This collection completes the 27 sonatas by Padre Antonio Soler which make up his contribution to the Fitzwilliam manuscript. Nos 1–15 are available on Naxos 8.572515. These bipartite sonatas contain prime examples of Soler’s theories of modulation, from elegant “slow” passing between notes to “agitated” extremes of contrast. The result is constant surprise, both in spectacular technique and expressive depth. Award-winning pianist Vestard Shimkus has been described as “a phenomenon” (conductor Paavo Järvi), “superb” (American Record Guide) and “inspired” (BBC.co.uk website).

Includes work(s) by various composers. Ensemble: St. George's Chapel Choir, Windsor Castle. Conductor: Timothy Byram-Wigfield.

Sir Peter Maxwell Davies’s passionate Sixth Symphony is dedicated to the memory of the writer George Mackay Brown, with the ‘very special musical virtuosity’ of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra in mind. It is one of his most beautifully expressive works and, whilst not untroubled, reaches moments of serene beauty. Composed for the 50th anniversary of the founding of the United Nations, Time and the Raven is a brilliant and exciting collage, whilst few contemporary works enjoy such popularity as the magical An Orkney Wedding with Sunrise.

In all likelihood Haydn's 18th symphony actually was his Third, but he was 27 when he wrote it, and these early pieces are by no means immature if that means lacking in polish, contrast, or quality. Indeed, all four works offer something distinctive. For example, none has exactly the same form. No. 18 has three movements: slow, fast, minuet (with a minor-key "Hungarian" trio section). No. 19 also has three movements, but in the traditional style of an Italian sinfonia: fast, slow, fast. No. 20, which includes trumpets and timpani, adopts the standard four-movement pattern with the minuet third, while the particularly lovely No. 21 opens with a beautiful adagio featuring characterful solos for oboes and horns.

There isn't a dull bar anywhere, and this is just as true of the performances by Kevin Mallon and the Toronto Chamber Orchestra. Tempos are lively, the string section phrases with excellent rhythm, and the wind players are top-notch, so much so in fact that I wish they were a bit more forwardly placed in the balance. One quibble: Mallon uses a harpsichord continuo, not terrible in itself, but he permits far too much doodling in the opening Adagio of Symphony No. 21, to the point of creating a spurious, independent part. It's a surprising lapse of taste in what are in all other respects exemplary performances that I can otherwise recommend to Haydn aficionados without hesitation. These symphonies are seldom recorded, and the good here far outweighs any minor reservations.

--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Acclaimed British composer John Rutter’s Gloria was a milestone in his career and remains an evergreen favourite with choirs worldwide for its freshness, drama and sheer beauty. His joyous setting of the Magnificat was conceived, in the composer’s words, as ‘a bright Latin-flavoured fiesta’ and is performed here in its version for choir, organ and chamber orchestra. This delightful choral album concludes with Rutter’s setting of the Te Deum, one of the church’s most ebullient hymns of praise to the Almighty.

Even at this early stage in his career (he was in his late 20s to early 30s, don't forget), Haydn's music was about 10 times more inventive than any of the competition. All four of these symphonies have many delightful moments, from the syncopated rhythms in the finale of No. 14, to the lovely and affecting use of counterpoint that opens No. 16 (a personal favorite), to the gorgeous slow introduction of No. 15 for horns with pizzicato strings. Kevin Mallon and the Toronto Camerata clearly understand and enjoy the idiom, offering stylish and elegant renditions that make this one of the best releases in Naxos' enterprising but variable complete symphony edition. The horn players are excellent, textures are transparent, and Mallon knows how to judge tempos to provide maximum contrast (especially in the minuets) and vitality. The continuo is well balanced and discretely played, as it should be, so as not to create artificial rhythms that fight against Haydn's energetic bass lines. In short, these are first-rate modern-instrument versions of works that you should waste no time in getting to know. Very good sound too. [5/16/2006]--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Hubert Parry is best known for his coronation anthem I was glad, and for his hymn tune Jerusalem, a setting of Blake’s magnificent poem. The hymn alludes to the legend that Jesus spent time in England during the undocumented years between his childhood and the beginnings of his ministry in and about his homeland.

