittsinger's songs, mezzo Leah Wool's "Ann Street", tenor Kenneth Tarver's "At Parting", baritone Robert Gardner's "The Cage" and "The Circus Band", soprano Sara Jakubiak's "Abide with Me" and "At the River"--and I could go on. You might think that listening to 29 Ives songs at one sitting would be a bit much, but thanks to these terrific singers, their fine accompanists, and to Ives' wildly, wonderfully varied, expert songwriting, it's just a pure pleasure--and you'll even find yourself smiling many times throughout.

There have been several excellent, highly recommended Ives song compilations issued on disc, including a complete edition from the early-1990s on Albany, a single-disc program on Decca (type Q3671 in Search Reviews), and two first-rate collections (61 songs all together) from Gerald Finley on Hyperion (for reviews, type Q9249 and Q11530), and this one promises to join them as an essential addition to every Ives and American song listening library. On to Volume 2!

--David Vernier, ClassicsToday.com

In his early career as a composer, Berlin-born Stefan Wolpe espoused social causes and wrote songs on revolutionary themes.

This is rather terrific. It is an example of the transcriber's art as high as Bach's and a whole CD of it, full of Italian concertos we never hear, as well as ones we do. What we have here is a kind of super-abundant version of Bach's arrangements of Vivaldi and others. These are 'concertos after' and reflect the transcriber's skill who has turned them into organ sonatas with some degree of freedom. There was a Vol. 1 of transcribed (Albinoni, Gregori, Telemann, Gentili) and original works which I've not yet heard. Walther was a year older than his distant relative, J. S. Bach. The two became friends when Bach spent time in Weimar. Walther was acknowledged as one of the great organists of his day, playing not only his own compositions but, as Vol. 2 shows, collecting those of other composers.

Born in Erfurt he received tuition from Johann Bernhard Bach. Organist at his home city's St Thomas he formed a friendship, based on much travelling, with Werckmeister, studied with Pachelbel's son, Wilhelm Hieronymus, then studied philosophy back at Erfurt university. As often happens to musical philosophy students in Germany around this time, he finally devoted his energy to music from thenceforth, and was organist at St. Paul's Weimar from 1707, joining the court orchestra by invitation of Duke Wilhelm Ernst, around the time Bach was leaving after the death of his wife.

Walther's own chorale preludes are represented, and 'Mache, dich' with its tinkling effects rather like some of Krebs's later efforts, recall one of the occasional stops no longer used in the organ vocabulary. They're very fine pieces and deserve to be better known. Walther's own modesty and low profile as a composer is the key to their comparative neglect. The transcriptions are suitable for the Italian or Italianate originals, the Vivaldi similar to Bach's and the Manzia unexpected in its use of flute stops. The Blamr is gentle, not quite bland, an attractive composition by someone hardly known to us. The Taglietti is full of panache and the three Torelli concerti that close the volume full of a graciousness one doesn't expect. The single movement d minor is full of questing for the home key, reflective and quasi-churchy. The B flat blows this away in brilliant ceremonials. The a minor is full of bright gothic gloom.

A really enjoyable disc, a true addition, beautifully recorded and played.

-- Simon Jenner, MusicWeb International

Many things come to mind when considering the great flowering of the arts during the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, among them the plays and poetry of Shakespeare and the magnificent sacred choral music masterpieces of composers such as Byrd and Tallis. But there also was abundant activity on the secular music front, most notably the incomparable lute songs of John Dowland and the lovely works for viol consort and for solo voice and viols by Byrd, Mundy, Farrant, Parsons, and many others. This recording, featuring the clear, expressive voice of Catherine King and the well-tuned, perfectly matched instruments of the Rose Consort of Viols, is devoted to the latter two categories--including theatrical pieces, dances, and some of the most melancholy--and beautiful--songs in the repertoire. King's rich mezzo is an ideal complement to the warm, reedy viols, and the instrumental playing must receive special mention for its sensitivity and tasteful style. This recording will provide an appealing introduction to one of the most significant and accessible genres of early music; and it will satisfy confirmed fans as well. --David Vernier, 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

GALLAGHER Diversions Overture. Berceuse. Sinfonietta for String Orchestra. Symphony in One Movement, “Threnody” • JoAnn Falletta, cond; London SO • NAXOS 8559652 (63:47)


For those who do not know about Jack Gallagher and the genesis of this recording, I refer you to the feature/interview elsewhere in this issue. The four works offered here are an overview of most the American composer’s career so far, from the 1977 Berceuse , written when he was 30 years old, to the Sinfonietta, completed in 2007 and revised the next year.


