Barto is the most eloquent of them all.

Robert Barto’s distinguished Weiss recordings for Naxos have now reached volume nine. As before he demonstrates a wide range of tone colours, immaculate technical address and an unerring appreciation of Weiss’ quasi-improvisational style. The result is a trio of performances that in every way meets the expectations now placed in the lutenist. And if none of these works approaches the majesty of those contained in, say volume seven of the series (see review) then one must also concede that they nevertheless contain all those elements that make Weiss so noble, so expressive and so powerfully important a composer in this milieu.

The C minor sonata, cast in six movements, is by some way the longest and grandest of the three here. The extensive French overture is beautifully nuanced in all three of its sections, Barto’s technical armoury entirely equal to the demands placed on it and his colouristic sense fully engaged from the start. The Campanella-like Bourée sees him emphasise the bell like articulation implicit within it and he does so with brilliant articulation. As ever he plays Weiss’s slow movement with affecting lyricism; the most impressive in this set is the Siciliana of this C minor, which is taken at a suitably slow tempo. The concerto-like flourishes of the Presto finale are despatched with aplomb, the writing rich and externalised, and the playing virtuosic.

The F major [No.32] is an earlier work written conjecturally some time between 1720 and 1725. It’s performed in the Dresden version as three copies survive, representing two different versions. Its Allemande is refined and leisurely and full of decorative assurance but for me the highlight is the Bourée. Not only is this an example of Weiss at his most uplifting but it also reveals some of Barto’s great strengths – an ability to infuse the music with the most buoyant and immaculate rhythmic incisiveness allied to great warmth of tonal resources. These qualities are heightened by the succeeding cantabile of the Sarabande and by the Gigue that concludes the sonata. One of the revisions undertaken by Weiss was to replace a Gigue in 6/8 with one in 9/8 and the result is engaging and buoyant.

The final work stands at a slight remove from its companions. The G minor No.94 derives from a manuscript in the Glinka Museum in Moscow, music conjecturally brought to Russia from Dresden by Weiss’ pupil Bielogradsky. Whatever the exact origin or derivation it’s a small, charming series of dances with a delightful Paisane and a rare, early use of the Polonaise in its penultimate movement.

The recording, made in St Andrew’s Church, Toddington, is once again first class and Tim Crawford’s notes enhance this characteristically fine disc. Barto has competitors in Weiss recordings – Imamura and Lindberg among them - but for my money he is the most eloquent of them all, and this comprehensive series is a tribute to his skill and involvement.

Jonathan Woolf, MusicWeb International

Includes song(s) by Henri Duparc. Soloists: Paul Groves, Roger Vignoles.

"Joseph Lin’s recording of Korngold’s Violin Sonata appears in a collection of arrangements. Gil Shaham recorded the Suite, along with his reading of the Concerto—and Barber’s—and included the Caprice fantastique on “Devil’s Dance” (Deutsche Grammophon 463 483, 24:3), that appeared around Halloween time in 2000. The Suite consists of four movements, “Maiden in the Bridal Chamber,” “Dogberry and Verges,” “Gartenscene,” (a short number played as an encore by Heifetz), and “Masquerade.” These pieces, in a more popular vein than the more ambitious Violin Sonata, showcase Korngold’s rich melodic gift and harmonic imagination, and “Dogberry and Verges” give evidence of a mild sense of humor that the Sonata seems to lack. Lin and Loeb sharply characterize each of these movements, with Lin producing an especially glowing tone in the “Garden Scene” and displaying musical and technical authority in the “Masquerade.” Shaham plays with a more sumptuous tone and soaring portamentos that bring the period and the music vividly to life and he moves forward more coherently—and cogently—in the march, “Dogberry and Verges,” which Lin plays with a drier sensibility approaching that in Prokofiev’s March from The Love for Three Oranges. But Shaham brings a cheekier strut to the final movement, “Masquerade.”

Compared to Kiss, Lin sounds relatively sweet-toned, and the timings of his movements fall between those of Kiss and Waltman. But while those two-odd minutes may seem insignificant in a four-movement work, they also can represent a sort of general relaxation that makes the work sound more discursive, though Lin and Loeb play with plenty of energy and attack the more aggressive passages in the first movement, for example, with plenty of gusto and plenty of sharp-edged panache at the movement’s climax. The duo also takes command in the large-scale Scherzo (at 10:37 in this recording, that movement occupies almost a third of the Sonata’s duration), and though there may be a degree of roughness in Lin’s attack, he brings a sense of excitement to the movement. Lin’s purity of tone on the E string generates thrilling intensity in the slow movement, powering its leaps into the stratosphere. If the Sonata’s dedicatees inspired its seriousness, Korngold certainly rose to the occasion, and so do Lin and Loeb.

The shorter pieces begin with the Serenade from Der Schneemann, a rapt miniature that shows off Lin’s tonal command but also his wide and rather slow vibrato, which, for some listeners, may even threaten to grow annoying. From Korngold’s opera, Die tote Stadt, come the two short pieces, “Tanzlied” and “Marietta’s Lied,” the first a delicately wistful song that’s immediately ingratiating, and the second, an affecting lyrical outpouring that could vie successfully with the most popular works in the genre. The Caprice, subtitled “Wichtelmännchen,” or “Goblins” could similarly almost take the place of several similar pieces, like Bazzini’s Dance of the Goblins or Paganini’s “Witches’ Dance” on recital programs, though it’s more atmospheric than brilliant. Lin sounds a bit more polite in this miniature—and occasionally more ardent, by turns—than does Shaham, who plays it with more suggestive macabre energy.