Parry is sadly underrated today, even though he composed a number of fine symphonies that are on a level with Elgar and dare I say it, even Brahms. He is represented here by Blest Pair of Sirens, to a text by John Milton, a less often performed, but no less glorious work than those aforementioned. Alas, from a disc of otherwise quite outstanding performances, this rendition is found wanting. The booming acoustic, the thundery organ and a general lack of attention to enunciation render the text of this marvelous work unintelligible. Add to the fray a wayward member of the tenor section whose overzealous brightness of tone sticks out like a badly-voiced reed stop, and you get a performance that leaves something to be desired.

Now that those quibbles are out of the way, we can get on to what is one of the finer choral recordings that have crossed my desk in some time. Stanford’s rich double choir Magnificat, dedicated to the memory of Parry, with whom the composer had a longstanding and sadly unresolved parting of the ways, receives a splendid performance with all the elements of clarity, intonation, balance and tone in place.

John Stainer is ridiculed today as the apex of Victorian bad taste. But in spite of his rather trite and passé style, he should be remembered as a fine teacher and scholar, and as an organist and choirmaster who helped to revolutionize Anglican church music. I saw the Lord, is a diehard favorite and here receives a clear and unaffected performance by the Vasari Singers.

E.W. Naylor was primarily a composer of operas, and his Vox Dicentis: Clamavi of 1911 reflects his dramatic flair. My reaction to this work has always been “oh yeah, I sang that piece once.” Although it is flashy, I have never found it to be particularly memorable. The Vasari’s performance is stately and without undue affect.

Walton’s music is marked by taut rhythms and spicy, jazz-influenced chords. The Twelve, with a text by the oft-acerbic W.H. Auden is typical Walton with splendidly biting harmonies and jaunty off beat rhythmic gestures. Again, the Vasaris do not disappoint with a finely hewn performance that captures all of Walton’s seriousness deliciously offset by wit.

Holst’s glorious Nunc Dimittis lay fallow for many years until it was rediscovered in the 1970s and thankfully restored to the repertoire. It is distinguished by a splendid cascade of vocal entries marked by shimmering harmonies and a most sensitive setting of the text. My only beef with this performance is that it seemed a bit rushed. There could have been more time for the lush chords to settle into place. I also felt that the ending was a bit to edgy in its loudness.

Gerald Finzi lived all too short a life for one so very gifted. His epic motet Lo, the full final Sacrifice, shows him in his finest hour. It is a masterpiece, a perfect union of music and word and is abundant in simply ravishing sounds. Ravishing is as good a word as any to describe this splendid performance that achieves near perfection. Mr. Backhouse leads a seamless performance of a work that can be maddeningly “sectional” when in the wrong hands. This fine rendition is worth the very affordable price of the whole disc.

To sum it all up, this is a collection of great standards that on the whole is left in very able hands. The flaws, although distinct, are few enough not to detract from what is generally some very fine singing indeed. Organist Jeremy Filsell is up to his usual fine standards with sensitive registrations and technically flawless playing.

-- Kevin Sutton, MusicWeb International

Michael Hurd was a pioneer in composing brief, witty and, above all, performable choral music for children to enjoy. When Jonah-Man Jazz arrived in 1966, young singers and their teachers had modern-sounding music to make and share.

