Hungarian composer Eugene Z�dor, a friend of B�la Bart�k, won renown in Vienna before having to leave for America in 1939 where he eventually became Mikl�s R�zsa's exclusive orchestrator in Hollywood. His music is often redolent of his native soil as depicted in the Variations on a Hungarian Folksong which, at times, approaches an almost Straussian opulence. Written in Vienna in 1936, the Dance Symphony is a sunny homage to the composer's adopted home. The Festival Overture is a much later work of almost cinematic brilliance. This is Volume 3 of the ongoing Naxos series of Z�dor's orchestral works.

If Ysaÿe is remembered today as a composer it is almost exclusively for his remarkable cycle of six solo violin sonatas. Nowhere on this disc does it say that these are first recordings so I must assume they are not but certainly I had not encountered any of this music before. I find it hard to believe that it could find finer or more dedicated advocates than this group of four stellar Norwegian players who perform with marvellous technical address, conviction, musicality and no little passion.

These three works are all big and serious compositions. For my taste, all too often the violin duet format can result in sequences of acrobatic technical displays which can be passingly entertaining but offer little meat for repeated listening. The big thirty minute Sonata in A minor for Two Violins which opens this disc could not be further from this description. The technical demands on the players are huge but they are always at the service of the music. Ysaÿe refuses to let the presence of only two essentially homophonic instruments limit his musical argument. The players are equal partners throughout with multiple stopping and complex polyphony the order of the day. Stylistically it is hard to place. Written in 1915 – some eight or so years before the solo sonatas mentioned above it has absorbed many of the modernistic traits of its time while remaining steadfastly tonal. I would agree with the players – who have collaborated to write the liner notes – when they say “the work is full of modal chords, late-romantic chromaticism, impressionistic and expressionistic traits”. If I were to level a criticism at all at the work it is precisely that it veers between styles and lacks the economy of utterance that makes the solo sonatas such extraordinary works. But that really is a po-faced response to a work full of so many lush delights. Kraggerud and Monsen are quite superb – their violins superbly matched tonally, technically peerless and creating an aural illusion of many more players than the two of them – try the last three minutes of the work as it builds towards a delirious climax – a terrifying complex of chordal passage work and double stopping produces a glorious Zemlinsky-like texture. If you enjoy the sensual neurotic world of the early Second Viennese School this will be for you.

The String Trio ‘Le Chimay’ that follows is immediately a terser work – ironically given that it has more instruments. The introduction of a bass and middle voice to the texture by definition widens the tonal range. But the musical writing is far more searching, ill at ease at times. This was written some twelve years after the earlier sonata and shows how far Ysaÿe had come as a composer. Again I hear Korngold and Zemlinsky quite clearly. Although tonal the tonality is exceptionally fluid. Kraggerud is joined by the brilliant Lars Anders Tomter on viola (most collectors will know him from his beautiful version of the Walton Viola Concerto on Naxos) and the rich glorious cello playing of Ole-Eirik Ree. Again the quality of the chamber playing is quite first rate – listen from 5:45 how Kraggerud plays a sinuous plaintive solo line that slowly builds as the other instruments enter – Tomter’s viola singing a sad song from 6:11 – the internal balancing of the instruments superbly achieved. The recording should be mentioned here – detailed but not overly close, rich and warm allowing the expressive nature of the music to register. I like the way all the players enjoy the quieter dynamics – never forcing the tone, it allows the many half-lights and shadowed passages in the music to make their full impact.

Great care has been taken with all the works presented to ensure that manuscripts and original scores were used to eliminate as many textual errors as possible and this is symptomatic of the care and attention to detail that has been lavished on this disc – bargain price perhaps but premium price musical values throughout. Having been so fulsome in my praise to this point it might surprise readers that the highlight of this disc for me was actually the final work – the Sonata for Solo Cello Op.28. My perception of the repertoire for solo cello (forgive me if I’m wrong here – I’m a violinist after all!) is that aside from the Bach Suites there is not as much solo repertoire as there is for violin. Assuming that to be true it makes this work all the more significant. Interestingly it dates from exactly the same time as the solo violin sonatas but in the main it inhabits a different musical world - indeed it seems to be paying an indirect debt to those very same Bach compositions being a less impulsive, less overtly dramatic piece than the violin sonatas. The shortest work on the disc running to just twelve minutes it is in four separate movements. But you should not mistake brevity for levity – this is quite brilliant in the terse concentration of its utterance. I particularly liked the opening – again being struck by the rich dark tone Ole-Eirik Ree produces – as well as the brief one and a half minute slow movement In modo di recitative (track 7) – much of this latter movement in the lower register of the cello and again the way Ree is willing to project a thinned-away tone absolutely makes the most of this strange, elusive and questioning music.