Naxos’s issue offers yet another chance to ponder the question posed above: did Korngold’s work in Hollywood debase his musical coin or polish it? Lin and Loeb make a great deal of this repertoire, and their readings deserve a recommendation to anyone interested in it, in young violinists (the release appears as part of Naxos’s “Laureate” series), or in Korngold—or even to more general listeners. Recommended."

FANFARE: Robert Maxham

Charles Wood made an important contribution to Anglican church music, with liturgical settings that remain part of cathedral choral repertoire.

Includes work(s) by Ferruccio Busoni. Soloist: Wolf Harden.

Praise for Chloë Hanslip's confident excursion into unfamiliar territory

-- Gramophone [4/2008]

-----

Benjamin Louis Paul Godard, the son of a businessman, was born in Paris on 18th August, 1849. A child prodigy on the violin, Godard studied with Richard Hammer and later Henri Vieuxtemps. At the age of fourteen (some sources say when he was ten) Godard was admitted to the Paris Conservatoire and studied composition under Henri Reber. His first published work was a violin sonata written when he was sixteen. In the mid-1860s he twice competed unsuccessfully for the Prix de Rome. From this time forward Godard dedicated himself to composition, first writing chamber music (he played viola in several chamber music societies), and numerous piano pieces. He was especially inspired by the music of Robert Schumann, and orchestrated Schumann’s Kinderscenen in 1876. In 1878 his Le Tasse was a joint winner of the prize for musical composition given by the city of Paris. Le Tasse is a three-part dramatic symphony with soli and chorus based on a poem of Charles Grandmougins, which was in turn based on The Damnation of Faust. In succeeding years Godard composed an enormous amount of music, including three programme symphonies (Symphonie Gothique, Symphonie Orientale, and Symphonie Légendaire), three string quartets, four violin sonatas, a cello sonata, two piano trios, numerous piano pieces, violin and piano concertos, various orchestral works, and over a hundred songs. Godard is chiefly remembered for his operas. His first opera, Les bijoux de Jeanette, was produced in 1878; Pedro de Zalamea followed in 1884. His next opera, Jocelyn, based on a poem of Lamartine, appeared in 1888. Its fame rests mainly on the well-known Berceuse, which has been arranged for numerous combinations of instruments and/or voices and remains Godard’s most familiar work. It has been performed by Jussi Björling, John McCormack (in English translation as “Angels Guard Thee” and with the violin accompaniment of Fritz Kreisler), Alma Gluck, Pablo Casals, the Eroica Trio, and many others. Godard’s operatic output also included Dante et Béatrice (1890), Jeanne d’Arc (1891), and La Vivandière (1895; unfinished at his death and completed by Paul Vidal). The conductor Jules Étienne Pasdeloup admired Godard’s music and allowed Godard to conduct many of his own premières. After Pasdeloup’s retirement, Godard created theConcerts Modernes in an attempt to continue Pasdeloup’s Concerts Populaires , but this lasted only one season (October 1885 – April 1886). In 1887 he was appointed a professor at the Paris Conservatoire, and in 1889 was made a Chevalier of the Légion d’honneur. Godard died of tuberculosis at Cannes on 10th January, 1895.

Godard’s was unquestionably a romantic temperament, though more closely aligned with the romanticism of the mid-nineteenth century than with Wagner and Tchaikovsky; his talent has been compared with the facility and manner of Saint-Saëns. His respect and admiration for Robert Schumann has already been noted, as has his tutelage under Henri Vieuxtemps, one of the great romantic violinist-composers of the nineteenth century. Godard’s music has sometimes been criticized for superficiality and “over-hastiness”, and truly he composed at a prodigious pace, reaching Opus 100 in 1886 while still in his thirties. In romantic fashion his symphonies are “named”, and his operas contain the soaring melody and romantic sensibility expected of romantic opera, though his stage works quickly fell out of favour. Among his operas, the unfinished opéra comique La Vivandière had the greatest success. Godard’s music follows the traditions of Mendelssohn and Schumann, and he had little sympathy for the overblown rhetoric of Wagner, especially since, being of Jewish extraction, he disliked Wagner’s anti- Semitism. Like the early romantics Godard excelled in small forms. The nineteenth-century scholar Hervey wrote that “Godard is perhaps greater in small things than he is in large. There is an exquisite charm in some of his songs … whilst many of his piano pieces have a savour all their own.” A new appreciation for Godard’s achievement in small pieces, once dismissed as salon music, has grown in recent years. Godard’s achievement is best summed up as “traditional romantic”.

While focusing much of his compositional career on other forms and instruments such as opera, songs, and piano pieces, Godard did not neglect the instrument on which he had excelled as a youth. His violin concertos are among his very best works and display both inventiveness and élan. The Violin Concerto No. 2, Op. 131, is in the traditional three movements. The opening Allegro moderato features alternating chords by soloist and orchestra from the first measure; this gesture is fleshed out with scale runs by the soloist and snatches of a motif consisting of a half note and triplets. The main lyric theme enters after a ritardando; this is worked to a climax and repeated forte. After a brief orchestral statement, the soloist launches into a cadenza featuring double, triple, and quadruple stops as well as a glissando run. The thematic materials are reworked and the movement ends with the usual flourish. The following Adagio quasi andante features a steady triplet orchestral accompaniment underneath the main lyric melody, at first alluded to by solo horn, and then taken up fully by solo violinist. The contrasting midsection, in 6/8 time rather than the 4/4 of the movement’s beginning, contains double-stopping and short runs, then slowly returns to the 4/4 main lyric material and the steady triplet accompaniment, which accompaniment is finally discarded in the coda. The final Allegro non troppo is a bouncy movement in 2/4 time, a delightful rondo romp from beginning to end.