These performances were released previously by Koch, and it's good to see them reappearing here at budget price. Like most of Robert Craft's Stravinsky discs, this is very, very good, and questioning the conductor's authority in this music is tantamount to casting doubt on the composer himself (though not on his own hit-and-miss conducting!). The coupling is apt: both works are based on earlier music--Gallo and Pergolesi (for the most part) on the one hand, Tchaikovsky on the other. As Craft points out in his notes, however, Pulcinella remains comparatively faithful to the originals, with changes principally in terms of rhythm and scoring. The Fairy's Kiss, though, takes Tchaikovsky's tunes as a starting point, modifying them considerably, with most of the music being effectively original. Compared to the reference recordings above, Craft can appear to value precision over sheer excitement (as in the finale of Pulcinella), but this is quibbling: overall he gets fine results from both orchestras as well as from his three singers (in Pulcinella). If you're looking for both ballets complete, the combination of value and artistic quality on offer here speaks for itself.--David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

REVIEW:

Robert Craft's performance of The Rite of Spring, rescued from oblivion, proves that in the early ballets he can be both accurate as well as exciting. Extremely well played by the London Symphony, seldom have the complex textures in the Introduction to Part One or the Ritual of the Rival Tribes sounded so clear and natural. And yet, in the Dance of the Earth, or the concluding Sacrificial Dance, Craft pulls out all of the stops to really impressive effect. The sonics are excellent, both here and in The Nightingale--this latter a beautiful, neglected piece that sounds much better in its original operatic form than in its later, formally somewhat dysfunctional symphonic dress. Once again Craft leads a superb performance of the orchestral part, and the singers are mostly fine. Olga Trifonova's bright soprano does well by the nightingale...with transliterated text and English translation, this is a very good deal.

-- David Hurwitz, ClassicsToday.com

Nikolay Andreyevich Roslavets was viewed by his Russian colleagues as one of the most original, innovative and progressive composers of the 1920s, a period of extraordinary artistic experimentation between the Russian Revolution and the Soviet regime'.

Recording information: Bösendorfer Hall, Vienna, Austria (06/09/2008-06/11/2008).

Recording information: St Mary's Church, Walthamstow, London, UK (01/03/2008-01/05/2008); St Mary's Church, Walthamstow, London, UK (01/08/2008-01/10/2008).

MARTUCCI Piano Concerto No. 1. 1 La canzone dei ricordi 2 • Francesco La Vecchia, cond; Gesualdo Coggi (pn); 1 Silvia Pasini (mez); 2 Rome SO • NAXOS 8.570931 (67:53 Text, no Translation )


Giuseppe Martucci (1856–1909) was a forerunner to the so-called “generazione dell’ottanta” of composers (see Malipiero review elsewhere) that sought to initiate a new golden age of instrumental music in Italy to vie against the overwhelming dominance of opera. Most of those who would follow in his footsteps—and the list is long, including the likes of Casella, Castelnuovo-Tedesco, Menotti, Pizzetti, Respighi, Rota, Wolf-Ferrari, and Zandonai—hedged their bets by playing both sides of the fence; but Martucci was unique for his time and place in that he wrote no operas whatsoever. Ironically though, in his role as a conductor, introducing Wagner’s operas to Italy may have done more to poison the well of Italian opera than any of his works as a composer did to stanch the opera rage. If you can’t lead the cattle away from the watering hole, do the next best thing: contaminate the water and kill them.


During his lifetime, Martucci was best known as a conductor, pianist, and teacher, Respighi being one of his more prominent students. His compositional output is not overly large, totaling fewer than 100 published opus numbers. Among them, however, are two symphonies, two piano concertos, two piano trios, a piano quintet, one sonata each for violin, cello, and organ, and a considerable volume of pieces for solo piano.


The current release—Volume 3 in Naxos’s complete survey of Martucci’s orchestral music—contains works that are not new to the recorded catalog. The Piano Concerto No. 1 in D Minor and La canzone dei ricordi were both coupled together, as here, in another Martucci survey a decade or so ago on the ASV label. The artists there were pianist Francesco Caramiello in the Concerto, soprano Rachel Yakar in the vocal work, and Francesco D’Avalos leading the Philharmonia Orchestra. That entire collection is now available in a super-budget four-disc set on Brilliant Classics. At about the same time that ASV was busy with their Martucci project, along came Sony with their release of the composer’s Piano Concerto No. 2 in B? Minor played by pianist Carlo Bruni, paired once again with La canzone dei ricordi , sung by Mirella Freni. The conductor and orchestra on that recording were Riccardo Muti and La Scala Philharmonic.