There probably is no better introduction to Gallagher’s beautifully crafted, accessible music than Diversions Overture , the opener for this CD. The concert overture seems to evoke the open prairies of the old West, complete with sunrise, sunset, and the excitement of discovery. I mean no irony; it is very much in the style of the American school created by Aaron Copland and Gallagher’s first composition teacher, Elie Siegmeister. If there is any irony, it is that Copland and Siegmeister were city boys from New York, and Gallagher was, too, before he took his university job in Wooster, Ohio. It doesn’t matter. In 1986, when Gallagher wrote this, he showed himself a natural heir to the style that his predecessors created. There is poignancy, explosive energy, good-natured humor (love those harp interjections in the middle section), and a warm-hearted directness that is tremendously engaging. This is a feel-good music in the very best sense of the expression.


On the other hand, the earlier Berceuse is so beautiful it could make you cry. How many times does a critic get to say that when reviewing a piece by a living composer? And it works because there is no sense that the composer is trying to make that happen. As is true of all of Gallagher’s music, there is unaffected honesty, the sense of being allowed to look into the composer’s heart. This gentle little lullaby, based on a piano work written for the daughter of friends, is one of Gallagher’s most played and recorded works. I have not heard it better done.


Originally a set of two pieces for orchestra, and expanded in to a full five-movement suite in 2007, the Sinfonietta is occasionally reminiscent of chamber-orchestra works by British composers like Moeran. At other times Britten’s more anxious string works are brought to mind. This is a different side of Gallagher’s art, emotionally more contained—though no less vigorous—and sparer in sound. Throughout there are surprises: an unexpected interval, an unusually timed rhythmic pattern, or a chord that deliciously refuses to resolve. In the Intrada, he uses the octatonic (diminished) scale to create a feeling of uneasy anticipation. In the Intermezzo he frames the melancholy, slowly shifting movement with a concertante opening and closing that is like murmured conversation against the sound of the night. The lively, slightly unsettling central Argentinean Malambo serves as a scherzo, but the bustle never seems joke-like. The Pavane is reminiscent of the Berceuse of 30 years previous, though now the innocence is bittersweet, and the gentleness a touch reserved. The pizzicato opening of the concluding Rondo Concertante brings us back to English pastoral, and the folk dance. Throughout there is a quality of understatement that is deceptive, as greater familiarity with the work reveals a deep complexity that isn’t immediately apparent; very like getting to know the composer, and very moving.


So is Gallagher’s Symphony in One Movement, subtitled “Threnody.” Written, in part, in memory of his mother, who died unexpectedly during its composition, this is understandably the darkest of the works here. The opening section may well remind you of Shostakovich’s wrenching adagios, and echoes of Bernard Hermann will come later, but the way this lament explodes into sudden anger in the second part is clearly Gallagher’s usual kinetic energy, agonized and held too long in check. It subsides eventually, played out in sinister snatches of manic solo violin, and racing piano chromatics, and the roaring of the brass. An eerie harp cadenza provides a release, but no sense of consolation, and the work dissolves into a fractured madness of spent rage and poignant remembrances before collapsing into despair.


As I have said before, this is a most welcome release of some absolutely fantastic music. It is not cutting-edge, nor self-consciously emotive as some neoromantic music is. It is richly and directly communicative. Naxos is to be commended for offering an opportunity to hear these four major works by a composer who richly deserves to be better known. JoAnn Falletta clearly loves these pieces, and brings them vividly to life. The LSO—need I say this?—plays with great conviction and energy. Only an occasional unevenness of ensemble in the swirling figurations of the Sinfonietta, or a moment or two of tentativeness in the brass, hint at any lack of familiarity. The sound is lovely, fully capturing the bloom of that great Abbey Road Studio One. Urgently recommended.