The Concerto Romantique, Op. 35, is a much earlier work and in some ways more experimental. Hervey wrote that in the Concerto Romantique Godard’s talent found “its true expression. The composer of these works is in the full force of his powers, and it is not too much to state the belief that he has yet much to say”. Unfortunately Hervey’s book was published in 1894, just months before Godard’s untimely death. The first unorthodox feature of this concerto is that it has four movements instead of the usual three. The first movement, marked Allegro moderato, while of a more dramatic character than the other movements, is relatively brief for an opening movement, which tend to be the “heaviest” and longest movement. After a sixteen-measure orchestral introduction, the soloist enters fortissimo with a highly accented martial theme in double stops. After an orchestral interlude, the violin sings a lyric theme; these materials eventually lead to a section marked Recitativo, which is in the nature of an accompanied cadenza. A coda brings the movement to a close. The graceful Adagio non troppo is connected to the following Canzonetta, marked Allegro moderato, by a short improvisatory section. This is Godard’s most famous concerto movement, and until the mid-twentieth-century was often published by itself or in collections in violin and piano arrangement. It is a delicate and highly accented song, only briefly discarding its gossamer character for more sustained lyricism. The final Allegro molto opens with a dramatic statement in the orchestra; the soloist enters with a theme marked Agitato ed appassionato molto. This theme is interspersed with passage-work, some of scherzo-like character. The soloist’s final peroration features double-stops and the movement ends with appropriate high spirits.

The atmospheric Scènes Poétiques for Orchestra, Op. 46, contains four short bucolic pieces depicting various outdoor scenes: Dans les bois (In the woods), Dans les champs (In the fields), Sur la montagne (On the mountain), and the bustling Au village (In the village).

Bruce R. Schueneman

This album was nominated for the 2005 Grammy Award for "Best Choral Performance."
Recording information: Warsaw Philharmonic Hall (08/31/2002-09/03/2002); Warsaw Philharmonic Hall (09/06/2002-09/07/2002).

Leopold Mozart' reputation has suffered more than that of most of his professional contemporaries, due in no small measure to the fame of his peerless son and to much spiteful and ill-informed criticism over the past 200 years.

Although Liszt's solo-piano arrangement of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony certainly is a virtuosic tour-de-force, his two-piano transcription more successfully addresses the score's large dimensions in terms of textures, dynamics, color, and, in the finale, more audible distinction between choral and orchestral forces. Leon McCawley and Ashley Wass team up for its finest recording to date. Their headlong drive in the first movement evokes Toscanini's archetonic ferocity. The pianists underline harmonic clashes and contrapuntal felicities by way of color shifts, accentuation, and nuance rather than tempo fluctuation. The same goes for their soaring Scherzo (with both repeats intact), where the obsessive dotted rhythms are consistently supple and accurate.

While the duo maintains rigorous tempo relationships over the Adagio's brisk course, they avoid rigidity by way of discreet rubatos and tasteful lyrical inflections. It is not easy for two-piano teams to sustain long, loud episodes without forcing tone or losing rhythmic steam, yet McCawley and Wass wield the proverbial iron hands in mink gloves in their tightly knit, unified Finale. The sonics are slightly too resonant and bass shy, but the instruments are as well matched and balanced as the pianists. I hope Naxos already has enlisted these artists for Liszt's two-piano version of A Faust Symphony. Highly recommended.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Just listen to the variations in tempi and dynamic of Luci serene e chiare. It’s the first track of this fourth volume in the excellent series of Gesualdo's madrigals from Delitiæ Musicæ under Marco Longhini on Naxos. To hear this is to appreciate how effective care and attention to every nuance should be when singing what is often seen as a dark corner of the Renaissance vocal repertoire.

It goes on that way: the six singers and keyboard player (Carmen Leoni) treat every piece by the usually only anthologised Gesualdo as its own gem. They approach each madrigal almost as if it were Gesualdo's only one. This could, admittedly, lead to a laboured and self-conscious style. It doesn't. The Italian group's familiarity with and obvious love of Gesualdo's world sees to that.

Instead, our response is anticipation for each next madrigal while thoroughly savouring the particularities of the one we're listening to. In a way this helps to create an understanding of the corpus of this aspect of Gesualdo's output … two more CDs from Naxos - to whom Delitiæ Musicæ is under exclusive contract - and the cycle will be complete.

The composer's Fourth Book of madrigals was published in Ferrara in 1596 and quickly achieved several further printings - including one in 1613 in Genova in partitura - a rare occurrence enabling singers to experience the music 'horizontally', line by musical line.

This Fourth Book was intended as a kind of atonement for the composer's (conviction for the) murder of his first wife, Donna Maria d'Avalos in 1590. In the Kingdom of Naples a husband had such a legal right in the case of infidelity. But, although Gesualdo faced no punishment from the legal system, he was ostracised and marginalised by his own community. What Longhini - who also produced the 'Urtext Edition' for these recordings - and his singers have achieved so well is a convincing set of performances. This graciously and genuinely blurs any distinction that we might make four hundred years later between heartfelt remorse on Gesualdo's part and what the Renaissance poet, playwright and composer was able to make using events from life as material for art.