The good news is that I have the Freni/Muti CD, so I’m able to compare the Sony recording with the new Naxos. The bad news is that of the D’Avalos survey on ASV, I have only the two symphonies, but not the disc with the Piano Concerto; thus, I’m unable to compare Caramiello to Coggi. So let me begin with La canzone dei ricordi (“The Songs of Memories”), which seems to be one of Martucci’s more enduring works. As originally completed in 1887, the piece was conceived for mezzo-soprano and piano. It wasn’t until 11 years later (1898) that Martucci orchestrated it. The piece is a setting of seven poems by Rocco Pagliera. Unless one is fluent in Italian, Naxos’s printing of the texts in Italian only is highly frustrating. The Sony with Freni provides translations in English, French, and German.


The poems, as can be deduced from the work’s title, are about dreams recollected, mostly of longed-for, but alas, only imagined loves. More interesting are Martucci’s formal design and musical content. Each song ends in a different key from which it started. The song that follows it begins in the key in which the previous song ended. Thus, by the end, we have returned to the key and the poem with which the cycle began. Stylistically, Martucci’s indebtedness to Wagner is unmistakable, but it’s a Wagner tinted—some might say tainted—by some of Puccini’s more pastel orchestral touches that one hears in La bohème . Martucci undoubtedly knew the opera, which premiered in 1896, two years before his orchestration of La canzone dei ricordi.


Freni was 60 when she recorded the Martucci with Muti in 1995. Age had added a degree of weight to a soprano voice that in its youth was lighter and more lyric in character. I’m not suggesting she would have made a good Brunhilde, but her projection in these songs comes across as sounding more Wagnerian than does Silvia Pasini’s delivery on the new Naxos. Nor by any means is it just a matter of voice. Freni dispatches the cycle in just over 28 minutes, compared to Pasini’s drawn-out 33:50. The result is that Freni’s reading has tremendous dramatic thrust, frequently sounding like an agitated Brunhilde railing in high dudgeon against Wotan, while Pasini sounds more like Mimi in her “Mi chiamano Mimì” aria from La bohème.


If my description has led you to believe that I prefer Freni to Pasini in this song cycle, you’d be wrong. Martucci may have been a Wagner champion, but he was not Wagner; and Pagliera’s poems, to which Martucci set his music, are not about mythic warriors, heroes, and the downfall of the gods. They’re about dreams remembered in that half-conscious state of waking. Pasini, I believe, comes closer to capturing the more impressionistic character of the poetry and the music; and Francesco La Vecchia has under him in the Orchestra Sinfonica di Roma a better ensemble than Muti did at the time in his La Scala Philharmonic.


Since I have no other recordings of the Piano Concerto against which to compare Gesualdo Coggi’s performance, I can be brief. If you love big, Romantic piano concertos, Martucci’s D-Minor Concerto is right up there with some of the best of them. Echoes of Schumann, Grieg, and Brahms’s First Concerto (his Second hadn’t been completed yet when Martucci wrote his score in 1878) reverberate throughout the score, and maybe even a hint every now and then of Tchaikovsky (assuming Martucci had heard it in its original 1875 version prior to starting work on his own Concerto). Gorgeous music, gorgeous playing, gorgeous recording; this one is not to be missed.


FANFARE: Jerry Dubins

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.

Vytautas Bacevicius Remained Virtually Unknown As a Composer During His Lifetime, in Contrast to the Fortunes of His Sister Graz?Yna Bacewicz, Who Retained Her Polish Nationality. Rendered Stateless By the Outbreak of WWII While on Tour As a Concert Pianist in Argentina, He Eventually Settled in New York Until His Death in 1970, Giving Acclaimed Piano Recitals, Teaching, and Writing Astoundingly Original Orchestral Scores. He Never Lost His Deep Allegiance to and Nostalgia for Lithuania. This Recording Gives An Eloquent Introduction to His Pianistic Virtuosity and Mystical, Scriabinesque Orchestral Vision.