Great credit to Naxos for releasing a disc which by definition is never going to leap off the shelves in its thousands yet provides curious collectors with a superb introduction to the chamber music of this still undervalued composer who is so much more than just a purveyor of violinistic virtuosity. More please.

-- Nick Barnard, MusicWeb International

Eugène Ysaÿe was a towering figure in the history of the violin. He also composed a number of important works, most inspirationally the cycle of Six Sonatas for Solo Violin, which rank among the greatest and most demanding of the twentieth century. Each is dedicated to a fellow violinist and friend, whose style of performance and musical preoccupations they reflect. Echoes of Bach are present, as are dance motifs, and virtuoso figuration, reflecting the eminence of the dedicatees.

Tianwa Yang has quickly established herself as a leading international performer and recording artist. She has recorded critically acclaimed interpretations of the complete music for violin and orchestra, and for violin and piano by Sarasate.

REVIEWS:

[Tianwa Yang] plays all this music like an expert gymnast showing the wannabes how to flip on the balance beam and land on one foot as if in their sleep. She maintains poise regardless of speed or difficulty. I’m sure that getting these works under her fingers took hours and hours of practice, but her smooth delivery keeps the “yes, but” factor out of the way. She exudes a command bordering on relaxation, even in the trickiest passages, yet her emotional ties to the music are always at or hear a white heat. Thus does she present us with these six crown jewels as if she were offering us a piece of her own soul.

-- The Art Music Lounge

Tianwa Yang’s colors are gorgeous, her nuances magical. Not technique (though she is technically flawless), but expression is her first concern. So, with her rich musicality, she becomes a fascinating narrator in Ysaÿe’s masterworks.

-- Pizzicato

Fresh from her recorded triumphs in Sarasate and Mendelssohn, Tianwa Yang negotiates the musical and technical chicanery of Ysaÿe’s six solo Sonatas with great aplomb. Even bearing in mind outstanding accounts by [others], Yang’s rare ability to sustain a convincing emotional narrative in these elusive scores proves highly compelling. Completely unfazed by Ysaÿe’s near-constant Bachian cross-referencing and mild harmonic astringencies, she moulds even the most challenging of phrases with a dedicated sensitivity and affectionate warmth.

-- BBC Music Magazine

Ysaÿe: 6 Sonatas for Solo Violin, Op. 27

Japanese composer Akio Yashiro (1929-76) studied in Paris with both Nadia Boulanger and Olivier Messiaen and writes in a style reminiscent of a cross between Ravel and Dutilleux. Original he ain't, but there's nothing wrong with that. Indeed, his considerable craftsmanship and polish reflect the best in the French tradition, and anyone who loves the modern French school will feel very comfortable with these atmospheric and appealing works.


The Piano Concerto begins like some dreamy offspring of Messiaen and adds a touch of Bartók to the mix as well. Its marvelous central slow movement obviously owes its inspiration to Ravel's "Le Gibet" from Gaspard de la nuit, with its creepy persistent repeated notes and aura of Gothic horror. Hiromi Okada plays a pretty mean piano, as poetic in the music's softly impressionistic moments as in its more virtuosic passages. While hardly conventionally melodic, this brilliantly written piece offers no difficulties to any listener with a reasonably open mind and an ear for adventure.


The Symphony makes just as favorable an impression. It opens with sounds that could have come from some lost late tone poem of Sibelius. The vivacious scherzo shares the same "perpetual ostinato" technique as the comparable movement from Debussy's string quartet. It all culminates in a lengthy and melancholy Lento, featuring some lovely wind solos and long, lyrical phrases that carry the melodies effortlessly over the bar lines. The finale owes a lot to Messiaen: it begins with a few characteristic bird-like "whoops" and then takes off like a rocket. The ending paraphrases the climactic chorale and frantic dash to the finish line of the Turangalila-symphonie, complete with extravagant cymbal and tam-tam crashes.