In a way the tone, the weeping, the dourness, the (self-)deploring, above all the self-doubt must be taken as starting points for this beautiful and affecting music - not as something to be expressed in and by it. The creativity, the tight and effective matching of texts (mostly anonymous and by Guarini) to tonality and texture are what matter. They stand on their own. That's the approach which these performers so successfully take.

At the heart of the set is what at first sight appears a misfit: Sparge la morte al mio Signor [tr.12], the longest piece here at almost seven and a half minutes. In fact to transfer the remorse to images of the unjustly (with ambivalences) murdered Christ illuminates the complexity of Gesualdo's thinking in these works. The suggestion is clear … alongside remorse and torment should come forgiveness and some sort of 'settlement'. Indeed by the time we get to Arde il mio cor [tr.19], the darkness has lifted somewhat, though Delitiæ Musicæ's tempi are still slow, if a little less deliberate. Although those resounding bass notes of Walter Testolin are held for just as long and are as chilling, there is a sense of hope. Certainly the remaining three pieces look upward and let light in.

Nevertheless, overall we're not allowed to forget the trauma, the potential for trauma, the torment represented by (secular) love, and the totality of a soul so affected when subjected to such searing and unrelenting self-examination. Not once do the singers lay the mud or paste on too thickly. Nor do they overlook the innovative nature of the sonic impact of the poetry … dissonance, distortion, a little interruption of the metrical line and much expressive, more easily-flowing consonance between text, harpsichord and song. You can hear this in the fittingly final Il sol qual or piu splende [tr.22]. While the phrase 'tour de force' would be wrong because it would suggest the need for a more mighty and strenuous push than is necessary here, the achievement of Longhini with Delitiæ Musicæ is a considerable one.

Their tone is just right from first to last, their articulation, emphases and sense of seriousness yet neither drab nor spuriously sparkling are indeed delightful. There is, to be sure, little of the lighthearted and springing qualities which we often associate with some madrigals. The purpose and drive behind these interpretations makes them hugely successful.

The booklet that comes with the CD has useful background - particularly to the killing and its subsequent effect on Gesualdo. It contains all the texts in Italian with English translation. The acoustic is clear and not too resonant, though full of intensity in atmosphere. If you've already been attracted to this excellent series, don't hesitate to add this to the collection. It's also a convincing and sensitive enough set of performances to encourage you to start and explore the lot. The Fifth Book is eagerly awaited.

– Mark Sealey, MusicWeb International

Foremost among Swedish Baroque composers, Johan Helmich Roman travelled to England then to France, Italy, Austria and Germany, gaining valuable firsthand knowledge of European music. At home in Stockholm he conducted the court orchestra, introduce.

A contemporary of Toru Takemitsu, Teizo Matsumura combined European influences with Asian musical traditions. His tautly-constructed Symphony No. 1, a work of genuine power and intense sonic splendour, evokes the image of innumerable locusts swarming over the earth. Symphony No. 2, written over 30 years later and inspired by a poster of a pair of sumo-wrestler-like statues standing at the entrance to a famous Buddhist temple in Nara, Japan, is a soulful monologue of alternating sorrow and hope. The richly expressive symphonic poem To the Night of Gethsemane, inspired by Giotto�s fresco The Kiss of Judas, was Matsumura�s last orchestral work.

Compared by contemporaries to Ravel and Debussy, French composer Florent Schmitt is being rediscovered today. Following his death, one critic mourned that “French music has just lost a smile and a master”. The whimsical and sparkling À tour d’anches for oboe, clarinet, bassoon and piano and the dramatically beautiful Piano Quintet reveal a powerful and distinctive personality. By turns lyrical, humorous and fiery, these two chamber works span a period of almost forty years, from the beginning of Schmitt’s mature period to his late style.

Recording information: Il Palazzo reale di Caserta e i Borboni di Napoli, Cast (05/2007); Il Palazzo reale di Caserta e i Borboni di Napoli, Cast (11/2007).

Written between 1905 and 1908, the Suite Iberia was and is without any doubt Albeniz's masterpiece. Iberia is an ambitious and remarkably sophisticated composition with a formidable architectural structure of uniquely impressive dimensions. All the pieces are based on traditional Spanish dance rhythms, arranged in a freely artistic and idealized manner. The rhythmical dances smoothly alternate with the \vocal" part, the copla. In traditional Spanish music the copla is a characteristic part of the structure seen in many forms like the saeta (arrow), or a cante jondo (deep song), the song of deep feelings. Albeniz has included a copla in almost all of the pieces in Iberia.

Having been unimpressed with previous releases by Slatkin and the Lyon orchestra in music by Ravel and Berlioz, I am happy to report that the team finally rises to its potential in this enterprising disc of Saint-Saëns’ music for organ and orchestra. First, however, we need to discuss the organ, because this release is as much about that instrument as it concerns the orchestra. The Lyon auditorium houses the famous Paris Trocadero organ built by the illustrious Cavaillé-Coll in 1878. It was one of the first, and certainly the greatest, concert hall organ in its day. As presently restored, the instrument incorporates changes made in 1939 from a prior refurbishment, and so is not in its original condition, but it does still contain many of the imitative “orchestral” stops that made these “symphonic” organs so revolutionary for the period.