Although Australian by birth, Alfred Hill spent much of his youth in New Zealand before embarking on studies in Leipzig, where he met Brahms, Dvořák and Tchaikovsky. + A prolific symphonist and operatic composer, he also wrote a sequence of seventeen notable string quartets. + His style evolved constantly, the influence of Dvořák leading on to the impressionism of his mid-period. + By the time of the String Quartets Nos. 12 to 14 his mastery of technique – in his younger days he had played in a prominent string quartet – ensure that the music is balanced, subtle, and full of playful wit. + This is the fifth of six volumes of the complete Alfred Hill String Quartets.

Bloch’s so-called Jewish Cycle—the Israel Symphony, Schelomo, Trois Poèmes Juifs and the String Quartet—earned the composer the kind of esteem in America that had been lacking in Europe. The Israel Symphony, premièred in Carnegie Hall in 1917, is the cycle’s centrepiece and originally intended as a gigantic three-part work, but later reduced in size. Powerful and evocative, it also fuses pastoral and sensuous elements in a rich tapestry. The award-winning Suite for Viola and orchestra or piano is a rhapsodic but cyclical tour de force, a ‘vision of the Far East’, in Bloch’s own words.

This recording by the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra and Music Director Marin Alsop is the first of three discs of Dvorak symphonies taken from live performances at Joseph Meyerhoff Symphony Hall.

ALFANO Concerto for Violin, Cello, and Piano. Cello Sonata • Samuel Magill (vc); Scott Dunn (pn); Elmira Darvarova (vn) • NAXOS 8.570928 (60: 06)


These days Franco Alfano (1875–1954) is remembered more for his controversial and much maligned 1926 completion of Puccini’s Turandot than for his own well-crafted and often quite striking music. His career started promisingly. In 1904, his opera Risurrezione , based on Tolstoy’s last full-length novel, made him internationally famous (see Henry Fogel’s review in Fanfare 28:4). In 1918, he rose to the directorship of Liceo Musicale, Bologna, and two years later helped to found the society Musica Nova. His career remained on the ascendancy until 1926, when Toscanini’s de facto damnation of his completion of Turandot made him an odd man out in Italian music. Add to this that two of his contemporaries, Malipiero and Respighi, were changing the focus of Italian music from opera to purely instrumental, while Alfano continued doggedly in the operatic realm with Madonna imperia (1927), Cyrano de Bergerac (1936), Don Juan de Manara (1941), Il dottor Antonia (1949), Vesuvius (1950), and Sakùntala (1952). Then further add that Alfano was on favorable terms with Mussolini’s fascist government and one has a pretty good recipe for his subsequent obscurity.


Then there is the music itself, as illustrated by these two chamber works—soft edged, introspective, and quietly luminous in a most Debussian manner. Cellist Samuel Magill, in his liner notes to this release, points out that Alfano was half French (on his maternal side), and spent the years from 1899 until about 1905 in Paris, where he composed light music for the Folies Bergère. It is plain from these two pieces that he soaked up the atmosphere and found it most congenial. The earlier of these two works, the Cello Sonata, was commissioned in 1928 by Elizabeth Sprague Coolidge. It is a tour de force in its exploitation of the cello’s full compass and coloristic possibilities. The high A-string writing makes it seem a super violin, and the use of harmonics in combination with quiet sustaining pedaled piano figurations creates moments that would have made both Ravel and Debussy proud. It is a long and discursive work that opens serenely, as if to say “I will reveal a great mystery,” and then travels from the elementally abstract toward the more and more intelligible; unfathomable mystery gives way to unbridled passion, and then to a moment of sublime peace.


The Concerto for Violin, Cello, and Piano of 1932 is similar to the Cello Sonata, but given the third instrument, the violin, it is richer in tonal possibilities. Its opening revealing a kinship with Renaissance polyphony, indeed farther back than that, shows how easily those languages can dovetail into that of the French Impressionists. Alfano, like Bruckner and Brahms, was an antiquarian. In both of these works, Debussy’s idea that pure sonority should be an element of music equal with melody, harmony, and rhythm, is writ large.