It would be easy to dismiss this music as excessively derivative, but it works so well and sounds so confidently written that in the end it winds up striking you more as a friend you believe you might have met in a previous life than some sort of cheap imitation of a beloved master. Takuo Yuasa leads the Ulster Orchestra in exciting, flamboyant, very well recorded performances of both works, reminding us that in the arts what matters is not so much who does something first, but who does it best. Yashiro was, without question, one of the best.
--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Thanks to the thorough liner notes written by Morihide Katayama, I learned from this release that Kôsçak Yamada is considered the “father” of Japanese orchestral composition—the overture (1912) and symphony (1912) are claimed to be the first such scores composed in Japan. My curiosity was whetted when I read that Yamada, born in 1886, first encountered music through exposure to military bands and Anglican hymn tunes (though his father was born into the prevailing samurai class, his mother’s family was at some point converted to Protestantism), and at age eighteen traveled to Europe to study with, among others, Max Bruch at the Berlin Musikhochschule. From this unusual background, I was hoping to discover a Japanese Charles Ives. No such luck, at least from the evidence of the earliest works here (Yamada’s compositional career continued on until his death in 1965, though a cerebral hemorrhage in 1948 apparently restricted him to small-scale songs). The brief (under four minutes) overture is, to my ears, pure Mendelssohn in melody and spirit, and the symphony, somewhat more serious in form and content, sweeps through intimations of Dvo?ák, Beethoven, and Schumann, comfortable in its old-fashioned, pastoral style, and certainly without a trace of the Sturm und Drang suggested by the title. Katayama suggests that this title may have been added after WW I began in 1914; he also posits that the conservatism of these works may be due to their being student works submitted to Yamada’s composition teacher, Karl Leopold Wolf, reflecting the staid German instruction and required mimicry of models.

Certainly, there is a profound difference in tone and intent in the two symphonic poems composed in 1913. The brooding harmonies, more colorful orchestration, occasional bombastic eruptions, and less formal constraints of The Dark Gate point to the influence of Richard Strauss, and there’s even a hint of Scriabinesque mystery. Some credit, however, should go to Yamada’s ability as a psychological scene-painter, since the music was inspired by a poem describing the anxiety felt by a group of sightless persons unable to escape from behind a large gate. Likewise, the symbolism of death and paradise in Madara No Hana finds its voice in lush, Impressionistic orchestration (including a tenor saxophone!) and outbursts that suggest a familiarity with Mussorgsky as well as Scriabin.

Interestingly, Katayama mentions that Yamada came to the US in 1918–19 and conducted the New York Symphony Orchestra (now Philharmonic) twice in Carnegie-Hall concerts of his own music. What he does not relate is that Yamada’s desire to become established as a composer/conductor in the West was, ironically, apparently hindered by his fluency in Western compositional styles; American audiences wanted something exotic, and at this time Yamada’s music lacked Japanese character. By 1921, however, Yamada composed a symphony, Inno Meiji, that combined traditional Japanese instruments with a symphony orchestra, anticipating post-WW II trends, and whatever confluence of styles he might have subsequently devised remain so-far unheard by the bulk of non-Japanese listeners. Perhaps Naxos will document Inno Meiji, and some of Yamada’s later work. In the meantime, the historical and curiosity factors outweigh the sheer musical pleasures of this initial release.

Art Lange, FANFARE

Xavier Montsalvatge was a major contributor to Catalonian culture in the 20th century. His works for two pianos collect most of his musical preoccupations into a single programme. The jazz-tinted Barcelona Blues reflects his “passion for the ballet”, and the Tres divertimentos his fascination with ‘Les Six’. Borrowing the sonorities of Bartók, Sum Vermis expresses the “tortured symbolism” of Jacint Verdaguer’s poetry. One of Montsalvatge’s own favourites, the rarely performed 5 Invocaciones al Crucificado evokes biblical dramatic intensity, and the self-paraphrasing Calidoscopio looks back over the composer’s own creative past. Other volumes of Jordi Masó’s complete recording of Montsalvatge’s solo piano music can be found on 8.570744 and 8.570756.

Although Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari is known mainly for his operatic compositions (La vedova scaltra is available on Naxos CD 8.660225–26 and DVD 2.110234–35), he wrote a number of sublimely expressive and lyrical orchestral works, devoting the majority of his time in later life to composing instrumental music. The three delightfully melodic, rhythmically buoyant and, at times elegiac works featured on this recording represent his complete wind concerto output.

A far from negligible reading of an attractive opera.

It is not every year, probably not even every decade, that we get an opportunity to see or hear an opera by Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari. On an early Naxos disc (8.550240) with opera overtures and intermezzi there is music from what are probably his best known works: Il segreto di Susanna and I Gioielli della Madonna. The first mentioned, a one act comedy premiered in 1909, has been recorded a number of times: by Cetra in the 1950s with baritone Giuseppe Valdengo, by Decca in the 1970s with Maria Chiara and Bernd Weikl and somewhat later by CBS with Renata Scotto and Renato Bruson. There may be others but not to my knowledge.