By the time noted organist Edwin Lemare made his transcription of the Danse macabre decades later, the concept of the symphonic organ had expanded to include complete divisions of (allegedly) string-toned pipes. Some of these were more successful than others at creating the proper illusion. Lemare’s own organ in Chattanooga, Tennessee, for example–recently restored–had both violin and cello vibrato, celeste and orchestral violin stops in its string division. None of these except the vibrato-producing celeste were present in the Trocadero instrument, and so organist Vincent Warnier has had to modify Lemare’s registration accordingly. This he has managed with great sensitivity, and his performance, while a touch on the slow side (inevitably, in order to keep the rhythms clean), is still remarkably convincing, and an excellent example of how a symphonic organ can be used to play highly entertaining transcriptions of basic repertoire.

Cyprès et Lauriers is a diptych consisting of an elegiac organ solo linked to an organ-and-orchestra finale. It’s not great Saint-Saëns, but its 13 minutes pass by enjoyably, and it gives the organist the opportunity to display his instrument’s power and coloristic subtleties equally well. It has to be said that the current restoration has created a very pleasant-sounding instrument, with few of those excessively reedy, nasal stops that we often hear in 19th century organs, especially in France. Some aficionados love that particular gravelly sonority, but I’m not one of them.

And so to the symphony. Slatkin has finally whipped the orchestra into shape and they deliver a very enjoyable performance. The first movement is basically unplayable if you take Saint-Saëns’ double-note rhythms seriously, and so most performances kind of mush them together, creating an atmosphere of generalized agitation. This works perfectly well, but Slatkin has his players really articulate the principal theme of the allegro, and while it robs the music of some of its potential excitement, the result is effective and expressively apt. The same rhythmic precision characterizes the scherzo, whose 6/8 theme begins on an upbeat, which often somehow degenerates in many performances (Ormandy’s on Sony, for example) to the point where the tune seems to enter on a downbeat. Not here.

As for the two movements with organ, the balances with the orchestra are very naturally caught by the Radio France engineers. The transfer to disc is a bit low level, so you really need to turn up the volume for the best effect, and there’s plenty of room around the instruments. You won’t be overwhelmed by the organ’s sonority–no 747 jet engine revving up for takeoff here–but that’s a good thing. You get music, not noise. The interplay between the orchestra and the organ is a constant source of delight, and the finale still builds to a truly rousing conclusion. Altogether this is a very pleasing and worthwhile release, and a belated vindication for Slatkin and the Lyon players.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Brahms: Four-Hand Piano Music, Vol. 10

Famed for his sequence of Piano Concertos, Sterndale Bennett also wrote a small but distinguished body of chamber music. The String Quartet in G major is one of his earliest surviving works, revealing a precocious talent still strongly influenced by Haydn. Mendelssohn is the model for the Sextet, though Bennett's highly virtuosic piano writing, with it's concertante interplay, reinforces the work's lyrical qualities and required dexterity as well as it's advanced harmonies and hymnal beauty. The concise Chamber Trio radiates sheer charm while displaying an even greater grasp of structure and is the first English example in the trio form where both string instruments are given parts independent of the piano. The Villiers Quartet are British chamber music specialists. Their previous release of the Delius and Elgar Quartets was very well reviewed. MusicWeb International wrote: "This is a desirable chamber release with convincing and stylish playing from the Villiers Quartet who offer endearing expression and impeccable intonation throughout."

BEETHOVEN Piano Trios: No. 1 in E?; No. 2 in G; Allegretto in B? • Xyrion Tr • NAXOS 8.557724 (64:26)


Pianist Nina Tichman, violinist Ida Bieler, and cellist Maria Kliegel joined forces in 2001 to form the Xyrion Trio. This release, their second in their complete Beethoven piano trio series for Naxos, presents the first two of the three op. 1 trios, along with the much later B? Allegretto. Judging both from their individual talents and the cohesive ensemble of their partnership, Xyrion is equal to the stiff competition in this already widely recorded repertoire. Their readings have great energy and polish, a sure sense of style and, most compelling, refreshing spontaneity and unmistakable ardor.


The shapeliness and contour of the opening thematic material of the E? Trio immediately signals these musicians’ capacities for vivid dynamic contrasts and boldly articulated rhetoric, characteristics beloved by Beethoven. When Tichman spins out the second movement’s delicious cantabile, Bieler and Kliegel answer her with solicitude and sympathy, creating the impression of a most civilized, heart-felt conversation among the best of friends. Their rustic treatment of the Scherzo, cited by Czerny as “the first scherzo in very quick time, a species of music of which Beethoven was the original inventor,” with its evocations of folk bagpipes, is simply irresistible.


The aura of animated dialogue is maintained throughout the G-Major Trio. Savor for instance the grumpy interjections of the piano’s left hand in the development of the Allegro vivace. The finale of this trio, like its predecessor’s, is a fleet presto, here tossed off with a Mendelssohnian sprightliness.


Whereas Beethoven’s op. 1 was published in 1795, the B? Allegretto, dating from 1812, did not appear in print until three years after the composer’s death. It was written for Maximiliane Brentano, the 10-year-old daughter of Antonie and Franz Brentano. Maynard Solomon has plausibly suggested that the mother, Antonie, could have been the intended recipient of Beethoven’s famous letter addressed to the “Immortal Beloved.” This charming piece is perfectly suited for a child, though clearly one who must have been an extremely talented young pianist. Xyrion’s performance is appropriately straightforward and playful.