All three performers are excellent and play with razor-edged accuracy, passion, and insight in these two world-premiere recordings. The recording, alas, is harsh in its upper register, requiring treble cut on my system, but, on the other hand, it reveals everything, as if under a microscope. The piano, however, is splendidly registered throughout.


FANFARE: William Zagorski

"Pietari Inkinen is one of the most remarkably gifted conductors of a generation, this new release numbers among the great Sibelius recordings. The detail and subtle colours he brings to Night ride and sunrise is magical; his Belshazzar is full of atmosphere, and you listen with refreshed ears to the familiar Valse Triste which opens Kuolema. His New Zealand Symphony, already in the orchestral premier league, respond with superb playing in a magnificent disc. A “must buy” release."

-- David Denton, Yorkshire Post, December 5, 2008

During his seven years as a Mason, and in addition to the incidental music for Thamos, King of Egypt and the Magic Flute, which abound in Masonic symbolism, Brother Mozart adapted or newly composed a number of works for his fraternity, some of which.

This is the first of a new series devoted to the sacred works of Vivaldi...the engineering is clean, fresh, and open, capturing the acoustic of Grace Church on the Hill, Toronto, to pleasing effect. Mallon’s chorus immediately makes a strong impression, with vital, strongly committed and projected singing that is obviously going to provide his cycle with one of its major strengths. Much the same might be said of the soloists he fields here...his wonderful alto Nathalie Stutzmann bringing to these solos richly dignified and authoritative singing...there are many fine moments in the Irish conductor’s performance, the choruses again distinguished by vibrant, incisive singing, and soprano Jane Archibald contributing an appealing “Domine Deus, agnus Dei.” Archibald is also impressively fearless in the high-flying tessitura of the motet Nulla in mundo, singing the beguilingly blissful opening aria, taken dangerously slowly, with winning freshness, finding real dramatic significance in the central recitative and negotiating the coloratura of the demanding final aria and Alleluia with a radiant, confident security. This is, then, an auspicious beginning. Anyone attracted by Naxos’s low prices to the idea of collecting the new series can certainly go ahead in the knowledge that they are likely to be in possession of a real bargain. - Brian Robins, FANFARE

Joaquin Turina' songs are little-known today, but not only was he part of an important and influential group of early twentieth-century Spanish composers such as Albeniz, Falla and Granados, he possessed a beautiful and individual compositional style.

The rarely recorded Symphony No. 25 is an unusual work. Lacking a slow movement, it opens with an Adagio-Allegro followed by a minuet. Symphony No. 42, with it's compelling themes and keen sense of dramatic timing.

Always among the most innovative of composers, Arnold Schoenberg (1874–1951) wrote several works that deliberately blur the distinction between chamber orchestra and chamber ensemble. Among these, the First Chamber Symphony compresses the classical symphonic format into a tensile single movement scored for only fifteen players, while the Suite draws its seven instruments into a maelstrom of vitality whose inspiration lies in the dance styles that were popular during the 1920s. The Zahir Ensemble is one of Spain’s most exciting modern music groups, whose passion and technical accomplishment have gained them an ardent following.

Includes work(s) by Jean Marie Leclair. Soloists: Fenwick Smith, John Gibbons (classical), Laura Blustein, Laura Jeppesen, Christopher Krueger.

Scriabin' cycle of Piano Sonatas is one of the most visionary and dramatic in the canon.

This album from Naxos' acclaimed Wind Band Classics series presents three highly contrasting new works. David Maslanka' Concerto for Trombone and Wind Ensemble is a heartfelt memorial to the late Christine Nield Capote, flutist, teacher and friend.