Wolf-Ferrari was born in Venice to a German father and an Italian mother. He first studied art to follow in his father’s footsteps. Rather soon he realised that he wanted to be a musician. He went to Munich where he studied with Joseph Rheinberger and even then he had a special sympathy for opera, having seen works by Rossini and Wagner. In 1895 he saw Verdi’s Falstaff in Milan, less than three years after its premiere. There he was also introduced to the composer. It is the parlando style of this opera that has influenced his own works, at least La vedova scaltra. As in Falstaff there is little room for extended arias but the parlando is often condensed into arioso and aria sections with some melodically attractive themes. The music is hardly offensive, no jarring dissonances, and since there are some characters of different nationalities there is also some references to the music of the nations, where especially the Spanish flavour is well caught. The orchestra is skilfully employed in an often chamber music-like transparency with ample scope for instrumental solos. There is a lot to admire, including the only strict solo song, Rosaura’s song in act II about two separated lovers. Il Conte has a beautiful solo (CD 2 tr. 1), accompanied by plucked strings. There is a scintillating chorus that opens the last scene of the opera. As a kind of Leitmotif there is a waltz, that follows the heroine Rosaura, from her first appearance in scene 2 of the first act until the very end of the opera.

No less than five of Wolf-Ferrari´s operas are based on plays by the prolific Venetian playwright Carlo Goldoni (1707–1793), including La vedova scaltra. This is a comedy about Rosaura and her four suitors from France, England, Italy and Spain. There is also a servant, Arlecchino, who functions as a go-between, bringing messages and gifts from the suitors to Rosaura. Naturally there are a lot of complications – including fights and disguises – before everything is sorted out in the last scene. Quite entertaining, in fact.

It seems quite natural that this recording was made in Venice, where playwright as well as composer were born. In a slightly dry but agreeable acoustic the balance between orchestra and soloists is as good as any other live recording I have heard. Karl Martin appears well attuned to Wolf-Ferrari’s music and the playing and choral singing cannot be faulted. In fact there is real gusto in the chorus. Of the male soloists the two tenors, Emanuele D’Aguanno and Mark Milhofer, are both excellent with light lyrical voices. Alex Esposito as Arlecchino obviously enjoys himself greatly while Maurizio Muraro and Riccardo Zanellato are competent but more anonymous. Elena Rossi is a spirited Marionette but her tone is rather edgy. The star of the performance is however the Norwegian soprano Anne-Lise Sollied as Rosaura. She is a splendid actress and sings with nice care for nuance, especially noticeable in her long solo Nella notturna selva (CD 1 tr. 9). In the final reconciliation she rises to ecstatic heights.

The Italian text can be obtained from the internet but it is quite easy to follow the plot with the help of the synopsis. The recording is also available on DVD (Naxos DVD 2.110234-35) and might be even more attractive in that form.

I do not see this set as signalling a Wolf-Ferrari renaissance but it is good to have this example of his art available in a far from negligible reading. The presence of an audience is hardly disturbing and stage noises are reduced to a minimum.

-- Göran Forsling, MusicWeb International

Ermanno Wolf-Ferrari’s The Jewels of the Madonna was a spectacular success in its day, yet after a triumphant world tour it gathered dust until its 1953 Italian premiere, since when it has received but a handful of performances, culminating in May 2015 with this highly acclaimed revival at the Slovak National Theatre, Bratislava. Combining Italian lyricism with the dramatic realism of verismo and colourful folk-music, The Jewels brings mystical atmosphere and sublimely detailed musical effects to its highly suspenseful plot, delivering powerful choruses, seductive love songs, saucy serenades and orgiastic dances.

WITT Symphony in C, “Jena.” Symphony in A. Flute Concerto in G, op. 8 • Patrick Gallois (fl, cond); Sinfonia Finlandia Jyväskylä • NAXOS 8.572089 (69:37)


Born in the same year as Beethoven, the longer-lived Friedrich Witt (1770–1836) is acknowledged today, if a bit shamefacedly, as the composer of the so-called “Jena” Symphony once attributed to Beethoven. Not a single note of the score changed between the time it was believed to be by the great Ludwig Van and when it was discovered not to be; yet critical opinion of the work plummeted like the stock market on the report of bad news. Funny how that happens—yesterday buy, today sell, though nothing but the name of the note issuer of record has changed.


Recordings of Witt’s works represent but the tip of a sizeable iceberg; fewer than 10 of his works, as far as I can tell, have been recorded. Yet he is believed to have written as many as 23 symphonies, numerous concertos for various instruments, a considerable volume of chamber music, a number of operas, and an oratorio, Der leidende Heiland (The Suffering Savior), which secured him an appointment as Kapellmeister at the court of the Prince-Bishop of Würzburg in 1802.