My sole reservation, and a minor one, is that the quality of the recording makes the musicians sound a little distant. Fortunately they don’t sound muffled, and the abundance of nuance with which these sparkling performances fairly burst is not sacrificead. Even if you already own one or more recordings of these trios—and the Beaux Arts (Philips 468411) immediately comes to mind as one of the best—I think you’ll find a great deal that is interesting and fresh in this Xyrion disc. If you don’t, I can’t think of a better introduction to these charming works with which the young Beethoven made his public debut. Heartily recommended.


FANFARE: Patrick Rucker

It is only in the last few years, largely as a result of the pioneering performances of the Simon Mayr Chorus and Ensemble conducted by Franz Hauk, that Mayr has come to be valued as one of the most significant composers of operatic and sacred music of his time. Il sagrifizio di Jefte (The Sacrifice of Jephtha), first performed in 1795, is a dramatic oratorio with a wealth of variety in both the vocal and instrumental writing, which foreshadows the operas to come.

The Twelfth is not Shostakovich's best symphony, but it's not as bad as its detractors would have us believe. The first two movements in particular are effectively structured and, respectively, cinematically exciting and quite atmospheric. The finale, especially its coda, is so telling an example of Socialist Realist triumph that it can only be accepted as a parody; and played without apology, as here, it works very well. Indeed, Vasily Petrenko leads a first movement that beats just about everyone in terms of sheer excitement, and the same holds true of the transitional third movement, "Aurora". As for that problematic finale, it has an appealing lightness (before the coda) that avoids any impression of facile note-spinning. If you don't like this symphony, give this performance a shot. It may change your mind.

The Sixth is far less troublesome, but Petrenko's vision is no less probing. At nearly 20 minutes the first movement is very slow, but wholly gripping. Petrenko takes the scherzo dazzlingly fast, but paces the finale moderately to give it the necessary weight (without sacrificing the music's irony and wit). Through it all the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic plays splendidly, and is excellently recorded. This Shostakovich series is shaping up as one of the best, make no mistake.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The orchestrations are colorful, subtle and brilliant. A joy to hear. Equally delightful is the playing. The Lyon National Orchestra under Jun Märkl captures the subtlety and beauty of tone throughout every piece and the recorded sound is really first rate.

The Debussy Orchestral Works, Vol. 6 from Naxos offers a nice mix of familiar and rare works, all in exquisite orchestrations by musicians who either knew Debussy or admire his works. Debussy himself wrote all of this music for the piano 4 hands. The orchestrations are colorful, subtle and brilliant. A joy to hear. Equally delightful is the playing. The Lyon National Orchestra under Jun Märkl captures the subtlety and beauty of tone throughout every piece and the recorded sound is really first rate. Orchestrating piano music requires an understanding of both keyboard and orchestral techniques in order to rethink the piano music for an ensemble. It requires interpolations that are natural to the spirit of the music without imparting on the orchestra a pianistic left and right hand. These arrangements make the music sound as if it has always been for orchestra.

The selections range from pops concert favorite, Clair de lune, in a luminous classic arrangement by Andre Caplet to Debussy's early Symphony, of which he completed only the first movement, orchestrated by Tony Finno. With Clair de lune we also get the entire Suite bergamasque from which it comes, the other movements colorfully arranged by Gustave Cloez. The total effect of the suite in this orchestral form is much like a ballet score, performed with lyric grace by Lyon musicians. This is a particularly fine and sensitive performance of Clair de lune. This heartstrings pulling performance of moves at a slightly faster pace than some of the others but remains quite lovely within its own world in the suite.

The Symphony is actually rather good. Its swaggering main theme is a bit repetitious but the overall style is much more romantic than impressionist and reminiscent of perhaps d'Indy, Faure or the rarely heard symphony by Dukas. I've heard one other chamber ensemble arrangement of Debussy's sketches and this version for full orchestra by Tony Finno is far and away the best.

Henri Busser's arrangement of the Petite suite, which certainly has much orchestral competition with performances recorded by Martinon, Tortelier, Ansermet, Dutoit and many more is aided here by superb sound quality and excellent, sensitive artistry. Busser's other orchestration is Printemps, a two movement piece with one foot in the late-romantic era and the other feeling around in the new musical impressionism. The music is played with shimmering beauty. Probably the clearest and most sparkling recorded performance of Printemps I've heard.

En blanc et noir, orchestrated by Robin Holloway is not just black and white as the piano key title implies, but quite colorful. The arrangement was commissioned in 2002 by the San Francisco Symphony. The music is more boisterous and exuberant,sounding at times as if it is about to turn toward Debussy's Iberia but with the Spanish atmosphere replaced instead by a somewhat mischievous quality which grows on you with repeated hearings. The last movement Debussy dedicated to "mon ami Strawinsky"‘. With performances that treat the older works as if they were newly discovered and the unknown works with a sense of magic and wonder, this album is definitely a winner.

- Greg La Traille, ArkivMusic.com

======

The most compelling item in this collection is En blanc et noir, not only one of Debussy's most advanced instrumental works (composed for two pianos), but the orchestral arrangement sounds closest to the composer himself. Robin Holloway drew upon Debussy's contemporaneous Jeux as a model, with numerous passages in the first and third movements replicating that work's uniquely colorful sound world. In the reflective middle movement Holloway's orchestral dress evokes the dreamy atmosphere of Les parfums de la nuit from Iberia. Jun Märkl and the Orchestre National de Lyon offer a sparking performance, playing the music with real verve, as if they had discovered a heretofore unknown Debussy masterpiece.