FANFARE: Ronald E. Grames


On evidence here, Jack Gallagher (b. 1947) is a composer of considerable ability. He wrote the notes to this release, not necessarily a good idea, since they read like a job resume and have about as much personality as stale bread, but the music happily says otherwise. The two big works, the Sinfonietta for strings and the Symphony "Threnody", have considerable substance. Among the five movements of the former work is an Argentine Malambo (think of the final dance of Ginastera's ballet Estancia), and a very good one too. The symphony manages the difficult task in a modern work of being turbulent and emotionally affecting without ever sounding petulant or gratuitously miserable. It's also very cogently structured in one movement, part of a long and distinguished lineage stretching back through Samuel Barber and Roy Harris to the Seventh Symphony of Sibelius.

Diversions Overture opens with some lovely modal harmonies in the woodwinds, and for a moment you might feel that you are listening to a lost work from the English pastoral school--not quite Vaughan Williams, but possibly E.J. Moeran or John Ireland. Gallagher's individuality soon reasserts itself, however, in the music's quick sections. The Berceuse is a slight but pretty little intermezzo.

As you may have guessed, this music is harmonically traditional and falls gratefully on the ear, but it never comes across as merely facile or clichéd. JoAnn Falletta and the London Symphony play it all with notable confidence and technical security, as we have every right to expect, and they've been well recorded at Abbey Road Studios. Gallagher is definitely worth getting to know.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

This recording is billed as the first totally, absolutely complete release of The Golden Age, Shostakovich's best ballet, in that you get all of the repeats, some of which are omitted in the only competing, more or less complete version on Chandos (with Rozhdestvensky). Having all of the repeats isn't necessarily a good thing, but with Serebrier and his Scottish players we are in good hands. Rozhdestvensky's recording also is very good, but his Swedish orchestra isn't any better than the Royal Scottish National--and it also suffers from some minor moments of scruffy rhythm in the strings. More to the point, the Russian conductor's reading isn't entirely free of the heaviness that often characterizes his conducting.


You can hear this quite clearly in comparing the two interpretations of the splendid Can-can in Act 3, one of the largest and most powerful extended numbers in the ballet. Serebrier actually is the slower of the two, by a few unimportant seconds, but his rhythms cut through more crisply, and the orchestra's brighter-toned brass and more vivid percussion make the music sparkle as it should--and terrify when it must (as at the end of this very piece). Otherwise there's little to choose between the two, but much else to enjoy here, including that splendidly romantic Dance of the Diva (a big Adagio) as well as all of the other numbers familiar from the popular suite extracted by the composer at the time of the original production. Terrific sound and a very reasonable price make this the clear version of choice.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

An excellent reissue of music by a much underrated composer. The sound is excellent … be slightly brighter than the original. A must for all fans of film music and this composer.

The eldest of ten children, Alfred Newman was a musical prodigy, starting piano lessons at the age of five, and studying composition with Rubin Goldmark, who also taught Aaron Copland and George Gershwin. By 1920 he was working as a Broadway conductor, and, in 1930, he accompanied Irving Berlin to Hollywood. There he took private lessons from Arnold Schoenberg and wrote his first film score for Goldwyn’s adaptation of Elmer Rice’s 1929 Pulitzer Prize winning play Street Scene in 1931. Seventeen years later Kurt Weill made an opera from the same play.

Writing in a late romantic idiom, but with a more American voice than either Max Steiner or Erich Wolfgang Korngold, Newman has never received the wider attention of so many of his contemporaries. Writing in 1996, Fred Steiner lamented, “Some of the films (he) scored then don’t have drawing power today. Wuthering Heights (1939) may be OK, but whoever heard of Beloved Enemy (1936)? It’s not like the popularity of The Adventures of Robin Hood (Korngold) or Gone With the Wind (Steiner).” Between 1930 and 1970 Newman wrote music for over two hundred films and acted as musical director for many more. He won nine Oscars and, between 1938 and 1957; he was nominated in twenty consecutive years.