Prior to this, however—sometime around 1792 or 1793—while Witt was serving as cellist at the court of Oettingen-Wallerstein and taking composition lessons from Antonio Rosetti, he laid eyes upon four of Haydn’s latest “London” Symphonies—Nos. 93, 96, 97, and 98—which Haydn had sent to Wallerstein. This, according to Keith Anderson’s booklet note, and other biographical sources I’ve come across, was Witt’s moment of dawning light, a light that, paradoxically, would eventually dim his own lamp in the pages of music history. Witt’s worst “crime,” it seems, was not simply imitating Haydn to the point of near plagiarism, but doing so at a time when Beethoven was busy “liberating music” from the strictures of classical content and style, if not quite yet classical form. In other words, Witt chose the path of the arch-conservative. History thereby ended up lumping him together with the lesser contemporaries of Haydn and Mozart instead of with the lesser contemporaries of Beethoven and Schubert, whom Witt outlived by the better part of a decade. Which lumping would have been better for Witt’s posthumous reputation I’m not sure; neither changes the music he wrote.


Witt’s G-Major Flute Concerto, newly recorded here, has been recorded before. It was included on an MDG Gold disc that also contained the composer’s Sixth, so-called “Turkish,” and Ninth symphonies. Johannes Moesus led the Hamburg Symphony Orchestra, and the concerto was played by flutist Susanne Barner. That release, which I happen to have, was reviewed by Barry Brenesal in Fanfare 29:2.


As for the “Jena” Symphony, don’t believe everything you find, or don’t find, at ArkivMusic. As of this writing, the site lists only the current Naxos recording. But the work has appeared on disc before as far back as the 1950s. An LP on the Concert Hall label with Walter Goehr conducting the Netherlands Philharmonic has been transferred to CD, and there is a downloadable Deutsche Grammophon version with Franz Konwitschny. Versions on Urania with Rolf Kleinert leading the Leipzig Philharmonic and with Wolfgang Hoffmann leading the Rhineland Philharmonia on Musical Heritage Society also exist.


In hindsight, it’s hard to imagine how Witt’s “Jena” Symphony, written sometime before 1796, could ever have been mistaken for a work by Beethoven. Even Beethoven’s earliest orchestral works, namely the first two piano concertos, present an entirely different sound world from Witt’s symphony. Beethoven’s melodic contours are different, as is his way of writing for winds and of extending and developing his thematic material. Witt’s symphony is pure Haydn. Listen to the first movement’s second theme beginning at 2:13. In shape and style, it’s close to a dead ringer for the first movement’s second theme in Haydn’s D-Major Symphony No. 93, which was one of the four “London” Symphonies that Witt had access to at Oettingen-Wallerstein.


The Adagio likewise proceeds in Haydnesque melodic phrases and harmonic gestures, while the Menuetto is big on formal flourishes, curtsies, and that big ballroom-band sound common to so many of Haydn’s minuet movements. It contains none of the sprinting, whiplash elements that, in Beethoven’s hands, would transform the minuet into a scherzo. The last movement, a spirited Allegro, would have brought a London audience to its feet, just as Haydn’s finales did. If you love Haydn (and who doesn’t?), and his 106 symphonies aren’t enough for you, you can listen to Witt’s “Jena” Symphony and pretend it’s Haydn’s 107th, or you can listen to it and appreciate it for what it is, the work of a master copycat.


The A-Major Symphony, written perhaps a year or two before the “Jena,” seems somehow lighter and fleeter of foot. A passage or two in the first movement sounds as if it’s about to lapse into the bubbly, scintillating passagework one hears in Mozart’s “Linz” Symphony. The one surprise Witt has in store for us is that he places his Menuetto in second position, before the Andante. Though not unprecedented—Haydn did it in his C-Major Symphony No. 32—the practice was uncommon before 1830. Beethoven, in fact, didn’t reverse the order of the two inner movements in any of his symphonies until the Ninth, though it’s arguable whether the Eighth even has a slow movement at all.


Though Haydn wrote close to four dozen concertos for various instruments, the medium was not his in the way it was Mozart’s, and Witt seemed instinctively to realize this, turning instead to Mozart’s concertos as the model for his own G-Major Flute Concerto of 1806. With so few of Witt’s works available on record, it would be rash to say that this concerto is his crowning achievement. I think it’s safe to say, however, that it displays a wealth of melodic invention, ample virtuosic challenges for the soloist, a richness of orchestral writing, and an originality of ideas that seemed lacking in the symphonies. With as fine a flute concerto as this, I’m surprised that flutists aren’t lining up to add it to their repertoires.


Until I received this recording, I thought that Susanne Barner on the aforementioned MDG disc was perfectly fine, but compared to renowned flutist Patrick Gallois on this new Naxos CD, she sounds rather laid-back and a bit mechanical in her delivery. Gallois sparkles and tosses off Witt’s arpeggios, runs, and roulades with panache. The Sinfonia Finlandia Jyväskylä, under Gallois’s direction, also sounds more spirited and alert, not to mention better recorded than the Hamburgers under Moesus.