Debussy only completed one movement of his proposed Symphony in B minor (1880), and then only as a piano duet. Tony Finno's orchestral arrangement emphasizes the music's Russian influences (it was composed around the time he was employed by Tchaikovsky's patron Nadezhda von Meck), though there are occasional pre-echoes of the mature Debussy. Märkl and his band perform this and the remainder of the program (the familiar Suite bergamasque, Petite Suite, and Printemps arrangements) with the same vitality and commitment afforded En blanc et noir. The spacious recording is a bit over-reverberant, but nevertheless provides solid presence and impact. Debussy fans will find this release a real delight.

--Victor Carr Jr, ClassicsToday.com

========

Other review quotes:

"Subtle and sensitive readings" - Gramophone.

"This is bewitching music-making that should on no account be missed. One of the finest discs Naxos has ever released." - Classic FM (about Volume 1 (8.570759).

"Volume 6 in Naxos’s popular series presents five highly diverse works in gorgeous orchestrations by Debussy’s colleagues or later admirers. Indeed, pieces such as Clair de lune and Printemps may even be better known in these seductive guises than in their original forms. Of particular interest is Debussy’s sole attempt at composing a symphony, a youthful work imbued with the spirit of French Romanticism, only the first movement of which he completed." - Naxos

Includes work(s) by Johann Hoffmann. Soloists: Birgit Schwab, Daniel Ahlert.
Includes work(s) for lute by Silvius Leopold Weiss. Soloists: Birgit Schwab, Daniel Ahlert.

My French colleague Christophe Huss called a few days ago and said "You've got to try the new Bruch Concerto disc on Naxos. It's really excellent." Now Christophe really does know his stuff, and even his Bruch, which is saying a lot. Tovey thought Bruch was a genius, especially for his choral works, but then he said the same thing about Parry, so even great writers on music have their weak spots. Still, there's no denying that in writing for violin and orchestra Bruch was in his element, and the neglect of these two works is rather remarkable.

The Second concerto always has impressed me as being every bit as good as the First. Like its more famous predecessor, it avoids that Romantic Achilles' heel, the sonata-form first movement. Here a voluptuous and melodically stunning Adagio leads to a brief, dramatic recitative and a lively finale. The Third concerto isn't quite so lucky--sonata form rears its ugly head in the very long first movement--but violinist Maxim Fedotov and conductor Dmitry Yablonsky take Bruch's "energico" directive at face value and all comes out well. Certainly, Bruch had no issues with finales (almost as big a problem as opening movements), and that of the Third concerto is particularly winning, and marvelously scored.

Fedotov plays both works splendidly. He has that gutsy, vibrant tone characteristic of so many Russian string players, which means that he's able to relax into the lyrical music without ever turning coy. In the finale of the Third, especially, his double-stopping is a joy, his passage work pretty immaculate, and he projects both concertos with real virtuoso relish. Yablonsky and the orchestra accompany with similar enthusiasm, and the sonics are extremely natural and well balanced. You might be tempted to overlook this release--but don't. Thank you, Christophe!

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

If you're looking for a stellar disc containing all three Borodin symphonies in top-notch sound (the Third left incomplete, its two movements orchestrated by Glazunov), then look no further. Gerard Schwarz and his players seem to have developed a real affinity for Russian music, as their previous Rimsky-Korsakov disc suggests. The First Symphony sounds unusually cogent and masterly in their hands. Listen to the bite of the lower brass in the outer movements, and hear the plaintive songfulness of the woodwinds in the Andante. It's a true Russian sound.

The same idiomatic characteristics enhance the Second Symphony's gutsy opening string theme, while the finale simply explodes with color and energy. Borodin's Second is one of those works that everyone takes for granted, but its compact 25 minutes or so comprises one of the very best Russian symphonies of any period. It has enjoyed many fine performances, but this one is every bit as good as the best of them, and as already noted, the sonics are splendid. Don't hesitate for a minute.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

The Bohemian cellist and pedagogue David Popper (1843-1913) wrote prolifically and quite effectively for his instrument. His magnum opus, the High School of Cello Playing Op. 73, is a collection of 40 solo etudes that add up to a veritable bible of Romantic cello technique. Although the pieces are designed for students to overcome specific challenges contained in solo and orchestral repertoire, they are more inventive and melodically attractive than their didactic aims suggest. I'd go so far as to say that you can listen to the studies in large stretches, or even all 40 in a single sitting, without getting bored. Perhaps this is as much due to the cellist as the composer.

Dmitry Yablonsky commands the technique and taste to play the Popper etudes like music rather than mere exercises. Listen to his elegant, unflappable handling of No. 7's perpetual motion writing in all registers. Notice how easily he dispatches No. 13's cruelly exposed octaves and double notes. Also note the veiled beauty Yablonsky brings to No. 28's high-lying passagework, and the perfect poise with which he articulates No. 37's relentless mordents. These are but a few examples that attest to Yablonsky's mastery. Given that Martin Rummel's pioneering boxed set devoted to Popper's complete etudes is not easy to locate and is relatively expensive, Yablonsky and Naxos pretty much have the field to themselves. Highly recommended.

--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

Nicolas Gombert was a musical genius whose emotional complexity allowed him to write music unlike that of any other Renaissance composer.