LISZT Polonaise from Yevgeney Onegin. Le Rossignol. Chanson bohémienne. Abschied. Mazurka. March from Russlan and Ludmilla. Prelude to the Borodin Polka. Russian Galop. Tarantella by César Cui. Slavic Tarentella by Dargomyzhsky. 2 Anton Rubinstein songs. Autrefois • Alexandre Dossin (pn) • NAXOS 572432 (66: 25)


The Naxos traversal of Liszt’s complete piano music, which began in 1997, has now reached its 35th volume with Alexandre Dossin playing a fascinating program of transcriptions of Russian composers. Dossin’s bona fides as a Liszt player of distinction were established with his 2007 contribution to the series, a disc devoted to the Verdi transcriptions and paraphrases. This new release shows him in wide-ranging repertoire, from salon trifles such as the Chanson bohémienne of Bulakhov, through the resplendent setting of the Polonaise from Tchaikovsky’s Yevgeny Onegin , to the heartrending Abschied (Farewell), a simple song setting for Liszt’s beloved pupil Siloti.


The chief interest of this repertoire, however, is not its variety, but its chronology. Five of the transcriptions—those based on music of Alyabyev, Bulakhov, Glinka, and Vielgorsky—are souvenirs of Liszt’s Russian tours of the 1840s. The isolated Mazurka “composed by a St. Petersburg amateur,” possibly Vielgorsky, dates from 1856, during Liszt’s Weimar years. The remainder—including the Tchaikovsky Polonaise and the Borodin, Dargomyzhsky, and Cui transcriptions as well as the two Rubinstein songs—were all set by Liszt in 1880 or later. In other words, these final seven transcriptions are products of the last six years of Liszt’s life and thus contemporaneous with such late-style works as Czárdás macabre , the Hungarian Historical Portraits, Bagatelle without Tonality, Unstern!, and the several pieces memorializing Wagner.


The Polonaise from Onegin , easily the most familiar work on the disc, is given an extrovert reading that highlights its profusion of opulent pianistic detail without obscuring the overall structure and momentum of the dance. Dossin’s interpretation readily holds its own beside those older, famous ones of Cziffra and Ponti, and perhaps surpasses them in its unforced poise and characteristic voice. Dossin approaches Alyabyev’s The Nightingale , set by Liszt as a veritable mini-Russian rhapsody, with intelligence and finesse. Meanwhile, the quirky Circassian March from Glinka’s Russlan and Ludmilla, a virtuoso tour de force , fairly explodes with rhythmic acrobatics and kaleidoscopic colors.


The two tarantellas by Dargomyzhsky and Cui are particularly intriguing, reminding us that, during the 1860s, Liszt and Dargomyzhsky were among the first composers to experiment (independently) with use of the whole-tone scale—Dargomyzhsky in his opera The Stone Guest and Liszt in his melodrama Der traurige Mönch. Both tarantellas exemplify Liszt’s tendency in old age to transform the materials he transcribed, imbuing them with the radical harmonic and rhythmic characteristics of his own late style. In many cases, and certainly in these tarantellas, the originals are endowed with a “new formal and authorial weight,” as Jonathan Kregor has suggested in his pathbreaking study, Liszt as Transcriber (2010). Dargomyzhsky had been dead 10 years when his unprepossessing piano duet Slavic Tarantella was taken up by Liszt and expanded into a haunting and concert-worthy piano solo. The longest piece on the program is the Tarantella by César Cui , possibly Liszt’s very last transcription of another composer’s work. Kregor points out that Cui’s orchestral original had been in circulation for more than 25years when Liszt decided to transcribe it. Liszt expands, emends, and amplifies the material in a way that elevates this folk dance to a veritable metaphysical realm. If proof were needed that the acuity of Liszt’s perceptions and the richness of his imagination remained undiminished to the end, the Tarantella by César Cui provides ample testimony.


It is hard to imagine a more eloquent spokesman for this repertoire than Dossin. Though he is by birth and upbringing Brazilian, the nine years he spent studying in Moscow lend an unmistakable authenticity to his voice in Russian music. Moreover, Dossin’s refined and multifaceted pianism, combined with his formidable intellectual and musical grasp, make him one of the more remarkable Liszt interpreters before the public today.


FANFARE: Patrick Rucker