Taking that into account, along with the fact that this, to my knowledge, is the only modern recording currently available of Witt’s “Jena” Symphony, Gallois becomes the entry of choice. A selling point of the MDG is that it contains two of Witt’s other symphonies not duplicated on the current disc. So, I shall be keeping both; but for those wanting to sample Witt’s work that has netted the most ink—the “Jena”—and what may be one of his most masterly works—the flute concerto—Naxos’s CD is a no-brainer and a bargain to boot.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins


Hands up who has heard of Friedrich Witt. Not many probably, for Witt seldom even makes it to the footnotes of musical history books. His main claim to fame is that his Symphony in C major - which is the first work on this recording - was once mistakenly attributed to Beethoven. In the early 1900s musical researchers uncovered the score and found the master’s name written next to two parts of the manuscript. Remembering that Beethoven himself had intimated that he had once attempted a symphony in C, the researchers put two and two together and got it wrong. It was left to H.C. Robbins Landon to prove that the work was really by Witt, a cellist and composer from Wallerstein.

Nevertheless, the Naxos tradition of bringing the obscure to light has paid off in this recording. The three works presented give a fascinating insight into the kind of music that was being written in the tin-pot courts of Germany while the likes of Beethoven were developing revolutionary new means of expression in Vienna. This does not mean that the music is poor. Quite the opposite. It is bold and attractive stuff.

The C major symphony (nicknamed ‘Jena’ after the city’s university, where the manuscript was discovered in 1909) was composed in 1796 and is clearly influenced by Haydn. This is no coincidence. It is known that in 1792 or 1793 Haydn sent four of his London symphonies - Nos. 93, 96, 97 and 98 - to Wallerstein, where Witt must have seen them. The opening allegro is upbeat and playful, with a touch of Haydn wit. The ensuing ‘Adagio cantabile’ contains an attractive melody, while the finale is a fast-paced race to the finish that makes good use of the comparatively large orchestra at Witt’s disposal - including timpani and trumpets, as well as flute, oboes, bassoons, horns and strings.

The Symphony in A major is less riveting. Written about six years earlier, it lacks Haydn’s positive influence and is hemmed in by simple and rather restrictive sonata-form structures. The Flute Concerto in G is much more satisfying. This work was published in 1806 and benefits from a fuller, heavier, orchestral sound. Nevertheless, it still inhabits the sound-world of Haydn and Mozart rather than ‘Eroica’ Beethoven. Patrick Gallois ably tackles the tricky flute solos while simultaneously conducting the Sinfonia Finlandia Jyväskylä. There is a quasi-Romantic opening to the second movement, followed by a fine flute melody which is developed and decorated. But the final Rondo brings us safely back to the late eighteenth century.

-- John-Pierre Joyce, MusicWeb International

These three concertos share a traditional three-movement structure and owe their origins to composers who are acclaimed and highly respected in their field, but this is as far as their similarities go. Frank Ticheli’s Clarinet Concerto pays homage to Gershwin, Copland and Bernstein in its jazzy influences and song-like central movement, while Brad Warnaar’s Horn Concerto is based entirely around the diatonic or ‘white’ scale, reverberating with bell motifs and concluding with jocular musical banter between soloist and orchestra. Behzad Ranjbaran is a native of Iran, and his Flute Concerto is packed with exotic color, expressing contrasts of grief and joy, dream-like tenderness, and festive energy.

-----

REVIEW:

As 21st-century wind concertos go, this is as entertaining as it gets. On the evidence of these straightforward yet superbly constructed pieces I definitely want to hear more. The Nashville Symphony Orchestra and Giancarlo Guerrero accompany the featured soloists with real conviction in the fine acoustic of Laura Turner Concert Hall. Terrific sound from Gary Call and Tim Handley. Highly recommended.

– Gramophone

Core band repertoire, worth exploring.

The Naxos Wind Band Classics series seeks here to plug some pretty significant holes in its catalog. With nearly two dozen entries in the series, the works on this disc had yet to make an appearance. The Holst and Grainger, in particular, are the band world’s “Beethoven 5” and “Brahms 1,” or something like that, so this disc seems guaranteed to sell copies to both the curious listener who doesn’t usually listen to band music and to the devoted band fan who could use another copy of these works at the attractive Naxos price.