McLEOD The Emperor and the Nightingale 1. 3 Celebrations. Rock Concerto 2 • Uwe Grodd, cond; 1 Helen Medlyn (narr); 2 Eugene Albulescu (pn); New Zealand SO • NAXOS 8572671 (67:35)


The version of The Emperor and the Nightingale we hear here is a 2010 revision of a piece commissioned in 1985. It is an expertly composed tale for children, well narrated by the close-miked Helen Medlyn. Jenny McLeod’s lightness of touch and wit goes hand in hand with Medlyn’s approach, which includes some delightful impressions. The story is, of course, taken from Hans Christian Andersen’s The Nightingale . McLeod’s deft hand and her charming responses to the text bring much enjoyment.


McLeod was born in 1941 in Wellington, New Zealand. Her varied education is certainly not immediately obvious from the sound world of her narrated piece here. After a period with Douglas Lilburn at Victoria University of Wellington, McLeod traveled to Europe for study with Messiaen (Paris) and Stockhausen (Cologne). You will be hard-pressed to find any trace of either Messiaen or Stockhausen on the present disc. As far as I can see, the only other available piece by this composer is For Seven , an early work from 1965–66, on a disc of music by New Zealand women composers (Lorelt 116). For Seven is referred to in the booklet notes of the present release as “an early avant-garde chamber work” that had some success over the years. The works on this disc come from the ’80s, after she apparently rebelled against her earlier music (including a tour of New Zealand with her own pop band).


The Three Celebrations for orchestra continue in the highly appealing mode of The Emperor and the Nightingale. They were commissioned in 1986 by the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra for its 40th birthday celebrations, and there is more than a hint of the jubilant about them. Each movement has a title. “Journey Through Mountain Parklands” is highly evocative of the vistas of the southern snowy mountains, while “At the Bay” is a gentle pastorale. The finale is titled “A & P Show” and evokes a typical agricultural and pastoral fair (which sounds like a carnival crossed with a English country fair from the description). Hints of Coplandesque near-hoe-downs add to the fun. The performance is spot-on. Uwe Grodd has clearly spent much time rehearsing this; rhythms are beautifully tight.


Finally, a piano concerto (1986) based on her Rock Sonata for solo piano written for Eugene Albulescu; the pianist requested a version for piano and orchestra, and this is the result. The cadenza, interestingly, is meant to be improvised on the spot (an idea inserted at Albulescu’s request). Here, the program notes describe it as “held in check,” which implies a measure, at least, of premeditation. It is not difficult to hear the shadow of Gershwin here. The first movement is titled “To Distant Friends,” one of whom is referred to in the second movement (“Elegy for Charlie French”; French was an Aboriginal activist and friend of the composer’s). This is a poignant movement, quite extended at nine minutes. Albuslescu plays most beautifully here, spinning McLeod’s simple but effective lines with great tenderness. There is a real swing to the finale (“Rondo Latino”). Albulescu clearly has a great technique, as well as the capacity to enjoy himself, even under studio conditions.


The recording (produced and engineered by Tim Handley) is exemplary. Recommended.


FANFARE: Colin Clarke

Between 1958 and 2002 Luciano Berio completed his 14 solo Sequenzas, a series of pieces that push not only each instrument's technical, textural, and expressive possibilities, but also those of the performer. Each work demands the utmost in technique, musicianship, tonal resources, theatricality, and stamina. Small wonder that the Sequenzas loom large in the active contemporary repertoire, while conservatories and competitions often assign them as test pieces. In 1998 Deutsche Grammophon brought out a three-disc set containing stunning interpretations of all 13 extant Sequenzas, plus the alto saxophone transcription of Sequenza IX for clarinet. Now Naxos enters the Sequenza playing field with equally world-class performances of the cycle, including the Cello Sequenza (No. XIV) written in 2002 (the year before Berio's death) plus the soprano saxophone version of the Oboe Sequenza (No. VII).


It might be helpful to describe some of the ways in which the DG and Naxos performances differ. In Sequenza XII for Bassoon, Pascal Gallois' rapid leaps and piercing multiphonics convey a sharper impact through DG's close microphone placement. By contrast, Naxos' more distantly miked Ken Munday sounds relatively less incisive yet fuller bodied in longer, sustained passages. DG's violist Christophe Desjardins plays Sequenza VI's cyclonic opening chordal section with lacerating intensity, whereas Naxos' Steven Dunn's slightly slower tempo allows the pitches and cross rhythms a little more room to breathe.


Naxos' Jaspar Wood does a fine job with Sequenza VIII, but DG's Jeanne-Marie Conquer's double stops boast more variety and tonal differentiation. Regarding Sequenza II, it's a toss-up between Frédérique Cambreling's pronounced dynamic contrasts (DG) and Erica Goodman's greater clarity in the scurrying, ethereal passages (Naxos). While Naxos' Tony Arnold's playful soprano makes the most of Sequenza III's madcap mood shifts, DG's Luisa Castellani's suppler voice employs wider register extremes (she was Berio's preferred singer in later years).


Had pianist Boris Berman's extraordinary marksmanship in Sequenza IV been captured in more colorful sonic splendor, his interpretation easily would hold its own next to Florent Boffard's elegant insouciance. In Sequenza X for C Trumpet Berio uses piano resonance to create continuity between phrases. On DG, Gabriele Cassone's fat, flügelhorn-like sonority and immaculate repeated-note technique have no peer, yet I like the jazziness with which Naxos' Guy Few leans into the beginnings of certain phrases. In all, this release stands as a viable alternative to the DG set, if not necessarily a replacement as we await Mode's forthcoming Sequenza cycle.
--Jed Distler, ClassicsToday.com

The pre-eminent lutenist of his day, John Dowland was an almost exact contemporary of William Shakespeare.