P C Wren’s Beau Geste is a desert drama concering three brothers (played by Gary Cooper, Robert Preston and Ray Milland) and their undying devotion to each other and family. Newman’s score is rumbustious, humourous and tender by turns. The Prelude has a swagger before turning to orientalism, and after some delicate work the March Out is a defiant cue for the Foreign Legion. After the brilliantly scored Battle, with the addition of a female chorus, death spreads through the doomed Fort Zinderneuf in A Viking’s Funeral – the most heart-felt music in the Suite. The Finale is reserved before giving way to a quick reprise of the March for the End Cast.

In his biography of Charles Laughton (Charles Laughton: An Intimate Biography, Doubleday New York, 1976 and W H Allen, London, 1976), Charles Higham wrote that The Hunchback of Notre Dame was “… an operetta without songs, accompanied by … Newman’s crashing chords and celestial choirs, suggesting menace or exaltation.“ Fred Steiner said, “It’s a truly remarkable score, especially in regard to the character of the themes. The great thing about the themes for the hunchback, Esmeralda, the young soldier she falls for and the poet Gringoire is that they all fit their personalities so well … it’s real music.” This is a big, colourful, score; motifs come and go and are developed throughout the film. There’s more orientalism in Esmeralda’s Dance, and, very surprisingly, in Thank You Mother of God, there’s a solo for flute which is uncannily like the flute solo in the final movement of Gustav Holst’s Beni Mora! Celestial choirs, strange, Bernard Herrmann-like timbres from the low woodwinds, delicate string writing and almost Parry-like choral odes abound in this score. Please note that I make these comments not because the music sounds like Holst, Herrmann or Parry but to give some idea of the wide range of the music.

All About Eve doesn’t have a big score and this little suite is tantalizing: a jaunty opening titles sequence, followed by various incarnations of Eve’s theme from tender and innocent to its climactic appearance reflecting envy, lust and the intoxicating allure of the theatre limelight.

The musical performances are assured and if the Moscow Symphony Orchestra doesn’t quite have the verve of the RKO Studio Orchestra they play the music for all it is worth; textures are clear and the various sections acquit themselves well. William Stromberg directs strong, forthright performances with great attention to every detail of the scores.

One thing the notes don’t tell us is exactly what restoration and reconstruction work John Morgan and William Stromberg had to do for these scores. This is odd as the booklet for the original release (Marco Polo 8.223750 – 1997) contains a note by John Morgan, and it is most interesting. He tells us that the All About Eve Suite uses the original orchestrations by Eddie Powell. Stromberg created the Beau Geste suite from “Scantily annotated conductor books” and Morgan himself consulted “… the surviving scores and the piano/conductor short scores …” to prepare The Hunchback of Notre Dame Suite, and orchestrated about half of the music to “… bring it more in line with what is heard on the film soundtrack … I was also able to restore many bars and one entire cue dropped from the finished film.” Also missing from the Naxos booklet are almost all the photographs and Bill Whitaker’s excellent notes have been slightly truncated. The original issue also had a better sleeve illustration.

Incidentally, Newman was born in 1900 not 1901 as stated on the rear of the CD and in the booklet.

Ultimately, it is the music that matters and this is an excellent re-issue of music by a much underrated composer. The sound is excellent and seems to be slightly brighter than the original. A must for all fans of film music in general and this composer in particular.

-- Bob Briggs, MusicWeb International

As this second volume of overtures shows, there really is quite a bit of little-known Schubert orchestral music. Perhaps the biggest discovery for many listeners will be the turbulent Overture in E minor, but there are more than a few substantial pieces here. The two Overtures in the Italian Style are delightful, and so true to their models, and all of the music here is very well played and recorded. Benda and the Prague Sinfonia deliver a particularly vivacious account of the Rosamunde Overture, just the opposite of the thick and heavy "German" approach that we so often hear, while Fierabras also has plenty of energy. The sonics capture the players very naturally, with nicely present woodwinds and excellent balances between brass and strings. No qualms here: Go for it.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com