The Holst is an extremely well-crafted three movement work, with the opening motif unifying the whole piece. It has a special place in the band repertoire as one of the first substantial pieces of music written for wind band by an established composer. A good high school band can play the piece well, but a band of this caliber can also play it and not feel like they’re playing “easy music” - it’s got a quality of deceptive simplicity which makes it easy to enjoy for both performer and listener. The Grainger has a similar melodic appeal, at times, but is much more complex, and is regarded by many Grainger aficionados as his single finest work in any medium. It was also probably the first piece in the band repertoire to deserve being described as an unqualified masterpiece. Its six movements chart a very satisfying emotional journey, and if this disc helps bring it to a wider audience, it will have done much good.

The Hindemith and Schwantner are altogether different. Both reward repeated listens, the Hindemith in particular, as its contrapuntal ingenuity becomes clearer with time. As with the Grainger, any fan of the composer would find much to admire in this wonderful piece. The Schwantner is arguably the least essential of these four works, but that is largely because it is the most contemporary composition here and has not had as long to become a repertoire staple. The colors explored, though, are rich and affecting, and it points a way forward to the explosion in wind band repertoire of the past thirty years or so.

So, for those who don’t know these pieces, it’s a fine way to gather four cornerstones of the repertoire. There are stronger performances of these four works elsewhere - the Eastman Wind Ensemble’s superlative “Live in Osaka” disc, available at a similar price, includes three of them - but these are certainly excellent performances. The band sounds great, and the straightforward interpretations and recorded sound allow the listener to hear every detail.

-- Benn Martin, MusicWeb International 

A glorious, joyous, tuneful celebration of the days of Silent Cinema.

Of course there were no soundtracks for films of the silent era. Music was provided, in situ, in cinemas, by pianists or small instrumental groups, and, very occasionally, by orchestras playing in large cinemas for important film premieres. Often the music played comprised odd snippets - frequently from well known classical compositions that fitted the locations, pace and mood of the on-screen action. Years later when these Silent Era classics were rediscovered, new original music was composed for them. Foremost amongst composers for silent films are Carl Davis – and William Perry. This Naxos CD is a celebration of Perry’s work.

William Perry’s Gemini Concerto draws cleverly on themes created for films of the 1920s; for example the ‘New York: Broadway and Finale’ quotes music written from: Show People (1928), Fine Manners (1928) starring Gloria Swanson and from King Vidor’s 1928 masterpiece, The Crowd. The Gemini Concerto was written for the Swiss identical twin sisters, Fiona and Ambra Albeck, featured on this recording. It was premiered in Greenfield Massachusetts in May 2010.

The Gemini Concerto begins with an ‘Introduction and Travel Music’ that is a fizzy, exuberant mix of styles beginning with a ‘we’re off’ train whistle sparking material evocative of accelerating train wheels; this sparkling Introduction has colourful harmonies and imaginative orchestrations and ensembles - piano and violin solos, chamber and orchestral segments - all in pursuit of adventure, discovery and revelling in nostalgia. The sense of the train proceeding continues with ‘Dublin, Celtic Air and Runaway Reel’ which is the Concerto’s second movement that has a typically Irish tune with a prominent violin solo. The third movement takes us to Berlin for a ‘Cabaret March and Berliner Lied’, beautifully evocative, reminiscent of that city between the wars. It has an exquisite poignant melody for piano and violin - the Berliner Lied – that speaks of sadness of parting. This movement is worth the price of the CD alone. On to Moscow for a ‘Twilight Troika and Romance’ horses trotting through a snowy landscape; sleigh bells a-ringing before bells of a different kind introduce a sweet Romance for piano and violin à la Rachmaninov. In Vienna there is a sparkling and gaily romantic ‘Polytonal Polka and Waltz ‘Wiener Wein’ that sends champagne corks a-poppin’. Finally we land in New York for the Concerto’s glittering, jazzy ‘Broadway Ballet and Finale’.

Perry has drawn together music from three of his scores to form the somewhat less original, less inspired The Silent Years: Three Rhapsodies for Piano and Orchestra. The first of these Rhapsodies is on music for the 1927 John Barrymore swashbuckler, The Beloved Rogue which was a film based on the adventures of 15 ^th century rogue and poet, François Villon. Fanfares announce a swaggering devil-my-care theme for Villon. The suite includes music for court pomp and majesty and the requisite love music - material that Korngold would not have sniffed at - Blood and Sand famously starred Rudolph Valentino and Perry’s score is suitably exotically Latin, including flashing flamenco rhythms and music reminiscent of de Falla, for this Andalucian-based torrid melodrama about the fortunes of bullfighters. The evocative score follows this story of bravery in the bull ring, passion and betrayal and ultimate tragedy. Charlie Chaplin’s The Gold Rush inspired Perry to pen music suggesting labouring with pick and hammer, comic and poignant adventures of prospector Charlie, a New Year’s party dance, Charlie’s shy romancing and his big gold strike.

Perry explains that he sometimes conceives themes that could be used to score film assignments he might yet receive. Accordingly, from such a store of themes, he has drawn together another brilliantly coloured suite of music entitled, Six Title Themes in Search of a Movie. Number one is a Dance Overture for an imaginary film that might conceivably be entitled ‘Wild Nights in Toronto’. It’s wild alright, bright and breezy and jazzy redolent of the roaring twenties with gangsters and their molls. Next we travel to France for a typically Gallic waltz that could grace such a film called ‘Raincoats of Dijon’; the obligatory accordion is featured prominently. Then it is south to Italy for a Serenade for a projected film ‘Angelus for an Angel’. The orchestration calls for wistful use of tubular bells. The fourth theme carries us off to South America and another Perry dream film, ‘The Bridge on the River Plate’. This time he uses stirring quick march music that he had actually composed for a silent film about World War I, What Price Glory; the soldiers must be in a happy mood judging by their whistling! Now comes a Nocturne in jazz blues mode for a film that might be entitled, ‘The Black Marigold’ – possibly a film noire set in a Manhattan night club? The final theme is for an imaginary science fiction film called ‘Voyage to the Dog Star’. This is a glamorous score that reminds one more of those Ziegfeld musicals and Bette Davis tear-jerkers than a sci-fi epic. The music might remind one of the grand Late Romantic piano concertos and there is a grandiloquent solo Siren Song from Irish soprano Helen Kearns as the space craft nears the fiery surface of Sirius. A wonderful way-over-the-top finale.

The RTÉ Orchestra and Paul Phillips play these colourful and melodic works with great enthusiasm and panache and mention must be made of Robert Nowak’s brilliant orchestrations.

Naxos have really gone to town with the documentation for this release. The 16-page booklet includes colour pictures of the composer and all the artists, plus full notes and even musical examples. ’Pity then that the dates of composition and films are not always given.

A glorious, joyous, tuneful celebration of the days of Silent Cinema.



-- Ian Lace, MusicWeb International

American composer William Perry was born in Elmira, New York and began actively composing and conducting at the age of fifteen. This led to musical study at Harvard University where his teachers included Paul Hindemith, Walter Piston and Randall Thompson. He has written in a number of forms, and his music has been performed by the Chicago Symphony, the Saint Louis Symphony, the Detroit Symphony and other leading orchestras in the United States, Canada and Europe.

As a film composer, Perry has written more than a hundred film scores, many of them for the silent film collection of the Museum of Modern Art in New York, where he served as music director and pianist for twelve years. His music for The General, Orphans of the Storm, Blood and Sand, The Mark of Zorro and other classics has received international recognition for helping to restore public interest in the great films of the silent era.

He has achieved prominence as a theatre and concert composer in addition to his film work, and he also has enjoyed an important career as a producer. His television productions have won Emmy and Peabody Awards, and he received two Tony Award nominations for his score to Broadway’s Wind in the Willows.

For this recording, selections are presented from William Perry’s scores for six feature films based on the major works of Mark Twain. These were originally sponsored and premiered by the national television networks of the United States (PBS), Germany, Austria, Italy and France and have since been seen throughout the world.

The six Mark Twain films in this recording present a series of exciting challenges in the variety and range of their musical requirements. The Mysterious Stranger is set in medieval Austria and contains elements of mysticism and other-worldly dreams. The Innocents Abroad takes place in 19th century California, Paris, Genoa, Venice, Pisa, Rome, Naples, Pompeii, Athens, the Crimea and Cairo, with each location calling for characteristic musical backgrounds. Pudd’nhead Wilson is a murder drama built around themes of slavery and misidentification. Life on the Mississippi evokes the by-gone days of riverboat traffic on the mighty Mississippi. The Private History of a Campaign That Failed carries a compelling anti-war message drawn from events in the Civil and Spanish-American Wars. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is, quite simply, the most famous book in American literature.

For all of these, Perry has created music completely appropriate to the subject matter, with a common thread of melodic sweep combined with wit and inventiveness. His use of wordless chorus and unusual orchestration gives a special sense of color to the writing.

The orchestration is for woodwinds in threes, plus oboe d’amore and heckelphone, four horns, three trumpets plus flügelhorn, three trombones and tuba, harp, piano, organ, celesta, concertina, harmonica, banjo, strings, and a full and varied percussion section including timpani, tenor drum, snare drum, bass drum, cymbals, vibraphone, xylophone, glockenspiel, chimes, triangle, tambourine and whip. Forty-eight voices of the Vienna Boys’ Choir are heard in The Mysterious Stranger and the Slovak Philharmonic Choir participates in Pudd’nhead Wilson. The haunting harmonica solos are performed by Richard Hayman.

Jane Iredale